Seedy motels are usually what one considers when it comes time to go visit a hooker. It's always the last stop on the way out of town in most instances on TV and in movies, the place where the lost and the forlorn find themselves when they're lonesome.

Danny Sex finds himself in front of a moderate hotel not far out of reach from the D.C. Metro area. Light pollution pervades from beyond a tree line put in place by developers, highlighting other businesses. Autozone. Bed Bath and Beyond. The Cheesecake Factory. Danny Sex is here to buy something.

"Get out."

Danny's forced glee belies a nervous sense of anticipation. Not regarding the sex, nor even the paying for it as he plans. It's the voice that echoes now, like some migraine that won't cease. It doesn't hurt, it tortures. It doesn't ache, it swells. The oncoming tidal wave waiting to crash in his mind. Some kind of cataclysm long overdue for the psyche of one Danny Sex.

"You're a pretender. A fraud."

Danny Sex: Shut the fuck up! I'm going into this hotel, I'm going to knock the bottom out of this hot ass babe, and then you're going to leave me the hell alone and let me go have a ton of sex with even more hot babes, including the hot babe dads of each competitor at High Stakes.

"Let me out, whatever the fuck you are. You're in over your head. Did you even see the shit Jack Cain was spewing?"

Danny walks over to a secluded corner of the hotel. It's evening, and given the location, people are coming in and out of the hotel. Checking in, leaving for supper, finding something to do. Danny pulls his cell phone out and dials.

"You're seriously going to go through with this? You have a guy talking about how awesome his gun is, and I'm the god damned bulletproof man, and you're just going to fuck around?"

The phone answers.

Danny Sex: Hi, I'm here.

The voice on the other end prattles off her room number.

"Listen to me! Get out, while you can!"

Danny ends the call, but keeps the phone to his head. He has a reason to speak back to the voice, but he has no reason to make it look as such.

Danny Sex: Look, I'm not feeling well, I've got some kind of weird hang up because of the fact I need to bang some hot babe dads, that's it, and soon enough I'll be back to normal, right as rain, after I plow this hot babe up in her hotel room for money, before I plow five hot babe dads.

"Cain said his dad was dead."

Danny Sex: That'll just make it easier, less of a struggle. And if that unsexy weirdo, who goes out and cocks his pistol to unload at three in the morning all alone, thinks he can hold a candle to me, Mr. Sex, the guy who has the payload of power ready to shoot an eye out, then he's going back to the locker room after our match the same way. By himself, his toy in his hand, spent. I'll be ready, lock, stock, two smoking barrels, polished, and fully loaded.

"Did you really need all that innuendo?"

Danny Sex: I'm Mr. Sex, it's my thing!

"No, you aren't. You're the middle finger of the Black Hand, the Wednesday Night Wrecker, the man of the people, the one who calls for the poor, the tired, the huddled masses, the motherfucker of motherfuckers, the big bad big bad of big bads."

Danny Sex: Well, now I'm Danny Sex.

"You ate brains, tackled gods and kings, defied the laws of physics and reality to deliver something greater than yourself."

Danny Sex: And now I get laid.

Danny slides his phone into his pocket. His yellow paisley romper and fedora look perfect, and he removes his aviator shades, the area around his eyes a touch whiter than the rest of his tanned face.

"This guy even has a five-hundred yard shooting range somewhere in a city. That's bigger than most golf ranges, for Christ's sake, almost the length of four whole Costcos!"

Danny Sex: Costco isn't a unit of measurement. My penis is.

"Your what?"

Danny Sex: My...

Danny's face scrunches as he walks in through the hotel doors and past the reception desk, realizing the inflection on his penis is gone. The young man at the hotel front desk looks up and smiles at Danny. He forces a smile back at the guy at the counter.

"I'm winning."

Danny marches to the elevator and presses the button indicating "up". The only button available on the first floor.

Danny Sex: You aren't. I'm going to get my mojo back here in no time flat, I'm going to go bang this hot babe. I'm going to bang this hot babe with my penis. I'm going to bang this hot babe with my penis. I'm going to bang this hot babe with my...

The elevator doors open. A family of four, both mother and father and two children looking to be less than seven are standing, waiting to exit.

Danny Sex: ...penis.

An awkward silence happens for a moment as the family stops and looks at Mr. Sex, in all his masculine sexuality, just uttering the word "penis" in front of them. Danny looks back at them, his mouth slack.

"I'm winning. Get out."

The father of the family quickly presses a button in the elevator, closing the door, and the indicator above the thick metal entrance shows the elevator is going back up. Mr. Sex rolls his eyes and turns.

"Good man, leave. Get your wits back about you."

Danny Sex: I'M TAKING THE FUCKING STAIRS!

The man at the desk in the lobby stops and gawks at Mr. Sex along with the guest he was speaking with. Danny should probably stop hollering in public like this, but the nagging voice won't let him. The nagging voice keeps pestering him, trolling him, teasing him, mocking him. You're getting a rage boner for Mr. Sex for him, rage over the pointless, aged voice corrupting his masculine sexuality, his heteronormativity. You want the Mr. Sex that had Bilbo's dick in his mouth. You wan the Mr. Sex that had a train run on him by a whole concert of hot babes. You don't want some violent crescendo. You beat your limp dick until you force it to get hard, sweating profusely, knowing you can wank one out just one more time.

Mr. Sex simply moves to the stairwell without making eye contact.

"You still don't have a single fucking clue who I am, do you?"

Danny Sex: Don't know, don't care. You'll be gone after I get laid.

"Don't you think it's odd I'm here even though you've already had sex?"

Danny starts to climb the stairs.

"If Phantom Panzer isn't shitting his pants by now, he better damned well be all things considered. The reincarnation of Ghost Tank? As in Ghost Tank, the guy who's dodged me more times than he's dodged showers, human contact, and critical thinking. Ghost Tank, the guy who's the biggest chickenshit, chicken scratch, chicken feed, and chicken dicked sumbitch that ever walked the planet? Am I supposed to be frightened? Is this kind of man supposed to be lauded for the people? Somewhat of a powerhouse and a great technical mind? I mean, technically, we all have great minds, only this leftover tampon what got gangbanged then twisted into a horny crack fiend and left to stew for nine months wasted his on stupid shit like calling people fucking meats and clown fucking make up. You wanna call yourself Ghost Tank, you wanna call yourself Phantom Panzer, I don't give a shit, the people don't give a shit, and you know the fuck why? Because I'm calling you out. I'm calling your ass in that fucking ring come High Stakes, I'm calling you eating a big plate of fucking shit, and I'm calling that you will fucking thank me for the time I gave you when all is said and done you pointless sack of horse cum. Whatever you were before, whatever you are now, you're still the same fucking coward, only this time, heh, this time you backed yourself into the mother of all fuck ups and found yourself squaring down with the meanest son of a bitch ever to grace the ring, and I am hella pissed to be stuck in here while this jack off prances around looking to stick his winkie in some stinky. Me, stuck dicking around, you, Ronald Fucking McDonald ready to give a blowjob to three angsty teens to seem fucking relevant. Have you figured it out by now? Tell me you get that the joke is on you. Watch you fidget, watch you squirm, watch you cry, watch you wriggle like a worm, I'm coming with molten hot magma, you're just a waste of sperm, I'm coming so filthy you'll think that I'm a germ, I'll rip off that god damned bright blue clown perm. See me ringside in my office while I reopen my firm. Beaten, bloody, busted, toasted, burnt, annihilated, desecrated, and roasted. The beatings, sir, will continue, sir, until morale improves, sir, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Try to call me out for being unoriginal? You silly little cocksucker, I'm so original I'm the Colonel's eleven herbs and spices, you're just a leftover brainfart from that hack that used to be called Ghost Tank. Come High Stakes, you'll be the broken, bloody, and busted leftover brainfart from that hack that used to be called Ghost Tank."

Danny Sex: Are you done? I'm about to go get it on with a hot babe.

"Fuck you too. Fuck that asshole Jack Cain. Lookie what we have here, the dollar store Frank Castle, I'll be beating that ass like it ain't any kind of hassle, I'll make you eat that pistol son and then we're gonna wrassle. Squared circle, in the middle of the center ring, I'm the big top, you want to talk punishment? Fuck what the other says; I'm going to beat Jack Cain like his mommy should have. You like the dark, don't you Jack? That's good, that's real good, because when I get a hold of you, it's lights fucking out for the sad sack piece of shit Goth kid that likes to creep around the god damned park and people watch, inflicting some dismal, pointless drivel upon the whole of the human race like some pathetic pox that should, and could, have been wiped out eons ago. You don't think well of the people, Jack. My people. You see some blight on society that needs wiping out in every person, every soul, in every light that dares flare or shine or strive to be more than you, and it's sick. It's twisted. It's wrong. You want to point out the fault, you need only look in a god damned mirror and see you're the one who's perverting the world, you're the one who's deviating the people, you're the one who is giving strength and credence to despair, and hopelessness, and decay. I am a believer in the light."

Danny Sex: No, you're some sickness I need to cure with pussy.

"Shut up. Listen to me now. I am the one who appreciates the light when I can get it. I am a pawn, a tool, a small piece in the fabric of reality, and I am lucky and thankful that I get to experience them. It's them, Jack, the people, not you, not even me, stuck inside this ridiculous host going around slinging my dick wherever. The people, Jack, that you want to distance yourself from, that you want to put yourself in a place that is beyond them, that you want to ultimately want to hide from. Take a deep breath, Jack, smell the air, it's the same air they breathe. It's the same air they feel. You can delude yourself all you want, but that's all on you. But to demean their spirit, well, that's a horse of a different color. I stood up to Doc D'Ville for the same kind of shit and walked away the victor, no matter how much Trax hated me for it. How dare you attempt to corrupt the spirit of the people? Day in, day out, the people work hard, they toil, they are put under scrutiny, a billion different pressures crushing down on the human spirit from a billion different angles, and you want to step forward and declare yourself just another angle. 'Yo, lookit me, I'm Jack Cain, I'm a real hard ass, I'll show you the fiftieth time today just how shitty the world can fucking be right after you had a glance at a homeless guy dying mid-shit in an alley and right before you see a bird crash into a window like a . Ain't I just fucking special?' Fuck no, not now, not ever. See, being trapped inside this facade, this fucking pair of clown shoes with more dick than brains was bad enough, but the struggle to be free of this, to escape, and to beat the brakes off you like the one true High Holy Hypocrite that I am, that's the torture. You haven't seen real darkness, pain, or suffering yet, no sirree, because you sure as shit haven't gotten wrecked by..."

Danny Sex: Are you through? Geez, you never shut up, and I'm only like one flight of stairs up.

"Oh, you've got it coming to you, stud, just you wait 'til Blue gets a hold of you."

Danny Sex: Who?

"My girlfriend. She is not going to like what you've been doing with my body."

Danny Sex: Is she hot?

"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Danny Sex: That's cute. Too bad I have sex with all the hot babes.

"You fucking ingrate."

Danny Sex: Meh.

"Jesus, you're almost as batshit as that other fuck in the match."

Danny Sex: Obsidian Air?

"No, he's just homeless. It's kinda sad, he needs a sandwich, not an ass whooping. Buy him a hot dog."

Danny Sex: Fat chance of that, I'll be sticking my wiener in his dad.

"You do realize your plan is to fuck a homeless guy's dad."

Danny Sex: Yep.

"Jesus. No, Not Obsidian Air."

Danny Sex: Drezdin?

"Yep. I know he's on the spectrum. That boy has five kinds of autism, kind of what I call him the awesome autistic."

Danny Sex: I'm going to...

"I know, you're going to bone his dad. Can you imagine what that guy is like? More than likely Drezdin's old man is afflicted with some form of autism too, are you seriously planning on having sex with an autistic dad?"

Danny Sex: Is it a hot babe?

"No, not at all."

Danny Sex: In fact, yes, Drezdin's dad is a hot babe, autism or not.

Mr. Sex climbs the final step and walks out into the hallway of the hotel. He starts to peruse the room numbers, looking for where he's supposed to meet up with his escort.

Danny Sex: I thought you meant Thomas Nixon.

"Nixon? He's, well, he's unique, I reckon, but not a bad guy. Not bad at all. In fact, he's probably the sanest man in the XWF today. No drugs, no lavish nonsense, just a straightforward approach to the game. Well, that and all the lizard people shit that he talks about, but just because I've never encountered a lizard person at the store, or in traffic, or ever, doesn't mean they don't exist. I've never seen aurora borealis in person either, I'm pretty sure that is real, so, shit, I guess lizard people can exist. Doesn't matter, though, not to me. This little charade notwithstanding, I like a heap of crazy in my world. The people, I guess lizard or otherwise, span a pallet so vast and curious, lizard or otherwise..."

Danny Sex: First you harsh my libido, now you try to convince me that lizard people are everywhere. I need to get my dick wet.

"Shut up."

Danny Sex: You shut up.

"No. Look, Thomas Nixon is earnest, decent, and and all around okay guy. He stands up for the people and uses rational thought. The problem with that is when you use rational thought, you're limited by just that. Rationale, and thought. When you're good and crazy, well, the sky's the limit. Nixon imposes those limits on himself, and only on himself. He wants to help the lizard people, and then cry foul when some kind of perplexing twist of unlogic presents itself, pointing out that he's in control, he has a grasp on what's happening, and ultimately, that'll benefit him. Fat lot of good that's going to do him. Besides the aforementioned nutbags and the fact I'm just a disembodied voice in a swinging dick strutting down the street, I don't see how any amount of justification and purpose will help Nixon out in the least once I've just hit him in the mouth. A crack to the jaw, and wonderment at why it's happening. Another shot to the mouth, drawing blood, and he's left wondering why it's happening, coming to grips with the fact that his plan and foresight just weren't enough to deal with the onslaught of violence and destruction that comes when I do my thing in the ring. The beating continues, and for every answer, every possible solution he has to why it's happening doesn't stop it from happening. Poor little Tommy Nixon, whose defeat I know that I'm fixin', try to put it together, slide just the right bricks in, build your wall of logic I'll smash it no matter your lizard benediction, there's friction, wanna hear my prediction? You're getting wrecked, and that isn't fiction. After that, well, shit, come by the dojo, we'll open a dialogue. I'm a man of the people, you're a man of the lizard people, there has to be some kind of civil way to have a discussion between ourselves after High Stakes."

Danny Sex: What dojo?

"My dojo, you twat."

Danny Sex: My dojo is in the bedroom, I'm the master of sex.

Mr. Sex approaches a door in the hallway. He knocks.

"Don't do this."

The door opens. A young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties, opens the door. She looks rough, tired, and used. She forces a smile as Mr. Sex walks in.

Danny Sex: Hello, you are one hot babe!

"Hello, baby, come on in."

"Leave."

She closes the door behind Mr. Sex, who is staring at the loose, weary body of the escort with some anticipation. After all, this is a, um, hot babe, or some facsimile there of, and they're going to have sex. She leans up and kisses Mr. Sex on the check and turns with bloodshot eyes highlighted with dilated pupils, her deflated ass jiggling sadly.

"This is gross. Get out."

Mr. Sex starts to remove his yellow paisley romper after removing his thick birkinstocks.

"Did you want a half or a whole?"

"Neither. Get out."

Danny Sex: Better go with the whole, I've got a huge appetite for hot babes.

"Okay."

She responds, but without emotion or possibly even a grasp of the situation. Not only did she not care she was about to have an erotic encounter with Mr. Sex and his masculine sexuality, she didn't seem to care about anything.

"She's stoned to the fucking gills, this is depressing."

Danny Sex: Man, I sure love sex with hot babes.

The escort fakes a laugh. She rolls back the sheets on one of the beds.

"Lie down here."

Danny Sex: Oh no, Mr. Sex has sex with the hot babes everywhere.

"Dude, bad move. Get out."

Danny Sex: I WILL NOT GET OUT!

The layout of the hotel room is what one would typically expect from a midranged hotel near a major city. The door opens immediately into the room with another door nearby, notably the bathroom. The girl, shaken by Mr. Sex's outburst, hides behind the second bed as the bathroom door opens and another figure steps out. Tall, gaunt, and just as stoned looking as she, this man, holding a pistol, looks less than pleased. Mr. Sex pivots to face what is presumed to be her pimp, along with his weapon.

"The fuck you say?"

"LET ME OUT! THIS GUY IS CHUMP CHANGE!"

Mr. Sex, his romper around his ankles, his penis just kind of resting and pointed downward, looks absolutely terrified.

Danny Sex: I, I, I uh...

"Gimme your fucking wallet."

"Dude, get the fuck out and let me handle this. This is human trafficking, this guy is keeping this girl as a slave and making money off of her, just leave, okay? Do something right for fuck's sake!"

Mr. Sex bends over slowly and pulls up his romper. The pistol cocks.

"I SAID GIMME YOUR FUCKING WALLET!"

Mr. Sex reaches around in his romper, and finds nothing.

Danny Sex: I, uh, I left it in the car.

"You motherfucker! Kick his ass, call the cops, dive out of the window!"

"You motherfucker!"

The pimp pistol whips Mr. Sex once, and Mr. Sex recoils. He struggles to reach for his romper bottom as the pimp opens the door and throws him out. The family from earlier is seen stepping out of their room. They stop and look at Mr.. Sex, naked with his romper around his ankles, rubbing his forehead. They immediately turn back into their room in shock.

"You fuck! You horrid fuck!"

Danny Sex: Shut up. Who the fuck do you think you are?

"My name is Robbie Motherfucking Bourbon. You're going to remember that name."