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)
It’s often said that truth should be self-evident -
Truth?
- that the established facts of any situation are enough to tell the complete story. Revisiting timelines, then, should be a quest for deeper understanding, not a necessity to unravel the finer details the narrative holds. This belief rings truest for what you are about to witness, as the next chapter of a dark tale unfolds - a tale woven from mysticism, ambition, manipulation, and blood.
We could look back to the mysterious and supernatural birth in a Kentucky delivery room in 2002. We could reflect on the downfall of a decaying wrestling empire from the 1980s, its bourbon-soaked breath and blood-stained coffers driving its heir into a fascistic lust for power. We might even wonder about the child prodigy, a force of nature who, like the untamable tides, defied the hereditary pull toward domination. And yes, we could theorize endlessly about the blood rituals we've witnessed, the demons we've come to know, and the shadowy machinations of The SEERS; a modern-day coven of black alchemy.
But none of that is necessary to grasp the significance of what’s unfolding before us now. We are mere days away from Misty Waters -the spirit who has taken possession of her granddaughter Dolly’s body- taking another step closer to her goal of dominating the XWF.
The sun is sinking beneath the horizon, casting a haunting orange glow across a sprawling open field at the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Before us stands a makeshift stage, flanked by towering American flags and banners heralding the XWF’s upcoming PPV event: Relentless XXV. The air is thick with tension, an electric charge of anticipation.
As the audience murmurs uneasily, Misty Waters emerges from behind the curtains, her entrance met by the unsettling reverb of a crowd that is no longer merely restless- it's on edge, simmering. The brashness that once defined her is gone, by a more insidious aura, something darker and more calculated. Her face, half-veiled by the setting sun, carries an intensity that draws her to the podium with a slow, deliberate purpose. The night -and her intentions- are only just beginning.
Before her is a crowd far larger than any she’s drawn before. What began as a following of fringe supporters and disillusioned fans has swelled into something far more dangerous, far more volatile than the handful of rioters who stormed the Ocean Center during XWF Anarchy. Now, hundreds of fans, curious onlookers, and die-hard followers have gathered, their faces illuminated by the glow of lit torches clutched in their hands. Some wear MAGA Powers hats, others sport "Stop the Steal" shirts, all of them waiting - eager - for the next incendiary words from the XWF Xtreme Champion.
… and why wouldn’t they be? After everything they’ve witnessed recently- the violence, the chaos, the defiance, and the seeds of deception sown by Misty, now twisted into undeniable fact- their devotion has only deepened. What once were suspicions of betrayal by the XWF have now become gospel, the flames of their loyalty stoked by the very doubts she’s expertly manipulated.
My fellow wrestling fans…
The crowd explodes in a raucous, unsettling display of applause and fervent adulation. For them, this simple phrase has become synonymous with Misty’s reign - an opening note to the symphony of dangerous rhetoric that always follows. The atmosphere crackles with intensity, the kind that sits just on the edge of boiling over.
Misty, with a subtle flick of her wrists, holds her hands out over the crowd, as if pulling on invisible puppet strings. Her presence alone commands them, and their cheers taper into a tense silence, eager for her next move.
I know who you are.
Yer’ the real Americans.
The ones who still care about wrestling.
About tradition.
About truth![/dolly]
The wind picks up, as if on cue with Misty’s fist slamming into the podium, whipping through the oversized flags behind her and fanning the flames of the torches in the crowd. The flags snap and sway in perfect rhythm with the rising energy of the audience, as though the very elements themselves were bending to her will.
The FIRE! Misty roars, throwing her head back toward the night sky, her fists punching the air with primal force.
the waters…
Misty’s voice now a motif smothering boom, with the fury of a demagogue.
THE FIRE YOU HAVE SHOWN FEEDS THE FURNACES OF OUR ENGINES- she bellows, -IN OUR CAMPAIGN-, hoisting the XTreme Championship high above her head.The crowd roaring in response, their torches blazing brighter, serving as reflections of Misty’s growing intensity.-THAT DRIVES US TO TRUTH AND GREATNESS!
The crowd hangs on her every word, eyes wide with an insane mixture of reverent gaiety and anger. It’s no longer just a wrestling fan base - it’s a movement. One that Misty has manipulated, stoked, and twisted into a dangerous force. And now, with the flicker of the torches reflecting off her ski goggles, Misty Waters knows that this is her moment, her chance to channel their rage into something far more devastating.
Behind the curtains, Paulie watches, gleaming of dark amusement that etches across his face. The longtime confidant and co-collaborator of Misty’s reign of terror, Paulie as we know, is no mere bystander. With deep ties woven into the historical fabric of the XWF, he is a glib and cunning businessman, a puppet master with a knack for exploiting the sport’s most vulnerable moments. His career, marked by unbridled success at every level- from managing champions to orchestrating some of the highest-grossing XWF events -has been but a prelude to this very night.
This is the moment Paulie and his old friend Misty have long envisioned, ever since they began plotting decades ago, using Misty’s granddaughter Dolly as the key to their master plan. A moment to seize control of the wrestling industry's crown jewel, the XWF, and drag it back to the corrupt glory days of confederated wrestling territories- when power was concentrated, brutal, and unchecked. His smile widens as he watches Misty, now the central figure of their vision, poised to cement her grip on the industry through the fire of this insatiable movement. But what makes this moment so stunning to Paulie is that, just hours ago, his faith in their grand scheme had never been shakier.
I believe it’s time we discuss…
Paulie said, breaking the uneasy silence in the private quarters of Misty’s XTreme Campaign tour bus.
They had barely spoken during the two hour-long ride from Louisville. Misty had been uncharacteristically quiet, her focus sharp, her demeanor stoic. Madison Dyson was attending to other matters which kept the two alone with their thoughts. But Paulie’s words broke through the stillness, lifting Misty’s head to meet his gaze just as he continued,
...a contingency plan. he said, his voice low and measured, arms folded tightly across his chest. His fat neck pressed into his shoulders as he broke eye contact with Misty, letting his gaze drift toward the XWF Championship belt resting on the seat next to her. There was a moment of hesitation in his voice, a hint of vulnerability that was rare for the usually sharp-tongued Paulie. His eyes lingered on the title, the symbol of everything they had fought for.
Misty leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied him- his posture, his tone, the concern lacing his words. She could sense a shift, a deeper fear that ran beneath the surface. With a cold, almost curious edge in her voice, she asked, …why?
Paulie suppressed a small, astounded chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re serious? he asked, his tone incredulous. Misty’s eyebrow arched slightly as she listened, her gaze unwavering.
After everything they’ve thrown at you? he continued, his voice rising with a sense of urgency. The intentional obfuscation of your XTreme defense record? The chaos they unleashed on you at Anarchy?
-His voice caught with barely restrained anger as he ironically referred to the night Misty and Madison incited a deadly riot at the Ocean Center, resulting in the deaths of several innocent fans-
And now this? Double-booked at Relentless on top of the unprecedented circumstances you’ve already faced? Back-to-back death matches, essentially? Those bastards on the booking committee…" his voice hardened, nearly a growl. They’re trying to kill you.
In their warped reality, Paulie wasn’t wrong. For the first time in history, the XWF XTreme Champion was scheduled to defend their title on consecutive nights at Relentless. A simple fact that magnified the stakes and made these moments more perilous than ever before. It wasn’t just about retaining the championship- it was about survival.
What else is new?
For Misty, survival had become a banal reality, a challenge she had faced too many times to count. She leaned back, a smirk curling on her lips.
How many times have they tried to kill me, Paulie? Be it my idiot son, my thankless worm of granddaughter, or those trembling fools running the XWF?
And look where we are
She stood tall, confidently outlining her hands over her body, her voice thick with a mocking sense of triumph.
Who won that battle over Dolly? he sneered, referring to the vessel she so ruthlessly commandeered,
Who the hell even knows what’s happened to that drunk, R.L. Edgar… she added with a bitter chuckle, referencing the bastard son she had waged war against. With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached down and lifted the XTreme Championship.
...and who has the XWF right in the palm of their hand? Her voice dripped with self-satisfaction. Blessings in disguise are what the idiots call it. All we do is take care of that spoiled little prince, Isaiah King, and that pampered princess Sahara, and we’ll be on a direct path to the Universal Championship.
Her tone grew more forceful, her words laced with a fiery tenacity.
Look where we are, Paulie![/dolly] she repeats, her voice rising, Look where we are!
Paulie’s eyes lit up, drawn in by Misty’s infectious confidence. Despite his earlier reservations, forget the backstory, he couldn’t deny the undeniable truth: Misty delivered. When he really took in their surroundings, he saw it clearly- the bus had arrived at the site of Misty’s Appalachian rally, hours before her scheduled address. But unlike the last rally, with its tiny handful of insurrectionists, this crowd was massive. They were there early, waiting, buzzing with anticipation, welcoming the tour bus like war heroes returning from battle.
Misty gazed at the scene with satisfaction.
We don’t need any contingency plan, my friend. She slides over and places a hand on Paulie’s shoulder with a commanding and calm touch, Because I’ve always been the contingency plan.
A slow, malicious grin spread across Paulie’s face, The doubt that had weighed on him moments before evaporated like water under her flame in the face of Misty’s unwavering conviction.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you on that stage later.
Her words serving as a finality, she guides the grinning Paulie out of her private quarters.
Hours later, that same grin still lingers on Paulie’s face as he stands in the shadows, watching Misty deliver this thunderous address to the fervent crowd that had gathered like moths to her flame. They’re hanging on her every word, their devotion palpable. Paulie couldn’t help but revel in the chaos they had crafted together.
Look how far we’ve come!
Misty’s voice booms through the microphone, cutting through the night air as she once again commands her sycophants. The torches flickering in time with her words, and the crowd responding with primal roars.
This is no mere rally, and this is no mere campaign.
We have run the greatest XTreme Campaign in history.
In 54 days, we’ve done what no other XTreme Champion has ever accomplished.
To be on the precipice of the 24/7 Case, already completing half of the required defenses
-and with your help, you TRUE wrestling fans who stood tall at the Ocean Center at Anarchy-
we even survived that disgusting ambush, that disgusting heist the XWF tried to commit. A heist of your dreams to see professional wrestling saved, to see our country saved!
They’re challenging what is rightfully ours. But we are an unshakable force, driven by the destiny of our one true Lord! Let the XWF employ yet another plot in a continuing series of plots, to terminate our campaign. We’re ready for this fight! What appears to be an arbitrary booking of the XTreme Championship on two nights of Relentless isn’t so arbitrary, folks- -
IT’S UNPRECEDENTED.
Forcing your XTreme Champion to defend one night in Houston against a corrupt, tyrannical monarch, Prince… she presses her lips together condescendingly mispronouncing the name ...Padyami- I don’t even like saying his name. It’s so stupid, folks drawing a bloodthirsty ire from the audience
and then forcing me to travel sixteen hours to that godless shithole of a country, South Korea, to defend against the former Sahara Duke.
They want us to lose so badly. They want YOU to lose. BUT I WILL NEVER SURRENDER THIS FIGHT!
Because what the corrupt XWF establishment fails to realize is we’re already a step ahead of them, we’re having their cake and eating it for them too. When the night of September 21st culminates and we’ve defied their odds again, we’ll have 6 of the required 7 defenses of the XTreme Championship.
6 defenses in under 60 days. It’s unheard of. And it all starts in Houston, against the sad little Prince who was promised.
A massive projector screen behind Misty’s stage illuminates with a particular image. It’s Isaiah King standing alongside rebels from his home country in Orun.
The XWF thought it would be fitting to place the hopes of ending our campaign on the shoulders of corruption, something they’re comfortable with.
The Prince of Orun, and his merry band of assassin Rebels.
Can you believe this? A man negotiating with terrorists. People who are capable of doing anything. They’re from a dangerous and impoverished African monarchy. The shithole Orun, who is embroiled in geopolitical scandals all over the world. Murdering dignitaries, influencing elections.
The XWF wants to bring that here! That’s what they want to corrupt your children with. Violent images to turn them into country hating anarchists.
But the Prince of Orun will try to show himself in an anti-establishment light, presenting himself as the man who’s been wronged by the corrupt globalists in the XWF- when he in fact is the corruption!
What will you dare tell us Prince? You’re torn by expectations of your father, the Crown of Orun’s heartless legacy? The man who’s done nothing but boast about his heir status since the day he arrived in the XWF is terrified to take the crown for fear of your own failures? Yet obsessed with nothing but mirroring the image of the horrific failures of Orun’s monarchy in his relentless failure to topple Ned Kaye in the XWF.
Isn’t that when the struggling Adeyemi crown found itself back in your namesake, Isaiah? When you’d proven yer’self a loser against Ned Kaye, once and fer’ all? Leave it to a failed King to produce a failing Prince- trying to spread the seeds of the poisonous apple that didn’t fall far from the tree, and infect our precious American landscape.
And the XWF is cosigning this… the Prince of Orun is no true rebel. We’re the rebels! And we’re fighting back against a corrupt establishment who are selling the XWF down the drain! The Prince of Orun has cozied up and been protected by the deep-statist Mark Flynn, a man right at the heart of the conspiracy to end our campaign, and the establishment's poster child Ned Kaye. Sheltered from defending the tag championship gold because he’s busy coddling the concerns of terrorist organizations in Orun, and busy whining over how he can’t beat Ned Kaye. It’s all a big fraud. A big hoax. A means to constantly negotiate your wrestling failures for geopolitical advantage. You, and your ties to the corruption in the XWF are exactly what's destroying professional wrestling.
Ironic for the man who mocked his greatest rival’s journey as flames to embers, when it’s you, Isaiah Adeyemi, who is becoming a puppet of the Orun Crown. Where’s your fire? Do you even remember how it feels anymore? Does this jog any memories?!
Misty thrusts her arms out over the crowd roars louder still, thrusting their torches into the sky,
In REAL America we don’t bow down to failed kings and conspirators of the deep state.
Petulant, spoiled little princes who stay hidden behind the veil of a trio tag championship. He’s not even being made to defend the championship he boasts, the championship he’s driven into mediocrity with the help of his “greatest rival”. And yet it’s somehow expected that he’s the one to end our Xtreme Championship campaign? He’s the one who even somehow deserves a shot? This reeks of nothing more XWF collusion, and Orunian interference in our campaign!
The violent roars of the crowd grow stronger,
He’s got nothing on me, folks. A man who can’t even bothered to defend his championship, thinks he can carry the TRUE weight of an XTreme Campaign?
60 days. 6 defenses?
Prince hasn’t even had 6 matches this year, because he’s protected by the same men he will claim to loathe.
The very Crucible for which he owes everything. It’s all an elaborate hoax. This is a man who some years ago even lost to my pathetic granddaughter. Can you imagine? A man who couldn’t just clean sweep a weak communist like Dolly Waters?
Back then he claimed that Dolly could do nothing on her own, and he was right, and he claimed that’s why she was weak, and he was right- and yet that weakness made him scream and bleed and submit in the center of the ring.
And it is he himself, who’s done nothing but surround himself with help ever since. Be it the corrupt terrorists on Orun, his failing king father, or The Crucible and their ties to the XWF deep state. Help and protection is all he’s received, and yet It was against his own helpers that he lost the one thing he claimed he needed so much. The Universal Championship.
He’ll never get it by ending our campaign, I can promise you that! The Prince of Orun… A man with such a fragile ego, who would have the audacity to strike like a coward against the very men he owes his entire reputation to, would crash and burn under the weight of our XTreme reign! Flames to embers once again from the prince who was promised.
The promised prince no one ever asked for.
He doesn’t have the fortitude to withstand TRUE struggle. See it in his shithole country. See it in his incessant failures against the very men who’ve built him.
SEE IT IN HIS EYES!
She points back to the photo displayed behind her that’s since been pelted and torn by trash and debris,
I called out the XWF weeks ago, for not booking you against me, Isaiah, because yer’ exactly the type of infestation that needs to be eradicated from the XWF for good. The elitist swine who claims himself the rebel. The man who could have been defending the prestige and honor of the championships he already holds on this show, THE MOST IMPORTANT WRESTLING SHOW OF THE YEAR, but who has already conceded his failure as tag champion. So he’s being booked to try and steal MINE!
Misty’s voice surged with venom, her words electrifying the crowd. Her eyes scanned the faces, all of them enraptured by every syllable.
You deserve this championship as much as you deserve yer’ fathers crumbling kingdom, as much as you deserve your crumbling tag championships, and yer’ rotting moral compass that never existed in the first place. The heir who declared his claim from day one, only to cower beneath the weight of the gold around his waist, and the throne of his own blood!
The audience roaring, torches blazing high in the night. Misty’s words turning into a frenzied battle cry.
At Relentless our XTreme Championship campaign carries on! Because no matter what forces of corruption the XWF continues to lob at our destiny- WE WILL NEVER BE DEFEATED![/dolly]
But before she could savor the crowd’s response, a deafening crack split the night.
A single gunshot.
The bullet hits Misty square in the forehead, a perfect shot. Her body jerks, and collapses violently to the ground, blood spraying across the stage in a horrifying instant. The crowd erupts in chaos, screams and shouts filling the air as panic spreads like wildfire.
The scene falls black.
News Reporter: It’s been only hours now since the shocking assassination of the XWF XTreme Champion, Misty Waters. At approximately 9:22 PM, Misty Waters was shot at her rally in rural Kentucky, and was pronounced dead on arrival by authorities. The suspect at this time is still at large. Though still under investigation, local and state law enforcement have no new information at this time. But the co-chair of the Misty Waters XTreme Campaign has released a statement:
The broadcast cuts to a dimly lit podium room where a distraught Paulie stands, tears streaming down his face. His usual slick, calculating demeanor is now one of raw emotion and fury.
At this time the Misty Waters XTreme Campaign has been advised by our legal team to not cooperate with local and state authorities. The dangers of assisting the very people who might THEMSELVES be subject to investigation are too great. We will not be silenced! Our campaign has launched its own investigation, and through reputable sources such as Reddit and TikTok, we’ve uncovered the truth: this attack wasn’t random. It was orchestrated by Orunian rebels under the direct orders of the Orun monarchy! The mastermind behind this heinous assassination? None other than Isaiah Adeyemi, the so-called ‘Prince of Orun’! This was an attack not only on Misty Waters but on the entire free wrestling world! We will not rest until justice is served
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