Saturday, October 1st, 2016
Backstage at the Amway Center
...Orlando, Florida, U.S.A...

Through a dreamily vague perception that is in some weird way almost framed in a colorless swirl of sepia tinted screen filter, we see Dolly Waters resting on a bench in the back dressing room of the Amway Center. Large earphones and a black hoodie covering up her head as she rips away at the end of a roll of white athletic tape from her left wrist with her teeth.

The door to the locker room swings open and in walks Dolly's manager, Paul Heyman. Heyman doesn't appear to be his typically cool and confident self, as there's a mass of sweat seeping through the tightly wrinkled skin on his forehead and large sweat stains forming on his dress shirt under his armpits.

It would be hard to imagine just what type of stress Heyman was actually under, he was taking a huge risk with his career which up until signing Dolly Waters in late September had been dormant to say the least. He was getting ready to manage an at the time twelve year old girl into into the main event of the most watched, most violent sporting business in the world- and for as much as he used his gabby gifts in the week leading up to this match to put his newest client over and to promote the match, he knew now that the entire world was going to be expecting some stellar results. It's fair to say that Paul wasn't one hundred percent confident that they could deliver, after all, Dolly was entering a match with five other Superstars who should have each had huge physical and experience advantages over this young warrioress.

"Dolly, we need to go over this again."

Paul says while slamming down a manila folder filled with the scouting reports of each competitors that Dolly would be facing. The main event was scheduled to start in about fifteen or so minuets. Dolly silently looks up at Paul, her eyes blinking in an incredulous fashion before moving one of the earphones partially away from one of her ears.

"Uhhh? No? Earth to planet Paul. We've already been over this at least a dozen times. We have a game plan, and I know exactly how to execute it, why on earth are trying to cram a bunch of useless information into my head right before the bell rings?"

Paul begins frantically pacing around the locker room, muttering unintelligible words to himself.

"Paul!"

Dolly hollers out, standing up to her feet now and approaching her skittish manager,

"Paul, you're actin' crazy, dude. Jumpier than a pink footed pussy cat on a hot tin roof. I know our strategy forward and back-"

"Strategy!"

Paul blows by his client and scrambles over to the bench where Dolly was sitting. He plops his round ass down, pulling an ink pen out from his shirt pocket as he begins scribbling some shit on the front of the folder.

"Strategy! Ha... that's rich. You're a freaking child. Those animals out there?"

Paul says while looking back up at Dolly for a moment before looking back down at whatever he's doodling,

"They'll rip you apart kid. Damnit! I should have known this was a mistake."

"Paul..."

Paul ignores Dolly, as he continues talking to himself while drawing an elementary level sketch of a peeve wrestling ring with stick figures around it,

"'You've gotta' check this kid out', my agent said. 'She's the next big thing', my agent said. 'SHE'S TWELVE YEARS OLD AND SEVENTY-NOTHING POUNDS', MY AGENT SAID!"

"PAUL..."

"We're going to have her go here... and I'll be standing over there... when Chaos goes there... we'll hit Kitt from behind there..."

Paul starts drawing a bunch of crazy lines all over the folder where the ink is smearing from his sweat droplets that are dripping down from his forehead,

"PAUL!"

Heyman looks up at Dolly, his face red from the hike in his blood pressure. She pulls away the folder from under his hands and begins taking the pictures and scouting reports out, shredding them in front of Paul's face one by one while she talks,

"Paul, we have a strategy, a solid one that you came up with. But I'm going to need you to exercise in a little faith."

Dolly shreds the picture of Kristen Silver,

"Little do you know Paul, I've been waiting for this very moment, for this very match for my entire life."

She shreds the picture of Nico Lavey,

"You've seen what I can do, you've watched my training tapes with Morbid Angel. You told me you were practically drooling at the thought of managing me: the money, the fame, the sure-fire slew of adoring young fans screaming at the sheer novelty of my existence as if I were The Beatles landing state-side for the first time."

Dolly shreds the picture of Isabella Ravenwolf,

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing! I was born fer' this!"

Dolly looks at the picture of Kitt Kennedy,

"God I hate his face."

She then shreds it too,

"That's the beauty of all of this, Paul. No one expects me to do anything but get my little ass kicked all over that ring out there. People are starting to think you've lost your step, or even your mind, I mean who else would take such a gamble?"

Dolly looks down at Heyman whose burying his face into his hands, she smiles,

"Cept' fer' the great Paul Heyman?"

Paul looks back up at Dolly, his eyes widening a bit as if a bolt of self-revelation had struck his broken drive and spirit, getting the gears moving once again,

"When you lead me to victory out there, you're going to be regarded as the greatest genius this sport has ever known!"

Paul stands up now... an uncertain tone to his voice as he speaks,

"But if we fail, I'll be the greatest laughing stock this sport has ever known."

"Well then... we had better not fail, right?"

Dolly shreds the picture of Chris Chaos and holds her hand out to Paul,

"I've got your back out there partner... have you got mine?"

Paul looks down at Dolly's hand, slowly grabbing it with his own and making eye contact with her again,

"Dolly, if we pull this off, I'll have your back forever."

.....



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Twenty two minuets and four seconds later...

Winner and NEW Savage Television Champion: Dolly...

---

---

"Miss Waters?"

Monday, January 30th, 2017
In the back seat of an SUV
...Kabupaten Badung, Indonesia...

The scene opens to Dolly's gaunt and sunk in face leaned up against the window of the black SUV that picked her up from prison; it's quite the juxtaposition from the bright eyed, brash and bold warrior from the dreamy scene prior.

She rolls her head along the back of the head rest and to her left, taking in a blurred visual of the person sitting next to her...

It's Thaddeus Duke.

Thad reaches down to a little wet-bar in between the front and back seats of the spacious vehicle and pours a modest glass of whole milk, handing it over toward Dolly who hesitates,

"It's for you..."

He assures grim girl.

Dolly looks him up and down for a moment, saying nothing before reaching out with her shaky arms to fetch the generous offer. Whole milk was Dolly's favorite drink, a drink far superior to the lone cup of dirtied water she was granted per the last twenty six days.

Dolly struggles, but finally pulls the drink up toward her face, closing her eyes as she first smells the beverage, basking in the aroma of it's wholesome goodness while laying her head back into the warm leather seat. She takes the drink down to her dried lips and takes but a mere sip, almost as if she fears it'll be the only ration she receives for another twenty-six days.

"Thank you, Thad..."

She says while opening her eyes back up and looking over to her young friend,

"And thank you fer' getting me out of that hell hole. How far away from there are we now?"

"Well, you've been out of it for about an hour after you all but fell into the back of the vehicle."

"No where near far enough. My bond... how much do I ow-"

"You don't need to worry about that. Your bond was costly, but my organization will be receiving most all of the money back once you appear before the U.S. Senate Oversight Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation for your testimony."

"Science, Transportation and Commerce?"

"Yes. As arbitrary as that may sound, issues regarding doping in United States Athletic Organizations falls under their jurisdiction. We've assembled a legal team in the States on your behalf, a very good one. Congress just wants your testimony and we're expecting you'll to be cleared of any wrong doing."

"Well fuck yeah. I haven't done anything wrong."

"That's obvious, Miss Waters."

"Dolly."

She interrupts before taking a longer, more appropriate drink of her milk,

"Oh.

Right.

Fuck off.

But you know whats even more curious about all of this, Dolly? The local authorities back in Kentucky have yet to be able to produce the physical evidence they claimed to have found in your apartment, nor were the authorities video recording while executing the search warrant."

"And I know my piss was clean!" "And your urine sample came back negative."

They say at the same time.

"Indeed. Congress has some serious questions for the U.S. Ambassador from Indonesia as to why he went almost a week before notifying the White House that a U.S. Citizen was being detained in a foreign land- especially a minor. I've had our people looking into this matter as well, but the results thus far have garnered very little."

"Oh, that guy was such a dick."

Following a light chuckle from Thad, there's a moment of silence between the two. Dolly peers out from her window, watching the dark tinted palm trees rip through her peripheral. Still looking out the window she asks:

"Why are you doing this fer' me, Duke? Why go through the trouble?"

Duke thinks about the question,

"I haven't been one to make many, or any for that matter, friends in our industry, Dolly. I had told you before that I admired you, your tenacity, your ability.

You're young like me, and people like us are constantly being told that we can walk along side the status quo and make waves at what we do- but yet we prove them wrong all of the time. Because of that I feel like you were set-up, and I honestly couldn't stand the thought of such an impressive person rotting away in a third world country at the hands of the corrupt system designed to see us fail."

Dolly looks back over to Duke, obviously still exhausted she smiles,

"Thanks, Thad. That really means a lot."

"No need to mention it, Dolly. We'll be traveling to my compound in Connecticut where we'll see to it that you recover your health back to an acceptable standard. So have your rest, friend. After your Senate hearing on Wednesday you'll begin your training with some of the finest professionals in the world."

"Training? Fer' what?"

"There are rumblings of an upcoming tournament from the XWF Headquarters. A tournament I fully expect to see you win. Lethal Lottery Four."

Dolly sits there, spacing out and staring into some unknown vacuum of her mind. Lethal Lottery Four. She knew full well what that tournament was about, and it very well could be the story of her redemption. But if she was going to do this, she needed to get creative. She needed to be MORE than just Dolly Waters... that would be too predictable, something that her Buronan dreams advised her against.

"Say Duke?"

She almost robotically asks,

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could stop by a Redbox? I think the new Trolls movie should be out by now."

"Redbox? Is that for poor people?"

The scene fades...

---

---

I'm not going to understate the importance of the outcome of my match at Lethal Lottery. As we all should know, the winner of this match will be holding the keys to their very own destiny and positioning themselves among the ranks of the XWF's all time greats.

The 24/7 Briefcase...

It's our Money In The Bank, our guaranteed shot at any championship, anywhere, anytime. Just as I'm speaking right now there are at least three of these elusive jewels floating out among the ranks of some of our all time great competitors, people like: Unknown Soldier and my former mentor Morbid Angel, and at any given time those guys could literally walk into any arena, during any show, cash their prize in and find themselves as the proverbial standard bearer of our one of a kind industry.

Just talking about it, just thinking of crashing that case against Chris Chaos' or maybe even Gabe Reno's dense skulls and taking away their Universal Title makes my mouth water- and having won the briefcase from this tournament, this grueling nearly two month long war where fate isn't always in your hands could only make taking that top prize away that much sweeter.

I've been clear about my plans since the beginning. I explained to you all how this was a well devised strategy, with a bit of help from fate, to get here to the finals with the very three men I teamed up with during the duration of Lethal Lottery. By the time the first bell rang, and I entered that match with Trax as my partner while disguised as Buronan, I wasn't even at one hundred percent of strength- I had only been out of prison where I was starved down to skin and bones for sixteen days at that point, so I knew the preservation was going to be my key in getting to the next round. A card I played to near perfection. Trax was more than capable of carrying the weight of our first round match against a scrub opponent, so I let him- he can't get enough of hearing himself talk anyway, so fuck it, let him do him, right? Now Trax claimed that he was only at 60% of his ability during that match, an arbitrary number yes, unless of course he's wearing some DBZ Kai scanner or whatever, but he did that because he was frustrated that I admitted that I sit back and let him carry the match. Trax is a guy who seems constantly frustrated, I guess that's one of the set backs to living the double life of a pro-wrestler and a Superhero who has people launching Clone Wars against him. This is why I've always done my best to keep my dealings in things that make fucking sense to being a wrestler, so not to stretch myself too thin with a bunch of other bullshit.

But anyway, by the time I reached the second round where I partnered with Caedus, thanks to a solid and scientifically formulated dietary and training regiment I was nearing being at one hundred percent again. I didn't take too many bumps in the first round at the hands of that clown Hero XTreme and low and behold, Hero XTreme's slim pickins was on the horizon once again. I knew of Caedus' skill, and I knew that I could again keep myself preserved while letting him work, as ever eccentrically as he does, solidifying me a spot in the semi finals where I was sure to be among eight other competitors with skill ample enough for me to take the reigns and lead if needed to find myself exactly where I am now. Even Caedus who claimed he saw through my facade, even though it was clear that I was portraying a person with a facade still couldn't figure out my strategy. Some superior mental capacity, am I right? I dropped clues everywhere for you fucking people and not a single person even scratched the surface in figuring out who, what's and why's of The Buronan.

I mean Fuck me runnin' boys! Literally just go Google Buronan- it's the Indonesian word for fugitive. I mean from that to Buronan drinking whole milk in his first interview, to the not so obscure one-liners I dropped; fuck, even the likes of Ghost Tank would have known that Sister Waters was coming.

But on I would move, into the semi-finals completely undetected and now finally not just at one hundred percent, but in reality even better then I was before. It was here where I would team with the guy who is still my tag partner for these finals, Cadryn Tiberius, leading us to the promised land. And what fucking thanks do I get for that? Nada. Zilch. Nothing. What fucking gives Cadryn? Have you just lost interest in this or something? The biggest match of your entire career and you're nowhere to be found? I've called, no answer. Is this how you repay me after everything I've done for your sorry ass? I went out of my way to help you overcome your meth addiction and, what? You're now too busy fiddling around with Michael Graves' tiny pecker to pay any attention to what's going on?

Probably locked inside of his closet again I would suppose. You were ready to kill Michael, and I even helped you overcome that demon. I did this all to help better you, to make sure you were going to able to not only be a good enough partner to make sure our team would advance into the finals, but for you to be considered a worthy enough adversary once we got here. Maybe that was all just a miscalculation on my part because it's clear to me that you've got more important things to bother with. Maybe the idea of teaming with a female turned you off. Makes perfect fucking sense. You got gifted a fucking rebirth in this tournament, then I drag you through to the finals and now your ghost. What a fucking .

But it's fine, let the impossibilities stack up against Dolly Waters as they so naturally have, because that's when I'm at my best. You back me into a corner and I fight even harder than ever. That's the difference between folks like Dolly Waters and folks like you, Cadryn. Because no matter the circumstance, no matter the draw on the card, big or small, yer' always going to get my absolute best shot. Half measures avail you nothing! Sure you've got some time between now and the PPV to show your face, help build this match to being one of the greatest of all times like it should be- but if you don't get your act together real quick, it'll be too late. Then you may as well not even bother walking out to that ring, because I'll destroy you before the bell even sounds and I'll take on Caedus and Trax by my fucking self.

Not Lawnmower Man, not Cornroll Uni Shitter, not Kevin Gaycon are going to stop Dolly from Dollying the way I so always do- I was destined to be here, and I'm going to make the most of my opportunity, and in the end I know that's what'll separate me from the three bozos who tried to take something that was always mine.

Eat shit .