The scene opens up today with Dorito sitting in front of his computer, the new thinkpad laptop he had just gotten stuffed into a trashbin beside the L-Desk. The world title, nowhere to be seen as Dorito sits looking at the multisync monitors, each screen showing something different. "The Word(PMT Remix)" by Dope Smugglaz is heard blaring on the Klipsch Promedia 5.1 surround sound computer speakers.

Dorito: Over thirty new reality TV shows next season? Even some stupid wrestling survivor show that they want me to be apart of? Since when was simple creativity not good enough for one person's entertainment? Since when has reality been what gets people off? Looking at someone through an image in a television set or computer screen, for those of us a little bit more not out-dated, and laughing as they watch people complain about others? These television people are recycling every idea there is, but you can only recycle something so many times before it is absolute waste. It's been said that once entertainment replaces evolution, the next thing to come is de-evolution. And it's American television that is the most wasteful of all. Man will never colonize the Moon, or travel to another planet in another solar system, because entertainment is above evolution now. Dr. Michio Kaku should be one of the most famous people in the world, and one of the most respected. But he isn't, instead people would pop for some in-and-out "rappop" song on the corporate media market to teens that is MTV rather than drown themselves in hours, days, weeks, years of science and theoretical metaphysics, or perhaps even a simple book? And I refuse to believe any of those stupid people at the grocery market who believe that the latest TV Guide is a book with must-read information. You can't throw something into boiling water and expect it to be fine. Instead you put it in the water first and then turn it up slowly until it is boiling. That's how it is right now with these people's minds. Instead of disgracing them of their minimal barely able to walk and lucky to communicate, yet never want to shut the hell up with all their damn cellphones, you get them to follow you. You say a little here, a little there, rather than all at once, so they start following you. Instead of telling them they are leading their lives all wrong, you point out a thing here, a thing there, and get them to change it until everything is changed. You boil them, and they will never know it.

War is a way to boil them. Yes, war is coming, as no matter what, the tyrannical leader George Bush is going to put everything on the line against some desolent third world country. Doesn't it seem odd that just a few weeks ago the US was actually giving Iraq hundreds of millions of dollars, perhaps billions, in equipment to Saddam Hussein to arm his military, and giving them much food and water as not to have this big war end within just a week or two? But war makes good business, so why not invest your son? And your daughter as well, a lot of those guys get lonely and need more people to rape who won't tell. Nice how that's a popular slogan back in the anti-war days of Vietnam. The government didn't care cause it covered up their scandals. It covers up, creates jobs, promotes economic growth, a recovery from a recession, and so on. War is good business, it always is. Without World War Two, and the US having been involved the whole time in supplying men and weapons to Britain before officially announcing themselves involved...nice how that was setup too. They knew weeks in advance of Pearl Harbor. Sent straight from Hirohito to Roosevelt, translated perfectly, it said when, where, why, and how they would do it. And of course he crumpled it up, chuckled, and FDR threw it in his trashbin. Hmm, here's a good article written up by Mike Schelstrate. Explains it all right here how war is good business, and he's right, you never will see a son of some government leader on the front line. Or in any line.

War is good business, until it's too late to realize that it was never good at all. Stupid entertainment makes good business. Violence is good business. But the only way to have that business is to win first. To plan and prepare, strategize over every possible scenario. Only a month after the 9/11 incident, the Patriot Act was forced into signing. Congressman publicly stating they were told to sign or be arrested with treason and removed from their offices, yet they weren't allowed to read what it was. Public television this is aired on, yet the media is controlled so it gets erased from people's minds quickly, just like the Oklahoma City incident. Almost every governmental worker suddenly get messages on their beepers the morning of to not come to work, they get to have the day off? I have video of it right here on my computer, yet as it sits on here, perhaps a few people will do searches for the same video and download it from me, and it will spread. People will see. Or are they just the simple sheep, mere cattle that just follow and believe everything they were told earlier on, to disbelieve other possibilities. Greed blinds.

I once knew a person more daring than Bizkit. A person faster than Whirlwind that knew how to rock and shock. A person more innovative than myself. A person more egotistical than Missle. I once knew a person like that. His name was Sonic. People everywhere thought he was one of the best, and so did he himself. It got to the point where he thought he was invincible. But I remember that night. I remember sitting behind the wheel of that bus, as he stood in front of that car with Kylie. I remember when he pushed her out of the way to save her, the girl he thought he loved. I remember the final second. Did he spread his arms out and welcome the test to prove to all that he couldn't be stopped. Could he take on a bus, face to face? No. The coward. He turned to his right to take one last look at Kylie who was falling to the ground, safe, then took a glance at me. Then to show how daring he was, he stepped to the side. He stepped toward me. And that was it. I killed him. When he was alive, everyone talked about him so much and how he was so great. Freytag was in awe of him. Everyone was. But he is no legend. For if he was, people would still mention his name, people more than just myself, or Alicia, or my family. I'm stuck to live in LA for a few more years until this international parole expires, the only time I'm able to leave the state is for work, and to visit my family once a year in Germany, none of whom want to see me, let alone think of me. But in just over two weeks, a week before the Prophecy occurs in WWCWF, that would be Sonic's 25th birthday. But no one will care. Will anyone care once Whirlwind is gone? Bizkit? Freytag? Crow? Missle? Will anyone care about them a year after they're dead? There's one way to find out. I took one of these supposed greats out already, any means necessary. Getting compared to him by my parents, teachers, people at school. Being in his shadow in NCW. Everything had to be in his shadow, and when the time came, a one on one match, I beat him. Perhaps the most technically aerial match NCW has ever seen, move for move, counter for counter, I put him down. But still I was in his shadow. It was all for him, and I was sick of the living in the dark. Living in solitude like I did in prison. I got rid of what was blocking out the sun for the rest of us, and no one appreciates it. No one. Never once did anyone tell me thanks for getting rid of Sonic.

But this is the present time. I am the WWCWF champion. No longer do I have to bother wasting my time going over every video of others to see if my name is mentioned, because everyone mentions my name. Their time is coming, I'm keeping the spot warm for them, don't breathe on the title, don't get it dirty. If I'm just holding it for them, then why don't they try and come and get it? Sirius once respected me, but then changed his mind for no reason. Why do I need respect from someone who now claims to be getting serious, yet sings and dances at last week's show? It doesn't matter who I talk about fighting, because in Missle's eyes, I'm his entertainment. This is his company, and in his mind, he is the absolute best. Just ask him and he'll say it's true. This world championship, that supposedly makes me the best, it's just a prop. I don't care for it at all. The only thing I want is Matt Helmsley, one on one, once and for all. But for two months now, it gets denied over and over. And the way the schedule looks, it's going to be three months. Matt won't wrestle until he gets me in the ring one on one, and I will fight on the spot, contract or no contract, just get it sanctioned by some group. Whether it be WWCWF or if we have to go elsewhere to do it. I know what happens when you have unsanctioned matches, you remember the last time Matt, management thinks it's entertaining to have the fighters arrested after an amount of time elapses by, give the fans some little taste. It's the whole thing or nothing for us Matt. A little taste of your blood, or mine, is nothing. Nothing.

Dorito looks over at the trashbin, a glimpse at the notebook, then shrugs his head as he looks back at the computer.

The RebellionCause is nothing. It looks like Excidium is the leader, but who is the one holding people up with some paintball gun? Who is the one drawing the attention to the group? Who runs their mouth more than anyone else in the group? It's Bob. But I don't have to get into what that little twerp is about, two thousand measly dollars of sophisticated technology down the drain. What the hell does he mean by everything works fine?! IT DOESN"T!!! Cause if it did, then it wouldn't be ready to become scrap. And I'm pretty sure I had all ten episodes of Ghost in the Shell Stand Alone Complex completed downloading. But this Cause is just for laughs, as they try to fight with management, and the so-called Elite. Everyone is making alliances to get someone to watch their back, even Matt Helmsley has David Cote. There's a mighty storm abrewing, one that will bring great "Chaos" to all. So as all seek for shelter, it doesn't matter to me. I wonder what it'd feel like to take another life. You feel something when you do it. I can't explain it, but it's like you've got to do it again to find out what it is. No, I can't. Why bother? Why bother with these people who all sound the same toward me. Watch my back? Keep the title clean for them. They're coming for me, oh me, oh my, whatever shall I do? Everyone so far that I have faced in WorldWide, I have beaten. Now I'm the target, supposedly? Doesn't matter who has the belt though cause Coolguy isn't running the fed, neither is Moore, Starr, or anyone else. Only person that Missle deems fit to have the title around is himself, otherwise they're just entertainment to him. Everyone's taking this title too seriously, they want something that means nothing. It'd be like when everything goes to hell and nukes are dropping everywhere, it would be like trying to rob a bank. The money is going to be worthless, nothing more than something used to start a fire or use as toilet paper. Everything reverts back to the barter system, trade for trade. But if Pain Express wants one more chance to prove himself, then he can do it. I've jumped every hurdle put in my way in WWCWF, hmm, three W's. World Wide Wrestling. World Wide Web. Three is the key, the tri that brings it together. And only three people on the roster today have held this title before me. I'm the fourth dot, I take the triangle, turn your viewpoint, you see it become 3D, and you see the pyramid.

Although, will I be a "fighting" champion, I don't care. Really, I don't. Everyone can say what they want about honor and bologna and go make some honorable bologna sandwich and slap some mustard on it for all I care. Time spent preparing for what results in failure, is a triangle broken. Don't dare to fail by trying to prevail, just don't waste your energy on me, cause I'll stuff your shattered dreams in an envelope and send it back to ya in the mail. What the hell was that supposed to be, D? What? Just some lame rhyme I tried one time, that's all, now I just want something to drink with a taste of lime. What the?

Dorito takes notice to himself, getting out of his chair to stand up as he looks down.

That's it, I can't be doing this. I'm not rhyming, I'm not. I'm gonna get up, go get some exercise, let these downloads go, and when I come back, everything will be fine, right? Good.

Dorito hits a single key on the main keyboard and all three screens switch to the streaming Matrix screen, then he walks around, out of sight, as the camera looks on for a little more, just a little more, a little bit more, then it fades out.