The scene opens with Doug solomon walking backstage, with his hand on the door of a broom closet.
Doug Solomon: I'm backstage about to enter a... Broom closet, hoping to get a few words with Malik. Why he’s in there is beyond me, but hopefully he’ll answer all of my questions.
Doug opens the door, and sitting in the small closet is Malik, on a small metal chair, and a bat in his hand. His eyes are closed, but his body is up in perfect posture.
Doug Solomon: Err, Malik, mind if I ask you a few things.
Malik’s Eyes open as he focuses on Doug.
Malik: Do you hear that? The fly wants to know the spider. The spider would also like to know the fly.
Doug Solomon: Sure ok. So Malik, you’ve come across as strange and not all that put together. Are you ready for your match this week?
Malik smiles as he tilts his head to the side, his hair falling down upon his face.
Malik: Pain . . . fly. Pain is all this is about. You see, winning one match is nice, but sending your prey to the hospital. That’s what really makes life worth living, to see his body in a wreck, that no amount of herbs will make one forget. No woman’s curves will take away the pain of knowing that Malik was there. That Malik has doomed his prey.
Doug Solomon: So.. Then how about you? What makes Malik tick? What makes him into the man who would enjoy destroying others?
Malik stands up and laughs in a raspy manner.
Malik: Why not ask my friends?
Doug Solomon: Well whose your friends?
Malik starts to hum lightly and then sings in a chilling manner. As he points to the chair, he was once sitting down upon and the bat in his hand.
Malik: These are my friends, these are my friends. They strike so carelessly, but the copper smell makes me melt. The red flow sends shivers down my soul . . . These are my friends.
Doug slowly closes the door As Malik is heard singing.
Malik: Jesse’s hate will be too late. His blood will be my steak . . .