The scene opens up in that of Alicia standing by a closed door, looking down at it as a green light glows from the crack under the door. Alicia, dressed up in a pretty sparkly small dress with high heels, waits.

Alicia: So are you coming or not?

Several seconds of silence pass, with no answer.

Alicia: Come on D, let's go out and go dancing. It'll get you out of your cave and at least get a bit of a light workout in the process. It'll be fun, I promise.

Once again, no answer.

Alicia: Dorito! Get your ass out of that chair right this instant and come outside your room!

A second or two passes and the door opens up, with Dorito seemingly unshaven.

Dorito: Go away.

He shuts the door in her face.

Alicia: Fine! If you're gonna be like that, I guess I'll just have to call Matt. I'm sure he...

As she begins digging in her matching purse, the door opens up, revealing Dorito in a pair of red cargo pants and a black Radical BreakDown t-shirt.

Dorito: Don't.

Alicia: Oh I will. I'm your older sister and I can do whatever the heck I want.

Dorito: Just don't.

Alicia: I won't if you get cleaned up and go out with me, cause it is so unbelievably boring in this house. Matt...

Dorito: SHUTUP! All you ever talk about is Matt this, and Matt that. I'm not Matt, alright? For the longest time I thought he was my best friend in the whole world. And then...

Alicia: Shhh, I know. We both know what happened next. Sonic got hit by the ambulance in the street and you took time away to be with him. But what if? What if you hadn't stayed by his side? What if you stayed in WWCWF with Matt and Jeff?

Dorito looks down, putting his arm on the side of the doorway, resting his head upon it.

Alicia: Look, we all make choices. Every single day, it's this or that, this or that. Like right now, you could go dancing and enjoy yourself, or you could stay here in this cave. It's your choice, but you've been nothing but depressing lately. I feel like I should be in counseling or something.

Dorito: It's your choice on whether you go or not.

Alicia: But I don't go because I haven't given up on you, but I'm this close, Dorito, this close.

Putting two fingers very closely together she does.

Alicia: But if I did, it'd be because of you. You're making me miserable. It's been making me wonder, what if I had never turned on Matt? What if I had stayed on his side, rather than going to the aid of my brother? What would happen if I gave Marcus a call?

Dorito: Marcus was using me like Matt was using my bother, just like Sonic used Bulletproof. I have so much knowledge about WWCWF and NCW it's not funny.

Alicia: You don't even know what funny is anymore.

He gives her a look for a second or two.

Alicia: It's true, you don't. When was the last time you laughed? When was the last time you smiled? When?

Dorito suddenly takes his arm off against the doorway, and touches his forehead with his hand for a second or two, then lowers the arm to look at the fingers. His lips part only slightly as a small grin somewhat appears.

Alicia: What is it?

Dorito suddenly realizes her still there, and he wakes up as he puts his hand back on the wall in his room as he shakes the look and stares at her.

Dorito: No.

He then shuts the door in her face. She stares at the door, as sorrow begins to fill her insides as she lowers her head. She ever slowly drops to both knees, leaning forward to rest her head against the door, tears beginning to come down. The scene suddenly changes to that of inside the dark bedroom of Dorito, the three multi-sync computer monitors in the corner glowing a bright neon green. He suddenly turns his back to the door, looking down, as he walks over cables to go sit at the chair in front of his computer. Turning his back to it, he looks back toward the door as he begins talking softly to himself.

Dorito: Why is to be that I cannot be simply left alone? Everyone pulling me in different directions, saying different things, wanting me to do what they want. The people involved in WWCWF, and the fans, are all the same. Everyone is a fan, the people in the back are all fans, the ringcrew are all fans. Fans of what this business is. For this business thrives on fans. That's what drives the business of pro wrestling. Wrestlers out there to put on a show, the sole purpose to entertain the fans? It's utter bull. The biggest lie that any fan believes because they're made to believe it. It's like a home security system. Sure it isn't really guaranteed to keep you safe, but you kind of feel like it because you get the sense that someone is there, incase anything happens. And in a way, it's true. Because someone is there, surveiling you. Security is surveilance, but that would mean giving up privacy. Security doesn't protect, it just means surveilance, that's it. It's all a lie. Scare people into believing it, and they'll consume.

The only way I feel secure is if no one knows I exist. Alicia wants to drag me out of here, to use me as a prop for herself to get out into society, among other people that are all wearing masks. It has been said the only thing to fear, is fear itself. But how about, the only thing to fear, is ourselves? For the idea of there only being one of us is correct, yet incorrect at the same time. For people wear a mask in public, and that mask is what is put into other people's minds. That person who is ourself will grow in their mind the more we are around. The voices in one's head are the voices of others in our head. It's real, yet it's not. If I can instill a duplicate of fear into others of myself, then that duplicate will tell that person to stay away from me. Am I even real? Could I not be original, and in fact, a duplicate myself? For a duplicate would believe they were real themselves, and I believe I am real, so I could be a duplicate in someone else's mind in this reality. And when we are duplicated into millions or billions of people's minds, the original is the only one that would matter, yet I believe I'm the original. I retain all my past, I know of my presence, but the future is unforseen. If I am a duplicate of the original, then I must do what I have to in order to help the original by fighting that whom I am in.

I'm connected to a great many of people, and I know that this coming tuesday night, I will be fighting Pain Express. I will fight him one on one, for the first time ever. I remember back in NCW when we were so close to going one on one, but it never came. Now is my chance to prove to all the rest of myselves to make those who they are apart of to tell them that Dorito can beat Pain Express. Derail the train. Break the triangle down, shatter it, stomp on it, burn it to ash, and blow it away, where someone could possibly step on him, or breathe him in. Whatever means necessary to beat him. Pain Express it not a stepping stone to anyone, he's a roadblock. Like a fallen oak in the road. Some people will push it aside in order to get past, most will go back to find an alternate route to the goal the one is attempting to get to. No one tries kicking and punching the tree over and over, literally ripping and tearing it apart in order to break the roadblock. Just getting past the roadblock isn't good enough for me. For me, myself, I, us, and we have to destroy it. We have to rip it. We have to tear it. We have to shred it. We have to fight it. We have to destroy it, for it's the only way to fully achieve what it is that the one wants.

When I came close to my one on one encounter with Pain Express last time, it was simply over the television title. The night we fought, we opening the pay-per view in a triple threat with Rico for the title. What was a major fight ended with Pain Express losing his treasured TV title he held for six months, not because he was pinned, but because I was. I was the one pinned by Rico. I didn't stop the Terminator, and neither did the Terminator stop me. Not only was there some outside interference that cost me the match when I had it, when I got Rico with the Matrix Crash. I had it. It was mine, but it wasn't to be. However my night didn't end there, as I fought for over an hour in a tag team title match that ensued right afterwards, going all over the building, only to have the tag title around my waist with Marcus Johnson, but the impact that night didn't stop with some New South Players or Pain Express, because it continued on with Matt Helmsley as we put him in the ground. We buried him alive. I never thought he would return, my sister was by my side, I had a friend in Marcus, but I was distorted. This wasn't what I wanted for a goal, it was to be the simple foundation for what we were gonna build, to take the world title. I knew at the time, yet I didn't know, that I couldn't do it myself. But now I have grown apart from Marcus, having not made contact, and now he questions his own mentality and ability to go on. It's true, I didn't need him, for he needed me. Without me, he couldn't climb. He didn't have me to push him, to pull him, to force him, to drag him, to carry him. Without me, he is nothing in WWCWF, and in life. But to the wrestlers, the ones serious about being the best, wrestling is life. Forget about family, friends, jobs, money, music, your life. For the only way to earn the knowledge of achievement of being the best in the world, by having that world title, knowing you have gone through everyone to get it, that's what all of this is for. That's what all the sacrifice is for. Not running away, not by forfeiting, not by simply knowing that you can beat your opponent and not acting upon it, because the slightest backing down means you show a weakness, and that there is no chance of being the best. One cannot be the best without proving it to the duplicates of themself inside others without proving it to themself.

David Cote has never, and will never back down from an opponent, no matter the size or position on the imaginary ladder. He proved that against TakTik tuesday, that he will take all challengers. So I must do the same, not simply because I have to, but because I need to. I need to take all challengers. Sirius challenged me for a match. Why? Because he thinks he is the best, and wants to prove it to me. So he is another roadblock to me. He will be the next hurdle. So after this next Distortion, on january the 27th, I will get in the ring with you. Should I defeat Pain Express this tuesday, with this mysterious special referee, you get your chance to prove to all, to me, to the fans, to Missle, to yourself, you get the chance to prove you could be the best. However, should the tree defeat me, should it withstand my punishment, and it conquers I, then Sirius, you will also have to try getting past the roadblock that is Pain Express.

Pain Express is the Indiana Terminator, and his life is focused on wrestling. His only aim and concern on tuesday is to stop me. Stop me if you can, but you will fall if your triangle is broken. You can't stop me if I'm still breaking you, if I'm still moving, if I'm still breathing. And I'm not stopping until I've beaten you into nothing. I can't stop until I've beaten everyone. And that goes for David Cote, Peccant, Sirius, Pain Express, Mmmaaattt...

Dorito snarls in distaste of Matt's name, spitting on the floor, and he spins his chair around and starts typing on the keyboard. "What Do I Have To Do" by Stabbing Westward starts playing on his surround sound computer speakers as the camera switches to outside the door, finding Alicia spread eagle pretty much as she is on her knees, crying as her head rests against the door. She digs down into her purse, pulling out her cellphone. With a couple mashes of buttons, she puts the phone to her ear. Suddenly she gets a smile on her face.

Alicia: Matt?

Suddenly, her smile shrinks away to nothing.

Alicia: Not...home?

Slowly she pushes back to her feet, and heads to the staircase, slowly walking down it, her heels clanking on the steps along the way. The camera fades out with the site of her going down the stairs, miserable, but then suddenly trips as one of her shoes fall off and she falls down the rest of the way, not bouncing, but landing at the floor at the end of the staircase as she screams on the way down. She bounces upon impact, skidding a foot or two, quiet and motionless, with then just blackness.