Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Lucas Oil Stadium was alight with excitement as the WWF:G was set to deliver another night of action for its fans. The dome had been closed for the occasion, but even without view of the sky one was hard-pressed to not see stars somewhere in the building. The city of Indianapolis had a special way of drawing out the nightlife, as evident by the jam-packed arena that was primed to erupt...waiting on only a match to set the festivities off.

Naturally, that fire was struck by a familiar voice that echoed through the PA system.

"People...of Indianapolis, Indiana!" Salem shouted from somewhere off stage, his voice alone enough to provoke the audience into a frenzy. The stage started to be flooded with a red fog that lingered waist-high across the stage, adding a level of mystique and suspense to the moment.

"Give it up for YOUR FAVORITE SON!"

The riotous reaction that Salem's statement received was matched only by the intensity with which Killswitch Engage began playing over the speakers, a shrill howl shredding the air as heavy guitar riffs and thunderous kick-bass shook the stands. Emerging from behind the curtain, Salem's bronzed silhouette bolted onto the stage to a fanfare of applause and cheers. A mic in one hand and his change jar in the other, Salem bounced from one side of the stage to the other, encouraging the hometown crowd to make some noise.

"Hell yes, Indianapolis!" Salem exclaimed with a beaming smile, still standing in front of the ramp, soaking up the love from his hometown. After about a minute, the audience quieted enough for Salem to feel comfortable speaking once again.

"People of Indy, how are you feelin' tonight?!" he shouted, receiving another pop from the fans for his troubles. The ecstatic fans gave off an energy that Salem seized, using it to fuel his confidence as he talked over the roaring crowd.

"Well, that's good...that's really good...because it's my honor to tell you all that this is going to be the inaugural episode of 'Salem Says' in the WWF:G! And to kick this off, I had the GM's wrangle me a special guest...ladies and gentlemen, give it up for your SECOND-FAVORITE SON! ANDREW LUCK!"

Once more, the thousands in attendance created quite the ruckus as the Quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts stepped out behind the curtain, dressed in a sharp pinstripe suit of black and grey, waving sincerely to the fans as he joined Salem on the stage. Exchanging a couple of pleasantries with him, the pair departed down the ramp and towards the ring, which had been fashioned with a television monitor and a couple of fold-out chairs for the men to sit in.

The roaring cheers had dulled into a soft rumble by the time Salem and Andrew had managed to take their seats, each with a microphone in tow. For a brief moment, the two local celebrities paused, sharing a humbled laugh with each other as the fans cut them off, denying them a chance to talk right away. Only after a couple seconds passed would Salem draw his microphone back to his lips, addressing his guest for the evening.

"So, Andrew...I hear you're taking the Colts to the playoffs this season, am I right?" Salem asked casually, though the question caused those standing in the isles of the arena to once again applaud for the rookie QB, breaking out with a chant of "Thank You, Andrew".

"Eheh. Yeah, we're really pulling together this season." Luck replied with an embarrassed smile. "I know you're a big football fan, yourself, Salem. Been keeping up with the season so far?"

"I've been trying to." Salem replied, nodding politely to his counterpart. "Granted, it was a bit sad to see Peyton leave Indy. I actually met him a few times, and I'd like to think if he were here, he'd-"

"...Want to come out and see all these Colts fans tonight?" an all-too-familiar voice said from somewhere off-camera, a voice people of Indianapolis knew like their own. As if the stands needed to be shaken any more this evening, the fans gave up what was likely their loudest reaction of the night for the middle-aged gentleman that stepped out onto the stage, none other than the former QB of the Indianapolis Colts, Peyton Manning.

The fans hailed this new visitor as though he were a Caesar, but in their eyes, he was something much more - he was a Manning. Despite his casual attire - just a button-up shirt and some slacks - one would have thought Peyton a king as he received a standing ovation all the way to the ring...a journey that was made all the more longer by the quarterback's need to greet Colts fans on both sides of the ramp, sharing a heartfelt moment with each supporter he passed. Finally stepping into the ring, a chair was brought up to Peyton so that he could take a seat next to Andrew and Salem, though he preferred to stand.

As Peyton drew the microphone to his lips, the fans silenced him with an outrageous chant of "Thank You, Peyton", followed by "Hall Of Fame". The moment left the legendary athlete humbled, and his teary eyes painted a story of love and loss that went along with the tenure he'd established playing in the "House That Peyton Built". Finally, though, the fans quieted enough for Mr. Manning to speak, his eyes focused on Salem.

"Salem...I know you weren't expecting me to come out here, tonight...But I just had to. Not just for all these fans, or to congratulate Andrew here on a terrific season, but to ask you what's been going on with you, lately."

Peyton's words left Salem visibly confused as the former MVP continued.

"Like you mentioned earlier, you and I have known each other for a few years, now." Peyton said, the audience listening to his every word. "In fact, let me share with you guys the time I first met Salem, here - it was a Friday night about five years ago; me and some of the guys were heading out on the town to have a little fun, when we found ourselves at this small little wrestling show. You could even say it was 'Indy'." he added, receiving a little pop from the fans that brought a smile to the Super Bowl champion's face. "We didn't plan to stay, but I couldn't help but be impressed when I saw Salem get out in the ring. He didn't look a day past seventeen, and he was carrying his school backpack behind the stage, but this kid was fearless between those ropes. There he was, going at it with guys twice his age and making them look like they were going in slow-motion. I talked with him a bit after the show, and we'd stayed in touch ever since. But what struck me the most about Salem was the way he talked to you - he never had a bad word to say about anyone...that is, until here lately, it seems."

The crowd booed at the allusion to Cyrus "The Dream", his stinging comments about Salem still fresh in many people's minds. Salem, however, simply nodded solemnly - not looking into Peyton's eyes for more than a second or two, as though he were shamed by the man's statements.

"Now, Salem..." Peyton continued. "I've been tuning in lately, and I gotta ask - what's with you, man? I see you bashing people's faces in with bats, burying Cyrus Leone on the radio...I gotta know, what's going on? This isn't the Salem I remember meeting a few years ago."

Salem paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts as the crowd anxiously awaited his rebuttal. Before too long, Salem brought the microphone to his lips, his face unapologetic as he looked on at the future Hall-of-Famer.

"Well, Peyton...first, let me say how good it is to see you again, and that I'm really glad that you and the Broncos are also going to enjoy a spot in the playoffs, this season."

Despite the mention of a rival team, the crowd still gave Peyton a measurable ovation, praising their former chief for the hard work he put into his comeback season in Denver.

"However...times have changed, man." Salem continued, his tone blunt and direct. "See, the world of wrestling isn't the same as the world of football - here, you don't get traded to another team when you're unhappy with your place on the 'depth chart'. Here, the only thing that matters is how much you want it - how much you want to accomplish your goals...and how far you're willing to go to see them through. I don't have the luxury that you do, Peyton - these fans, myself included, we're indebted to you. No matter what happens next for you and the Broncos, we'll always support you, because you gave us something to be proud of. But me? I have a washed-up legend who's a few bad bumps away from a retirement home trying to cut me down at the knees, all because he can't swallow the fact that his career has become what he always claimed to be - a dream."

Gesturing to the monitor, a series of images depicting Salem coming out to the ring alone are shown, followed by images of Cyrus Leone, most notably ones of his tag-title match from a few cards back and the triple-threat match in which he was pinned by Justin Spectacular.

"See, Peyton - this guy, he was supposed to be my coach." Salem said, his voice laced with bitterness as he nearly spat in the mic with disgust. "I was still on the indy circuit when he first met me, and offered me a chance to live out my dreams in the WWF:G. He made me promises of a future filled with championships and glory, of fame and wealth, recognition for the undeniable talent that he saw in me...but yet, when the time came to actually boost me up, he was more concerned with his own career than that of his pupil's. But when I turn my back on him, he has the audacity to tell ME I deserved it? Well, Cyrus can just take his fantasies of making me tap out, wad them up into a nice, tight ball, and shove them straight up his...!"

As Cyrus's music bumped every speaker in the building, Salem turned his eyes toward the stage, shooting the man an incredulous look as he made his demands of Salem. Andrew and Peyton shared a look with one another, concerned that matters might get out of hand. However, Salem's face was calm as Cyrus entered the ring.

"Cyrus..." Salem said, his voice kind, but mockingly so. "You're not in any position to be making demands of anyone, tonight." he added, moving towards Cyrus.

Peyton stepped forward as though to say something to Salem, but Salem held up a hand, giving the quarterback a look that said he needed to say whatever it was he was about to. Nodding, Mr. Manning stepped back and gave the floor to Salem, who stepped a bit closer to Cyrus.

"You see...the only one who doesn't belong in this ring is you, Cyrus." Salem continued, all illusions of cordiality tossed aside from his voice, now. "And the reason why is quite simple, Cyrus...you just aren't good enough, anymore. Oh, you think you are...you come out here, you holler at the fans, you make your threats. But the fact remains that you just can't get it done like you used to in the ring. But this is a symptom, Cyrus - a symptom of your own personal failures. See, you call yourself "The Dream", you've built yourself a career, but you've also done it at the expense of people like me, Cyrus, people who thought you were more than just 'a dream'. People like us, we put our faith in you. When you asked me to take you on as my manager back at last year's Wrestlemania, I put my faith in you - no, my career! But what happened, Cyrus?"

Salem started slowly pacing around the man, looking him up and down with disgust.

"...I'll tell you what happened." he said, as though Cyrus had already known the answer. "You got greedy. You came back, saw the career I was destined to have, and you wanted yourself a piece of it. You wanted to inject some life into those aging veins of yours, some firmness in those old bones. But your mettle has weakened during all the time that you've come and gone over the years, Cyrus. You just can't keep up with the younger crowd, so you lose title shots and get pinned by guys the likes of Justin Spectacular. While you were busy trying to piece together 'one more run', I was laying the foundation of what's going to be my Hall of Fame career, brick by bloody brick. And I did it all without you, Cyrus."

Standing back in front of Cyrus, Salem smirked, looking the man up and down.

"It's sad that your title is as empty as what it calls to mind, but even more sad the state that you find yourself in...you spent so long basking in the sun, soaking up that glory, that you fell asleep and dreamed of being something more than you were...but now, you've woken up. The dream is over, and night has set in. The creatures of the dark have come out to play, and your name doesn't mean anything to them. There's no glory left in this ring for you, Cyrus...only the cheap pop for an old-timer, and the inevitable three-count that you're doomed to feel as you look up at the lights, feel your career held down by the likes of your better, and wonder where it all went wrong."

The audience's anticipation for violence was coming to a head, a dull rumble starting in the stands that could be felt through the floor, right up to the very canvas.

"Pride is the product of your undoing, Cyrus. I've seen yours...now, let me show you mine."

Just as Salem finished speaking, an electric guitar riff would start over the speakers as "From Heads Unworthy" by Rise Against started playing over the announce system.

"Not just friends, Cyrus." Salem said in a hushed, foreboding tone. Lowering his eyes, his expression gave off chills that hushed the crowd.

"Revolutionaries."

Gesturing to the four corners, he acknowledged his associates, each to their own pop from the crowd.

"We are the heirs of this industry. Each of these athletes before you has just as much reason to despise you as I do. You and all the vanity-stricken sycophants who cling to their former glories will no longer stand in our way. We will take back what you've stolen from this industry...the Pride."

With that, Salem gestured to his partners, signaling the start of their attack.

Salem watched on as Cyrus was assaulted, a sick grin on his face as he walked over and grasped at the steel chair his beaten-down adversary had dropped, preparing to use it when the time was right. In light of this and the obvious disadvantage Cyrus had, Peyton and Andrew rushed over to Salem, separating him from Cyrus and the others.

"What're you doing?!" Peyton exclaimed as they both looked on with shock and worry.

"I'm doing what needs to be done!" Salem spat back, no microphone to echo his voice. "If you don't wanna get hurt, then get the hell out of here! You're not in Denver anymore," he said, jabbing a finger towards Peyton. "...and this isn't your stadium tonight, Andrew - it's mine! So get back!"

Pushing through the two quarterbacks, Salem paced around the ring with his chair, poised like a hungry lion just waiting to tear out Cyrus' throat as his teammates continued their surgical attack.