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**Dolly Waters** · (08-20-2025)

Oklahomoa City… 2025

Nope—

nobody's here–

just a handwritten sign on the door– — —

Centurion, sitting at a white table in this listless office space, pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, and squints his eyes at the open door he entered a half-hour ago.

It says: Andy, Wait Here.

The XWF Legend sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose, consulting with his wife on the other end of the call, Are you sure you didn’t recognize their voice?

Hm– sure.

I don’t care how genuine they sounded. There’s not a soul on earth who can convince me that the XWF has changed. That it’s suddenly a good company to work for again…

Then from the corner of his eye he sees it,

...honey? I’ll call you back.

Dolly Waters limps into the room. Wearing the fresh bruises and taped up cuts from the beating she took at the hands of King and Nickles.

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at him.

Finally: Heard you called me a bitch…again

Centurion shrugs, not denying it. What? Wanna’ fight or something, Waters? and begins to stand,

Dolly sighs, and grabs the back of a chair, turning it backwards and sitting where she can lean her arms over the top,

Do I look like I'm in the condition to be fighting anyone right now?

Cent takes a long look at her– the swollen jaw, the split open forehead, the busted lip.

You look like shit.

I’ve looked worse…

Whatever. What do you want to talk about? Rub it in that you finally won the Universal Title– crow over the fact that I haven’t?

I want to talk about me and Graves.

Oaklahoma City… 2017 (Saturday Savage)

A young girl in the front row -thirteen, maybe- screams, and hides her face in her hoodie from the horrifying act unfolding in the ring.

Michael Graves rises, slowly, seductively, from the limp, unconscious body of Dolly Waters. No more than thirteen.

His tongue drags out of her mouth as he stands tall, face painted in blood that isn’t his.

You remember what he did to me. I know you do. Everyone remembers.

Yes. That’s kinda the problem, kid.

I hated him. I still do, sometimes. When I hear people associate his name with anything *good*, my eyelid starts fluttering. I want revenge all over again…

Miami… 2019 (March Madness)

A fifteen-year-old in the front row shrieks at the crack of a gunshot and hides her face from the horror unfolding on the ramp.

Dolly’s wrist snaps as the revolver bucks… firing a bullet into Graves’ knee.

Then again. And again. She’s pistol whipping him in the face until her own tears blur the blood spraying back.

...I wanted him dead. I would’ve *killed* him that night, if the brass hadn’t stopped me.

Cent doesn’t say anything at all

And now? I’m the Uni Champ. He’s the longest-reigning champ of anything, in history. You ask me, it ain’t story of forgiveness. It’s a story of survival. A story of change. A story of what the XWF can be… and what we can never allow it to be again.

You’re not asking for my sympathy, are you?

No. I’m asking for yer’ faith.

In what? Graves?

In the idea that people can change.

Centurion shifts in his chair. Not convinced.

You believe that? Or are you just saying it because you need to?

A beat.

I believe the people who survive this business either become monsters… or try to fight them.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed lately, but over half of the XWF roster are monsters. How does that math work in your 60% plan?

Dolly nods along. Pursing her lips and considering Centurion’s words,

Have an open mind, Andy. Come to Anarchy and watch what happens when two people who should never have stood together on the mat– finally do.

Not as enemies. Not as redemption stories. Just wrestlers. Trying to win something real….

Win what?

An XWF worth fighting for.

...And if he turns out to be full of shit?

Then I’ll do what I’ve always done with Gravy…

Cent raises an eyebrow.

...but I have faith it won’t be necessary.

--will it… “Graves”?

Afterall… we’ve both been monsters, and acquainted ourselves with monsters.

Or was that not Bourbon’s “Re-van” that “you” used to kidnap me all those years ago?

Was Bourbon not an XWF Revolution original?

A man who revels in and celebrates *breaking* people?

As anti-thetical as that concept *should be* to our cause, I don’t lose a wink of sleep because, again… I have faith in the process, faith in the change.

I know you Graves, for better, for -*mostly*- worse than anyone in the XWF.

And you, sir, are a case-study in change.

Yer’ the living breathing proof that just because you wear the mask of a monster…

-Even a child murdering, rist monster-

…doesn’t mean yer’ resigned to it forever.

I believe in change. If *you* don’t? Then *we’ve* already lost.

I believe in The Union.

Not in The Club.

Not in a movement siloed off on Thursday nights only.

If it ain’t equality fer’ all in the XWF, then it’s equality fer’ none.

We ain’t the same people we were a year ago. We’re the proof.

That’s what this match is about… proving that people *can* change– and that the XWF *has to*

We’ll show the world that if two wrestlers with real blood, with such an intimate… sordid history between them can step in that ring without burning it down–

Then maybe the XWF doesn’t have to burn either.

I can’t wait for us to show em, my brother

Later That Night — “Union HQ”

The door creaks, and Dolly walks in limping. Title slung over her shoulder.

Flynn is mid-rant. Schism is doodling on a whiteboard.

Hey…

Everyone turns

Meet your newest Union rep.

Centurion walks in behind her.

Silent. Steady. Still deciding.

But he’s here… watching the change.

ZeroGPT: 0.0%
Worrd count: 1,000

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