[Apparently, I had been living in a fantasy world. Not real; apparently, this place is all in my mind. My friends and comrades are figments of my imagination, and my life is just a dream; nothing more. The thin line between reality and fantasy separates the two worlds, which can sometimes make it hard to distinguish which you are in. I was once told: sometime in my life, I would contemplate certain things in the past. A depression of sort would live inside of my mind as I question whether it was god or the big bang that made man. "Why can't we live without guns? What would have been the outcome if the south won? Why do I feel like this? What is causing my brain to ache, and stretch out with thoughts that never crossed my mind? What am I on this earth for? Am I part of a master plan, or is my entire life randomly created by nature. Am I meant to be a messiah? Or a peasant? What is my destiny?" No one can answer these, even though I am honestly curious as to what the conclusion is. Perhaps, My destiny has yet to become known, or maybe… it has just appeared in this phony mind.]

The grayness from the cloudy sky give the land around a glary glow. It doesn't look like a beautiful setting, in fact, it's quite the contrary. Almost as if I had been stuck in my version of hell. I cannot stand fog, which makes the streets blurry with a white mist. I can hardly see five feet as I stand on the cold, beige sidewalk, contemplating the past, present, and future.

As I walk through the fog, I can see more clearly; more than I had seen from a distance. Not even, approaching, car lights seep through the heavy mass which saturates the air. Although, it's a fitting ambiance, I cannot seem to accept these conditions. It makes me upset, and angry. I'm very anal about weather; it sets my mood. That's why the cloudy, foggy weather gives me a tired, annoyed mood as I walk towards my old mansion; the one that my parents had owned previous to their deaths. A cold breeze pushes against my skin, which is hardly covered by my red sweatshirt. I hadn't had a large amount of clothes, beings I forgot to pack some before destroying the house. Perhaps, It was careless of me, but I think my rage could not have been helped. As I stand in front of the burned house, most of the burned items left inside have been taken out by the working crew. It was empty, and according to the chief, my mother had died in the fire. During the climate of despair and annoying weather, a grin morphed onto my face. I knew I had eliminated all burdens in my life; however, now I was feeling the effects of it. I knew my entire life revolved around my mother, and my mansion. I had been staying with Michael for the time being, just until things cleared up; just until I could get my life back on track. I had enough money for a new life, but I was having some doubt and regret for what I had done; even though, I knew it was necessary.

I walked from the burned rubble to a shop down the street. The store owner was an acquaintance of my parents, mostly of my father. Apparently, they worked together for a while, promoting each other's businesses. It didn't matter to me, but I knew he would hint towards my mother's leaving of this world. As I walked in through the slightly opened door, a bell sounds from the handle making it aware that a customer has arrived. The man I was talking about, behind the counter with large eyeglasses on, looks up at me from a concentration he was in, deeply. The name tag named, Henry, as the outside glow shines the surface of his plate, and glasses as he looks at me with a sympathetic expression. I wasn't sure what his name was until that moment, and I wasn't quite sure of what type of store he ran; All I knew was he wasn't popular with the outside crowd, most likely because of his dedication to his business; but as they say: "You gotta do, what you gotta do" and his case, in order to survive, he had to give all of his time to the pharmacy shop which he had owned since his father passed away. As he finishes writing up, what looks to be a prescription, I walk towards him awaiting assistance. The costumer walks by me, smiling; sophisticated young woman.

"Danny… I heard about your mother. My condolences to your family…"

I hadn't realized he was talking to me, but once I did, I turned to Henry, almost as if I had been in a deep day dream; I almost was. Henry was unsure if I had heard him the first time, so he repeated himself.

Henry: Danny, are you okay?

I figured he was concerned because I wasn't paying attention to him; he must've thought my poor mother's death set me into a lagging mood, clogging my senses; foolish man. Never had a clue I just didn't want to pay attention to him, however, I answered respectfully.

Danny: I'm fine, quite fine. Just…

Henry is really interested in whether or not I am fine. That strikes me odd, since he hasn't spoken with me a day in his life. I never come to his poor store; however, I did need to use the bathroom. I didn't even bother asking or considering how he knew me, and identified me that fast. He's only seen pictures of I, and old ones at that. I pretend to act like I know him, answering all of the old man's questions to the best of my knowledge.

Henry: Just what?

Henry said it with a sad tone. I wouldn't be surprised if he pulled out a camera and started recording my responses.

Danny: Oh, nothing… I was just wondering how business was; you seem to be doing quite fine these days.

Henry has a face of surprise. I guess he couldn't believe I changed the subject of my mother so fast, but perhaps he figured I just didn't feel like talking about her untimely death, or at least in his mind. Henry replies, but not at first. The surprised face drags his words as he hesitates, thinking whether or not to question my mother again.

Henry: It's fine Danny. Thanks for asking. Can I help you with anything?

I noticed he had changed the subject. He obviously didn't know how to talk to me; he didn't know what to say. I could sense his nervousness, and regarded it with a reply.

Danny: Actually, yes. Could I please use your bathroom?

Quite disappointed by my words, Henry rubbed it off, showing no expression of frustration. I could almost see an angry face appear, but it was overtaken by a normal stare into my eyes. Another hesitation from Henry molds the conversation, and I'm starting to think it's part of his old age.

Henry: Sure Danny, the bathroom's over behind the shampoo shelf.

As he points in the bathroom direction, I look over to the location he is noticing me about, and turn to face Henry once again.

Danny: Thank you.

I walk away, and I swear I heard Henry slam his fist on the counter in an act of aggression for me not being a customer. I walk past the shampoo rack, and come to a teal colored door, quite an ugly color, I must say. As I open it, the door swings inwards making a loud creak, it seems stretched out. I flick the light on next to the wall on my right, and the first glimpse of anything I see, after the almost fried out light blares on, is a dirty stall, and a single stained sink. The rust gives the sink a disgusting look; I hardly want to touch it. Suddenly, I feel sick to my stomach that a shop could be such low in quality, and I am afraid to go near that infested toilet. I'm not taking any chances in these conditions, so I decide to look into the blurry mirror; I just stare into my own eyes, not moving a muscle, not making an expression, just staring. For once, my appearance meant nothing to me. My hair wasn't of any importance, my face was clear, but I really didn't care. I reached for the nozzle, and twist the hot handle, trying to get warm water pouring out of the spicket. After a pause, a scarce amount of hardly warmed water begins to drip out. I cuff my hands, catching as much as I can, lift them and rub the water on my entire face. As the warm water flows down the details of my face, and the gravity pulls each drop back to the sink, I look back at myself in the mirror.

Of course! My life isn't a dream, nor a fantasy. This isn't in my head, this is not a figment. My destiny awaits me, and perhaps the decision will alter my future, and most likely will end my career of a professional wrestler in the end. I was put on this earth for one reason, and I think I am solved the riddle.

I walked out of the bathroom, keeping the same attitude as before. Once I had reached the service desk again, Henry was still in the same spot. Not a costumer in sight. Apparently, that woman was his only costumer all day, well, besides me. No wonder he's not social, he sits here talking to himself all day. Not the life I would want, but Henry must be used to it after all of these years.

Henry: Ya know, Danny. The last time I saw you, you were this big.

Henry shows me how tall I was with his hand, which confuses me because I don't remember seeing him, ever. I just knew he owned this shop. Perhaps I was too young for recognition. I smiled politely, when in fact, I really didn't care. Henry, who is quite antsy, hints around for me to buy something.

Henry: So are you looking for something? We have any kind of medicine you can think of here.

I ignore the fact he said "we" when he's the only person that's worked here for twelve years.

Danny: No, thank you. I'm quite healthy.

What did you expect me to do? Buy something? Right, not from this rat infestation "they" call Pharmacy Plus. I had to get out of there. I could not stand her obnoxious voice anymore, his pathetic, droopy eyes were too annoying to look at.

Danny: Well, Old friend. I must be going. I hope your shop continues it's good fortune.

I turned away from him, as a sarcastic smile sprung on to my face after that witty comment. I always crack myself up. I emptied out from the store back to the gloomy street, where the fog still reigns over the air. I began backtracking the sidewalk, towards the burned down mansion area. In my backyard, I was smart enough to place my most treasured items. I walk past the black charcoaled mansion rubble, not even looking back. Once, I walk nearly a block, I reached this large separate building, which most would say was the size of most American houses, but it seemed small to me since I'm used to living in the mansion.

As I approach the steps, there must be a million different thoughts going through my mind. Confused by Crisis' actions this past Wednesday. I certainly was taught a lesson that day, and yet… he isn't the one being accused for my malicious carving? If not Crisis, who? Oh, perhaps it's his mystery partner against Michael Diamond, and I. Who ever could that man be? Do I know him? Have I ever met him? Is he an old friend of mine? You can never be too sure when you're as wealthy as me, because when you have wealth, you have greed. When you have greed, you have power. When you have power, you have paranoia, and when you have paranoia, you have lack of trust towards those who are close to you. Maybe this is what Crisis wants. Perhaps, Crisis is just playing mind games with me, trying to forsake the Foundation of Sensation. I talk about being in a fantasy world, when it seems you are the one who is not in touch with reality. My friend, you contemplate attacks on me and my family; continue… because my destiny has nothing to do with you. After Wednesday, you will not be able to start anything with me. For I something else in mind… and it has nothing to do with Crisis, or your mystery man.

The in-house isn't that small, however, compared to the mansion, it's a shack. It must've taken at least a year to build, considering the fine fasces design, and perfect structure; a tornado couldn't tear this down. Perhaps it was built to avoid any possible destructive situation, beings Danny Starr's most valuable items were within.

I stand upon the step, looking at my beloved building, standing tall. I show much compassion and radiance for this single building. My entire life is inside the walls, each room is dedicated to an era of my life. In here, I can find my destiny; my reason for being on this earth will be known after I enter this building.

Danny kneels to one knee, which is holding the entire side of his body up on that one step, as he reaches under a red door mat. After scraping his fingers around the stabile rug, he tends his arm in, and holds up a golden key.

Only one key has the acceptance of this lock. No copies, and definitely no alternative way to get in. I built this like the panic room, to assure my valuables are safe. I twist the gold key in the lock, and a clicking sound can be heard. The door opens quietly, beings it has never been opened in the past. Only once or twice have I stepped into this room which I feel such fervency for.

The room is dark, that is until Danny flicks on a light near the door. The lamp shows radiance within the solid room. Walls without windows, exceeding to the back of the room which leads to a long, hallway.

This is my retreat. My salvation lies between these walls, and so does my fate. This is where my Hall of Sensation is located, in fact… it's right down this very hall. Such superstars as Hollywood D, Jason Corlett, Darren Copeland, Rage, and many other's portraits are on these walls. Soon, Crisis will be another member of it. Careers of those in which I had ended; those of which I have put on the shelf forever. There are portraits here, empty. Portraits need to be filled, and will. Just in that other room, lies my destiny.

The long hallway continues, with thousands of empty of portraits. Once to the end, three doors on each possible spectrum open up to a different world.

I bet you're starting to think this is all in my head as well. Perhaps I'm insane; maybe this is reality. You just don't want to think that. Before entering the following room, I must warn you all to be ready to witness my fate; to witness my destiny…

Open the Door