The scene opens in a city street. A drunken Stagger Jones sits on a stoop in front of a dark, seemingly abandoned graffiti covered house. His face is riddled with scars and scratches. His shirt smeared with dirt, and speckled with the dark reddish-brown of dried, aged blood. He takes a long drink from a bottle of beer, finishing the last of the bitter amber liquid before throwing in the distance, creating a crash as the bottle shatters and disappears into the street with the rest of the broken glass and trash of the city. Stagger Jones lights a cigarette and opens a fresh beer before lifting his gaze to the camera, as if starting the viewer themselves into their soul.

"So many people I've met in this profession has a taste for the finer things in life. They like fancy hotels, expensive cars, fine wines and plates of assorted cheeses. they like to spend their money to create the illusion of success, surrounding themselves with women, and an entourage of people all trying to create the same illusion as the man next to them. Same hair, same clothes, same old story, all of them."

Stagger takes another long drag of his cigarette and takes a swig of beer as he continues in a shaky, unstable tone.

"You see, I'm a man of more simple taste. I like to come to places like these cracked, dirty city streets. I like to drink cheap beer. I eat off the dollar menu. I go to hole in the wall bars, I talk to cheap women, and I hang out by myself… You see, what everyone wants in this business is to be the fat cat. They want everything to be given to them, waiting on them at a moments notice."

He takes another drag of his cigarette and tosses it away. Taking another long chug of his beer, letting out a deep, wet burp before continuing.

"You see, I identify more with the ugly stray. The cat you feel sorry for from a distance, but once that stray cat come close you chase it away with a broom. You see me and think I'm a starved, diseased, flea ridden pest. But I look at it in a very different way. You see, you fat cats can continue to fatten up, feeling your ankles becoming fragile under your growing bellies. As for me? My mission is to survive. That's what I do. It's what I know. It's what I've been doing my whole life. And come saturday I'll have to survive in a very real situation between three other cats, and my rabies will infect, so I hope you all have your vaccines."

With another swig of beer, Stagger Jones rises to his feet and steps gingerly off the stoop, walking toward the camera with a drunken swagger and a serious look in his eyes.

"Danny… Devia… You might not be the fat cat yet, but I can see right through you… You spend your days in the gym, and your nights in the clubs. Everything you do is to impress whoever may be watching. Well I'm not impressed. I'm not impressed one bit. You said you're the best of the best of the best? You said you're being 'realistic'? well let me give you a dose of realism; YOU WILL COME UP SHORT! and I'm not going to say you aren't the best, maybe you are. What I'm saying is that you have no idea the situation you've gotten yourself into. We can all tell you just aren't in the right state of mind. You'll never make it in this business if you're trying so hard to impress. Now the Unknown Solder. That's a man with his head on his shoulders. See, I may not be a big fan of black metal and he may be a frail, little thing but he has his head in the right place! He knows what it's like to lose blood, flesh, and parts of the soul. I'll feel really bad when I break him."

Stagger takes another drink and drops the bottle, breaking in a less satisfying crash than the bottle before, but a crash is was. Stagger Jones stands motionless with his eyes closed, breathing deeply for a long moment before opening his eyes slowly into the cold gaze he's shown before.

"Neil Capra… Now this guy… He's the one I've got my eye on. He's the one that makes me a little nervous. I've seen him fight. I've seen him take torture and spit it out. A starved alleycat, just like me. It's a real shame, Neil. In another world, and maybe some day in this one, we may have a real war, and share each others blood, two men sharing a moment like it's meant to be… But not this time. This time I have to do what I can to keep you out of my way. I'm on a mission, Neil. I'M ON A MISSION DANNY! DANTE! Theres a lot of steps I need to climb if I'm going to meet the fat cat, and I cannot let you remain obstacles in my path. On Saturday, I make another step up. You three can decide for yourselves if you wish to follow. But you will NOT block this cat's path to a hot meal."

Stagger Jones stumbles offscreen. His footsteps can still be heard wandering off as the camera zooms into the broken bottle where he was standing only moments ago, and the scene fades to black.