Journal Entry:

Today marks a big stepping point in my life. I have been taken from my home and placed in a rehabilitation center for the third time in my life. This time was going to be different. I heard this place actually changes people. In the past, they only held me back from the one thing I had craved the most. Winning. Not that I was back wrestling it seemed like things were going in the right direction. Back at the place I called home, X-Treme Wrestling Federation. This time around I am a little wiser. I am a little smarter. After being gone from wrestling for over seven years you start to miss the things you did in the past. All of that will change. The return of Jason Ortiz is on it's way. For people wondering will I be just as good as I was in the past, I have only one response. I WILL BE EVEN BETTER.

For every foot we moved in this rusted, beat down, garbage van, I could feel every bump under neath my ass. I already had jitters and a possible migraine in works. I felt very empty inside, like I was about to enter a whole new world. Well actually I was. Here I am, on my way to what I have heard people call it - THE HILL. Inside this old brown cube van was myself, and two individuals. I hadn't got their names yet, but I am sure I would. The man sitting to my left was much taller than me. An African-American who was very tall. Broad. Had sort of a limp when he entered the van. He probably was in his late thirty's. The other guy was an older gentleman. He looked like he may be of french decent, with his slick blonde hair and his larger nose. He seemed to be the one in the van you probably wouldn't trust. The other men inside the van were dressed in all blue jumpsuits. One carrying a 12 gauge shot gun and the other had a modified M4. I figured that if someone wanted to make an escape, they probably would only make it fifty feet or so. I dare not to try it.

"Hey," the African American guy whispered to me.

"You know about this place," he continued.

I turned my head towards him, and brushed my hand over my mustache.

"Probably not much more than you do," I stated.

He had some sort of confusing on his face.

"Oh," he started. He turned his body towards mine and leaned his head closer to me. "The name is Larry."

My brown eyes widened and I looked around the van. I was trying to gauge how the men in the suits would react to us even talking. We were safe. Well, at the moment we were.

"Jason... Jason Ortiz," I whispered. I licked my lips and stuck my right hand in my pocket to feel a couple quarters and an empty bag of chewing tobacco.

I wasn't sure of the time at this point in the day. I know we had been driving for at least two or three hours. We were due east of Denver Colorado. The Hill was located somewhere on the outskirts of Denver, on about 500 acres of forest. Any man who tried to run away, probably would die before he made it to any civilization. It had been a couple hours since I had any sort of food or drink. I had been craving some water, and a bit to eat. My stomach growled.

"You know if they are going to feed us when we get there?" I asked Larry.

He lowered his heads to his knees then let out a sigh.

"I would assume so. They probably have to get us checked in before we do anything."

Before I stepped inside I was stripped of anything I had of mine. My wallet, which didn't have much inside. Ten or so dollars. A couple pictures of my nephew, and some old receipts. The thing I was missing most was my lighter. I would kill for a cigarette. Literally. I could tell already that the older man wasn't much of a talker. It probably took him a while to open up to people. His face was not very kept up, with many acne scars and a half grown beard. He had a smell to him like dirty old fucking sheets that probably hadn't been changed in years.

"How long they keeping you here Jason?"

"...I am not sure." I responded rather quickly.

"Oh. Well they told me five months. Can't last that long without my wife and kids, ya know?"

I wondered that same question myself. They just looked at me and told me, Jason ... get ready to be away from any form of life for months. With the more intense ride in the van, I could tell we were getting deeper and deeper in the woods. There was a small window toward the front of the cube van that I could see what was in front of us. The larger man in the suit was almost covering the window up, but I could get a peak once in a while when we hit a big enough bump. It was the heart of the winter and I almost expected that we would encounter snow up here. Colorado was known for its harsh winter storms.

"You from around Colorado?" Larry asked me. His brow raised like he probably was from the area.

"No, I am from Seattle."

At this point I just didn't want to get into much detail about my life. Not right now. I had been through enough these past few weeks. I couldn't bare thinking about the reason why I was here. The truck had started to slow down, almost coming to a stop a few times. I heard the two people in the front seat start to laugh and begin a conversation. I wondered what they were talking about. Maybe about the Superbowl. Maybe about their families? Who fucking knows. All I cared about at this very moment was stepping out in that high Colorado sun, stretching my legs and try to find a smoke.

"You guys need to keep quiet!" The man with the M4 raged. He slammed the but of his rife down on the ground. The old man was startled.

"I didn't say anything," the old man mumbled.

"I don't give a fuck!" He poked the old man in the ribs with the M4. He cringed and moved to his left, almost waiting for the guy to slap him in the face.

It was very humid inside the van. I could see Larry and myself had been covered in sweat. My gray sweater had been a bit soaked near my neck and I was hoping that outside was colder than in here. About five more minutes had gone by with anyone saying anything. I had feared that if I had said another word I would get hit in the fucking ribs. They were sore enough. The large cube van finally stopped. I heard some shuffling from the front. The doors opened. I heard a couple rocks get kicked up and then the door handle on the back begin to turn.

The back door opened.

"Get out!" One of the men demanded.

I stood up first, and pulled my hand out of my pocket. Larry was the second person to stand up, followed by one of the guards. The old man was last, he was still hurting from the rifle hit to the ribs. I almost wanted to laugh at his situation.

"Follow us."

I looked around. My eye's started to adjust to the bright sun. I had figured it was a little past noon in the day. Outside was just a valley of trees. From here to the border I figured. The ground was rather hard as we walked. I tried to look at everything around me. There was a smaller gate were the van had entered. A run down shack sat next to the gate. A man inside it. He peaked his head out of the shack and gripped his rifle, looking in our direction. To the left of me was an old barn, with a couple groups of people around it. They all looked as we pulled up, then went about of their business. The guards had leaded us to the main building, one of them held the door for us as we walked inside. I stuck my hands back in my pockets. A the front desk was a couple people, all seemed to be waiting for us.

"Here is all their stuff."

A guard handed a large bag of what appeared to be our stuff to a tall dark man with a suit and tie on. He smiled and nodded his head.

"Thanks."

He set the back on the counter.

"Well," he began. Looking at each one of us in the eyes. This man was of importance. Had to be the head honcho. The man in charge. He let out a laugh.

"Welcome to THE HILL!"

The Legend. 2000-2004. Former XWF Heavyweight Champion (3 seconds lol), 2x Canadian, X-Treme, Tag Champion (w/Cooper), Stable Champion.