We fade in on Johnathan sitting down on a completely different hotel bed staring down at the mask that seems to keep following him around wherever he goes. He knows that his emotions want him to put on the mask so that he'll become a better fighter. At the moment, he's seriously considering putting it on. He hasn't won anything in quite a while and is wondering if the risk of losing himself would really help him move up the ladder. His hands are trembling quite a bit as he analyzes the mask, wondering just how much he will change when he wears it. Will he lose his humanity? Will his physical appearance change somehow when he puts it on? He doesn't know, and the only way to find out is to put on the mask.

He continues to stare at the mask in bewilderment, rotating it with his own two hands to pass the time. While doing so, he starts to think about the cons of putting the mask on. For one thing, he won't have control over his own body anymore, giving it up to his emotions that could do whatever they pleased with him. He'll also never get to see his family in person anymore, since the mask will not only capture his own physical body, but his mental state as well, altering his personality and beliefs completely. He lulls it over for a bit before dropping the mask to the floor and shoving it underneath the bed. This puts a smile on his face, albeit small.

"I'm better than the people in the Heyman Alliance," he thinks to himself. "Unlike everyone in that group, I don't succumb to pressure and vague offers of success. I'm confident enough that all I need to do to succeed is work with my Underground teammates to better myself and those around me."

Just then, there's a knock on the door, taking Johnathan's attention off of his thoughts and on the person behind the door. Thinking it's the cleaner, Johnathan pulls out the sheets and the blanket he was sleeping under and puts them on the top of the bed. He wasn't going to stay for much longer anyways, so he thought he'd be considerate and make his/her job easier. The person behind the door knocks once more, either showing impatience or urgency. Not wanting to waste time, he hastily puts on his socks and shoes before even being able to reach the door. He then brushes his rather unkempt hair, tearing out strands that manage to get knotted up in the brush. As a result, his hair looks like it was done in a rush and seems pretty messy. Not wanting to bother with it anymore, he walks towards the window, peeking outside just to see who it might be.

"No way! He can't be here!"

Johnathan closes the blinds and opens the door, revealing a man with very little fashion sense on the outside mat. He's wearing a red velvet jacket, tie-dye shirt, and a silly looking western hat on his head. He's wearing brown pants and pointed black shoes, both of which seemed stained with some odd substance. In his hand is an unlit joint placed between two fingers, his index and his middle. His ring finger seems to be gone, which is either a deformity or an amputation. The stranger also seems to sport a mustache that manages to stretch down to his bottom lip. The stranger smiles and offers Johnathan's hand to shake, which Johnathan does with no hesitation.

"Miles-Fucking-Fogg! It's been forever since I heard from you, dude!"

Miles chuckles wholeheartedly with a smile on his face.

"Ah know, mah nigga, it's been a long time since we last met."

"We have to catch up, man! Come on in, I'm just about ready to pack up and go."

"Mah pleasure."

Miles steps inside as Johnathan walks over to his luggage to fold his clothes. He takes his time as he looks around at the room Johnathan managed to rent. Miles, seemingly impressed with what he managed to buy for a week, whistles out of awe. Johnathan turns towards him for a brief moment before shaking his head and laughing while he does so.

"Nigga, you managed to get a room in the Motel 6? Man, I'd have to mug someone to get a room at this place."

"Yeah, but it's one of the worst I've ever slept in. The beds are stiff and there are cracks in the walls that sometimes have bugs crawling out of them. Not fun when you find this out in the shower at seven AM."

"It feels like home to me, man. I don't see what you're bitchin' 'bout."

"You actually like it here? It's a shithole."

Miles laughs.

"Anyplace feels like home to me. 'Specially since mah wife left me for mah brutha."

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry about that."

"Naw, John, 'sall good. I ain't the kinda guy that mopes around hopin' everythin' will change fer the better, ya know?"

Johnathan can only nod in response, since he pretty much is that guy. He's folding up his shirts now as Miles turns on the TV, channel surfing to see just what's available for him to watch before Johnathan has to leave. The Cambot manages to pick up footage of a Siamese snowshoe cat running into the hotel room and rubbing against Miles' legs. He picks up the cat and places it on his lap, where it sits down and looks at him with wide, blue eyes. Suddenly, it meows, which makes Johnathan jump a bit, surprised at the sound of a cat in his room. He knows that animals aren't really allowed in this hotel, so he's wondering just what managed to attract it inside his room of all places.

"Miles, is that your cat?"

"Yeah, man, she's mah Pussy."

"Your what?"

Johnathan's response gets a chuckle out of Miles.

"That's her name, nigga. Pussy the cat. Simple and easy to remember, ya dig?"

Johnathan, somewhat amused and annoyed by his old friend's antics, can only sigh as a response. Miles pets Pussy's head and scratches his ear, making her purr loudly at her owner's gentle touch.

"So, where ya headed, man?"

"I'm supposed to be going to the home of Mardi Gras."

"You goin' to New Orleans? Shit, dude, how'd you manage to get there?"

Pussy hops off Miles' lap and runs under the bed. No longer being weighed down by his cat, Miles stands up and looks at Johnathan with a sheepish smile.

"You forgot I'm a wrestler? It's for a show, dude."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. How's it going for you, anyways?"

"Eh, not so well. I've been losing a lot of matches as of late thanks to my shit luck and people interfering in my matches and whatnot."

"C'est la vie, John. Everyone wants to stop a hard working man by fucking him over somehow. They just know when to screw you up at the right time."

"I'm just getting sick of it, ya know? I just want to win a match where the only help and interference I get is from my tag partners. When I'm fighting by myself, I'd expect my opponents to be better than having others help them, but they're not."

"Sometimes, they just can't work alone, man. They have to rely others to do their dirty work for them. You know why that is, Johnny?"

The knight shrugs.

"They don't stand a chance against you othawise, ya feel? They can't take a man like you down by themselves. Not anymore, at least. They have their friends finish the job for them because they're so weak."

"It's just mob mentality, man. When one of their men are in trouble, everyone else rushes in to help because they're too cowardly to finish the job themselves."

Miles says nothing, but responds to the knight with a simple shrug, as if he takes pity on Johnathan but can't do a damn thing about it. Out of the blue, the mask that Johnathan slid under the bed earlier is pawed out by Pussy, who walks out from under the bed and sniffs it. Curious as to what it is, Miles picks it up with his two hands and plays around with it.

"Yo, John, where'd you get this mask?"

The knight's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Oh, that? I just found it on my doorstep not to long ago and I took it with me because I wanted to hold on to it. Just in case the owner came looking for it, you know?"

"It doesn't look like it's been worn at all, man. It suits you quite well too. You should try it on."

A trickle of sweat falls from his head as Miles offers him the mask. The knight hands it back to him with a nervous smile on his face.

"Nah, it won't fit me, man, it's the wrong size. When I put it on, it keeps sliding off my face because it's too large."

"Nah, mah nigga, it's your size. When I place it in front of you it fits perfectly."

Knowing that he's cornered, the knight starts panting heavily.

"Look, I really don't want to wear it right now, okay? I have to be leaving soon and now's not a good time."

"Come on, man, just put it on once. I promise that I won't pester you with it anymore after that, okay?"

"No, please just put it down and I'll put it on later."

"Naw, man just put it on now. I'm not asking for much."

"I SAID NO!"

The yelling startles Miles and Pussy. The cat runs towards the window and hides inside the blinds. Miles only takes a step back, surprised that a simple mask could trigger this kind of response from his old friend. Johnathan realizes just what he's done, and tries to place his hand on Miles' shoulder. Thinking that the knight might hurt him, Miles backs away, not wanting to make everything worse.

"Look, I'm sorry about that, man. I really didn't mean to act that way towards you."

"I undastand, mah nigga, but you can't startle me or my Pussy like that, ya dig?"

"Yeah, I get 'cha."

The knight droops his head, ashamed of what he just did. Miles smiles and pats the knight on the back, forgiving him.

"Hey, 'salright, man. Look, we'll talk about it while we head over to California. I have a job interview and a house over there. Think you can take me over there?"

The knight smiles back at Miles.

"Sure thing. I have to go pick up another friend of mine from there anyways."

With that, Johnathan reaches over to the Cambot and manually turns it off, making the scene cut to black.