Welcome to Gaia! ::

From the black screen that started the video, a bright light beamed at the top of the frame - round, blinding, it slowly dissolved the darkness around it and revealed the pale blue backdrop behind it. Spatters of white clouds littered the sky, the camera panning down from the sun above to reveal the landscape below. Stretching out into the horizon, a dusty dirt road ran up into the distance, flanked on each side by waist-high wheat fields. Midday, in some rural part of God Knows Where, a man could be seen up ahead walking down the beaten path, his back to the camera while a solemn strum of an acoustic guitar began.

The camera slowly panned forward, closing in on the gentleman walking to keep him in focus. It could be seen that he was wearing what looked to be a suit - or at least, part of one. His white dress sleeves stretched down his arms, rolled up to the wrists to endure the aching heat. The back of his vest was black, but the angle left the front unviewable to know if it was broken up with any other colors or patterns. Aside from the man's shaggy black hair, there was little to discern his identity other than the belt strewn over his right shoulder, shining like a new dime in the sunlight. It was the OECW Seasons Championship, the faceplate hanging just enough over the back of his shoulder for the camera to read 'Salem Croft' under the logo. Keeping his steady pace, walking with the direction of traffic (not that there was any), the new BBW titleholder continued his methodical pace towards seemingly nowhere in particular, his left thumb jutted up towards the road.

Loud enough to be heard over the accompanying music, the sputtering exhaust of an approaching vehicle could be heard, the audience catching sight of a rather beat-up looking jalopy of a truck rolling up the road behind Salem. Blue, old, and in desperate need of new paint and metal in places, the rust bucket's brake lights lit up as the vehicle was passing by, slowing to a stop where the champion was on the road. Halting, Salem turned his head and put down his hitchhiking hand while the window rolled down.

"Hey, fella - you needin' a ride somewhere?" said the driver, a pudgy, plaid-wearing fellow with a trucker's hat on that bore the John Deere logo. In an instant, though, the man's eyes squinted and widened - likely taking notice of the gaudy accessory over his shoulder and recognizing the man's wrapped hand, now slipped into his hip pocket. "Wait a sec - you're Salem Croft, right? Well, hot damn! Boy, I love seein' you down there in that BBW. Just tell me where ya need to go, and I'll get ya there. Can't leave a fella like you stranded, right?"

Salem, meanwhile, merely offered a slight nod and smile to the kind commuter, reaching forward for the metal handle of the truck's passenger door. "Yeah, right." he said softly, swinging the door open and stepping up into the cab. "I really appreciate it."

Shutting the door, the truck started to lurch forward once again, a shotgun sound of backfire heard as a tuft of black smoke burst from the tailpipe, the truck accelerating towards the horizon and threatening to fade out of the camera's sight. However, a sudden screech was heard as the brake lights went on, the vehicle struggling to stop itself as it began having a kind of seizure - stopping and going in an abrupt, jolting rhythm. Finally coming to a complete halt, the driver's door swung open, followed by the seasoned samaritan spilling out with a pained groan onto the dusty road, hitting the ground hard. Cradling his ribs in pain, a wrapped up hand reached out from the cab and slammed the driver door back shut, the vehicle firing off another shot as it started off towards the distance once more with a significant increase in speed. Struggling to stand, the aged man staggered up to his feet and started trying to run after the vehicle in pursuit, but after only a few steps he cupped his abdomen once again and fell to his knees, groaning in pain while his ride sped off without him.

From inside the cab, the camera cut to an image of the dashboard of the aged Ford, the outdated speedometer gauge only showing a top speed of a hundred and twenty. Still, that didn't stop the needle from rising, escalating with each second that passed. Panning backward and into the empty passenger's seat, the camera angle showed Salem sitting with both hands on the wheel, belt still across his right shoulder between him and the point of view. In the cab, the belt had lost much of its shine and glory, but the slim smile on Salem's face from before was stretching into a toothy grin, a broad, almost sickening expression that felt abrasive to look at. His eyes were focused on the far distance, blank and hollow, empty except for what was reflected in them through the windshield. Reaching top speed as the music played on, the camera pulled back and out of the vehicle, showing the speeding truck take off like a blue bolt of lightning that went off towards the horizon.

At this point, the camera was struggling to keep the truck in focus, its roaring engine fading with the dark passenger it carried into the horizon, where the blue of the truck meshed with the blue of the sky until the two were indistinguishable from each other. The gruff singer's voice built up from an almost pleading cry into a desperate shout as he repeated the last line over and over, the screen going black with the final two bars.