"Took a drive up the coast for the first time
Where the cities are few and far between
Found redemption, the street signs bearing my name
And direction, the last thing on my mind

Cause' I fell once again for believing
And in faith, I began to drive
I left my home to search for a feeling
that I'd lost, that must have died...
I must have died

'Cause I've been feeling uninspired
Battered and broken tired
'Cause there's many things I've never learned
Or even decided...
If I'm ready to serve."

~"Uninspired"- 8 Stops 7~

*Welcome to the next stop. It's night time along the Pacific Coast Highway. That's all he needs to do...just drive. Let it all out that way. He had the man beat, but someone had to get in his way...someone had to make sure it wasn't to be. Victory in the books? Yes. Moral victory? Sure, why not? Point proven? Hardly. Somebody's gonna get what they deserve. Ring...ring...it's that damn cell phone in your car. He can't get a moment of privacy. Then again, it has to be important. He turns it off, sending it back to his home. The Machine picks up.*

Hey...it's Jonathan. If you're looking for Ashlee, fuck off...she doesn't live here anymore. If you're looking for me, just leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm done doing what I'm do best, and that's play the superstar. If this is Drake-O, I have everything under control. Lates!

Hey honey. Nice outgoing message. So, um, I thought that we were going to meet for breakfast. Maybe I got the time wrong and you're on your way here. If that's the case, just ignore this message. You know what? Just ignore the message anyway. Call me, okay? Bye.

*Another one missed. Does it really matter? Should it really matter? It's 9 AM Pacific Daylight Time. Jonathan Storm has the whole day to retrieve them. He also has a whole day to stew in his own anger.*

Jonathan Storm: God dammit, Bowman. You can't let me be, can you? Finding ways to meddle in my business. Am I really that interesting? You did fuck up in one department. You're facing the HWF's Scientific Champion. A man who has held that title since December of last year. That is the most honourable belt in this company. It proves that one man is the most technical in this company. It proves to everyone that I may not be Pop Perfection...but I'm still pretty flawless. Bowman, you should consider yourself lucky that I'm angry...that I'm seeing red. It just means that you won't be completly crippled by the end of the match. Now shut this off...I don't want you guys following me all day.

*So we fade...but we come back. It's later in the day. He's still driving on this highway...ring ring. Another cell phone call. He turns it off. Back to the home. Who is it now?*

Okay, so I guess that was a no on breakfast. Sure would have been nice if I had been informed of the change. Maybe I'll let you make it up to me by taking me out to dinner. But seriously, call me so we can set something up for tonight. Talk to you later, bye.

*He's forgotten everything...his commitments, his friends...his life. Now it's time to bear down. The lack of inspiration in his life is about to come to an end. All he needs is something new...and as he watches the cliques on the beach have fun, taking their pictures, he nods. Once upon a time, that was him...but this trip has rejuvenated. Ring ring...it happens again...

Where are you? You're not answering your cell phone and no one seems to know where you are. Are you just trying to avoid me, because that what it seems like. Anyway, you know my number, please call me? Bye.

*And we fade out. The middle of the afternoon arises, and Storm still drives. He's probably in northern California by now. He stops the car to admire the scenery where he is. We finally get a good look at what he's wearing. A black Cold t-shirt, some jean shorts, and a pair of Doc Martens. As always, he has his blue oakleys and his trademark Angels cap on his head.*

Storm: It's all really funny how things turn out, Greg. I mean, I want to believe that you're going to be fine after our match, but I know that's a bold faced lie. I don't expect you to walk out of the arena with your...

*Ring Ring...*

I'm starting to get really worried. I haven't heard from you all day. I hope you're okay. I miss you. For my peace of mind, please, please, please call me and just let me know that you're all right. Okay, I'll be waiting for you call. Bye.

Storm: ...vital organs in tact. Greg, this is about you getting involved with something you shouldn't have...my business. Now, not only do you have problems with me, but a lot of people. You see, I've learned who I can, and can't trust. I do favours for people, people return the favours later on. You won't believe how many people owe me. Saturday night, you recieve a punishment that should've been coming to you a LONG time ago. Someone ripping every tendon off your bone, making you scream in pain, and ultimately? You'll just tap out. You probably won't believe what happened to you at first, but don't worry...I'll have plenty of pictures to show you, and the rest of the world.

Saturday night? The only crime you'll be committing is looking that bad in the ring. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back home before the sunsets...I'll be missing out on my own party.

*He grins, as he hops back into his car, and drives off, and as he drives out of view, we return to the answering machine one last time.*

Jonathan, please call me. I'm worried sick. I really need to talk to you, so I know that you're okay. So, call me, please?