A young Tombstone of ten sits in the middle of a club, somewhere in the Red Light District. He’s alone. Demented faces surround him, their leering eyes focused on the boy.
“I was once in the lions den.”
In the background, Tombstone’s mother is given money by waiting patrons. He counts it greedily.
“A mere slip of a Gazelle was I. Frightened. Petrified. Afraid. Emotions you would not associate with the being you know today.”
“Have you ever seen the eye of a lion when he spots his prey?”
“That glint of power, it is terrifying.”
“Everyone in that building looked at me like that. The glint in their eye spelled nefarious desires. They did not need to hunt, as my mother brought their prey to feast.”
“And they were righteous with it.”
“They licked their lips and slapped their chops. It was feeding time.”
The men, now lions, close in on Tombstone – a gazelle. Only before they can reach him, he runs as fast as he can between them, escaping out into the Red Light District with them in tow.
“You can’t outrun a lion.”
“And when they finally catch up with you, you have a decision to make. You can either succumb to the meal they believe you to be or be the dinner that fights back.”
As the lions close in on Tombstone, we fade to black. Tombstone sits in the black.
“I see you proudly strutting about, believing yourself to be a lion – Lionel Troy. The patrons of Arcadia, the fresh meat, they’re the gazelle you feed upon. All for a low fee, isn’t that right? You and Doctor Death have that much in common.”
“You treat the people of Arcadia like a meal ticket. They are to be abused, manipulated, and deceived. You’re always hungry and there’s plenty to go around.”
“You look for the weakened and pathetic. You leech off the desperate. Because a lion like you has only one thing on his mind; that’s where his next meal originates.”
“So, you play your games. You speak dynamically. You lean into lies and deceit, with only one purpose and one goal. To feed.”
“And when the gazelle subscribes to your philosophy and teachings, the dinner bell rings and you have your feast.”
“You gobble them up and lick the plate.”
“But you’ve been eating long enough, Lionel.”
“I’ve been a gazelle.”
“And it’s just a matter of time until the food fights back.”
“I’m not a lion, Lionel Troy. I’m not a gazelle, either.”
“I’m not someone that can be feasted upon by the likes of you. What I am is a hunter; I’m the man with the rifle in the picture, holding the head of a lion like a trophy.”
“Because when lions try to eat me, they meet their end.”
Flashback to Tombstone stood around the bloodied corpses of men, at ten years of age.
“And you should never fear the end, Lionel.”
“The end is where we meet.”
“And I will send you on your way.”