The winter's wet, and the summer's hot,
Take a match in Puerto Rico, why not

Power and adrenaline flowing like amber,
From the recesses of the earth, put on your waders

And twitch when the water runs high sometimes;
Twitch when the tide ebbs low

See the sights, maybe go downtown;
Sometimes you get some heat, sometimes it follows you around

When the blade hits the bone, everybody hears it sing!
Shower room full of people, no one hears a goddamned thing!

A twitch when the current runs wild sometimes,
Twitch when the contact howls

All that racket out there in the arena;
I'm on a stretcher, here come the cleaners

And the sky goes dark and there I am,
Climbing down the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram

I drop from the top of my tall steel cage,
Drop to the concrete floor...

The bell rings, Salem on his back against the canvas as GBL is helped to his feet by the referee, The Eclipse's music playing over the audience's reactions throughout the arena. Still, Salem only feels numb under the bright lights and noise, taking a moment before rolling out of the ring under the bottom rope. He feels his fingertips slide across the apron as he stands and turns to the stage, starting off towards it with a vacant look on his face.

Heading up the ramp, fans cheered for him and reached out to give condolences and handshakes, but Salem seemed to be sleepwalking, how methodically and unaware he moved up the incline and to the stage, not speaking or showing any reactions or emotions to what was going on around him.

Moving through the curtain, Salem passed by gorilla position, where other performers and production workers were waiting to congratulate him on his effort, but Salem simply gave them a slight nod of acknowledgement before moving along as zombie like as he'd entered, continuing down hallways and through equipment areas where more colleagues offered their respects as he passed.

Reaching the parking garage, Salem approached a long black touring bus with a golden outline down the sides of the old political 'Don't Tread On Me' flag remodeled after his Copperhead design. It was already idling, a short, portly, but friendly and affable looking older gentleman standing by the door attentively. Seeing him approach, the driver opened the doors and gave Salem a smile, just enough to show the man he cared.


"Helluva match, sir. Think you had 'em, I say." the gray haired bus driver said.

"Thanks, Murph." Salem said almost robotically, starting up the steps as the driver followed on after.

"So, where to, boss?" the driver asked, getting into the ready position in his seat.

"Anywhere but here." Salem answered, already heading down towards the back bedroom, shutting the door behind him as Murphy pulled the door shut, drew the bus out of park, and started out of the arena.