*Dusty J is sitting in his living room watching television, one of his favorite activities besides getting in the ring and showing the fans what he can do. Downstairs Brendan Shore is trying to help Greg get his fat ass in shape by showing him some weight excersises. Dixson's yells of pure terror can be heard throughout the house, the entire neighborhood for that matter. Dusty chuckles lightly when he hears Brendan yell to Greg "It's only a 5 pound dumbbell you wimp!" It reminds Dusty himself of a time when he and his friend Russ, Rusty G to EFW fans, would work out in his father's private gym in his Los Angeles estate. Both were spoiled rich punk kids back then, but always considered themselves "too good" for personal trainers, despite the warnings from their mothers, they decided to tackle weight training alone, and paid for it in the long run. Dusty's left knee has never been the same after the day Rusty, by this time a drunken adolescent, knocked over some dumbbells while Dusty was trying to do situps, it completely tore up the knee. Dusty eventually healed, and Rusty got the beating of a life time for it. Now sitting here thinking about such good times brings him to the realization that the time is finally drawing near, closer and closer to reality by the minute; that he and his long time friend Rusty G will duke it out at Dementia.*

Rusty...we have had some good times my friend. We've spent almost our entire lives together, spare my DHW tenure and most of my time here in EFW. We've wrestled in the indies together, learning our craft, perfecting it, wondering why the calls just wouldn't come after DHW and why you never got the call from Jeremy Nolin during my time there despite constant baggering to the front office. It's not pretty obvious that they had little interest in bringing in the twenty-one year old rookie's friends. They were more concerned with putting the best product out there each and every night, they knew I had more raw talent than any kid they had seen in a long long time. Yet I was so green, I would mess up constantly, tripping over my own feet, but somehow be able to beat some of the highest calibur professional wrestlers in the history of our illustrious business. You stayed down in the indies, the farm leagues, perfecting your craft during that time, studying tape of the guys who were doing the Dangerously Hardcore Wrestling, yearning for your one big opportunity to shine there like no others had done before you, not SOS TJ RocKeR, not the Judgemaker DJ, not even the Unknown turned Nemesis. You knew you had talent, I knew you had talent, but they wanted me? Why? We had trained our entire lives together in everything from little league baseball to pee wee football to wrestling. We came from similar upbringings, wealthy parents, Los Angeles was our teenage wasteland where we were free to roam wherever we pleased because of our social status, so why would they pick me over you? It didn't make any sense, nobody, not even my own parents could comprehend it, after all, you were always the athletic one, the good looking one, the charmer, the one who all the girls wanted. I was just your best friend Dustin, lovable guy, but not somebody the girls wanted any part of, but then you introduced me to her.

She was beautiful Russ, she was the most gorgeous creature I had ever laid eyes on, far prettier than any of those skanks or whores we would see at clubs or rock shows. She wanted you though, not me, but you, Russ. You were a player, i'll give you that, I posed as one at the start of my career, but you were the real deal, the John Wayne, Frank Sinatra, JFK, Elvis of our youth. You weren't as interested in her as she was in you, so you let me "have her," and it didn't bother me, not once, because she grew to love me more than she could ever feel for you, she knew you were a player, but she learned that she had always wanted more, I had always wanted more, it was a fit, bingo, cha ching, home run. We spent the entire junior year of high school together, never seperate, calling one another day and night, always vowing to be together at the end of each and every day to watch the beautfiul moonlight night's sky and to look for the constellations in the stars, and to find pictures of us in the clouds. She told me that she loved me, and I told her the same, we were meant to be, it was perfect as perfect could be, but then, out of nowhere, something happened.

She left Russ. She left me... like some parent leaves their kid at an orphanage with no fair notice beforehand, just "see you later kid-o. Have a nice life, make something of yourself eh?" I felt abandoned, betrayed, I felt like slaughtering things for no reason other than a temporary release from my pain. She was all I thought about all senior year, it was a big blur for me. I would pass by her in the halls, and she would turn the other cheek, leaving me even sadder each and every day, wondering what in the hell I could have done wrong by her. Turns out I did nothing wrong except love her too much, because she turned out to never get over you Russ, and one drunken night, there it was, you and her, in a trashy movie theater, while I was sitting at home, the completely trusting and loving boyfriend. I played the fool in that movie that night Russ, you played the two timing best friend, she played the two timing slutbag. You had a guilty conscience, and you told your best friend that you made it with his girlfriend in a public setting no less. I respect you for telling me, really I do, but I didn't get over it right away, hell, I never got over it, because you didn't stay with her. You used her for one night and then left, then she left me because she used me to get to you, and knew what a trashbag whore she really was, but was she just that? I think she really loved me and left because of guilty feelings because of you coming onto her. I didn't get over it, I'LL NEVER BE OVER IT.

Why did they pick me? Simple, they saw something in me, more than just athletic ability, because you had more, more than talent, you also beat me in that, but they saw something in me that you will never match me in, character. They knew I would never turn my back on a friend, even to my own derision, like when Nemesis stabbed me in the back in our tag bout against The Hell Razors. I didn't like the guy, but I tried to befriend him and trusted him, bam, knife in the back. I trusted you with my life, my girlfriend, the girl I was going to propose to at graduation, and you ruined it. You threw MY life away. Now at Dementia, you're going to play the fool. You're going to be the one getting humiliated and ridiculed by everybody. I'm going to be the fuck and run guy this time, because i'm going to beat you, use you, abuse you, and then leave you in the middle of the ring, despite what's said, there will be no friendly embrace, because this match just reminded me of the bad times not the good. Will we be friends after this? I don't know, I like to think so. Will we ever be completely trusting? As far as me towards you, never again. Just as you ruined my life Russ, i'm going to ruin yours. See you at Dementia.

*The scene closes with Dusty putting his hands in front of his eyes and Greg Dixson screaming in pain.*