The scene opens to the bustling entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.



Taxis impatiently whiz by as chatter echos from the steps of the renowned institution. We follow the path of a young blonde male making his way up the final steps and through the entrance. Although his back is to us we can see he is wearing a mustard suit. The stench of Cohiba smog chokes us as its ember fills the spinning door to the main hall. The smoke seemingly clears, taken over by the earthy fragrance of the historic building. The stone-dust from the museum's aging pillars create a magical haze like that of an old library in some lonely small town that we all know. We pan down a side corridor as the man surveys a hall of abnormal art. Suddenly, he stops in front a particularly unsettling portrait.



If one could but paint his mind...

He takes a large puff of his cigar before exhaling a ghostly cloud of soot towards the painting.

*Ahem*

The man turns, revealing to us the long awaited Simon Rockwell. He has a look of intense vexation at the source of the interruption. It is a gaunt, elderly woman in a dark green suit.

Sir, the museum policy clearly states there is to be no smoking inside the building.

Simon notices the crude plastic badge hanging from the breast pocket of her suit.

"Curator?" he thinks snidely.

So if you could please take that outsi-

Excuse me?

There is a sharp tone in his voice that makes the older woman jump.

Do you know anything about the artist that hangs behind me?

The woman hesitates to respond.

Well...it is one of Francis Bacon's most famous Religious Painting for Atheists.

Simon gives a presumptuous smirk and continues for the museum curator.

Sir Francis Bacon, born January 22nd, 1561. Known as the creator of empiricism, he served as Lord Chancellor of England while creating what we now know as the scientific method. Despite the aforementioned achievements and contributing such great art such as the one behind me, Sir Francis Bacon's name will forever be brought to shame by-

By the suspicion of many other members of the court to him committing buggery. Yes sir, I am well aware.

Simon's face glows red as he lowers his head in disgust at the woman interrupting him yet again.

No...

He raises his head and takes a deep breath as to calm himself.

The disgrace is that so called "experts" in celebrated institutions such as this continue to ignore the importance of honorifics. Someone to have gained such admiration in his time as to be knighted deserves to be addressed as his title. It's Sir Francis Bacon, madam. Fools like you know nothing of honorifics. That is because you know nothing of honor.

Sir I don't quite unde-

That's right, you damn well better refer to me as sir. Do you know why? Because I am your superior. Your leader. The Shepherd of all the ignorant, lowly subordinates such as yourself. Desperate souls who are merely grease in the wheels of society. The simple people who lack both the intellect and the tenacity to make a mark in this world. So why don't you go back to sweeping the floors and misinforming our youth as you wait for the icy hand of death to take you away from your hollow, senseless existence?

The woman looks appalled at the pretentious outburst by Simon and scurries away. Simon throws his head back, feeling reassured by his comments. He looks back towards the camera to finish his point.

You people will learn that respect comes to those who are dominant by nature. There is an innate reverence for those who are destined for greatness. Not those who have had to scratch and claw their way to the top. They are just warming the seat of the throne for the few of us who deserve to sit in it. People like your XWF US champion, Sebastian Duke. This Wednesday, everyone shall bear witness to the age of re-enlightenment. The era of your eminence that stands before you now. That wannabe Ken Shamrock, Eric Rex, will be nothing more than a martyr for the last of the provincial superstars in the XWF locker room.

Simon takes another large drag from his cigar and blows it towards the camera.

Eric Rex, your MMA background has become a dime a dozen in this business. I, on the other hand, have been wrestling my whole life. This isn't a sport for me, it's an art. Art like the kind displayed in this building. Come this Wednesday, you will know my work first hand. Your half-hearted attempt at making a name for yourself will not get in my way. After you tap out to the MRI, you and everyone else in that arena will finally realize just how much respect there is behind honorifics...the importance of titles...and refer to me only as...Mr. Rockwell...

Mr. Rockwell flicks the remainder of his cigar at the camera lens and walks away as the scene fades.