Chapter 7: Graduation Day

[Dorian Hawkhurst]

In the past few days, “The Demon of Sobriety” has been in an unusually pleasant mood. When you consider the fact that he not lost the tag team match he was in on Monday night, not to mention Peterson taking revenge on Hawkhurst when it wasn't warranted, you would think that he would be in a much worse mood. However, he was the recipient of several pieces of good news. The first of which was the announcement that he and “The Underdog” would be facing each other at the Danger Zone pay-per-view. The second was that he was going to serve his father a piece of small, little piece of humble pie.”

Within the peaceful confines of his hotel room, Dorian Hawkhurst is sitting in silence. The dim light coming from his laptop highlights his facial features. He is feverishly typing away at the keyboard, intently focused at the task at hand. The sounds of Poison's “Nothin' But a Good Time” break the silence, and Dorian looks down at the caller ID. “Father”. A Cheshire cat smile crosses his face instead of his usual look of disdain. He giddily answers the phone.

"Hello, father. How are you on this fine day?"

"Don't you dare 'Hello, father' me in such a smug voice. I just talked to your mother. What's this crap about you wrestling? I thought you were looking at doing something with your life."

"Yeah, I know. But, honestly, pops, I was bored out of my mind."

"I don't understand how you can be so nonchalant about dropping out of your adult diploma program or whatever the hell they call it. I understand that I didn't go to college. I just don't want to see you throw your life away. I'm not saying that you won't make it. But you need to have some sort of back up plan in place."

The sound of legitimate concern in his father's voice catches Dorian by surprise.

"Listen, old man. There's nothing to worry about. I had enough credits to graduate halfway through the last course. Everything is under control. I got my GED last month. I'm officially a high school graduate."

Somehow, what he thought would be an emotionally victory over his father felt hollow to him. Dorian's voice didn't carry the sense of triumph that he was expecting.

"I'm glad to hear that, son. I know I'm not the best father in the world. The wrestling business is hard. Most people who try it are wrestling in high school gyms and bingo halls. You are wrestling in the big times. Take that in. Because most wrestlers don't get to see the things you're seeing, let alone so early in their careers. Enjoy it while you can, but just make sure you are prepared for life after wrestling. Okay, kiddo? Can you do that much for me?"

"Alright, pops. I'll do that. Listen, I have to go. It's getting late and I have to be over the office for some filming tomorrow, it's some promotional stuff."

"Okay, son."

Then, there is an awkward pause.

"I love you."

The words hang in the air a moment. This pause is even more awkward than the first.

"I love you, too."

Dorian hangs up the phone. He takes a deep breath before closing the laptop and placing it on the nightstand beside him. He smiles for a moment before turning and laying down, heading to sleep for the night.

Dressed to the nines, Dorian Hawkhurst steps out of his cab in front of the IWF offices. He walks in with an air of confidence. He walks up to speak to the receptionist, a stunning redhead with deep brown eyes.

"Hi. Name's Dorian. I'm scheduled to be here to do some media at nine o'clock."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't see anything listed at that time for you."

Hawkhurst can only help but smile at her as he takes in her Irish accent.

"Forgive me, look under Hawkhurst. They like to file those under our last names."

The receptionist looks back down at her computer monitor.

"Here you are, Mr. Hawkhurst. Scheduled for nine o'clock, as you said."

"Excellent. Could you tell me where the studio is?"

"Um... well... no."

Hawkhurst's tone is one of amusement, as he laughs a little before answering.

"Well, why not?"

"Well, Mr. Hawkhurst, I'm just a temp."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head. I'm sure I can find it."

Dorian takes a pen of the desk and jots something down on a piece of paper. He folds the small piece of paper in half, and holds it up next to his face.

"I'd like to give you this, but first, you need to do something for me."

"And what would that be, sir?"

"Okay. Let's make that two things. The first, please, call me Dorian. The second... I'd love to know your name, darlin'."

"It's Ruby, si... uh, Dorian."

Dorian hands her the slip of paper.

"That's a name as beautiful as you are."

Ruby blushes.

"Thank you."

"This is the number to my cell phone. Anyway, I would love to meet up with you for dinner one night so that we could get to know each other better. I don't need an answer now. I'd just like for you to think about it. That's all I ask."

"I most certainly will."

Dorian smiles as he walks down the corridor to the studio. Truth of the matter is that he knew where the studio was all along. As he turns the corner out of Ruby's sight, he smirks and rolls his shoulders. His father once told him "Women find confidence sexy as hell. And if you aren't confident, fake it." and today he had succeeded in doing exactly that. His confidence had been rattled a bit since his father scared Morgan off. But today was different. Today, everything was coming up aces.

Hawkhurst walks into the studio with a bigger confidence he had when he entered the building. He walks right in front of the camera as the crew takes their positions.

"Let's do this. One take is all you're going to need."

The words are not spoken with his usual bravado, but with legitimate confidence. If nothing else, his conversation with his father the night before had instilled in him a new sense self esteem that he had felt he was lacking. Dorian looks up, adjusts his steel grey suit jacket and red tie as the director counts down and the cameras start rolling.

”Now, I know this isn't how you all usually see me, but today is a special occasion. Opened up the mailbox today and found my GED in it today. I know that might not mean that much to all of you, but if nothing else, it proves that good ol' Dorian here isn't quite as dumb as Will Peterson thinks he is. That having been said, I think that Will Peterson is just as dumb as he thinks I am. Before I get to that, I want to talk to Will Peterson, through the lens of this camera. Until Danger Zone, this is as close as we'll get to talking man to man."

"Will, I'm going to treat you like a man for a little bit, I'm not going to call you Willy or talk down to you. I am simply going to speak the truth."

"First off, I'd like to commend you on your thus far meteoric rise here in the IWF. Unfortunately for you, this is where your rise stops, or at the very least, stalls. If it is your plan... your desire... to obtain any sort of gold around here, well, I have to question if you are delusional or not. After all, you speak so highly of yourself. You speak so highly of a man who could not defeat me and a man who couldn't realize that I was on the flat of my back when that saucy Aussie kicked you in the back."

Dorian points at his eyes, in an effort to get his point across.

"What's done is done. That's in the past. Right now, I am looking at the present, the here and now, but I also know how it appear down the line when people look at my legacy. What legacy is that, exactly? I'm going to tell you, Peterson. Mine will be a legacy of a man who fought tooth and nail and gave his everything each and every night. As much as I wanted that shot at the Invictus Championship, and even fixated on it a little too much, I will not be the kind of man who abandons his principles. If that is the kind of champion that you aspire to be, then may God have mercy on your soul.”

“There is a reason that I tell you time and time again that I call myself the future. That is because I am exactly that. I am the future. I am the future of wrestling. I am so passionate about this sport and that makes me want to be the future of this whole damned business. And, yes, Will, you are correct in assuming that a win over me would do nothing but elevate your status in this company. However, the fact of the matter is that assuming that you have a chance to defeat me. You see, you are right about one thing. I would view a loss from you as an enormous blemish on my record. But, sweetheart, you aren't that special. A loss from you is just as much of a blemish as the ones caused by Mac Bane and Jimmy Zane. At least I think it was Zane that pinned me in that first four way match I was in. The good news, for you at least, is that the world loves an underdog story, and when I defeat you in the middle of the ring, the will love you even more because of the valiant effort that you have put forth. Unless, "The Underdog" is just a clever nickname."

Hawkhurst's face contorts into a scowl, his anger is etched across his face.

"Yeah, I know I might sound like a dick right now, but that whole being humble thing only got me run over."

Dorian pauses just long enough to crack his neck.

"Will, I'm not going to call you stupid or naive. I don't need my words to show the world what you are. My actions will do that for me, just in case your actions haven't given you away already. And, while I won't call you stupid, I do want to educate you. You see, passion will only get you so far in this business." 

Dorian makes air quotes with his hands.

"'But you said your passion...' I know what I said. Your heart and determination will get you fans, and even the occasional win, it certainly won't allow you consistently overcome adversity. I know, because I face adversity each and every second of my life. What's the biggest problem in your life? A broken pair of knock off Ray Bans?"

"Now, after all we've been through, I'll bet you think you know me. You think my agenda isn't just to beat you. You think that my agenda is to embarrass you. You think that my agenda is to humiliate you. You think my agenda is to hurt you. I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

Dorian extends his hand, curling his finger in a beckoning motions. The camera zooms in to accommodate him. He leans in a little more and whispers to the camera.

"It is."

Dorian smirks as he stands up straight.

"Of course, Mr. Peterson, I believe that you are confused as to my motives. When you and I had our little confrontation at Open Fight Night, you accused me of having no passion.  You accused me of not giving two shits. Everything I have achieved thus far in Imperial Wrestling, I have achieved on my own merits because of my hard work and dedication. Peterson you need to understand that I don't need, or for that matter, want anyone's help. You seem to believe that I don't belong here. You seem to think that because I am a mortal man with problems like everyone else, that I don't belong in the same ring as you. You won't say it, but we all know you think it. That is a big, fat steaming pile of pony loaf and I have spent every second of my career proving people wrong. Just because I am man enough to give people an occasional glimpse behind the curtain, just because I don't pretend I am better than the average Joe who pays for a ticket, doesn't make me any less capable than you are."

"Then, you have the audacity... the unmitigated gall... to sit there and run your man pleaser about how I am running around behind your back like a rat in the dark. Let me tell you a little something about Mac Bane. I didn't dare say it when he and I had our match, but Mac Bane is one of the reasons I am standing here today. Regardless of our differing philosophies, when he was training me, the first thing he taught us was respect. If you did not give him the proper respect, then he wouldn't train you. Simple as that. He didn't ever expect you to respect him because of his career. It was because he respected the business. It's because of that respect that I haven't jumped you from behind. It is because of that respect that you don't have to worry about getting jumped in catering, the locker room or in the parking lot. I told you that I am the type of man who would stab you in the chest and at Danger Zone, I am going to do exactly that."

"Not that it will make any difference. I don't care if were facing you, Mac Bane or God himself, I go into each match with the same preparation and the same mindset. The moment you underestimate your opponent, you are setting yourself for defeat. I learned that the hard way. Save your “rah rah” “happy happy joy joy” pep talks for someone who cares, because no matter how much you pump yourself up, the outcome, will ultimately be the same. Will Peterson, you had better realize that you truly are the underdog going into this match. Prepare yourself for war, because that's what I am bringing to you."

The cameras fade out with Dorian staring intently at them.