Dusty, we're going as fast as we can, but you're going too far ahead of us, remember, we have to lug around all of this camera equiptment.

Excuses, excuses, if you ask me, the only reason that you're behind so far behind is because you white boys are slacking off, come on, pick up the damn pace, yo skinny assess still gonna get paid the same either way.

*It is dark out, in fact, it's as close to being pitch black as you can get, the only thing preventing it is the light from Larry Stone and his camera crew. The wind on this night is visible to the camera, as it is blowing heavily, causing the cameras to shake. The cameramen are dressed heavily in blue jeans, boots, and NWC sweatshirts, while Dusty is wearing baggy black jeans, a pair of Air Force Ones, and a 'Seattle SuperSonics warm up sweater, and backwards Sonics 2003 NBA draft cap.*

Dusty, are you absolutley sure that we're going in the right direction? I mean, maybe you didn't ready the directions correctly.

Yo, I'm Dusty J, I don't make mistakes, look, I was given this map by the front office, they know where he is, and I know how to read, so why don't you skinny ass white boy camera men just let me do my thing, ok?

Dusty, remember, we were brought with you in case you needed any assistance.

Well you know what? I didn't let you stay for assistance, I let you stay because these people just can't get enough of Dusty J, they need to know what I'm up too, because if they didn't, well, their lives would be more meaningless than they already are, know what I'm saying?

*Larry shakes his head behind Dusty J's back, realizing how hard it is to actually carry on a conversation with this young wrestler. He decides not to open his mouth, not after what he saw happen to Gregory Dixson.*

Yea, glad you aree with me Larry, you know something? I like you a whole helluva lot better than thta Greg Dixson chump, you don't smart mouth, I like that.

*Dusty and the camera crew continue their trick up the grassy hill, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. The only things that surround them are the tree's, and the NWC epuiptment van back on the side of the road, which they left behind 45 minutes ago, because of this area being "Restricted to the General Public," Dusty, instead of just turning away, decided to walk the rest of the way, but the only question is, to where? After pondering this very question for the past couple of hours that they have driven, and the past 45 minutes of walking, Larry decides to speak up.*

Hey, Dusty?

What's up homie?

You know, we have been at this for quite some time now, and I was just wondering, what exactly are we looking for?

Well Larry, you been tight through all of this, so I'll tell ya, we are looking for my tag team partner, The Black Angel of Death, I believe his name is.

Oh, you mean the guy who claims he was brough back to life, and is from "Maleboge, the 8th level of hell?"

*Dusty slightly nods his head.*

Yep, that's the dude alright, quite frankly, I don't have a clue as to why the best talent in this company has to team up with some dude who claims he was brought back from the dead, I mean come on, it's obvious that the bookers in this company don't like us brothers.

Who are you guys going to be wrestling anyway?

This guy named Genesis Tao and his Playa Hatin' partner, Deuce Crimson.

*Larry nods, and then thinks about Dusty and Black Angel's chances of winning the match, he has never seen Dusty J perform, but he has seen the other three in the match, but, judging by Dusty's attitude, he figures it is all talk and no action, so Larrys prediction to win the match: Genesis Tao and Deuce Crimson.*

So Larry, you think me and the Black Angel gonna kick some Crimson and Tao ass at Center Stage?

Oh, of course Dusty, I mean, you're so talented, and you will carry your team to victory!.

*That lie is going to save Larry Stone a whole lot of trouble, obviously, due to Dusty J's whole ego thing, and his fetish for attacking guys that are smaller and weaker than him. They continue walking up the grassy hill, and eventually reach the surface. Dusty looks around, and see's nothing but dirt, rocks, and the trees surrounding them. The van is no longer in sight, and the full moon is shining down on the group. Minutes pass, and not a word is said, Dusty is too busy thinking of how it will be to defeat Tao and Crimson. The more they walk, the longer and longer it has been since Dusty J and the camera crew have said anything towards one another, finally, Larry speaks.*

So, you know that I think you're going to win, but how about you, do you think that you're going to win?

*Dusty smirks, and then lets out a bright smile before talking.*

Now Larry, honestly, you just said that I was so talented, and that I will single handedly carry my team to victory, do you think that I don't know that?

*Larry nods, as Dusty quickly turns his head to see the response. Dusty then turns his head back forward, as they approach a fork in the road, Dusty quickly looks down to the sheet of paper he is holding, and turns left.*

You know something, I saw Deuce Crimson on television the other day, and guess what? He was looking at my introduction, oh man, and let me tell you something, not only did he look at it once, but he looked at it multiple times. I am no genius, only close to being one, but it's pretty obvious to me that he is scurred of me. I mean, he couldn't stop looking at my bulging biceps, my rock solid legs, and my great looking facial features, I bet he must have looked at it 20 times.

Pardon me for asking Dusty, but why on earth would Deuce Crimson look at your opening promo 20 times?

You see? Now that hater knows why I am trying to educate white people like you, ya just don't listen to a playa when he's trying to speak, so listen to me. As I was saying, before a CERTAIN white person interrupted me, it's obvious why he looked at my promo 20 times. He wants to be me! Don't you get it? Deuce Crimson is sick and tired of being some dumb hick, and he wants to be a playa, just like me. He wants to look like me, he wants to talk like me, he wants my money, my fashion sense, my good looks, and my wrestling talent. This guy wants to be me, he wants to be Dusty J, he's been wanting to be Dusty J from the time he got started in professional wrestling, when I was a "Gleam in my mothers eye," he was hoping that one day, he could lay down my flows, pimp all my ho's, and it was the wrong path that he chose to be what he is today. Deuce Crimson is JEALOUS of me, don't you white boys see?

I don't know about that Dusty, I mean, he's been in the buisness for a long time, and he's been a MSW North Star Champion, and..

*Just like what happened with Gregory Dixson before him, Larry Stone is cut off in mid sentence by Dusty J.*

Larry Larry Larry, did you look at this guys tape like I did? The man was pointing out every great thing about me. He said that I was "Rambling on," in other words, that guy is just jealous because I actually have something to discuss, instead of just talking my cousin, and his cousin is probably his daddy anyway.... Where the hell are we now?

*Dusty, in the middle of his rambling, forgot to really examine his surroundings, and apparently lost his way. He looks down at his sheet of paper, and immediatly turns around, looks back at his paper, and turns again, Larry looks at him, and Dusty begins to silently panic.*

Don't worry, don't worry, I got it all figured out, I have everything under control here.. let me just check this damn paper, and we'll be on our way holmes.

*Dusty looks at his surroundings, which are still pretty much a bunch of trees, and some rocks. He then looks back and see's where he turned on the fork, he turned left, but he was supposed to go right. Dusty turns around walks back to the fork in the road, but this time, turning right.*

See, no problem Larry, no problem at all with this map reading stuff. But, do you know what a real problem is?

Well, there's a lack of jobs for people, and education for children in foreign countries, terrorism, world hunger....

No no no, I could care less about those, they can be fixed easily, but the real problem is that playa hatin hick Deuce Crimson calling himself a legend! I mean, come on man, what makes that hater a legend? He's never done anything important, except appear on the Jerry Springer show because he was sleeping with one of his cousins while cheating on the other! But you know what man? That's beside the point, he thinks that he is the biggest legend in wrestling history, well, he is dead wrong. Because there is only one legend, and that's me! D-U-S-T, Y? Because I am the # 1 playa in the National Wrestling Council, and the # 1 superstar worldwide, I'm Hollywood Gold With A Razor Edge, they ain't no stopping me, let's face it, with my Gangbanger, and all of my other tight moves, I am going to single handedly take over the National Wrestling Council! And another thing...

*Dusty stops talking when he see's an old farm shack in the distance, he looks over at his paper, and X marks the spot, he's arrived at the supposed home of the Black Angel of Death. Dusty looks over to Larry and the rest of the camera crew, they exchange worried glances with Dusty. Dusty gulps and heavily exhales before approaching the shack, when he reaches the front doors, they open after a strong gust of wind heads that way. Dusty walks in, followed by a very nervous camera crew. No animals occupy this barn, only hay and barn tools scattered about the facility, Dusty looks around curiously, it's as close to pitch black as you can get, so the viewers don't see much of the inside of this shack. Dusty then takes the direct approach.*

YO, what's up? Anyone here? Holla at a playa!

*Despite that, nobody replies. Then, objects are heard falling, then, painful cries from the camera crew are heard amist this bombardment of objects. Then, a light, light from a lantern, and the Black Angel of Death is supplying that light, Larry Jones and his camera crew are unconcious, and the camera lie sideways on the ground, a crack in the lense. Black Angel of Death slowly approaches Dusty J, who is getting up after a large amount of hay fell on him, causing him to trip backward on a rack. Black Angel approaches Dusty, and sets the lantern down on a rusty old table.*

So, you're the Dusty J that i'm supposed to be teaming with at Center Stage. Let me say, I'm not that impressed...

Likewise.

Oh Dusty J, I'm afraid that your smart mouth may get you into trouble one of these days, maybe even sooner than you think, remember, this is an ELIMINATION tag team match, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be "Under the weather", or maybe, I'll get "Stuck in traffic," Or maybe I'll be dead again, poosh, you're partner is gone, and now you have to take on Genesis Tao and Deuce Crimson all by your lonesome.

*Dusty eyes Black Angel intently, as he continues to play these mind games with his Center Stage teammate.*

Dusty J, you see, you're not all you crack yourself up to be, you're just an unproven chump who can talk a lot of shit, but guess what? You're not going to be able to take on those two by yourself. I am the key to this match, not you, not the opponents, it's me Dusty J, and, when, no no, IF I arrive, I don't have to stay for you, I could do what I'm going to do right now....

*Just as Dusty J begins to open his mouth, Black Angel of Death swats at the lantern, knocking it off of the table and breaking it, the barn is once again near pitch black. The back door is shown opening, then slamming with a vengeance, but the final words from the Black Angel of Death are heard loud and clear.*

DISSAPEAR