The scene opens in the cage of Anton Savor, Captain Arcadia, and Mister Sunshine. Anton sits in the far corner, back to the bars, glaring at the others with visible disgust. 

“Do you know what I hate, Sunshine? Captain?

I hate that I was dragged here by a bunch of masked nobodies—like I was prey caught in their little trap. Three men who probably don’t even understand the value of what they touched. They pulled me through the muck, laid their unwashed fingers on me, and shoved me into this cage as if class could be contained.

I hate this cage. The smell of rust. The way every breath feels like it’s been borrowed from something dead. I hate that when I look to my left, I see you, Sunshine—this hollow eyed freak who once begged children to clap along while his entire career crumbled behind him. You couldn’t keep your show alive. You couldn’t even keep your little Sunshine Club together. And now here you are, grinning like some delusional clown who still believes the audience is watching. Do you know what’s worse than failure, Sunshine? Pretending it was success.

And you, Captain Arcadia. The great hero. Protector of nothing. I’ve watched you stumble around Arcadia for months, swinging your cape at shadows, pretending you’re uncovering some grand conspiracy. You couldn’t save your little Animal Kingdom. You couldn’t keep your allies standing. So you reinvented yourself—new name, new purpose—because you couldn’t live with the truth that you were the cause of it all. And yet here you are again, trapped, clueless, waiting for someone else to tell you what’s real. You’re not a hero, Captain. You’re Arcadia’s favorite failure story.”

Anton pushes himself up from the floor, rage simmering beneath the skin like a fever, and takes a few measured steps towards the two, stopping just short of where they stand.

“I hate how calm you both are. How comfortable you seem existing in filth, like this is just another obstacle on your little redemption arc. I can smell it on you—complacency. You’ve accepted this place. You’ve accepted that you’re caged. You think there’s meaning in it, like suffering has ever made either of you interesting.

You two were working together, weren’t you? Trying to solve the case. Two idiots chasing breadcrumbs, convinced they were making a difference. And what did you uncover? Nothing. You were too busy tripping over your own delusions. When they came for you, you didn’t even fight. Because deep down, you like it here. You like being victims.

But I fought. Until I couldn’t. I made them claw for every inch. Because I don’t belong in a cage. I don’t sing for my supper. I don’t dance when the warden walks by. I build the walls that trap people like you—I don’t live behind them.

So yes, I hate this situation. I hate you both. But hate, unlike hope, keeps a man sharp. It keeps him dangerous. And when these bars finally open, I won’t just walk out.

I’ll make sure you both remember why I should’ve never been here to begin with.”