A maelstrom of finger pointing, name calling, and a general losing of the cool is enveloping the locker room of the Tokyo Dome. With the Pay-Per-View showcase: March Madness IV still in full swing, much attention from the XWF's higher-ups has shifted away from the action in the ring and toward a most unfortunate situation backstage.

This is getting ridiculous, Lane!

Theo Pryce, flanked by an embarrassed looking Derrick Diamond, and an extra sweaty Smoking Bob Williams, is laying into his XWF co-owner. Vinnie is awkwardly mounted against the concrete wall with an arm draped over his Segway. He pulls his face from his hand, giving his temples one last rub before shooting his eyes over at R.L. Edgar.

"Dude, did you two even practice in the ring together?"

I tried!

A pleading R.L. Edgar cries out with squeezed eyes and a wincing tone, rubbing his neck from a slouched position in a folded chair,

But she was ghosting me, man!

He points toward his niece Dolly Waters who's lying down on a wooden bench that's been installed between two sets of lockers. With the ends of her long hair that aren't sweeping the floor covering her face, Dolly blinks between a vacant glare and the golden strands up at the ceiling. Her chest is barely moving. Her nagging knee unable to fully bend is bruised and painted violet.

With a moment of silence while everyone in the locker room observes Dolly with some form of annoyance, Edgar then flings out his hand incredulously before continuing:This is what I'm talking about! She was all gung-ho to team up for this match, and then-

That's enough! Theo barks out, while approaching Vinnie Lane,

I don't know why you're looking toward, Edgar. Dolly isn't under contract with HIM, she's under contract with the XWF. A MAX contract. One that you happily authorized.

"A contract worth it's weight in gold when she's performing-"

IF she's performing! Let's face it, Dolly hasn't actually "performed" since last summer. Theo examines the still lifeless Waters lying on her back then turns to Vinnie to continue shouting. This is an embarrassment. But Dolly doesn't hear the words.

The waves of disconcerted bickering and shouting sound like the pulses of a rapid heartbeat, and swirl around Dolly's head. Their voices sounding like the grown-ups from the Peanuts. Her head rolls to the right and rests on her shoulder. Just enough of her hair falling out of her eyes to fix them on the locker room door. Everything sitting in her peripheral, under the florescent lighting of the room looks like a spotty, and fuzzy glare.

She thinks back to where this all started. An overreaction... she mutters, but what did that mean?


A certain song rings into Dolly's head, as a certain smell leaks from under the locker room door and into her nostrils. Much like the song, it's familiar and stale. The musty and burning sweetness of cigar smoke. The smoke seems to lift Dolly from her prone position like an old Merry Melodies cartoon, and pulls her across the room toward the door. Vinnie, Theo and all of those arguing watch silently in varying degrees of incredulity. The subject of their fighting is almost prancing without ailment across the floor. She pulls the door open with grace and steps into the hallway where she's immediately overtaken by a cloud of cigar smoke.

Though she cannot see beyond the cloudy, cancerous walls surrounding her, she can hear an old familiar sound just fine:

Are we done feeling sorry for ourselves, my dear?

Yes.

Good. Now eat your soup like a big girl and quit wasting everyone's time.

The smoke clears out, and there's no old familiar face to accompany the voice. Only an empty hallway, and Dolly's gym bag inexplicably clutched in her hand. She opens the bag to find a large thermos. A thermos she'd been holding onto for quite sometime. She breathes deep, re-reading the attached note and knowing exactly what must be done.

Much later...

I know, I know. My performance since "returning" to the ring ain't been nothing to write home about. Losing matches to a guy who looks like a copper-thief, and a guy who arrests said copper-thief. Many of you must be wondering why I even joined this tournament to begin with. I could blow smoke up yer' asses and tell you it's all about glory, and resurrecting my career and all of the good old rasslin' clichés that people like my upcoming opponent, Lord Raab seem to so desperately crave. OH! Maybe it's all about getting revenge against someone who hurt my relative. Raaby-Cadabby would just LOVE that, huh?

But the truth is this: I was asked. That's right. Dolly Waters was asked to participate in the Plumpest Pigeon tournament, and believe it or not, that's okay! It makes sense. Do you think the likes of Lord Raab, Vita, or even Ruby were going to lend this tournament any extra pizzazz? Of course not. And if nothing else, at least the biggest story out of this tournament so far has been just how awful my performance has been.

I want you to think about that, Raab.

Think about what that means.

The fact that people are spending time discussing my failures. It's not the high-point of my career by any stretch, but I wonder why it's happening. Maybe they're shocked because they know, as well as you SHOULD know, just what a healthy Dolly Waters is capable of in that ring.

But don't take my word for it, Raab. You know all about losing match after match after match. So after we're done, and I've knocked what few remaining teeth you have from yer' skull, would you mind telling me if I've been doing it correctly? After all, when it comes to sucking yer' the expert here. I've just been getting my feet wet.

2x KWA Unified Southern Glory Champion
6x KWA Middleweight Champion
4x KWA Tag Team Champion
1x XWF XTreme Champion


-Dumb Dolly records that no one cares about-

3x XTreme Champion
2x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles)
2x Hart Champion
3x Television Champion

3x Star Of The Month
August ‘21, May ‘17, October ‘16

3x RP Of The Month
What light through sonder... my perception breaks.
Tranquility: For Old Times Sake
Manifest Victory