Every culture and ethnicity has their place in the world. Haitians, Jamacians, Russians, Latvians, Americans. Each one has it's niche that it fills. Stripping the cultures further down you'll find different views and ideologies. Anarchists, Nazis, Conservatives, Liberals, Reformers, Communists, all are needed to complete certain aspects of a country. Activists are as important as anyone, in some cases more so because it's activists that point out the overlooked angles in life.

A secluded grassy hill somewhere in Tulsa Oklahoma. Warm wind creates the illusion of a warm fall afternoon, though in reality it's the middle of December. Shane Jackson's from slowly begins to materialise as he ascends the side of the quite hill. His usual western style duster is accented by dark leather gloves. As familiar as Shane's apparrel has now become it's the first time in memory that he's ever worn gloves. As he reaches the peak of the hill he stops and stares across the expanseive field that spreads out in every direction.

Shane: Many people don't really know about this place. It's quite and out of the way from the rest of Tulsa. Though it's out of the way it carries a rich piece of Oklahoman history. This place is an old Indian burial ground. Buried here are the remains of hundreds of great native cheifs and warriors. Every bone in this place is a slice of history and of Oklahoma's past. To some people it might seem a little strange that I'm standing here in Tulsa instead of being halfway to Pittsburgh for the next CWF Glory, but I have my reasons. I'll be at the Mellon Arena in time for Glory, don't worry Meyer, our match will take place.

Shane reaches into the pocket of his duster and pulls out a bandana.

Shane: How does me having a paper belt translate to me being a little bitch? You wanna clarify that for me Mr. Dillinger, because I'm a little confused about it. Maybe it's just me or maybe you had a slip of the tounge, but please, clear it up cause I'm not grasping how they go together.

Shane takes one last look across the grassy field before he raises the bandana to his eyes and ties it tightly behind his head, creating a blindfold.

Shane: There's something I want you to know Meyer, and that I always respected the way you attacked your opponents. Whenever you cut a promo it made me sit up and think. You pointed out a lot of things, especially when you were still partnered up with Marcos Guevara. I looked foreward to what you had to say and what you'd bring up about the skewed view of world politics. Noice I'm using past tense, I looked foreward to your words, that was until you most recent one. It looks like you've fallen out of the boat Meyer, no offence. I was truly disappointed in what you said to me. It's true that our match mean nothing at all, in any respect. It's like we were just thrown into a match just because they wanted a couple of know guys to heat things up before the two title matches. Regardless of why the match is taking place I want to make something clear to you Meyer, I've never expected anyone I've ever faced to just be a cheap step ladder to the next level.

With the blindfold tied firmly aover his eyes, Shane takes several steps into the field, it only takes a couple of steps before Shane stumbles and falls to his knees.

Shane: Right now this is how I feel, like I'm just stumbling along in the dark, not really knowing where I'm going. My fight with Sterling, it's gone cold and there's not reason for me to face him again. I thought I was going to war with Diablo but he was able to end it quickly with a clean win, so there's no reason for me to try going after him again. We already know why I'm fighting you, Meyer. Just a simple match to fill up the card, no point to it at all. As much as I feel lost in my direction though....

Shane takes a long, deep breath, then with his left hand he slowly begins sliding the leather glove off his right hand. He slides the glove off and quickly clenches his right hand into a fist. He pushes himself back into a standing position. He extends his right hand out infront and unclenches the fist. In the palm of Shane's hand is a large slit. Slowly the slit begins expanding until, looking out from Shane's palm, is an eye.

Shane: My eyes may not be able to show me where I'm going but it doesn't mean that something else, inside of me, is lost in it's direction.

With his hand pointing the way Shane begins walking through the field. He no longer stumbles, or falls to his knees, he walks as if he's travelled this field a hundered times as if he knows the location of every hole and root.

Shane: Why was my direction lost in the first place? I thought I was heading towards the World Title. I thought that's where I was aimed, unfortunately I was wrong in my thinking. Diablo put me on my back and brought me to a realisation. I'm not ready for the World Title. If I can't beat the champion in a non-title match then why would I be ready to face him one where the Title's on the line. So as of now I'm retiring from every aspect of the World Title. I want no shots at the World Title, I refuse to face the World Champion in any type of match, nobody should conisder me as a challenge to Diablo or any future World Champion until I make it clear that I want to make a run for it. I may be putting myself under a glass ceiling of my own creation but I don't care. It was made clear that I'm not ready for the World Title so it's only right.

Shane walks with ease through the field. As he moves deeper and deeper into the covered burial ground he begins smiling.

Shane: I'm nearing my goal. Another few feet.

Shane approaches a large rock in the middle of the field. Etched onto the rock is the image of a long past native warrior.

Shane reaches the rock and carefully kneesl down next to it. He runs his fingertips over the face of the warrior on the rock. His fingers move over the face and down the side of the rock to the dirt at Shane's feet. He carefully brushes away seveal inches of dirt revealing an undeveloped Polaroid photograph. With is free hand Shane reaches up and unties his blindfold. He lifts the photograph out of the dirt. As he raises it to his face it becomes clear that the picture is beinginning to develop it's self. Shane slides the picture into one of the pockets of his coat and slowly stands up from the dirt.

Shane: I was led here for a reason, what that reason is, I'm not totally sure, all I know is that I'm not ment to look at that picture yet but when I am I'll know and when I know everyone will know.

Before turing and walking away from the rock Shane reaches down and touches the image of the warrior one last time. He slides the leather glove back over his right hand, where the eye that once existed, has now disappeared. In a sungle fluid movement Shane turns and walks back through the field in the direction he came. He descends that hill and is gone from sight.