Rise of the Legends: DAWNCast Starring: Waymoth Turnbull and Dawn Johnson PINE HILLS , FL | 12:25 PM – Dawn knew that while she wasn’t too familiar with the area she had just arrived to, the one thing she was certain of was the fact that smell of the Caribbean food that hit her nostrils was a glorious one. The Golden Krust Bakery off West Colonial was one of the many places where you could get authentic West Indian Cuisine, and Dawn just knew that today would be the day she found out why. However, first, there was business that she had to attend to. She made her way into the eatery, trying to avoid direct contact with the eyes that begun to stare at this random white girl and her camera crew. On the in-house radio, “Girls” by Dancehall star, Beenie Man played loudly enough to allow the patrons to picture in their minds what Dawn would look like swaying to the big tune. There’s a lot to be said about the way Caribbean men feel about white women in general and it was that type of tension that surrounded the jOlt correspondent. Even if it did tickle her fancy just a tiny bit. The beeline she was making however almost caused her to miss her intended target. Good thing she was spotted long before that happened. “Nuh mind dem,” a familiar voice called out to her in effort to ease her nervousness, “Somma dem ah’act like dey nevah geh any home trainin’. Yuh gon’ be fine wit’ me though.” Dawn turned towards the voice, a feeling of relief coming over immediately, because sitting in the very corner of the restaurant was a man she had seen the rise and fall of since he came to jOlt; Waymoth Turnbull. She made her way to his table where Waymoth had already started indulging himself in one of the best dishes Golden Krust had to offer; the Jerk Fish Combo, the #9 on the menu. “Long time nuh see,” Waymoth added as he took a quick sip of his DG Kola Champagne, “Ah could tell by yuh de look inna yuh eyes that yuh miss seein’ dis face.” Dawn smiled coyly as she took a seat on the opposite side of the table in front of the West Indian Obsidian, “Not sure about that particular sentiment, but, I can say things around the locker room have been somewhat easier to understand.” “Funny, yuh funny so eh?” Waymoth smiled at Dawn’s snap, “Well’sah, yuh gah me out here in the open so ah assume you wanted to get ah word from me about every’ting dat went down on Intense de otha day.” “Well, that is one of the topics at hand I wanted to speak with you about,” Dawn replied, pulling out a notepad, “A lot has happened and changed since you came to jOlt. You went from being a beloved contender for the former Relentless Championship to being betrayed not once, but twice by the people you work with. Now, you’re here sitting here…from what it looks like, battered and broken. Your knee is in a brace, and I can tell just by looking at you that the attack from the Black Faction left you in another state of mind altogether. So to be quite honest with you Mr. Turnbull, the only reason that I’m here is due to the one question I know is on a lot peoples’ minds.” “Yuh wan’ some’tin fi drink?” Waymoth interrupted, prompting an annoyed expression on Dawn’s face as this was obviously not the question she was hinting towards, “Wha? De way ya ah run’ yuh mout long like dat, meh wanted to mek sure yuh throat din’t go dry.” “Seems more like you’re trying to find a way to distract from the issue at hand Waymoth,” Dawn continued. She wasn’t going to let the conversation die this easily because of the Islander’s dry wit. “The question I had for you was a simple one Waymoth; what’s next? What’s next for the fan-proclaimed, “West Indian Obsidian?” Waymoth scratched away at his hair on his jawline. He was looking down at the table in front of him with his eyes lingering away from Dawn’s. There it was; the question of the hour. He fixed himself in his seat, taking the last bit of liquid that rested at the bottom of the his bottle and even took the time to take a quick bite out of Jerk Fish. After all, you have to eat it while it’s hot or you might as well buy another. “Are you going to answer me? Or did I waste my time coming here?” Dawn pushed, her question was still on the proverbial table. Her tone caused a few of the folks walking about the bakery to turn their heads towards the jOlt representatives. A murmur of “Who dis white girl tink she is?” heard from a nearby customer. “Ahe-hmm,” clearing her throat, “Waymoth….please, I-I need an answer,” Dawn continued, her tone softening. “An ansah yuh need so bad? Is dat what yuh really want? De trute?” Waymoth replied, fixing himself in his seat, moving his food and drink to the side and putting his forearms on the table. “Here yuh go den.” Dawn motions to the cameraman to zoom in a bit more as Waymoth began to finally provide her with what she needed. “De question ya ask meh…it nuh make ah lick of sense. Because, the reality is…yuh should already know wha’ gon’ come next. Not once since ah come up inna dis business, did anyone have to ask Waymoth Turnbull, “what’s next”. Now people ah tink, because meh leg ah bang up, and meh chest ah tape up an’ah Docta nuh clear me fi’ return – that da mean that Waymoth shou’be written off and forgotten ‘bout. Das mistake numbah one. Mistake numbah two, was Aran and de rest of he people dem thinkin’ that ah haven’t been tru’ worse inna me life. For thinkin’ dat I wasn’t prepared for sometin’ like dis happenin’ at some point. Mah mind was already set up. Plus, I used to tek beatings all de time when ah was child. Dat’s what we do back home. We nah breed pussy less we lookin’ children ya’ unnastan’ me?” She didn’t. It didn’t matter though; Waymoth was in the zone that she came all the way to this side of town for. “Bones ah heel, blood ah dry up, swellin’ ah go down. All dat is temporary, but only if yuh don’t have to de gall to tek it where it need to go. Aran and de rest of dem pussy he ah run wit don’t have that kind’a nuts hangin’ between dey leg dem to tek it that in dat direction. De problem is? I do.” “What are you saying Waymoth?” Dawn was afraid that she had poked a sleeping beast and the results were not going in the favor she was hoping for. Things were going to get very dangerous. “It tain’ da hard to figure out Dawn, ah war gon’ start when ah come back. Ah war where de only man enlisted is gon be meh and meh nuh need anotha man help. Not anymore. Meh nah comin’ back to hut nuh’body. Much like de devil ‘imself, when Ah return, ah comin’ to do nothing but to seek, kill an’ destroy. Inevitably, ery’body will geh whah comin’ to dem. Every single soul. And ah cyan’t wait.” “Do you know when that will be? Do you think it’ll be at the ‘Rise of the Legends’ pay per view? Will you be cleared to return by then?” Dawn was on it, number two of the questions she prepared that demanded answers from the former member of the Black Faction. Waymoth smiled a toothy grin, one he had become known for and replied, “Patience, Dawn, like my muddah use to say when I wa’ growin’ up – is a virtue. When it happens, Ah want Aran to feel it. Until den, Ah want dem to shit bricks as dey check roun’g every corna, every crevice unda’ dey bed, ev’ry shadow that surround dem. Dey need to understand and tink about just how badly dey done fuck’up.” Dawn smiled as if to say this was exactly what she came for. That this was the Waymoth that she, and everyone else had been wanting to hear from. “Well Waymoth, I honestly cannot wait,” she said as she begun to gather her things. The interview was over, “Hopefully, that return is sooner rather than later. Thanks for your ti—“ “Yuh leavin’ without eatin’? Yuh mad gyal?” Waymoth exclaimed, putting his manly-sized hand over hers, ‘Siddown, let me ordah you a sometin’. C’yan’t let you leave wit’out tastin’ wha’ Agnes got inna she kitchen today. Yuh eat fish?” Dawn smiled, returning back to her seat, “Sure, I guess I could stay for a bite. Fish is fine.” "Das' s'yafe," Waymoth got up from his seat and headed to place the order, "Agnes! One plate a'jerk fish!" Dawn watched as the West Indian Obsidian walked towards the front of the eatery. She looked on with a skeptical eye - for a man that was rocking a brace on a knee that suffered a horrible tear, there was one thing that seemed wrong with this picture; why wasn't he limping? Scene.