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Elisha · **06-26-2013, 05:37 AM**

"Do you remember the story I told you about the Syrian prison, Sal?" Eric Rex asked while they sat in a dive bar deep in New York. Thinking about the impending triple-threat match with Sean Falcon and Tony Santos on Wednesday had reminded him of a few things.

Sal sipped a martini. "Which time? The guy eating his own feces or the explosion or what?"

"The riot," Rex said with almost an upbeat in his voice. Even if he had never heard it, he had, Sal could tell this memory was a fond one.

"I don't think I've heard that one," Sal lied.

"We had a guy in camp that had defected, so we locked him in. Bad place to be," said Rex as the bartender hands him a glass of water. "Thank you. Every day I could see his mind slipping further and further. We had confiscated papers he was sending back and forth with the other detainees."

"Detainees? You sound like one of them now," Sal interjected.

"Semantics, Sal. Detainees, prisoners, inmates...Whatever. So, we start having more and more problems. They're refusing meals. Flooding their rooms with the toilets. They're throwing sh** at us."

Sal spits part of his drink all over himself. "Literal sh**?"

"Not the worst thing I've had thrown at me. So, one day, my supervisor comes to me. 'Rex, this situation is getting out of hand. I need you to come up with something to squash this.'"

"What did you do? Start a riot?" Sal wanted to know as he cleaned himself off and apologized to the bartender. "Screwdriver, please."

"The guy knew...he had been on our side...that even with the supervisor, I was the dominant man in the unit. He had been trying to antagonize me on a daily basis. Until, one day, as I passed his door, he spat on me through the bars."

"Brave man. Stupid man," Sal noted as his eyes wandered to the 2 women playing pool on the other side of the bar. A brunette and a redhead. Both with that perfect, hourglass figure and skirts that were not made for bending over a pool table.

"I opened his door and I grabbed him by the throat. Took him straight to the floor. What I didn't know was that they had been mass-producing keys out of parts of their beds."

"How the hell does that even happen?" Sal asked as 2 very large men joined the women, causing Sal to dart his vision away. They had seen him.

"People are very creative when they're desperate. They start coming my way. My guys start coming in too, but we're outnumbered 48 to 4. Also, I'm trapped in the room. The guy starts to laugh. I snapped his neck," Eric said, staring straight ahead seemingly past all the band stickers behind the bar.

Sal glances back at the women and accidentally locks eyes with one of the men. "What about the others?"

"I get up. I see blood and one of my guys is already bleeding out. I pulled the first 2 inmates I could get my hands on into the room and tripped them to the floor. I slammed the door shut and broke the key off in the door."

The 2 men were how walking toward Sal and Eric, pool sticks in hand. "So, you're telling me you locked yourself in there with 2 men you know were looking to kill you?"

"Yeah. Then I just beat them. The others were on the door, trying to get in. The blood was splashing into the bars and past onto them. I grabbed a toothbrush, one was unconscious or dead. The other guy was just looking at me and spitting up. I grabbed the toothbrush and broke it so it was sharp on the end. I started digging it into his jawline. My plan was to peel his face off and hand it to the ones at the door. They just started crying and backing away."

"I hate to stop your story, but we may have problems here," said Sal as the 2 men finally made their way to them.

"Well, well...," started the bigger of the 2. "Here I was, thinking we've got ourselves a rich-kid trying to take a peek at our girls and if it's not that pedophile from TV...What is it? Eric Rex, right?"

Before they he can say or do anything else, in what seemed like one motion, Rex turned on the barstool, grabbing Sal's drink, and smashed it across the smaller one's head. As he stood off of the bar, he kicked the bigger man in the right knee, shattering it. He goes down as the smaller man pulls himself off of the pool table. Rex squats, grabs the bigger man's pool stick and uppercuts the smaller man with it, sending him on top of the table. The girls scream.

"Come on, man! Those sticks are expensive!" yelled the bartender. Sal pulls a wad of cash, $5,000 out of his pocket, and drops it on the bar.

"Come on, Rex. We gotta' get out of here," Sal pleads.

Rex looks down at the bigger man who is clutching his ruined knee.

"I'm her father," Rex says right before delivering a soccer kick to the man's jaw, sending teeth flying into a jukebox.

Sal grabs him by the arm and pulls him out of the bar and into the street where they both quickly blend in with the sea of people that is New York.

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