*Eric Rex is shown to be sitting alone in a kitchen that has barebones furnishing. He has pulled himself up to a table and is eating a plate of bacon, eggs, and raspberries. A glass of water sits idly by.*


Mr. Rockwell. You act like you're cultured. You act like you're above it all, but what you don't get, what you don't understand at all, is that your posturing amounts to nothing. Mark Twain once said, "Show. Don't tell." Now, what he was talking about was how to tell a story, but I find it very applicable to daily life. You can talk all you want about your "art", you can issue vague threats to Sebastian Duke, but until you show something, it's all for naught until you show something. Too bad you won't get to tonight.

*Rex finishes his food, sips on the glass and gets up to wash his plate.*

Let me tell you a story. A while back, I had a job working as a guard in a prison down in Alabama. I met a guy, Michael Tate, doing 20 years for murdering his girlfriend. Why he did it, he never said. I didn't care. Wasn't my place to, you know?


*Rex puts the plate away after drying it, and returns to the table to sip on his water.*

The thing that struck me about Tate was that, sitting there alone in his cell, he'd always talk to the other inmates. They all could through their doors. While the others were sort of making jokes about each other, me, and the other guards, Tate always acted like he was above it all. Tate sat there, quoting Shakespeare. Trying to get these convicts to discuss Freud's work and theories. He'd spend time trying to use pens and pencils to recreate Van Gogh on his wall. All the while, he's getting more and more disgusted with the "Philistines" around him. Sound familiar, Rockwell?

*Rex finishes his glass and pushes it aside.*

He starts insulting them. Telling them how uncivilized they are, how barbaric they all are. One day, he gets let out of max and put back into the general population. I remember, because I was a 1st responder that day. I get the call over the radio in under an hour of him going down to the yard. "There's a stabbing in Dock 3." Off I go. I've got no idea what I'm running into, but I'm ready to fight. That's what I do. As long as I'm getting paid, that is. I go into the dorm, and I bust my ass immediately. Blood is slicker than oil. They killed Tate. He was stabbed 43 times. They saw him for what he was. He was just as bad as they were. He was a murderer that thought he was a philospher. Thought he was higher than he was. He liked to tell instead of show. He was just like you, Simon.

*Rex gets up, walks down a narrow hallway, and turns into a room on his left. Inside, there is a weight bench, a few dumbells, and a mat. He sits on the bench and begins rotating his shoulders.*

Tonight, I'm not just welcoming you to the XWF, Simon. I'm welcoming you to Dock 3.