Proving Ground...

[Mike Adams]

Brock Goodman is sitting in the center of the darkened ring as the crew got all the equipment set up for Turmoil a night early. Brock seems to be rocking back and forht a bit as he is getting focused.

Brock: It's been a while.

Not too long, not long enough for anyone to notice...but it's been a while.

I sat and I waited.

I waited...and waited.

Do you people know what I've been waiting for?

I take it you don't. The "so-called" number one contender.

Where are you Dusty? Huh? I don't know if I should call you The People's King, The American Dream, or simply brush you under the carpet. Dust, I'm not sure if you are still celebrating your "huge" win over the WPW World Champion, but if you are...I'd suggest you refocus yourself.

This week your end will come. Last week it was your black manchild's end. You see Dusty boy, first I decided that I wanted to see Jimbo lose, so I left him high and dry. Plus your filthy Russian kind of pissed me off. I guess you can see what happens when people piss me off, they get hurt.

Badly.

I told you something bad would happen at Turmoil last week, and I came through on that promise. As a matter of fact, driving Boris off that second floor tier was only one of my highlights from the match. I'm not even sure which I'm more proud of, whether it was pushing down a crippled kid, taking down your Russian bodyguard, or...

Ah yes, finally getting ym revenge one that little gutter skank, Sophie. You people all loved it, when Brock Goodman played the hero didn't you? You cheered for me, I heard it. I won't pretend I didn't. And I know why you cheered, it's because you knew that the path that I walk is the true path to follow. The path of sin and vice is the path of least resistance, plus it's a lot more fun. So as soon as I fed of your rabid lusting for more sin, I smashed young Sophie in the face with a crippled boy's crutch.

I'll be quite honest, the sound of wood on her face...a feeling which I am sure she is used to....was music to my ears. And then to top it all off, I obliged by the only rule that most pubs in Southern Florida have, to buy a round for someone whose ass you are about to kick.

How did it taste Dust?

Once that beer hit your lips...you loved it.

I know you did.

You know you did.

Hell Dust, if you are on that road to recovery, I'd say you just took about twelve steps backwards.

So Dust, this week don't think of me as your opponent, think of me as your enabler. Every addict needs an enabler don't they Dusty? However, this week the only thing I will be enabling you to do is to succumb to your final resting place.

Oh Jimmy, don't think I've forgotten about you, if you do anything but call this match right down the middle, then I will have to make you......sleep.

Brock hops to his feet and raises his hands and begins to laugh very maniacally.

[Peoples King]

A green neon light flickers in the night air before going strong again. It hums the unmistakeable hum we have all grown accustomed too, reminding us of bees caught in a jar. The camera moves back slowly, zooming out until back of the head and shoulders of a suited man can be see standing infront of an Irish bar. The neon light read "O'Hares." The suited mans head is angled up slightly, he is staring at the light. He runs his hands through his hair, messing it up a little before gently combing it back into place with his palm. Dust turns to face the camera and digs into his pocket. For the second week in a row the Peoples King comes up with a packet of cigarettes in his hand. He turns the pack over, struggling to come to a decision. Finally Dust crushes the pack and throws it out onto the street. HE shakes his head slowly, trying to regain his composure. Mr Television makes to leave but stops as the bar door opens. The sound of hearty conversation and the television in the background filters out onto the still street. Dust breathes in the heavy cigarette smoke and the beer. Since going off the sauce Dust almost feels as if his sensery skills have improved. Dust closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing, his heart racing. He turns quickly on his heels and in a few steps finds himself inside the pub. The smoke sits heavily in the air, stinging Dusts eyes for a moment. He pushes past a throng of people standing at the door talking about some match or another, making his way to a free booth in the back. The Peoples King slides into the booth, away from the noise somewhat and thankfully the television overhead is on mute. Dust puts his hands, palms facing up on the table and looks at the lines of his hands. He is shaking his head as Pam, his bubbly waitress comes bouncing up.

Pam: Hey there sweetheart, what are you having?

Dust keeps on looking at his palms, lost in his own world. Pam stops her chewing, she has gum in her mouth and bends down to look into Dusts glazed eyes.

Pam: Honey............ You alright?

Dust cloes his hands into a fist and slowly looks up at Pam. She gives a nervous smile, the Peoples King not the one to return such civil gestures. He leans back in his booth and closes his eyes.

Dust: Five tequilla slammers and six beers to chase it down. It doesn't matter what kind of beer.

Pam looks at Dust like he had two heads and a penis sticking out of his left ear.

Pam: Those all for you hun?

Dust opens his eyes and stares a hole right through poor old Pam.

Dust: Just get the fucking drinks will you. I'll call you when I want some more. Go on now, get my order.

Pam shakes her head and goes for the bar. Dust watches her go and then goes back into his own head, thinking things through. The camera is now sitting across from Dust as he shakes his head before looking into it.

Dust: Streaker Killer lives on folks. I went into the last Tuesday Night Turmoil with one goal and one garuntee. I aimed to win and I also aimed to show your champion James Morriarty Cassius just what was instore for him when we next meet in the ring. Cassius came into the match as the favourite, I know that because I know that the wrestling public and especially the WPW public are brainless saps who go the way they are told to. JMC was the 11-0 WPW WorldHeavyweight Champion and the pride of the company. Well once I was done with Cassius what was he? He was a defeated champion that looked like a fool and a joke. Of all my victories last weeks was the easiest because what I predicted would happen did indeed happen. I beat Cassius with a School Boy and all because he had his back turned to me. Why? Why would an undefeated superstar make such a calamity and turn his back on the best wrestler alive today? I'll tell you why. It is because James Cassius is a weak, pathetic human being who lets his feelings and his love for his sister get in the way of what must be done. I told you Cassius that Sophie, as jerkoff inducing as she is, would cost you your indefeated streak. Last week I was proved right. I told you Cassius that Sophie, jerkoff inducing as she is, would be the one to cost you that title you hold oh so dear. I was right once and I will be right again. Cassius I could beat you in any number of ways but I would rather beat you with the assistance of your dearest sister. It will teach you a lesson, a lesson I will teach you hard. In my business you cannot afford to let other people get in your way or get in your head. Your sister has a permanent residence inside your head and until you cut her out of your wrestling life then the loss you suffered last week will continue until you are 11-11 in WPW.

Dust drums his fingers on the desk and looks around impatiently to see if Pam is coming. He is shaking somewhat but his promo so far won't indicate to use just why he is back on the sauce. Dust is acting like he always does.

Dust: This Tuesday, you, Cassius are left with one heel of a conundrum. This is one for the ages! You are in the ring and you are refereeing the match up between two men you all but despise. In one corner you will see me, the man that will take your title and bring onto you the final humiliation. In the other corner you have Brock Goodman. Brock is the man that took your sister out. Brock is the man you beat for the title and Brock is the man you hate above all others here in WPW. Quite a situation you find yourself in. We all know what will happen. You will let your personal feelings get in the way of your business sense. I know for damn sure that if you are going to give anyone the rub of the green then it will be me. Why am I so sure? Because for some reason your sister is more important to you then anything, even the WPW WorldHeavyweight title. I have never layed a finger on dear Sophie but Brock Goodman seems to be a repeat offender. You are going to go into that match looking for revenge. Not against me, the man that broke your streak and wil take your title. You will be seeking revenge against Brock Goodman, the man thay all but defiled your dearest Sophie. I don't understand it personally. Were it me I'd sell my damn sister to Brock in order to retain his title. Were it me I would bring a dman sledgehammer to the ring and break it across the face of the Number One Contesner. Were it me....... But then again James, you aren't me are you. But let me guess James, you see that as a positive. Well the moment I take that title from you, me and you both know just how much you will want to be the Peoples King.

Pam comes over again, this time with a face on her carrying Dusts order on a tray. She puts down a side plate with lemons and salt first before laying out the drinks infront of Dust. The Peoples King stares at the drink as if in a daze, he licks his lips and steadies his hand. Dust speaks, his eyes fixed on the alchol.

Dust: My victory last week was sweet redemption for all the doubt levelled at me by people who no nothing about what this business is all about. I stepped into the ring and delivered on my promise, to win. Deep down this victory meant nothing to me, another match and another victim. But something happened last week that changed the course of that victory and changed the course of my life. For two years I have stayed true to myself and I have stayed true to the legacey I am about to establish here in WPW. Two years. That all came crashing down last week when Brock Goodman forced a bottle of Guiness down my throat. I won't lie to you Brock, the taste was sweet and went down smoothe as you'd like. It was heaven, it was Eden. But that was the taste Brock. Once that drink hit my gut I could feel the walls of my world crashing in. My soul began to tear itself apart, the longing returned. My mind was a mess and that is the reason why it has taken me until now to speak my mind in regards Tuesday Night Turmoil. All week long there has only been one thing on my mind. Alcohol. I haven't been able to focus on you Brock, I haven't been able to focus on JMC and winning the WPW WorldHeavyweight title. Boris has been layed up thanks to you and sok the only voice of reason in my head is the voice of a recovered alcoholic who just tasted what it is like to be on the otherside of the fence once again. I know why you did what you did Brock. I know you wanted to get into my head, get into my soul and destroy me so that you can take the Number One Contender spot I so rightfull earned. You did what you did in order to destroy me. Why? Why Brock did you make it a point to force alcohol down my throat. You certainly haven't been quoting me Brock.

Dust stands picking up one of the shot glasses. He takes a look at the tequilla before turing it and pouring the drink all over the table. With a quick swipe of his hand Dust knocks the glasses and bottles over, sending beer spilling across the table. He walks away from the booth promptly, not looking back for a second. Seemingly nobody has noticed, perhaps due to the noice of the game. Dust pushes his way through the front door and back out into the cool night air.

Dust: I must thank you Brock from the bottom of my black heart. I must thank you because without you I wouldn't have known. All week I have been thinking about that one drink and replaying the scene over and over in my head. Now, now I know that the road for recovery......... Is a road I no longer travel. It is all thanks to you Brock. I don't want a drink, I don't need a drink. What you just saw in that bar was my final test. Started by you and ended by me. So Brock, this Tuesday you will face what nobody else in WPW has faced before. An all out, blood thirsty Dust with the most ruthless edge in this business. For the first time since arriving here my mind has cleared fully and my destiny is the only concern I have. And see Brock for some reason you have placed yourself on my road of destiny. For some reason Carlos Gonzalez has decided to put you on that road also. I don't know if you are supposed to be a road block Brock but come the Main Event and come my annhilation of you then you will be nothing more then road kill left behind and Dusts grand tour to become the WPW WorldHeavyweight champion. Face it Brock, before I came to WPW you were the baddest motherfucker this place had seen. You were heel number one and no one but no one could rival that. But Brock, you were like the Jeff Jarrett of WPW. Hated in the small pond but as soon as he hit the ocean then people didn't give a rats ass about him. I am the new number one heel in this company. I am the new bastard that these people want to destroy. Compared to me you are just a cum stain on a gang rape victims panties. Yeah you made an impact but nothing as unforgettable as the ten other chumps lined up. Brock you have to understand that in this business only one great superstar comes along every generation. Just one. You are looking at that superstar Brock. You are looking at the man that will redefine this business and everyone in it. This Tuesday at Turmoil you get to see first hand just what the hell I am capable of and you get to see just how dangerous I am when my mind is focused on the job at hand. You took out Boris last week but this week you will know how it feels to be taken out and left to die in the gutter. I am going to go through you Brock like you weren't even there because on like you, my world doesn't revolve on the words of my opponents. All week long you were in fits because you hadn't heard from me. Well now you have Brock and now you know just what it is instore for you are TNT..... pain. See you in the ring Brock. It is going to be the night of your deeped epiphaney. Don't quote me......... Just fear me.

Dust puts his hands in his pockets and walks down the street, the camera slowly fading out.

[Mike Adams]

Brock Goodman is backstage with Amy White as she is looking a little shaken.

Brock: Amy, are you going to interview me, or are you just going to stand there shaking like a leaf?

Amy: A little of both actually Brock.

Brock: Ugh, something tells me I'm going to regret asking this, but what's wrong?

Amy: I have to interview Airborn tonight...

Brock: So?

Amy: Well he's a pig, and he hates women.

Brock: Amy, you're sitting here with a guy who forced a recovered alcoholic to shotgun a Guiness and pushed down a kid on crutches, and you're worried about a moron who has a superiority complex with women?

Amy: Hmmm, I guess you're right. I should be more scared of you then, shouldn't I?

Brock: In theory, yes. Of course, but I can redirect my rage at any target I choose...most times. But you bring up a good point.

Fear.

Now, being a proficient use of four letter words, that is one I choose to ignore. Being fearful of someone or something serves no purpose. Fear implies weakness, and weakness implies self-doubt, and self-doubt instills failure. So when Dusty boy uses that lame as hell catch phrase:

Brock pretends to be drunk at this point...seemingly pantomiming Dust.

Brock: Don't quote me...Just fear me!

Brock returns to his normal state and chuckles a bit.

Brock: Well, I just quoted you didn't I Dust? And I sure as hell don't fear you, so I guess your catch phrase really doesn't work on any level. See a good catch phrase is what helps define a one-off joke of a wrestler like you. "If you smell what The Rock is cooking?" was one used by Dwayne "Gridiron Gang" Johnson, and it works out well for him, because he makes a mean lobster thermador. "I am the wrestling machine!" also works well for Kurt Angle as the more he's gotten beaten up the creakier he's become in the ring, so I hear he's actually powered by motor oil these days.

But I digress.

So this is where you have been all this time Dust, a bar? Trying to prove to yourself that the beer you chugged last week, had no affect on you. Well to me that just shows two things: waste of alcohol, and waste of a man. Dust, you may as well turn in your balls and shaft right now, because you sure as hell don't need them. Oh wow, so you pushed aside one round of drinks and you feel that despite my best efforts, you have kicked your habit.

I see otherwise Dust.

I see a man who brought himself to the pub, and became so disgusted with himself that he completely misses the point. What happened right after you had that Guiness, Dust? You pinned the WPW World Heavyweight Champion...see alcohol can be a good thing.

Now James, I would feel remiss if I didn't object to Dust's comments. James, you hate me and me likewise, but there is a difference between my relationship with dust and mine with you. I respect you as an athlete, I do...it may not seem like it, but I do. You are the champion, and you have defended the belt and kept it warm for me, and I must respect that. So James to this I pose to you a challenge.

I understand that you would like to avenge your sister, especially after I blasted her in the face with a crutch. But what would be more satisfying for you Jimmy: blindsiding me from behind with some sort of foreign object during the match or calling the match down the middle, watching me take the number one contendership that I rightfully deserve and beating me on the grandest stage at Full Force, and truly showing for all the world to see that you are superior to me.

Now it is a lofty goal I imagine, as I will not simply lay down for you, but I would think that you a man that I respect would choose the latter. Besides Jimmy, Dust ended your undefeated streak, you ended mine...it's only fair and right that I end his.

Amy: Wow, that's a good point Brock. But what about your catch phrase?

Brock: My catch phrase?

Amy: Yeah, something like "Tonight I will make sure that Dust....will sleep."

Brock: Thanks for closing out the interview for me.

Brock chuckles a bit and exits the locker room as Amy laughs slightly and keeps imitating Brock a bit.