~x~ Brooding ~x~ [Private]

[m]

Emotionless, ice cold, blue eyes stared out a window at the outside world. The sky was dark, but clear. The stars shined brightly and lit up the night sky. He slouched back in the wooden chair that he sat in. The room he was in appeared to be an office. Atleast, it had office like qualities. A desk rested in the middle of the room. A file cabinet in the left corner of the room. A shelf up against the right wall. Pretty much just the typical office set up. His face was as emotionless as his eyes, but his mind had different thoughts constantly running through it. Suicidal thoughts. Homicidal thoughts. Genocidal thoughts. Revenge was on his mind. Payback was on his mind. Hatred fueled these thoughts. He held two things in his hands. In his left hand, a chrome Desert Eagle pistol shined in the moonlight. It's twin was held in the other. A golden Desert Eagle glistened in the right hand. Visions of lifeless bodies scattered across the concrete. Bullet riddled bodies getting what they deserve. His finger itching to pull the trigger back. Adding a nice third eye inbetween the two his enemies already have. Or maybe a good little smile underneath their chins would be a nice touch. Guess you could say he was sick in the head. What he's suffered the past few monthes, a normal person would have been driven mad by now. Normal people would have reached their breaking point long before now. But then again, who was to say he hadn't fallen into madness himself? That would be up to a professional doctor to decide perhaps. Who knows. Maybe we're all a little crazy. He was just a little more than the average person. Atleast, at this point in his life, it's understandable. If you knew what he's been through, you'd probably be thinking the same thoughts as well. They had tried to take his life. They had tried to take the lives of those closest to him. They were close to doing so too. Unfortunately for them, he doesn't die too well it seems. They should have killed him when they had the chance. Their screw up. They'll rue the day they tried to kill him. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time that someone had made attempts on his life. It wasn't the first time that he had been shot or shot at. He had been. He had been hit too as well. This time though, it was different. Including the circumstances of those who were also involved, this was much different. Back then, it was just him. He was the target. No one else's coffins needed to rest on his conscience. But they had tried to kill him and those around him. Big mistake. He hadn't seen them in monthes. He wondered what they were up to. He hoped they were still alive. Something in his gut told him that they were. Which was atleast a plus in his mind. Time will tell though. At the moment, all that was on his mind was revenge. And he was sure that once his enemies catch wind that he had not met the reaper just yet, action will be taken and it will taste sweet. It made his lips twitch for a moment. Almost breaking that emotionless look on his face, but not quite. For now...

It was time to plan.

It was time to plot.

It was time to strategize.

Half the fun is to plan the plan, they say.

[m]

Slumped over. Eyes closed. He drifts away from reality into his own little world. Resting. Sleeping. Dreaming. Visions of the past few months haunt him in his sleep. Remembering four, cold stone walls that they had kept him in. Darkness surrounding him with the only light source being from the cracks of the locked door that kept him from the outside world. Feeling like a prisoner locked up in solitary confinement. Almost losing his sanity. Fortunately for him, he didn't break. You could say he was a prisoner. Maybe not in a correctional facility to rehabilitate him for crimes. But it was the same basic idea. When people refer to being in a situation that's "like a prison," that was what they were referring to. But the cruelty that he had endured was far different than the typical treatment of a prisoner. He could still feel the burn of having whatever number of voltage was sent through out his body. The burning sting of being shocked repeatedly for answers. Being shocked repeatedly for the pleasure of his enemy. He did not break. That's not all they did to him. Of course, there was more than just simple shock torture. Being beaten was almost like the greatest pass time for his enemy. Being pummeled. Being kicked. Taking punches across the face. Taking punches across the jaw. Taking punches in the ribs. Taking punches in the kidneys. You name it. He was probably beaten there. Losing consciousness after hours and hours of hanging like a literal human punching bag for his enemy's enjoyment. It's a miracle that he did not suffer any broken bones. Or at least, that he knows of. Maybe he did and didn't realize it. Who knows. The enemy sure as hell wasn't going to deliver any medical treatment. They were too busy getting off on his pain and suffering that they had put him through. That wasn't all. To go along with the beating, there was plenty of "toys," as the enemy referred to them, that were involved. Whips, chains, blades... Whatever the sick, sadistic, and twisted mind of his enemy could come up with. If his enemy knew of a way to inflict pain and agony to him with an object, his enemy sure would make sure to test it out on him. Sounds like something straight out of a torture movie, right? Usually, he'd disagree with people assuming movies cause people to commit acts of violence. But in this case? I'd say they were right on the money with that assumption. Or maybe it was people like his enemy who inspired these films? Either way, the enemy was a sadist and it wasn't good for the human anatomy the types of things that he had suffered through. It wasn't all bad. Wait. Scratch that. It was bad. The food? The food that they fed him? That food was some of the worst stuff that he had eaten in his life. It was revolting. Looked like it was molting. And tasted like... Well... straight garbage. Like it was taken straight out of the trash. It would probably have been better to have starved himself. But he was determined to live. It was hard to keep down, but he managed to keep it down. Even though it was barely anything remotely close to what you'd call a meal, he stayed alive. Starving for real food, but alive nonetheless. Being left for dead on the cold Chicago streets was probably the best thing he could have ever happened to him. Taken in by the homeless and allowed to stay in this abandoned building, he had dined on much better food than what he was served over the past few months. He was glad to know there was at least someone with a heart in this city. They may not have much to offer as far as medical supplies and the essentials to live, but they did not leave him in that alleyway to rot. For that, he will be eternally grateful to them. The sound of a rat scurrying off across the floor into a hole in the wall seemed to catch his attention. The sound caused him to wake. Slowly opening his eyes. Lifting his head up and looking out the window. It was merely a dream. A nightmare to haunt him for the rest of his days. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

Being a prisoner of war does things to a human being....

Breaks your mind...

Drives you mad...

Shell shocked...

Whatever it may be...

War... It does things to a human being...

Unfortunately for his enemies...

He doesn't die too good...

[m]

Standing at the window. Staring at the world outside. He had left the office room that he had stayed in. He kept himself stuck in that room for days. Only coming out when he was hungry or had to use the bathroom. Other than that, he stayed in that room. Pacing back and forth. Never speaking a word. Never showing any emotion. Plotting his revenge. The only thing on his mind was revenge. He couldn't think of anything else. Maybe it explains his will to live? Maybe it's the reason he is still able to hang on to his life? The thought of revenge literally the only reason his heart beats at this time? He didn't know. He simply just stood there in the hall. Staring out the window. The streets were dead. No cars. No people. Well, other than the homeless that lived in the abandoned building they were in. But that was inside. There was no one outside. Could be a bad part of the neighborhood they were in. He wasn't sure. He didn't know where he was. He knew he was in a city. That's about it. What city he was in? Didn't know that. Place seems to be American. There sure wasn't any foreigners. At least, not that he's seen. The homeless spoke English. He understood them. Most likely was America. The outside world didn't look like any other country outside. Not like how he pictured them to be anyways. The homeless didn't say where they were. He didn't ask. So he couldn't blame them for not saying. He hadn't said a word since being taken care of. The rest of the people in this place just considered him a mute. A person who could not or would not speak. That wasn't true. He could. He just didn't. He didn't know why. He just can't find the words to respond to anyone. Maybe it's the thoughts of revenge clouding his mind. Being far too angered to form sentences. Who knows. There was a sound. He raised an eyebrow. Turned in the direction it came from. There stood an old man. Roughly in his 50s, maybe 60s. His wool hat had holes in it. His beard was scruffy. His long, trench coat was worn out and raggedy. His boots looked like they've run their course a long time ago. It was the man who found him. His name was Jerry. A victim of society. Being ran out of business and out into the streets by a big corporation company. Forced to live on the streets because his little store had gone under. And he couldn't afford to pay his rent. His wife left him. Took the kids with her. Poor thing. That's how this world works though. There's only two types of people in this world. The ones who stay in their proper place. And the one with his foot on the other one's face. Everyone in this building seemed to suffer so much in their time. Their fall from grace, as some may put it. It sickened him to his stomach. The homeless man began walking towards him. A friendly smile on his face.

Jerry: "Hey there bub. How's it going?"

He shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head. He was alright. Never better. But just couldn't seem to form the words to say so. Jerry was good with telling how a person was feeling through just merely looking in their eyes. Jerry knew the answer.

Jerry: "That's good. You know? Some of the fellas and I... We got to thinking..."

He looked at Jerry. Eyebrow arched up.

Jerry: "Well... Lou found a pack of matches... Still good.... And well... We gathered a bunch of stuff we could burn in the ol' barrel downstairs... It's cold and well... We was wondering if you'd like to come down and sit by the fire.... Keep warm and stuff... We'd sure enjoy your company..."

He paused for a moment. Thinking of what to do. It was cold. He didn't mind the cold though. Jerry was a nice guy despite the common belief that the homeless are all just alcoholic people who talk to themselves and are just insane. Some may be like that. But not Jerry. Neither was his friend Lou. No one in this building was. Well, almost. There was one. Everyone just calls her Mary. She mutters incoherently to herself but she's no harm to anyone.

Jerry: "You don't have to... Just was a thought..."

He nodded.

Jerry: "You will...? Good, good.... We're getting ready to light it... Just follow me..."

Jerry turned around and began to start heading off down the hall to where the rest were. He followed him. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. Looking around as he walked. This place was slowly falling apart. It was bad. It didn't look like it'd fall over anytime soon. But it did look like it's been here for years without repairs. Jerry turned into a room with a huge hole in the floor. But there was random pieces of wood and garbage used to make a ramp of some sort to the floor below. Jerry walked down this make shift ramp. He followed still. He could hear the others. He could feel the warmth already. Looks like they started without them. That's alright. There was also the sound of a harmonica being played. As well as the sound of someone singing. Sounded like Lou. He liked the blues. That was his thing. Once they reached the group, Jerry greeted them with a wave. The rest were surprised to see that him with Jerry. He nodded to them. Not saying anything. He was right though. It was Lou. Singing away the blues...

Lou: "I got the blues. Cause my woman has gone. Ohhh.. I got the blues. Cause my woman has left. She took all of my hard earned money. Yeah. She left with someone else. Listen. She wrecked my brand new car. She even pawned my diamond ring. Whooo! She wrecked my brand new car. She pawned my diamond ring. She poured the salt out of the shaker. She didn't leave me with a dog gone thing. Cold hearted woman! Mh! Well all right! The blues can come to you. In any shape or form. It can come to you in the shape of a woman. Just like the one that left me alone. Now I got the blues. And I'm not ashamed to say. I been tryin' to shake them. Each and every day. I got the blues..."

He nodded his head to the sound of the harmonica and Lou's voice. Something seemed soothing about it. Being warm. By the fire. Surrounded by friendly faces. Just enjoying the atmosphere. Enjoying the sound of music. It could almost make him smile. But not quite. No smile. His face didn't budge. But he nodded his head to the tune being played. Feeling accepted by these people. These homeless people who have suffered injustices in their lives. Just like he did. It brought on a warm, fuzzy feeling. The same feeling a person would get being around family. It was nice.

Family...

That was something he missed...

Something he wished he could see again...

Maybe not the family that he was actually flesh and blood to...

They no longer accepted him...

Not for who he is....

He'd like to see them...

They probably would not like to see him...

No... His other family though...

The ones that did accept him...

Those were the ones he would like to see again...

Maybe some day....

This should suffice until then...

This feeling...

It was nice....

Almost like family... again...

Almost....

[m]

It had been a few days. He had spent some time with the people of this place. Got to know them more. Slowly but surely growing more comfortable around here. He found himself wandering the halls of this building. Exploring. Hanging out with everyone. It was better than being cooped up in that room all day. Being alone in his solitude was good some of the time. Gave him time to think. Time to relect. And more importantly, time to plot his revenge on his enemies. The inevitable doom he was going to bring down upon them. Only a matter of time. Can't rush these things. But when he wasn't doing that, he was helping the kind folks in this building. Gathering food. Gathering supplies. Being the protector. They didn't have anything to take care of themselves incase they were in danger. He did. Therefore, he became the protector of these people. Standing at the window, inside his room. He stared out it. Just lost in deep thought.

Meanwhile.. Outside...

Jerry: "Huh? Oh dear God... Not you guys again..."

...Said Jerry. He was sitting on the sidewalk outside. Sitting infront of the door. Looking up at these guys. There was three of them atleast. Jerry knew these guys. It wasn't the first time. First they'd show up. Ask for money. Obviously, they didn't have any. These guys would rough them up for the hell of it. And nothing was done about it. It had happened plenty times before.

Thug #1: "Alright folks! It's time to pay the rent when you stay on our turf!"

Said a voice from outside gracing his ears... Speak of the devil. The sound of the unfamiliar voice broke his concentration. Looks like a couple of hooligans were coming to pay his little building a visit. Of course, they were up to know good. He could smell the trouble they brought with them the moment he set his eyes on them. Stumbling around. Obviously intoxicated from the sight of the bottles in their hands. They looked like the type who would knock over a liquor store and not even think twice about it. And they were coming to his neck of the woods? That wasn't going to be good. It was time for him to be the welcoming committee. Raising an eyebrow. He looked down at the floor in the direction in which it came from. Sounded like trouble. Was he going to sit by and stay out of it? Not likely. It wasn't his business. But he wasn't going to let this happen. Nothing was going to harm these kind folks. Not while he was around. He walked over to the desk in his room. Looking down at the two twin Desert Eagle pistols shining in the light. One gold. One chrome. His prized possessions. His... friends. He reached forward. Snatching them off the table. He proceeded to make his way out the room.

Thug #2: "Ahuhuhuhuhuhuhuh! You heard the man. Time to pay up."

Jerry: "Now you know we don't owe you anything. We don't have any money. Just go away and leave us alone."

Thug #3: "Watch your tone old man."

Jerry: "I don't want any trouble..."

The thug took a step forward. A devilish grin forming on his face. Kneeling down now. Looking Jerry in his eyes.

Thug #1: "Now look... We don't want to hurt you. We just want you to pay the money you owe. We're not just going to let you sit here for free."

His buddy began to pound his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

Thug #2: "Yeah. This is our turf. You've got to pay to stay. Those are the rules."

Thug #1: "So what do you say? Quit beating around the bush or... *smirk* ... We'll have to run through your pockets ourselves."

Jerry: "Look.. I... uh..."

Jerry was cut off by the sound of a gunshot. A bullet whizzed pass above his head. The first thug who was hassling Jerry about paying "rent" stopped in his tracks instantly. Blood trickling down between his eyes, down his nose, and across his face. A nice little hole had been made in the forehead of the hooligan. Then.. he collapsed onto the pavement. Jerry looked up from where he sat. In shock at what he just saw. There he stood. Smoke rising out of the barrel of his gold pistol.

Thug #2: "Ah! ... ah! ...ah! ...ah! ...ah! ...ah!"

The second one had nothing to say. He stood there. Mouth agape. Scared. Almost just released his bowels in his pants. His head slowly turned to look at the ground. This thug's buddy was nothing more than a pile of crap on the ground as far as he was concerned. Shoot first. Ask questions later. He stood there. Behind the door Jerry sat infront of. His emotionless, ice cold blue eyes staring at them. Then... he spoke...

"I suggest you guys take your business elsewhere. That is... of course.. You'd rather end up like your friend there. Leave now while you still have your lives. I won't hesitate to put another hole between the eyes of you and your other buddy here. Take your business elsewhere. And forget what you saw here. Forget my face. And forget this building. If I catch you around here again, you'll be placed six feet underneath my feet faster than you can say "Oh shit." You got that?"

The second guy looked up at him. Gulping. He nodded his head. His buddy doing the same. Almost relieved himself in his pants as well. Judging by the way they looked at this man, it was almost as if they had seen a ghost. He waved his gun at them once with a flick of his wrist.

"Scram."

The two remaining thugs began to run away from this building. Scared out of their minds. He lowered his gun at his side. Watching them run. His face remaining expressionless. He watched until they were out of sight. It was then, he spoke again...

"You okay, my friend?"

Jerry began to push himself off the ground. Looking down at the thug that this man had shot down. Jerry then looked over at him and responded.

Jerry: "Yeah. I'm fine. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Practice. Simple practice. It makes perfect, I hear."

Jerry: "Heh, heh. I see. What are we going to do about him?"

"Bring him inside. We'll just bury him in a patch of dirt in this place. No one will miss him. I'm sure of that."

Jerry: "Alright."

Jerry nodded his head. He reached down and grabbed the thug by his feet. Pulling him towards the door. He opened the door for Jerry. Allowing him to drag the body into the building. Already in his hand was a bucket of water. He had this planned from the start. Once Jerry had brought the thug's body in all the way, he took it upon himself to use the bucket of water to wash the blood away from the sidewalk. Dumping it down on the ground. It seemed to work for the most part. The water wahsing the blood down into a gutter to the sewer below. And just like that... It only appeared there was water poured on the ground. Had there been any witnesses? He didn't know. But he made sure no one was watching when he pulled the trigger. If there was any witnesses anyways, he was sure the police wouldn't come snooping around here. Not around these parts. Certainly not to this abandoned building. The police seemed to stray away and ignore the place. As if it wasn't even here. It was bad and good. In this case, it was good. He had protected Jerry. Possibly saved him a beating, or maybe even his life. He was old. Who knows what kind of abuse these thugs would have inflicted on him. He closed the door and headed back inside. Off to bury the body of this thug inside. Protector... 1. The outside world... 0.

It wasn't the first time he killed a man...

It probably wasn't going to be the last...

But it was the same as it was back then...

Kill a man... out of protection for another...

Not like he was shooting people for no reason...

It was either protection...

Or self defense...

In this case... It was both...

Don't come to this place and causing trouble...

Or you'll find yourself with a hole between your eyes too...

[m]

An interesting thing happened today. He had come across a certain flyer today. Blew into his neck of the woods through the wind. It had three letters across it that just caught his attention. GCW. Global Championship Wrestling. A wrestling company. Based here in... Chicago, Illinois. Finally. Some indication of where he was. He had wondered for the longest time. He finally knew. He was in an abandoned building in Chicago, Illinois. How did he end up here? Why did his enemies choose to leave him hear? He didn't know. It was kind of confusing. No evidence gave him any answer though. But this flyer... It surprised him. Brought back some memories. This business. This wrestling business. He's been there before. Been there. Done that. He shook his head. A smirk crossing his pale lips. He's been able to enjoy himself recently. These people that inhabit this building have definitely done something to make him crack a smile now and then. Looking down at the flyer. How he remembered this business. Enemies galore as far as the eye could see. If you lined them up in single file formation that is. He was one that you could call one of the most hated men in this business. From day one, people hated him. Not the fans. The fans loved him no matter what he did. The rest of the roster though? Absolutely hated. Why? Jealously maybe? Envy perhaps? Or maybe it was just because they needed someone to hate? It could simply be all the above. Controversy? He was full of it. Everything he ever did was considered controversial. From his promos, his actions in the ring, and even his actions outside of the ring made people consider him controversial. Too hot for television? Maybe. If you were a parent, you would definitely be at the doors of the wrestling company trying to protest against having him on television. You can bet that the FCC was definitely not taking too kindly to him neither. The law even had a part to play in his career. Let's just say that some of the things he had done, they really weren't the most legal of actions to take. Prison time? He's been there. Jail time? Definitely. You don't live the type of life he leads and not get in trouble once in awhile. He had taken the wrestling business and completely changed the industry as a whole. He raised the bar in the hardcore division. Any fake people who were simply playing a gimmick of what he really was? They had to step up their game. On the microphone? He verbally slaughtered people. In the ring? He had been known to kill a career or two. He didn't always have the best record. Hell, nobody ever does. He's taken losses before. Plenty of losses. Was he able to rebound from it? Of course. Someone like him? Just sit, whine, and complain? No. He'd get angry, but never would he complain. He'd just pick himself up. Dust himself off. Grab a microphone. And do it again. Guess you could say he had a "never say die" type of attitude. Oh yes. This flyer. This reminded him of who he once was. He had given up the business not too long ago. Decided he was finished with it. Nothing more he felt he needed to accomplished. He proved what he needed to. No one could say that he was just some no name loser who was a one hit wonder. His name would definitely be on the lips of every man and woman at one point. He knew how to cause a stir. He knew how to get the crowd rowdy. He knew how to draw attention. He knew how to just be the best at what he does. Perhaps it was time for a comeback? Maybe. Maybe not.... Or maybe... it is. He stared at the flyer. The memories of his career in this business flooding his mind. He's seen so much. He's done so much. A second coming? No. He wouldn't stoop to imitating someone else. He would do it right. He would do it in his own way. GCW? Maybe it was time for a return. Return back to the ring.

Yes...

A return...

Back to the business he loves...

Questions arose...

Where is GCW...?

How does he find it...?

And...

Where to sign...?

[m]

Jerry: "You're leaving?"

...asked Jerry as he stood in the office room. He looked over at Jerry. Sticking his two Desert Eagle pistols within a raggedy, beat up suitcase. He nodded his head. He had already made up his mind. He made his decision. He was going to find this Global Championship Wrestling. He was going to find this company. And he was going to get back into the business. He may have quit the business before, but that was then. He had a new found passion for the sport again. All he could do was think of how this flyer that flyer into the building was a sign from up above. It was a sign that he must get back into this business. It had more benefits than consequences. For one, he'd get back to doing what he loved to do. Another reason was that he could live a normal life again. No longer living in this decrepit building. He'd be able to have money again. He'd be able to live his life again. Sitting in this place was getting him no where. His friends were in this business. His family was in this business. There was no reason not to go back. Then there's the added bonus. Mass exposure. Being popular again. Being on the television all over the world again. Being talked about again. Being the subject on the lips of millions of people. Now, this wasn't a vanity thing. This was a plus for his plan. His enemies. The ones who put him in the condition he was in now. They would without a doubt hear about him popping up in the world again. And if they wanted him dead like they claimed they did? They would come looking for him again. He knew they would. To find out that they had possibly failed at ending his life? They would indeed try again. That just added so much more to his plot. His plan was almost perfect. He could see it in his mind now. No reason not to go back.

"Yeah. I'm heading out of here."

Jerry: "Where will you go?"

"There's not much I've told you about myself. But you see... I was once someone important... I was what some would consider "A-List." I used to compete in wrestling. There's a new company that's opened up in this city. I'm going to see if it's possible to hop on board. It has an address listed on this flyer I found. I got directions from Joe earlier. He knew the street that the building is located on. So I'm going to swing by over there. Check out the place. Meet the bosses. See if we can do business together. Get back on my feet. You know?"

Jerry: "I see... Hmmm... Guess a man's got to do, what a man's got to do."

"Yeah. But no need to fret. I'm different than most. You've seen that first hand. I'm not jacked up on some superiority power trip."

Jerry: "Yeah. You're right."

"I don't forget people. I don't care what class you're in. I don't care how small or big a person is considered. I treat everyone the same."

Jerry: "I know what you mean."

"Thanks for letting me stay here with you and the rest of the gang here. It won't go unrewarded."

Jerry: "What do you mean?"

"You honestly think I'm going to forget all you've done for me? You're a lifesaver. I would probably be dead right now if you hadn't taken me in. You and the rest of the people here have done so much for me. I won't let that go without a little repaying. I owe you guys."

Jerry: "Heh, heh. We were just being kind citizens. Many of others would do just the same if they were passing by. You need not worry about us. We've managed to do just fine on our own."

"Many of people would have simply saw me and kept on walking. Not losing sleep or even had given it another thought. I've got to. It just would not seem right for me to leave you guys hanging like this. I've got to."

Jerry: "What could you do?"

"If my name still draws a crowd like I think it does... There'll be plenty of money waiting for me. And with that money... You can guarantee that I'll set something up for you guys. Maybe a shelter perhaps? High quality shelter. Good food. Hot food. Fresh food. New clothes. Warm beds. Perhaps a way to get back on your feet. You following me?"

Jerry: "You'd be able to do all that for us?"

"I could do it, and then some."

Jerry: "That's up to you, bub. I'm no beggar."

"Don't worry. It won't even be a problem. You just watch. I'll be back here. I'll be back for all y'all."

He closed the suitcase's top and zipped it up. It had some stuff in there that he planned on taking along with him. Most of it was nothing more than junk to hide and keep his guns in place so they're not bouncing around inside. Then he reached forward. Grabbing a firm hold on the handle of the suitcase, he lifted it off the desk and pulled it over to let it hang at his side. He turned his attention back over at Jerry.

"You've guys have done a lot for me. It means an awful lot. You've guys taken me in. Fed me. Gave me medical care. Gave me a place to stay. You guys didn't need to do it, but you did anyways. Even with the scarcity of even the bare minimum you gots possess, you still shared what you had with me. For that, I am eternally grateful. Thanks for everything."

With a nod of his head and a smile on his face, Jerry responded...

Jerry: "You're welcome."

"I'll see you again real soon my friend."

Nodding his head, he then made his exit out of the office room. Making his way down the halls. Slowly walking down the hole in the floor to get to the lower level of the building. Passing by the others. He gave them a wave as he passed. Saying his goodbyes. Once he reached the door, he took a deep breath and exhaled. It was time. He reached forward. Grabbed the handle of the door. Then pushed it open to the outside world. He walked out of the building.

His next destination...

G... C... W...

Global...

Championship...

Wrestling...

TO BE CONTINUED...