A giant arena. The crowd is roaring, the bass is pounding your chest, the lights are flashing like lightning. Slipknot bursts onto the stage, and Tortilla, in his mask, is hanging around the edge, banging on the drums and giving the fans a chaotic energy. You somehow squeeze closer to the stage and start to attract his attention - too persistently.

The crowd is screaming, and for the tenth time in a row you wave your arms, scream his name and try to get through to him right during the track. He, in his mask, stops for a second and abruptly turns his gaze down, right at you. He comes closer, his steps are heavy, his boots are loudly hitting the stage. The crowd roars even harder, thinking that this is part of the show.

He leans forward, gives you the middle finger right in your face, as if to say: "ENOUGH, DAMN IT." But there is a drive in this rudeness, as if he is deliberately playing with you, driving you crazy.

You see him grinning under his mask, nodding his head to the beat of the music, and then starting to pound the drum next to him even harder, as if he is dumping all the accumulated adrenaline on you. The crowd screams with delight, and he, bending a little lower, sharply pokes his finger in your direction and tilts his head - like "just one more time - and I will come out personally."

You scream his name again, waving your arms, jumping up and down so that the fans nearby start looking at you askance. On the tenth time, he turns his head sharply, leans forward and thump-thump-thump — slowly approaches the edge of the stage, his eyes flashing through the holes in his mask.

“FUCK, CALM DOWN!” — you hear through the roar of the music, although he didn’t even shout, he just said it, and that was enough.

Jim deliberately comes closer to Tortilla, kicks him in the ass, like "come on, go deal with the fan already."

*Tortilla leans down even lower, bangs the drum so hard that the vibrations go straight through your chest. Then he slowly brings his hand to his throat, makes the "I'm gonna get you" gesture, and points his finger right at you. The crowd goes crazy, thinking this is a show.

But you see - no, he's really into it. He's not just playing anymore.

The music stops for a few seconds, and Corey yells into the microphone. — "CARE YOURSELF, THIS GIRL HAS GONE TO THE TORTILLA! IT'S GONNA BE HOT!"

The crowd roars.

And Tortilla throws down the microphone, straightens up, and slowly walks to the edge of the stage, straight towards you.

He approaches the barrier behind which you are standing, looming over you. His breathing is heavy, his mask is gleaming in the light. He grabs the bars with both hands and shakes them so hard that the metal rattles. The crowd screams wildly.

Then he leans closer, almost nose to nose through the bars. His eyes sparkle in the holes of the mask.

“So, are you happy?!” he screams so loudly that you can hear it over the music.

The crowd roars, and Corey picks it up on the microphone.

“COME ON, ANSWER HIM!”

The music pauses for a split second, the lights focus on that spot - as if the whole show had become your personal stage with the Tortilla.

He suddenly raises his hand and gives you the middle finger again, right in your face, and then makes a "beckoning" gesture with his finger: "Come here, if you're not afraid."

The crowd screams in ecstasy.