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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "Savage Saturday Night" RP Board
A Pulp Prelude To Soup
Author Message
Dolly Waters Offline
Always.



XWF FanBase:
The IWC

(gets varying reactions in the arenas, but will be worshiped like a god and defended until the end by internet fans; literally has thousands of online dorks logging on to complain anytime they lose a match or don't get pushed right)


#1
04-26-2022, 10:45 AM

…Entering September of 2021…

After capturing the XTreme Championship from Jim Caedus at WarGames

And eliminating Bobby Bourbon from the WarGames finals

And defeating the world renown Betsy Granger on Savage

And winning the OCW’s Tag Team Tournament

And posting an impressive 7-3 record

Only being pinned by Corey Smith in a virtual handicap match against him and somebody called ALIAS...

yeah, that ALIAS.

(Her other two losses being pinfalls taken by Hector Malvaldo and LSM during tag matches)

…Dolly Waters was the reigning XWF Star Of The Month…

But then things went... sideways.

If we're honest, that's not an unusual occurrence for Dolly Waters.

Similar instances have happened in her career before. She comes roaring onto the scene, racking up impressive victories, picking up various championships and accolades, only to disappear out into the world for years at a time.

But this most recent iteration seemed a bit more suspect than your commonplace ring-burnout, or Indonesian P.E.D scandal (that's a deep-track for any Dolly historians out there).

Suspect because at the height of arguably her greatest run in professional wrestling to-date, when physically she appeared as impressive and refined between the ropes as anyone in the industry, her body seemed suddenly to quit. Her flesh ripped, her ligaments tore, her blood drained, and her bones broke.

This all happening rather inexplicably in one of the most violent contests in XWF history.

Dolly Waters v. Jim Caedus in a Barbed Wire Deathmatch at Relentless Noir.

The betting odds between the two were practically a push. It was to be one of the most evenly matched contests of the entire three-day pay per view spectacle. But again, something went... sideways.

With the contest being evenly matched throughout, with both Dolly and Jim dealing out a slasher-film's worth of violence to one another, and both being attended to by medical personnel after the bell rang, everything seemed "normal."

About as normal as anything can be in the XWF anyway.

Even Jim Caedus was subjected to a sneak attack from some one-hit-wonder coward named Bam Miller after the match at Relentless Noir, and yet Jim Caedus was able to recover and go one to win the Universal Championship at Bad Medicine.

But as for Dolly?

It would soon appear as if the once promising fan favorite, the underdog hick girl from Kentucky, the admitted direct inspiration of wrestlers like Vita Valenteen, Atara Themis and Betsy Granger, would never be able to step foot in a wrestling ring again.

Such an abrupt turn of events, from sky-rocketing career, to retirement, has left many wondering what exactly went wrong that night in Chicago.

What happened to Dolly during that match, besides the torn ACL, multiple broken ribs, pints of blood lost and Frankenstein-esque stitch job that transformed her into an empty vessel of her former self.

Why would she finally return to the ring seven months later to lose in such spectacular fashion to other wrestlers that many could consider beneath her caliber such as: Boots Lichter, Rampage and The Ring Master, and why would she go about these matches with such uninspiring fervor?

Perhaps the question isn't what happened during the match in Chicago against Caedus, but rather what happened prior. Like an unresolved film noir mystery, perhaps there's more to the story than the feel of the grime and the taste of the pulp.

Something, somewhere, between the black and the white.

Between the Commune and the Holler.

Between the ring and the road.

Between the fire and the waters.

Between September seventeenth, and September twenty-fifth there was some...


Dark Country Pulp


Have you seen yer'self lately, sugar? a sneering southern drawl bends around Dolly's broken body. There's blood oozing from, among other places, the gashes in her frail and shaking arms. She struggles pulling herself up from the dusty warehouse floor, and as she lifts her chest from the concrete the oxygen rushes into a pair of battered lungs working beyond their capacity. She gasps, flinging her head up to face her grandmother's malicious voice.

Dolly's matted hair is covering what would be the ghastly and gaunt features of a once plump and fresh face. Dolly peers through the blood stained strands of her golden bangs and fixes her eyes on the only thing she can spot. A pomp and misplaced pair of red high heels. They're stabbing their way into the concrete towards her leaving a violent glow on the slick concrete. The steps are slow, stalking and calculated. Much like Misty's entire agenda.

You look like hell worn over... Misty nags with confidence, stopping just before stepping on Dolly and kneeling down, ...and to think, I went through all this trouble luring you here- to no avail, Dolly shakes again to her arms, trying to face her nemesis. But instead only catches peripheral glimpses of the dearly departed surrounding her. The five bodies strewn about like discarded trash amongst walls of neatly stacked bourbon barrels. -only for you to show up D.O.A! her voice pleads with laughter and sarcasm.

It’s a little ironic, I suppose. All the reasons I was needing to get you out of the way, sugar… all of that “success” you’ve been having in the XWF, all of that ”ability” you’ve been displaying. All it did was soften you up, get you nice and ripe Memaw Misty, huh? Misty’s hand is creamy, and veiny, contrasting the cracked and red painted fingertips. Red polish on top, caked blood and torn hair underneath. A sight as ghastly as grim a horror film. She hooks her hand under Dolly’s chin like a twisted claw and lifts her granddaughter's eyes into hers.

The young Waters girl shudders and tries pulling her face away from Misty. But with a gnashing of the teeth, Misty digs her nails into Dolly’s skin and holds her head upright. Being weakened by the mauling that took place only moments ago, and as Misty was pointing out; Dolly’s decaying physical state from her wrestling schedule, she's unable to break away from the horrible sight that is her lineage. Her destiny.

Misty Waters’ had always been a very charming, and beautiful woman. Those few good qualities she had were only ever skin deep. But now, after a botched plot to turn her estranged son, R.L. Edgar, into her estranged granddaughter’s murderer, the face she wears morseso resembles the wickedness and abohrrence that was always beneath her surface. The once rosey, soft skin now pale and sanded with burn scars. Her jaw, once perfect with a sleek and sexy square, now bashed and broken to the far, FAR right. So far to the right that her dangling tongue almost makes her words indecipherable. But she still has her way of getting a point across.

Dolly vanishes into Misty’s hollow eyes. Like a spelunker searching for treasure, Dolly was seeking for any remnants of a soul inside of those dark caverns. And now yer’ fucked, darling. The trip was short lived. Yer’ a lunatic. Dolly’s head rolls back, and this time Misty lets her granddaughter’s skull drop. Laughing as she stands to watch it thud against the concrete.

And to think! You were going to wrestle that Caedus man tomorrow night. As Dolly’s head smacked against the floor for what was the twelfth or so time that evening, the sound of Misty’s voice faded and was overpowered by the echoing metallic click of the zippo lighter flipping in her grandmother’s hand. The sound rang out like a thundering revelation, and as Dolly opened her eyes, her head turned with her left ear touching the floor, she found herself staring down a failure. One of the dearly departed. Tessa.

Tessa was one of Dolly’s closest friends from the commune, a woman she had recently been taking through the twelve-steps of AA. A woman who Dolly had come to love in an innumerable sense of the word. Tessa was kidnapped from the commune just days prior by Misty’s assassin’s as a means to track Dolly down. She led the duo on a wild-goose chase which ultimately cost her life. Her dead, covellite colored eyes were wide open. Dolly could not only read, but feel the horror of Tessa’s death, she could feel the lack of serenity and peace with which she was thrust from this world while bearing.

I guess you orta’ be thanking me for saving you from that beating, huh?

As that sick sentiment soaked through Dolly’s spirit, staring into the lifeless eyes of the woman she loved, the woman she failed, Dolly watched as a liquid ran on the concrete and soaked through Tessa’s hair and onto her lips. At first Dolly assumed this was blood, but as the liquid moved closer now to her own face, she recognized the unmistakable scent of whiskey. Whiskey drenching the dead lips of a woman who fought so hard for her sobriety. The thought made Dolly’s eyes, and then her arm, and then her neck twitch with a sudden gust of vengeance.

Her head jerked up, and eyes darted, following the trail of whiskey. It led back to what she had discarded as the deceased body of her uncle R.L. Edgar. He was bound to a chair just in front of a stack of bourbon barrels. His head slumped over. A gunshot wound staining the breast of his dingy and torn shirt. Dolly’s senses grow sharper. She can hear the trickling pour of alcohol through the earthy wooden barrel as it continues to spill out under Edgar’s feet. It runs down beyond Tessa’s head, the trail about to reach Dolly’s lips.

All these years, I knew there was something different about you, Dolly. I tried to protect you. I wanted you to be my successor. You could’ve been… but there’s something in you that ain’t all Waters. Something like the winds of the mountain top, calling you out of the earth and the valley-

Misty turns from surveying the carnage of the room back to face Dolly, the flame of her zippo lighter still open as she pulls it to the dry cigarette dangling from her lips. And I’m just glad that I stopped you from ever figuring out what it was calling you.

She pulls the flame into the cigarette. Taking a deep drag of smoke and butane into her lungs. And before she can even notice that Dolly is springing up onto her arms, and then her feet, Misty exhales the words:

You play with the Waters, you’ll find yer’ ass burnt.

Earth, Wind, Fire & …Waters


Hello Kings and Queens of the XWF Universe!

And apart from the actual XWF King, Bobby Bourbon, hello also to all of the regular people in our viewership who would never call themselves King or Queen,

How are y'all doing? Good? That's great! That's goochie. You go king!

So listen, this would be an ideal time to do something almost as cringe as a couple labeling themselves King and Queen, buying the matching jewelry, the fitted-caps, the hoodies and such; and that's to point out just how much the XWF has changed since my last full-stint of action seven months ago.


😬😬😬

I know! I know. Slit-my-friggin-wrists!

The level of cliché to follow up a flashback with a compare and contrast vignette? Yikes. That would be nearly as insufferable as listening to Elijah Martin tangle with his inner monologue mid-promo. Yes, kid, I mean KING...
🤦‍♀️ my apologies, KIIIING, this is the XWF, and these television producers are like Google times a trillion in terms of invasion of privacy and turning our thoughts into revenue.

But I swear! If you can learn to exercise a little self control, and not be constantly thinking about your Twitter queen girlfriend -while at the same time trying to convince the world that yer’ focused on whatever opponent that’s going to defeat you- then you can block those intrusive pricks from knowing just how woefully unprepared you are on a week to week basis. That’s right, try showing us less of you, and ESPECIALLY less of Lexi Gold, that’s some free advice and it might do you wonders.

Okay, I got sidetracked. My apologies again. But at least my A.D.D outburst saw my focus shift squarely on my opponent, rather than the shrimp cocktails I’m eating, or the color panties I’m wearing. Anywho, where was I?

OH!

The cliche’, the cringe, the commonplace wrestling promo. This moment would be a perfect opportunity to pull one of those out of my ass. Vomiting out some well rehearsed diatribe on how much the landscape in the XWF has changed since my last real run here. And since I’m cheap and petty asf, I most likely would. But I can’t! Because I swear, it’s like I stepped right out of a time machine into September of twenty-twenty-one.

ALIAS is Universal Champion and no one without a case can beat him.

My bestie Corey Smith just finished an insane in-ring run and may never wrestle again, again.

The Bastards are still only proven to be better than any tag-team combination involving Lycana.

CCP, CCP, CCP, CCPEEEEEEE

My beautiful amiga Robyn Gonzalez, the Latina Submission Machina, just beat some fat headed oaf for the Anarchy Championship (wink wink)

Flynn and Comrade are the most entertaining entities on XWF television.

The XWF is apparently absorbing another wrestling federation’s talent.

And Elijah Martin is getting booked against women wrestlers who are far superior than him in the ring.

A big difference being that yer’ booked against Dolly goddamn Waters. One of the best to ever lace up a pair of boots in the XWF. And I’m not fixing to shit the bed the way Tara Fenix and Bianca McBride did back at Relentless. Nah sir. Because another notable difference between now and September, is my overall state of mind.

Now I could do all the regular things here, I could go through the motions and tell you how much this opportunity to freeze my ass off in Alberta means to me, and how I’m coming back with a renewed focus and not taking anyone lightly, yadda yadda. But none of that would be entirely true. That would just be rehashing the same ol’ shit, like I were some dime a dozen wrestling chick who calls herself Queen without any merit to prove it.

Not the case.

I’ve buried people that I love since September.

I’ve sat my entire lineage ablaze.

I’ve had at least a decade's worth of physical decline beaten onto my body.

I’ve not properly bent my knee in seven months, and had to sit on the couch and watch as my friends continued to excel, and achieve, and prosper as professional athletes.

I’ve failed so many times, in so many ways that even the Lord Raab’s of the world were considering me slim pickins.

And through all of that I’ve learned some important lessons, the most important of which, the most ironic of which being this: The power of letting go.

Because for as long as I’ve obsessed over the past, and obsessed over the things that transpired that weren’t in my control, the more I tried to fix things, the harder I tried to work, the more of my power I tried to assert on everything and everyone, the more I lost control.

The more I watched my body breaking down before my eyes…

The more blood of loved ones that began to stain my hands…

How utterly futile of me to think I was ever in control to begin with, right? I’m a fucking ex meth addict and recovering alcoholic, what business do I have controlling myself, let alone anything or anyone else?

All of the worry of the past mistakes, I’ve let it go, Elijah. I’m a real life Princess Elsa nowadays. Because as you see, life is going to happen just the way it’s supposed to happen. All of that chaos I experienced between September and now, I let it go and I find that everything is pretty much the same.

The same XWF filled with the same type of self proclaimed “Kings”, and their same failed attempts at controlling a situation. Sort of like sneaking a pair of brass knuckles into the ring for a little extra damage control, only to have those same brass knuckles bash you in the face. Now that’s some real king shit there home boy.


Trumpets blare, and a door opens to Dolly’s dark promo room, and in drags


“Somebody say King Shit?”

Wait… I know you from somewhere.

“Yeah bitch, I’m King Shit. You have called upon ya King to show you the illest ways to run this bitch.”

Oh, actually I was talking about Elijah Martin.

“Hmm. Another King Shit? Tell me then, how do he fuck a bitch?”

Excuse me?

“How. Do. He. FUCK. A-“

Now hold on, man. Not even Elijah is that gross. He calls his beautiful lady friend, Lexi Gold his Queen. He calls her that everyday. He uses his Queen to validate his King status.

“Weak ass shit! Ain’t no female riding alongside a REAL king.”

Dolly turns away from King Shit and with a roll of the eyes, faces the camera again,

You see Elijah, only pieces of shit label themselves kings.

People who get mad about their "shine" being stolen like that weak display between you and Cashe on Anarchy.

People who make uncouth threats on Twitter.

Yeah... I saw it, "King".

But don't you worry.

If you've payed close enough attention, maybe you too have learned a valuable lesson on how to let all of that go, and you wont need to prove that yer' a King-anything, to anyone. Ever. Again.

Allow me to teach you a little about the power of humility.

And then, this loss that I'll hand you on Saturday?

You'll be able to let that go too.

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

my loves:
[spoiler]
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[-] The following 10 users Like Dolly Waters's post:
"Loverboy" Vinnie Lane (04-26-2022), ALIAS (04-29-2022), Atara Raven (04-30-2022), Charlie Nickles (04-26-2022), Jason Cashe (05-01-2022), Marf (04-26-2022), Raion Kido (04-26-2022), Thunder Knuckles™ (04-26-2022), Vita Frickin Valenteen (04-26-2022), YALL_KNOW_WHO (04-26-2022)




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