The scene opens up this afternoon, looking at simply white screen except a tiny hole in the center. There's a knock and the white screen is actually a door which becomes opened up, and standing there is Sugar Fox Li.

Sugar: Oh, sorry to bother you. I'm just looking for Kalvin Qyo's room. That slimy piece of trash no-showed another one of our meetings. Would you know where he's at?

The camera pulls back a bit to take in the view of Dorito standing there in silver and green PVC pants and without a shirt on.

Dorito: Why worry about that joke of an entity when you have someone like Lance at your disposal to do your little puppet show?

Sugar: Puppet show? Boy you best not be...

The door suddenly gets shut in her face, and the next thing heard is a bunch of banging and yelling from the otherside. The camera follows Dorito as he turns and walks away from the door, looking at the quaint hotel room, laptop setup on the bed. He walks to the window and puts his hands up against the wall as he presses his forehead against the window, looking down the few flights.

Dorito: Why build? Why do people continually need to go up and out? Simplicity is never good enough because it's an achievement. Man builds skyscrapers because it's against the odds for them to erect something a thousand, two thousand, three thousand feet high. Man has an obsession for bigger and better things, a thirst, a hunger that never goes away. Man gets fat as the hunger never goes away. Man fights over the bigger dick so they are the biggest and best. But when will man build something so big, so assinine, that it falls over and destroys other things man has spent much time creating? What is this obsession for bigger?

Dorito takes a breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds, then opens them up again as he looks down as Sugar Fox Li has apparently left as the knocking has stopped.

Dorito: Peccant is an example of this. Seven foot plus, a whole bunch of pounds, and more muscles than Arnold Schwarzenagger when he was twenty. Peccant is too unreal to be real. Doing what the big ogre has been doing since before time. God's great-uncle, Peccant. Although I just heard Sirius calling him grandpa, so Sirius would be like God's brother or cousin. Although I'm sure he's not and Sirius just didn't want to say great before Grandpa two-hundred and thirty-four times. How he calls himself a legend, I'll never know. The only title he ever held was the Intercontinental title, won that on the very last show, and no one ever gave a damn. Ego is what keeps Peccant going, and to supplement that he needs friends, his world war one buddy, Midget. And then my former tag team partner, Marcus Johnson. If anyone thought I was psychotic, then they wouldn't know what to do after having met Marcus. Did I help Peccant last week? Yes and no. In the form of him growing his ego even more, until the time comes for the triangle to be shattered and leave him permanently distorted and sitting in a chair at a retirement home, motionless as drool drips from his open mouth with tongue hanging out. Time will come. However, I didn't help him on purpose, it would've been anyone if they were fighting Matt. Helmsley thinks he can jump me a few weeks and win a match? That wasn't a match, as neither was your match with Peccant.

Why do they have to build? Why can't they just let us fight, Matt? Why? Cause they have to keep us apart, they know of our commodity, and what it could mean on a big show with a lot of money on the line. So then Missle and Hitman can reap the benefits. So like some fifteen year old boy looking at his dad's old playboys that were boxed up and hidden, masturbating as he pretends, as he imagines, as he sees the woman right there with him. Caressing her skin, squeezing her breasts, licking her tongue, every stroke building up and building up until finally the big moment comes and everything explodes. He's spent, almost believing to himself that he was just with her, much like the fans that would be watching me fight Matt. And once the final bell is rung and everyone climaxes, cheering or booing, and then they know. Then they know.

Tomorrow night I put everything on the line against Pain Express in a first blood match. Finally a one on one match, but still neither man will be able to come out fully victorious knowing of the other man still being able to go. I want his blood. It's my ring, and I'm going to put my name on it with your blood, Pain. Seven, eight months this match has been waiting to happen, and now it does. But you could still be able to go, which I won't be alright with. And as it stands, the only way we can fight again in this tournament, is to both get to the finals. For many people, being world champion is an achievement never thought to be possible. But I have a bigger goal in mind. Being the best in the world isn't enough, and it's because of Matt I have this goal that I will give my life trying to accomplish. If Matt qualifies, he'll have to go through Pain Express possibly to get here. We're the three favorites in most people's eyes. However I have to go through a monster. Once again I will have to not jump the hurdles, but plow straight through them. Forget about Excidium for now Dorito, the Indiana Terminator has been eating some meat. How about going out and sinking your teeth into just one hamburger? Just one fattening cheeseburger. Just one steak. Just one. Get a taste of what blood is like again, cause the Indiana Terminator is swerving all over the road on his way to Vancouver, hitting every animal in site to toss in his truck to snack on his drive. He's coming for your blood Dorito, he's coming for mine. Blood...

Dorito lifts his head off the somewhat fogged-up glass and takes a step back before turning around. He walks to the door of the hotel room, grabbing the steel door knob and twisting it before pulling the door open. Dorito steps out of the room and walks down the cozy hallway to the next room over to knock on the door. A voice is heard from the inside...

Voice: For the last time Kalvin! I'm...

The door opens up to reveal Alicia Helmsley standing there wearing nothing but a towel with her wet blonde hair covered with a towel and wrapped into a bun over her head. She keeps the door only about six inches open and peeks her head out.

Aliia: Oh hey! Uh, Dorito. You need something?

Dorito: Uhh, I was thinking about going out to get a nice juicy steak or something, build up a taste for blood again. To get a craving during my match tomorrow.

Alicia: I thought you didn't like eating meat anymore?

Dorito: I don't, but I plan on tearing the muscles off of Matt's body with my teeth if I have to go that far...

Alicia: Matt? Aren't you wrestling Pain Express?

Dorito: ...

A blank glare from Dorito for a few seconds.

Dorito: So, you coming?

Alicia: Are you feeling alright? You mean you actually want to go out in public for once?

Dorito: I'm fine.

Alicia: Okay, can you give me an hour or two? I'll go get ready.

She closes the door and Dorito stands dumbfounded for a few moments.

Dorito: Women, sheesh...

He turns and walks back toward his hotel room as the camera fades out.