The vibrantly dressed man trudged along through the barren desert. He tried to spit the tart taste of defeat out of his mouth, but his parched throat failed to produce any saliva. The only liquid in sight was the beads of sweat dripping from the man’s oily skin onto the hot sand. The man’s unclothed toes had wrinkled underneath the beating sun, but they were still moisturized from time to time by the falling beads of precipitation. The man’s orange pants were ripped and tattered in several areas, and his tye dye shirt fared little better. The only intact clothing on the bearded man’s body was the colorful bandana wrapped across his forehead and drenched in sweat.

Dimes felt like he had wandered the deserts of Montero for eternity. The days and the nights ran together as Dimes slowly crossed the desolate landscape. The man’s long emptied belly rumbled with every passing moment. The searing heat of the sun had burned Charlie’s pale flesh days ago. With every passing minute the man’s agony seemed to accumulate.

‘All this for trying to help a man when he’s down?’

Dimes was always known as the life of the party. He was a real hellraiser and troublemaker, but he rarely drew the ire of anyone other than the men he would habitually cuck and the women he would repeatedly abandon.

‘Why did Nickles do this to me?’

The question passed through Charlie’s mind every now and again as he dragged himself through the harsh wastelands of Montero. Dimes didn’t think he had done anything wrong, certainly he hadn’t done anything to warrant such extrajudicial torture. It felt like lifetimes ago that Dimes brought a cup of water and a hot meal to Nickles’ cell. Demos had up and left the Steubenvilla for a meeting with the King, leaving Nickles with nothing for sustenance or nutrients. Dimes thought that was unjust! But when Dimes brought Nickles a quick snack to slate his appetite he found himself greeted with a fist to the face and a Devil Hook Drop to the floor.

‘Demos was right all along…..’

Dimes felt ashamed and embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he was so foolish to go against the commands of the Demos. That guy was a weirdo creepshow, but he had a knock for predictions and prophecies. Dimes knew he should have listened to the masked madman and left Nickles alone….but hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?

Dimes still couldn’t believe he was able to escape the Steubenvilla with his hide. For that sliver of good fortune, Dimes was grateful. After Nickles viciously assaulted Dimes and took control of the manor he became mad with power. When Dimes awoke he collected himself and snuck out of the villa through the servant’s tunnels. When Dimes turned to look back at the Steubenvilla, he saw that it was overtaken by a raging inferno. Dimes didn’t know what would become of the town or it’s inhabitants. Frankly, he didn’t have the time to concern himself with the fates of others.

Dimes wiped the sweat from his sunburned forehead, cringing slightly as tingles of pain spread across his face. A few beads of sweat flew to the granulated ground and sizzled upon contact with the sun touched sand. The discorific man’s head turned on a swivel as a pleading voice called out from some ten or fifteen yards away.

“Please, help meeeeeeee”


The desperate man pushed his head and torso up with his unnaturally thin hands. The man’s slender fingers dug into the sand as he called out pleadingly. His braided hair flew behind his back as his head leaned all the way back on his neck.

“PLEASE! HELP ME!”


Charlie Dimes looked at the man in horror.

“What- what do you need?”

“Waaaaaaterrrrrr”

“I...I don’t have any….”


“Waaaaatteerrrr”

“I...I…..I don’t have any, dog! I’m looking for some too!”

“He’s commiiiinnngggggg for usssss”

“What? Who’s coming?”


“Chhhhaarrrliieeeeee”


“I-I’m right here, dog!”


The dying man looked the tye dyed goober up and down before shaking his head from side to side.


“No...no…..the REAL Charlie…..his miiiisssssttresssss will bring him back to ussssss”


“Did he kill the Demos? Oh no! I’m FUCKED now!”


“Noooooo……..the Demos……….survived.”


Dimes looked at the man with a confused expression as he turned his palms to the sky.

“What do you mean, dog? What are you saying?!”


“Wwwaaaaaterrrrrr”


The dehydrated man collapsed to the ground facedown. The once desperate migrant lay perfectly still atop the mountain of sand as the sun slowly began to set. Dimes’ eyes popped out of his socket as the man fell. Dimes scrambled away from the man, a newfound energy apparent in his rapidly moving legs.


“I-I-I’ll find someone to help us!”


Dimes ran through the desert with great haste as if he was trying to beat the setting sun. The blue sky turned purple as the gripping chills of the dark night began to replace the sun’s warm touch. Dimes wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours later, but eventually he stumbled upon a wooden outpost in the distance.

“OH THANK MOTHER MARY AND HER BIG FAT PUSSYLIPS!”


Dimes sprinted towards the shelter as gray clouds began to roll through the sky.




Dimes pushed through the doors of the saloon before being swallowed by a thick cloud of tobacco and ganja smoke. As Dimes looked around the Crossed Guns Saloon he saw a handful of cowboys sitting at the bar with pistols in their holsters and spliffs in their hands. The bartender, a rather plain looking blonde man with moderate chin stubble, nodded at the newcomer as he cleaned the inside of a glass with a clearly dirty rag. The bartender pushed food remnants and tobacco guts around the innards of the glass with a soiled brown rag as he ‘cleaned’ it.


“What can I get for ye, slims?”


“I need a 40, but there’s a playa out there in the desert who needs help! He needs water and some medical attention now!”


The four cowboys seated at the bar turned around in unison as they raised a collective eyebrow at Charlie Dimes. The man on the far right chuckled softly before raising his gruff voice.

“You ain’t chatting about that little man with the braids and red dress, are you?”


“Yeah, something like that! Mofucka looked like something out of a horror movie! He’s dying quick, I can see it!”

The cowboy on the far left put his spliff out on the bartop much to the dismay of the bartender. The cowboy turned back to Dimes as he flicked his hat up a notch.

“Now now slims, you don’t gotta worry about that there manchild! That’s SHAWN WARSTEIN! He doesn’t need any of our sympathies. He was acting all petulant and entitled, so we took a sledgehammer to his knees and dropped his ass out in the wastes.”

Dimes crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side as he questioned the quartet of cowboys.

“So you’re telling me this guy was acting like allllll sorts of a bitch, so you just had to toss him out on his ass and let him wither away to nothing under the spotlight?”


The four cowboys looked between each other before nodding in unison. The two cowboys in the middle spoke at the same time.


“Yep, that’s pretty much what happened.”


Dimes looked at the cowboys for a few moments before a sly grin slowly unfurled across his lips. Dimes brought his arms off of his chest before clapping.


“Now as a battle royale M-V-P lemme tell ya’ll, that’s EXACTLY the type of shit real OGs do, playas!”


Dimes walked towards the cowboys jubilantly as the four men laughingly embraced him into their party. Dimes plopped down on the barstool next to the cowboy on the far left. The bartender slid a 40 oz to Dimes as a cowboy handed him a lit spliff.


“We found this letter from the Demos tucked away in his horse’s saddle.”

The cowboy on the far left pulled his wallet out from his pocket. He opened up his wallet and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The cowboy tucked his wallet back into his pocket before unfolding the paper and sliding it across the bartop to Dimes.




“WELL I’LL BE A SUMMOFABIYATCH! That masked freak is finally going through puberty! He wants to know what wet pussy feels like! I didn’t think he had that type of daaawwgg in im’! If he wanted to know what pussycat was like, all he had to do was ask the Dimebag! I’ve deflowered mo hos than any Jo Schmostein! But damn son, the Demos is going through major changes, I tellyahwut!”



The four cowboys chuckled as Dimes sipped on his 40 and took a puff of his marijuana laced cigarette. The cowboy on the far right spoke up as he tapped his knuckles against the top of the bar.


“So have any of ya’ll had the chance to get a go with the big guy at the truckstop?”


The cowboy looked down his line of friends as he awaited their response.


“That sexy guy with the muscles?”


“Can’t say that we have.”


“Oh yeah, far left cowboy, you know what’s up!”


“You’re talking about Silderella, right, far right cowboy?”


“Damn right!”


“That guy gives great road head! He said he’d do anything for a ride to the airport, so I made him gargle my cock AND my balls while I drove the scenic route! He ended missing his flight and letting me tie him up on my Saint Andrews Cross in the trailer!”


“Fitting your cock and balls in his mouth at the same time? Do you have small weiner disease, far left cowboy!”


“NO! NO! I’m not SMALL! I’m a real man, damn it! And I have a huge cock! He’s just a big feller, so he’s got a big mouth and he knows how to use it!”


Charlie Dimes sipped on his 40 oz and puffed on his spliff as he watched the scene unfold before him. Dimes recuperated strength as he engaged in, and witnessed, brodude debauchery.

“Hey now middle cowboys, leave him alone! Sil DOES have a big mouth, and a gaping asshole too! I think he could probably fit all four of us inside of him if we used a bit of that RL Edgar sponsored KY Jelly!”


“He’d be happy to do it, too, as long as you trade in your horses for a semi! The big beautiful wildcard has a thang for truckers!”


“What do you mean he has a thing for truckers?”


“The big guy will literally do anything a trucker says. He likes to call us Ass-Felt Cowboys, I don’t know why. It’s his thing. Maybe he thinks having a go with truckers will help him build up the strength and stamina he needs to win that battle royale.”


“He said something about that after I busted my nut on his chin! He told me if he could take eighteen truckers in one night, he could probably take around half that many wrestlers! He said the math checks out!”


The cowboys in the middle rolled their eyes as they put their spliffs out on the ashtrays provided to them.


“All brawn, no brain. Classic. I’m sure everyone is going to be commenting on that. Everyone’s so original nowadays.”


Dimes ashed his spliff in an ashtray as he slid his now empty 40 over to the bartender. Dimes burped loudly before looking down the long line of cowboys.


“So Silderella ain’t just any kind of ho, is she? She’s a stupid ho. I can’t stand a stupid ho! Now how much coke rock do you have to smoke before you think blowing truckers is a good way to prepare for a match in the XWF! You know being a ho is one thing. I love hos. We all love hos, don’t we fellas?”


“Oh yeah.”

“Most certainly.”


“Love sticking my dick in their dirty little assholes.”


“A ho is a ho! A ho belongs to the streets! But a ho is someone I can get along with, have a beer and a go with! Make a few bucks off of! But a STUPID ho? Now I can’t stand a stupid ho, oh no no no. Stupid hos don’t make money, stupid hos give out coupons and discounts to anyone who can take em to Vegas so they can fail to live out their dreams. Stupid hos don’t got no clue what they’re doing or what kind of games they’re playing. You know, stupid hos got my brotha Derray locked up in state for five years! Snitchin’ and not knowin’ when to shut tha fuck up!

Stupid hos deserve whatever they get! I love hos, I love hos of almost all types. Big, tall, short, fat, skinny, men, women, it don’t matter! Just as long as you got a somewhat wet hole for me, I can get along with you just fine! But I got one caveat, and that’s stupid little bitches. They grind my gears! When I see stupid bitches, I just like to AAGGGGGGH”


Dimes pretends to strangle the air in front of him. He carries on the charade for a half dozen seconds before looking back over the long line of all too agreeable cowboys.


“You know what I mean?”


“Sure, why not.”


“Good men!”


“Excuse me, gentlemen- I’ll be just a second.”


The bartender throws the rag and dirty glass onto the floor as he bows out of the scene. The glass shatters on the ground but the bartender pays it no mind as he walks through an open door into an employees only section of the bar. Dimes shrugs at the blonde man before turning back to the assembled cowboys/truckers/johns.


“You know, you boys seem like some cats I could roll with! What brings you out here to this shithole?”


The four cowboys simultaneously point to a wanted poster hanging up across the room.




Dimes squinted as he stared at the wanted poster.


“Who’s that?”



“Surely you jest. The poster is a little outdated, but rumor is he roams the wilds once more.”


Dimes turned back to the cowboys.


“I don’t know who that playa is, but he looks like he’s got a nasty chlamydia outbreak going across his face. What’s outdated bout the poster? Did he get that skin condition checked out by some sort of Doc?”


“Well in truth a Doc did in fact outdate the poster, but not quite like that.”


Dimes rolled his eyes and motioned dismissively towards the cowboys as he puffed on his spliff.


“Whachu lot playin games for, huh? You tryna confuse me? I been wandering the desert for weeks, I ain’t playin this shit.”


“That man can run through BOB like a hot knife through butter with a cracked head and one hand tied behind his back!”


“Except for the ones that put him in the ER…..”



“Pffffft we talmbout playas who can run through BOB like they’re the Jacksonville d-line? That’s me, G! That’s what the dimebag does second to none! Just listen to Betsy Granger or Miss Fury, they’ll tell you boys just how Dimes excels in the field! Everyone seems to remember how I lined those BOBbleheads up on the ropes and knocked em over one by one and two by two! Furry and the Bets won’t shut their yappers about how much BOB ass I kick in royales! Whoever the fuck that lizard looking guy is, I bet my bottom bitches sweet ass that he ain’t got more wins against BOB than me!”


The far right cowboy grew deeply serious as he spoke solemnly to Charlie Dimes.


“Look, no matter where The Universal Championship currently resides, we all know it belongs with that outlaw.”



“Now that’s about the stupidest shit I’ve ever fucking heard in my life, ya hear? Belts belong around the waist they’re strapped to! If they didn’t belong there, they wouldn’t be there! It’s as simple as that! You boys sound like you’ve had too much to drink. You seem like a fine gent, I don’t think you’d let some asinine dribble like that spill out of your mouth in your right mind! Where’d that bartender go? He oughta cut you off right now.”

Dimes turned his head on his neck as he tried to locate the missing bartender. Without any luck he turned back to look at the party of drunken saloon goers.


“You don’t understand...he had the second longest universal reign of all time!”


“Well why in the hell would the belt belong around the waist of the guy with the second longest reign? If anything it should belong to the guy with the longest reign of all time according to your logic! You need to put your lips around another cig, bud, because you’re digging an even deeper hole for yourself!”



Dimes shook his head from side to side derisively as the bartender walked back into the scene.


“Sorry about that, folks! Anything I can get you now that I’m back?”


“Slide me another 40!”


“Will do, sir! As much as you need!”


“And you better cut these playas off, they’re dribbling on nonsensically like a bunch deformed chimps.”


“As you say, sir! Whatever makes you most comfortable here. We want you to stay for as long as is needed!”


“Well thank you, G, I preesh’ dat!”


“Of course!”


The bartender turns towards the party of cowboys from behind the bar.


“Sorry guys, you heard the man. You’re cut off.”


The disgruntled cowboys scowled at Dimes and the bartender before hopping off of their barstools and walking through the front door of the wasteland saloon.

“Get me anotha for when I finish this bad boy.”



“Sure thing, bossman!”


Hours roll by as Charlie Dimes and the bartender get to know each other a little bit better. Over time Dimes begins to slur his words and wobble back and forth on top of the barstool. Nonetheless, the bartender continues to serve the tye dye clad man. Drink after drink goes down the man’s gullet. A fair bit of the booze seems to spill onto his now soaking beard with every sip, but the drunkard doesn’t seem to notice.


“I gotta take a piiiisssss, where’s tha outtyhousey?”


The bartender tosses a brief glance through the front doorway of the inn as a sudden clopping sound begins to billow in from the outside. The bartender wipes a few beads of sweat off of his forehead as he steps out from behind the counter.


“Right over here, I think the bathroom just opened up! Here, I’ll give you a hand.”


The young bartender forces a smile as he nods at Dimes. The man takes Dimes by the arm and helps him off of the chair. Dimes struggles to walk through the saloon, but he is able to stay on his feet with the support of the ever so helpful bartender. The bartender pushes the front door open before throwing Charlie Dimes roughly onto the sandy ground just off the deck of the saloon!


“BALLS SANDWICH!”

The disgruntled Dimes pushes himself up to his knees. The man goes to step up to his feet as a large shadow is cast over him. Dime looks up and immediately freezes as he locks eyes with the masked crusader.




“YOU ARE UNDER ARREST, CHARLIE DIMES! IF YOU FLEE, I WILL RUN YOU DOWN AND MY STEED WILL LEAVE A TRAIL OF BLOODY HOOFPRINTS ACROSS THE DESERT!”


“Ohhh fuck. Whatttssss up, plaaayya? I been looking for you, Nickels is like uhhhh freee nnnnnnnnn shiiiit! Lez go git im!”


Dimes stepped up to a standing position and was able to hold himself steady for a few moments. Then he collapsed to the ground. Dimes vomited across the ground as alcohol rushed out of his gullet.


“Nickles has been slain by the Demos. If you run, you will be be the next Charlie to fall.”


“I already fellllll maaaaaayne….I don’t think I can runnnn, Geeeeee.”


Demos hopped off of his silver steed, kicking up a cloud of sand as his boots made contact with the ground. He reached down to his waistband and pulled out a pair of metal handcuffs as the scene faded to black.




We cut to a shot of three Demoses seated behind a bench in judicial robes. The Demos in the middle slams a gavel against the top of the bench.


“Court is now in session! We are assembled here today to hear the case of Charlie Dimes v. Montero. Charlie Dimes stands accused of one count of assisting in the escape of a fugitive, five counts of accessory to sexual assault, fifteen counts of accessory to murder, four hundred eighty-seven counts of accessory to felonious property destruction, one count of fleeing the scene of a crime, and one count of evading justice. How do you plead, Charlie Dimes?”

The screen switches to a shot of a sobered up Dimes shackled behind a comically sized desk. The bearded defendant is dressed in a tye dye jumpsuit. His jaw drops as the list of charges is read off.


“I dint do any uh dat!”


“A plea of not yet proven guilty is entered for the defendant.”

The Demos in the middle turns to face the Demos on the right.


“Demos, do you wish to make the opening argument for the state of Montero?”


The Demos on the right nods before clearing out his throat with a harsh cough.


“Charlie Dimes might as well be a no good bastard. Charlie Nickles could never have escaped from his prison cell on his own. No one but Dimes would be bold enough to go against the will of the Demos and free such a dangerous convict. Charlie Dimes has demonstrated a long history of obstinance and disrespect for his superior alter egos. It was only a matter of time until Charlie Dimes’s flagrant violation of the rules would come with grave consequences. When Nickles escaped his cell he unleashed the wrath of hell upon the citizens of Steubenvilla. Dimes most certainly helped him escape from his cell, so Dimes is criminally responsible for every crime committed by that deranged lunatic during his last hoorah!”


“No way brotha!”

The Demos in the middle pounded his gavel against the bench repeatedly.

“ORDER! ORDER! ORDER! SILENCE, CRIMINAL!”

Dimes recoiled as the Demos in the middle furiously slammed the gavel against the top of the bench.

“THERE WILL BE ORDER IN THE COURT OF THE DEMOS!”

The Demos in the middle looked around as all the other participants in the trial leaned away from him silently. The dominant Demos slowly set his gavel down atop the bench before adjusting the fitting of his leather mask. Nearly half a minute of silence went by as the central Demos refitted his mask. His hands fell atop the bench once he was satisfied with the positioning of his ceremonial mask.


“Now Charlie Dimes, you have been accused of assisting in the escape of Charlie Nickles from his prison cell. What say you in your defense?”


“Listen playas! I did NOT help that bad boy escape! I was just tryna feed him, y’know! When you left the crib, you didn’t leave old dog with any food or water! He said he was starving, so I whipped up a lil something for him in the kitchen and brought it to him! As soon as I opened his door he hit me with a 1-2 combo! I fought that bastard to the end, but he hit me with a shank and tripped me up! I tried to fight him off but he just got the better of me, homies! He got his ones in! He’s a bad fucking boy!”


The three judges murmured beneath their breath as they looked intermittently between each other. After some brief conversation the Demos on the left fired a question at Charlie Dimes.


“What did you do after Charlie Nickles escaped from his cell?”


“Well playa, I did what anyone would do! I got the hell out of dodge! I didn’t want to fight him again, especially not after he pieced my biscuit off of me!”

“Pieced your biscuit off of you?”

The Demos on the right raised a judgemental eyebrow at the not yet proven guilty defendant.


“Stole my hammer!”


“You were in possession of a hammer when you entered his cell?”


“Not a hamma, G!”


“THEN BE TRUTHFUL WITH THE COURT!”


The Demos in the middle slammed his gavel against the bench as his command echoed through the chamber.


“He stole my gun! When I woke up I got the fuck out of there, I didn’t want to be target practice for that whacko!”


The Demoses murmured amongst themselves for a few moments as Dimes looked on in his tye dye jumpsuit. Dimes nervously tapped the heels of his feet against the cold tile flooring. The Demos on the far right stared daggers into Charlie Dimes as he fired off another question.


“Why were you carrying a firearm in my home?”


“You never know when you’re gonna need a biscuit, dog!”


“Add a charge of unlawfully carrying a weapon!”


“Brooooooooooo”


“The charge has been added to the docket!”


Charlie Dimes buried his bearded face inside of his sunburned palms as the Demos on the left asked another question.


“Do you feel any regret for your actions?”



Charlie’s hands flew off of his face and slammed against the top of the comically small table.


“I regret everything! I would take it all back if I could! I should have let that fucker starve!”


The Demos in the middle slammed his gavel against the bench.


“The jury will now decide your fate! Come, my kin!”


“Jury? Whaddya talm bout playa?!”


The central Demos swiveled around in his chair before stepping to his feet. The two side Demoses were quick to follow his trail as the central Demos walked through a side door. Dimes looked at the trio of Demoses in confusion as they ducked into the judge’s chambers.


“Wait, what’s happenin playas? Where are you going?! Don’t leave me without any foooooood! Come back playays!”



The three Demoses let the door slam shut behind them as they filed into their deliberation quarters.




The dominant Demos confidently strolled into the large chair behind the desk. The two side Demoses slinked into their respective chair across from the real decision maker. The two side Demoses looked at each other nervously before simultaneously casting their glance towards the real Demos.


“What do you boys think we should do with him?”


The dominant Demos leaned back as he brought his elbows onto the arms of his chair. He gripped the end of his chair arms with his palms as his two advisers spoke over each other.


“We should cut him a plea! He didn’t mean to unleash Nickles upon Montero. Besides, we can put him to good use!”



“Put him to death! If he hadn’t opened that cell door, so many souls would still be with us here today! Dimes is partially responsible for every foul act Nickles committed against Montero after he escaped! Justice demands swift and lethal action from the court!”


The dominant Demos leaned forward in his chair as he brought a hand up to comb through the hair on his chin.


“Look, he may be somewhat responsible for the chaos but he is damn good at battle royales! Dimes eliminated Bobby Bourbon, Barney Green, Miss Fury, and a whole host of others for a shot at the TV belt that Nickles took from him! I don’t think Dimes meant to let Nickles go. We should give him another chance at life, put him to good use in the fight for freedom!”


“I want to see blood! It’s been a long month. We all want to see someone bleed!”


“Hmmmmm…..”

The two side Demoses scowled at each other before looking back to the dominant Demos with pleading eyes.


“Normally I would seek SEVERE punishment for crimes of this magnitude. Dimes has a deeply troubling criminal history. He is by no means a first time, second time, or even third time offender! He has demonstrated reckless disregard for our orders and for the lives and wellbeing of his fellow citizens. Instead of trying to make things right, he fled from the scene of his crimes because he was scared of the dangerous weapon HE was carrying around our property like a common thug……”


The Demos on the right smiled from ear to ear as the Demos recanted the sins of Dimes. The Demos on the left buried his masked face in his hands as he feared for the worst.


“BUT-”


Both of the side Demoses stared at the dominant Demos from the edge of their seats with wide eyes.


“We live in extraordinary times. Enemies assault the Demos from every direction. We have the chance of a lifetime just down the road, but that conniving cunt at Coreytopia seems determined to keep us from the land of milk and honey! Dolly Waters has forced my hand on this matter. She has done everything she can to limit the influence of the Demos over her mindless flock of servants. She knows that if the Demos were to attend her little celebration he would raise the class consciousness of her serfs and help them see the foul nature of Corey Smith and Dolly Waters. She is using every dirty trick in her black book to keep those servants away from the truth I spread. As much as I hate to say it, we must cut Dimes a plea deal. If he can secure us victory in the Mad King's Battle Royale, all the charges against him will be dismissed and expunged from his record!"


Demos looked between his two advisers with a forced smile.

"Should we go tell that lucky rat the good news?"


"This isn't justice, this is insanity! EVEN IF Dimes were to win the invitational, what next?! Don't you remember our deals with the Brotherhood?!"


"You truly are a fool, aren't you, right Demos? Do you pay no attention to the comings and goings of the world outside of Montero?"


The central Demos stared coldly into the soul of the right Demos as the illusory creature sank back into it's chair.

"It is clear that RL Edgar has already won the war for the true crown. It will be our honor to test his metal in a friendly joust at Leap of Faith. Now come, we have a criminal to cut loose."

The dominant Demos slid his chair back as he rose to a standing position. The side Demoses followed him as he walked towards the door back to the courtroom. The camera cut to black as the dominat Demos swung the door open and stepped back into view of the soon to be freed man in a tye dye jumpsuit.