The scene opens up now, with the closing image of the last promo featuring WWCWF champion, Dorito, that is of the filthy WWCWF title belt. It pulls back a bit, and pans up to find Dorito sitting at his computer, looking at the monitors.

Dorito: The WWCWF tag team titles are being dusted off and polished up for the first time in four years. Dating back to late 1997 and until early '99, they were a title that means friendship. To be a tag team champion, you may dislike your opponent, but there is no way to hate your partner. To be champion and dismember your opponent while defending the titles, it doesn't happen. You at least need a willing ability to cooperate with your partner. Although friendship amongst partners means that each will push the other that little bit extra. I've got the stamina to go that bit extra, and so does the Crow. But now that little bit extra has become no longer a little bit extra, just even more added to our capability and strengths. Now, to push one another that little bit extra, we could wrestle for hours. All of the others in this battle royal can go and will fight to do what they can to simply win. That's all they want, is to win. Someone like Chris Freytag or Loanwolfe will be able to put in that little bit extra into this battle royal to go against us. To go against me. To go against Crow. Against all. Sure one way of winning is by running from those chasing after you, and hoping they run out of steam or make a mistake and fall. And once all have fallen, you will stand over them, victorious. Yet, there's doubt to being champion. You never fought, you never worked, you ran. You ran away and became champ. Monday night, there's no running away. Circles will come, but they'll get bent out of shape...into the shape of a triangle. And from there, the clockwork of sorrow shall break them.

Knock, Knock. Who's there? ...That's the question, who is there? What if there was no doorknob? What if there was no door? No window? If you were in solitary confinement, and you heard knocking, what would you think? Would there actually be someone knocking on the box inwhich you live, or is someone knocking from the inside of you, to come out and talk to you? This knocking, this tapping, and from all my rapping of who may be trying to communicate. Human ideal has become that of communication, rather than basic survival. In a small way, all people are working together, taking apart the individualism. Through this ultimate communication, when humanity reaches 7th Protocol when all beings are connected to the Wired, and therefore everyone else, without devices however; everyone becomes one entity. All connected and able to create one state of artificial, thus the puzzle is complete as to the very image of God. Yet you still ponder when the knocking shall not stop. When there is no door, no answers to your questions, and no questions to your answers. No one answers so your own small part of Ultimate God, creates one. Finally, communication may take place while in solitude, but that term becomes obsolete as you are no longer alone, now that you have someone to communicate with, yourself. Yet the knocking still comes, and it shall not stop. The talk turns louder and shortly into screams. You can't open the door, for you do not know if there is even a door. So come in, you would say, as you create. But what happens when your creation creates by itself? The voices grow louder and louder, the knocking pounds more and more, the thought of change enters your mind, so you act. Act with hostility toward your creations. Kill your creation. You're alright though, once the knocking stops tapping. Silence was what you wanted, now that you have it, what happens when you hear "Nevermore"?

Dorito hits a few keys and a "Shutting Down" message pops up on the screen.

Dorito: At what point does the need for greed become a point? What point? At what point did Pain Express gain a greed to be the best? To follow the way that he was raised, and preserve that fashion later in his so-called life? Was it when he went to train to become a wrestler, or when he was ten years old? Thing is, the point he may look for isn't a point. When did it happen? Those who reach Protocol 8, no longer have any need for physical bodies. Thus entities have no reason to travel across space for they are already there. Eternal life, yet may take a body of an entity to occupy. The physical is imaginatory.

But what is imaginative is the simplistic ideal that I stand a chance in this battle royal. Everyone getting this show, talking to friends, posting on message boards around on the net, the dorks in e-feds who think that the life they waste doing fantasy work like that...all think I have no chance in this match. Cause why would someone ever book the world champ to actually win a battle royal? Why would the world champ actually even be good enough to hold a second title? Or a third? Fourth? But it doesn't really matter if I win or lose the battle royal, cause those two guys that hold the title up after the bell rings, had better know that the fellowship of digital sorrow is burning for eternal in the construct of tick tock.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Pain Express specifically requested this match for this date, when you tried killing me, tried killing Alicia, in the parking lot, this was no longer over some title. It's treu, I've tried giving it away, but Alicia has to play this game, to take it along, to keep it clean. No more is this belt simple bait for Matt, as it was supposed to be; the reason I entered the tournament in the first place. I was considering not doing so, but tell me, are you glad I did? Glad I brought you a fight that no one else was? Glad that I beat you? You wanted the competition, the so-called best there was to offer, and I guess officially that was I. Never ranked below number one. Or were you the best when it came time for Re-Birth? Now that Chris, Crow, Dan, Sage, Biz, Wind, and so many other had appeared at the show, the field opened for play. No more were we a couple of big fish in a ten gallon tank, as now we get a pool with others to swim with. Caveman, hey may have been big and feared, but his skin was easy to pierce. Just another victim, just another snack for this whole new shark. Feed me just snacks, and over time I develop a hunger that'll drive me to a frenzy, that's a prophecy. Come monday night, this shark is coming for an almighty feast, I hope you're all ready, for the stronger the fight, the longer my meal fights back, the more delicious the taste will be, once I have you in my belly.

The screens blink out to black, with the computer having shut off. Dorito bends down to pick up the world title, and leans back in the chair as he rests the belt on his lap.

Dorito: I never one saved any title in NCW. For if I lost one and wanted it again, no replica would do, I'd fight to have the real in my possession. I don't need photographs, autographs, memorabilia, or anything else to make me think about my past, or others. Missle and Kylie take away what this used to mean, and may still does mean, as they toy with people's perception, the simple only point of entertaining. Monday night, my fight with Pain, it's not over this. It's not for simple entertainment. If I have to, I'll take that kneebrace off and I break your damned leg if I want to. Snap my fingers, snap your leg, break yo neck. You are a pest, no doubt. And yes, you're a good wrestler, perhaps a great wrestler. The best submissionist though? I don't know, as anyone who can even apply something simple will claim to be the best. The King of gimmick will try to turn plainer than nonfat plain yogurt. Perhaps something can be restored to this title. Management could care less when they won't give me a single chance to defend the title. Who am I defending the title against tonight, I would ask. And they respond with something about how I'm not even going to be on the show at all, maybe just be a face in a public promo by someone else. Someone else. Everyone else seems to think of me as a bad champ, but being champion should mean something. And come monday night, this belt may have some renewed meaning to it. This is what I was going to use to lure Matt into my Game of Life. However, it may not be long before I get to use this bait. I still wonder what she had to say to him during that round-trip stop in Seattle on the way back from Alaska. Pain is coming after what's mine, something that is breaking lives left and right. Shattering triangles...this may mean a little to me if I can break the pain. Derail the train. This is something you want as a reward for beating me Pain, otherwise you wouldn't be challenging for it. You wouldn't be attacking me for it. You wouldn't be trying to kill me for it. Week after week I'm getting bombarded with more pain than civilians in Iraq since Bush mentioned sending three americans to death in exchange for one Iraqi. Send 78 million americans to death in exchange for 26 million. There is no enlightenment forthcoming, no venture out into space, as greed is money, power, and if you can't have those, then war it is. Alicia is ready to get a piece of Pain Express if she can for almost killing her. Why stop with an impact when you can bring armageddon? Everything must end, all is finite. You don't understand when you don't question. Beating Pain Express is my other half of greed, and keeping what it is that he wants. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick...the theoretical clock is through with tock, and monday night, tick comes to a hault. Sunday afternoon we leave, but I can't wait much longer. I'm cravin' for some painin'...oh my, could I be...a Painaholic?

Dorito looks down at the championship title for several moments as a ripple is seen on the computer screens, did they actually shutdown as it appeared? The scene fades out.