August 4th, 2025

An undisclosed location during Warfare in Sturgis:


The door to this makeshift office where the XWF Board of Directors are meeting closes behind Dolly.

The sound it makes isn’t dramatic. No echo or slamming. Like we’ve just blinked here from the last moment we saw Dolly, when she was interviewed by Sayors. Making her intentions clear: she isn’t re-signing with the XWF unless they agree to a union contract for all of the employees and talent.

The door shuts and clicks, like a tick on a clock.

Everything from this moment forward counts against her.

The room is cloudy, and reeks of cigar smoke. There’s a long table like you’d fexpect And sitting around it, the nine members of the XWF Board of Directors:

XWF Legend and Owner: ‘Loverboy’ Vinnie Lane.



His forever fiancé and Head of Administrative Assistants: Roxy Cotten




Their pet. Head of Craft Services. And a Good Boy: Taco



Chief Executive and Operating Officer: Thaddeus Duke



Meddling billionaire investor, and general weirdo: Elon Musk



CEO of Spirit Halloween: Steven B. Silverstein



Former General Manager. Head of Graphic Design and Company Presentation: Atticus Gold



Former General Manager. Lobbyist: ‘Smoking’ Bob Williams



And Head of Mailroom Technicians. Aspiring Rap Artist: Ari Silverstein. No relation to Steven.



Dolly doesn’t sit yet. Doesn’t speak. She just scans the room. Her eyes doing the walking.

Taco oinks softly and blinks in Dolly’s direction.

Thad Duke nods to her – no expression. Professional. Respectful. Sympathetic even. He knows exactly what this meeting is. If it were fully up to him, he would just handle this on his own.

Vinnie Lane is reclined at the head of the table. Not even looking at the door. He’s wearing sunglasses and puffing on a pink vape pin.The sounds of motorcycle cycle engines revving in the distance are filtering into the office.

Hey, Thad… you know I like motorcycles and hairspray as much as anyone, but they’re kind of problematic now, dude. We need to be lowering our carbon footprint. All of this mass-produced leather and exhaust fumes are tearing up ozone layer. as he exhales a pink cloud of vapor,

Babe? Roxy leans over, whispering Why are we here?

Well, Babe, I think it’s obvious. Right? Thad? Vinnie spins his chair around and leans over the table, looking past Taco and at Thad who has his arms crossed, shaking his head He called the board to meet because he wants to show us all what an awesome job he’s been doing booking venues. I haven’t heard Motley Crew this much since ‘88, rad! But… biker gangs aren’t really our target demographic anymore.

I don’t need to be here

Yeah, I don’t think I do either….

Yes you do. Thad grumbles, trying to draw Vinnie’s attention to Dolly standing in the doorway. It takes a few exchanges of weird face gestures between the two, but Vinnie finally gets the jist. He looks up to Dolly who's standing before the board, her arms crossed just above the Universal Championship around her waist.

Dolly? Lane stands, pulling his sunglasses down. His eyes wide with joy, grabbing the rest of the board of directors attention,

Roxy groans and rolls her eyes.

Taco grunts and climbs on the table.

Elon takes a break from mixing his kratom-ketamine-protein cocktail and begins stammering in fear. w-w-w-w-w- until Taco knocks his drink over, spilling it on what we assume were important notes he was taking.

Atticus smiles and gives Dolly a big thumbs up, before whispering over to Smoking Bob and Steven, showing them what he’s making on his laptop screen. A photoshop of Elon taking a GROK-Bottom from his AI creation. The three begin cackling. 

Ari Silverstein is sweating through his collared-shirt, fingering it away from his neck, and holding a three-ring binder labeled “MAILROOM CONFIDENTIAL”

Sick beret, dude! Lane takes in Dolly’s appearance, her all-black wrestling gear Are you doing like… mime stuff now? Sick how you’re always evolving! Lane stands, making a silly face and starts using his hands to frame himself inside of an invisible box.

Dolly takes it all in. Not shocked. Not even disappointed.

She just purses her lips and nods to herself.

Of course this is who’s in charge.

She steps forward, her Universal Championship snug around her waist, shining under the buzzing overhead lights like a holy relic. It catches Vinnie’s eye, and he abruptly stops the charade. His face beaming with pride and joy. He starts fumbling around, grabbing his phone and turning on his Spotify app.

Freddie Mercury’s voice begins playing through the phone's speaker:

“I’ve paid my dues…

…time after time.

I’ve done my sentence…

…but committed no crime”

Lane hops the table, his shoulders and fists bunched up like he’s about to explode with excitement as he grabs onto Dolly’s forearms and peers deeply into her eyes. Showering her with the adornment of a proud pappa.

You did it? he laughs uncertainly. Dolly just smiles and nods. YOU DID IT!!!

Still grabbing her forearms, Lane starts hopping with Dolly in circles to:

WE. ARE. THE. CHAMPIONS!

WEEEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONS! It only took you ten years, kid! WOOOO!

Thad stands from his seat and walks over to Vinne’s phone. Pressing pause on the song. A stoic look on his face as he straightens his tie. Vinnie stops dancing and turns with confusion.

Dude, what are you doing? Our girl finally did it, Thad. It’s time to celebrate!

Trust me, I’m as happy as you are. But unfortunately that isn’t our girl anymore… and that isn’t our championship.

Vinnie straightens up, and turns his head almost robotically toward Dolly, looking down at her with an exaggerated stink face, his eyebrow cocked up near his hairline.

Miss Waters?

Ready to talk about the future yet? She asks Vinnie point blankly, then turns to the rest of the board Or are we still pretending it ain’t already kicked yer’ door down?

There’s a pause.

Then the room… erupts. Roxy, Atticus, Smoking Bob, Elon, Steven Silverstein all laughing. Even Taco oinks. Air Silverstein, however, looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

Lane folds his arms in silence

You want to tell me what all of this is about? 

The Deliberation

They’re all seated now.

Dolly is still. Her palms resting flat on the table.

Vinnie finds himself smiling again from across the table. His arms spreading like a proud stepparent at a graduation party.

Alright, alright, look, dude. I get it now. He flicks his vape away, claps his hands once, walking around in a circle behind his chair like he’s prepping for a TED talk. You don’t really want to do the whole Free Agent thing again. You want security. A raise. Bigger merch cut. Done. Whatever you want, you earned it, champ.

Dolly doesn’t blink

This ain’t about me

Sure it is. You’re the champ! You just beat Charlie freakin’ Nickels in a football stadium full of Kentuckians drunk on moonshine and vengeance. You crowd-surfed with the belt, Dolly. I don’t think that’s ever done. He spins, finger in the air. Genuinely thinking back on it…

The social media engagements have been out of this world.

See! You’ve practically redefined what it means to be Universal Champion. So yes. It is about you. And I wanna make sure you’re taken care of

Then take care of the people.

The room stills again. It gets tight.

The ones wrestling as training dummies and getting paid with handshakes and a ‘chance to make it’. The ones driving through the night to make the card and being told the catering budget was reallocated. The ring crew. The production techs. The refs who are being maimed on a weekly basis. The talent sacrificing their lives in senseless rage-porn booking.

She eyes the board. Just for a second.

I ain’t asking for a new contract, Vinnie. I’m telling you… i ain’t signing nothing unless we’re forming a union.

Silence.

A long one.

Then…

...A union?

He blinks, the word bouncing around in his brain,

...Wait,like… like Solidarity Slam union?

Dolly nods once,

Vinnie snaps his fingers, grinning.

Ohhhh. Got it. Got it. Why didn’t you just say so? Hell yeah! Rad! I’m in.

He turns to the rest of the board.

Let’s do it. Dolly wants a union? Boom. Approved. That’s what democracy is, right? Power to the people and such. I vote yes. Next item?

Vinnie–

What? She wants workers rights. Great press. Think about the headlines. ‘XWF: Home of the First Pro Wrestling Union’. That’s badass.

Roxy slams her hands on the table

No. Absolutely not. I vote no. Gross. Unions are for, like, poor people who wear sweatpants and work at supermarkets. And factories. This is wrestling. We’re entertainers. We’re influencers. This is a different tax bracket.

I vote no as well Elon not looking up from his notepad where he’s sketching someone nonsense, This would drain our EBIDA, to the tune of billions.

You’re already worth like… the most billions

La-la-Labor is outdated Mr. Lane. I say we -uh-uh-  scrap the entire concept all together. We digitize everything, with a blockchain–poweered AI that eliminates the need for labor in wrestling et all. We don’t need the human spine anymore.

This is a slippery slope. Smoking Bob pipes up,First it’s health care, then it’s booking control, then it’s the talent refusing to fork their titles over after a loss unless they’re guaranteed a pension.I vote no.

No! Steven Silverstein is heard, I vote no as well. Do you know how many Spirit Halloween’s operating in XWF warehouses there’s going to be in our merger agreement? If this cuts into our Halloween pop-up numbers, I swear to god I’m pulling our Spirit branding from every ring post between now and October.

Atticus raises a hand.

Quesion

God help me.

Would that mean I can take down those hideous Spirit Halloween tarps from my XWF logo? Additionally: does the union get a logo? Like, an official design? I have some early drafts. Real clean. Real miami-cuban revolutionary chic, just in time for Relentless. he raises his eyebrows

Yeah, of course.

I vote yes.

I vote yes too.

w-w-w-w-w-whats wrong with you people? Elon is getting real tight.

Dolly has bled as much for the XWF as anyone in this room. She’s a champion we deserve. And if she wants to try making the XWF a better place for the talent, to form a union? Then she deserves a chance.

Think of the money we’ll lose!

Taco shuffles down the table Oink! and spills over another freshly mixed rocketmilk all over Elon’s belongings, and bites his finger

Taco votes yes!

That’s four yes’s, and four no’s

Who’s left?

Ari…

Dolly’s old friend. She hasn’t help but notice just how strange he’s been behaving. And now he’s suddenly nowhere to be found.

Oh, the mailroom guy? I forgot about him.

He lays his hands on the table. Dropping his voice just enough to carry,

I’m not letting Dolly leave this room without a signature on a contract. I don’t care if we’re here all night. If we have to vote again, and again, and again, we will. Because this company is nothing without its talent. And right now it’s talent is about to walk out with our top tile… and she’s right to do it.

He points at Dolly.

You want a union? We’ll figure it out. If the board won’t move, I will

The door clicks open. Standing there is Ari Silverstein, nearly dropping a binder. His eyes dart around like he’s looking out for a sniper.

I… I… ummm

Ari stammers, holding up a trembling paper. Something official. Legalese stamped across the top.

I vote yes.

Everyone freezes. Taco lifts his snout.

But… only if we find a compromise. A clause. Temporary. Conditional. It– it gives us a chance to see if the union… works. But if it’s doesn’t–

There’s a faint buzz of confused approval in the room. Passive shrugs. Even a little oink of affirmation.

Five yes. Four no.

Oh, rad, dude. Let me see that clause! Did you just write this up all on your own?

s-s-sure.

He hands it over nervously. Lane quickly looks over the clause.

Great! The motion carries. Great work Waters.

Dolly doesn’t smile. She just nods. 

After sometime, the room hums with the aftershock of the vote.

Papers are shuffled. Elon mutters into his smartwatch. Roxy is swiping through TMZ’s tiktok channel.

Ari stares at the table, pale and sweating.

Thad steps forward to Dolly. His footsteps slow and deliberate, handing Dolly the document— the one Ari brought in.

It’s thick. Over-worded. Ink still drying.

Dolly takes it without a word

You know how proud I am of you, right? finally breaking his stiff-board chairman act, putting a hand on her shoulder. You’ve got your union. The two share a smile. [But there’s a clause.[/thad]

She flips the page.

Eyes skimming:

Provision 9B: The newly recognized XWF Workers’ Union is to remain in effect for a provisional period of ninety (90) calendar days”

Failure to secure the signature of sixty percent (60%) of all actively contracted XWF talent within this period shall result in the automatic dissolution of all union provision, benefits, and negotiated terms pending further deliberation.”

Dolly lowers the paper

See? Not so bad. Just a little incentive

Ugh. WhatEVER. We’re not calling anything ‘Solidarity Slam’.

Atticus laughs and holds up a fresh sketch of a minimalist fist holding a steel chair. Love it!

Dolly flips through the pages some more, nodding along at a lot of the good is contained in the contract. She then spots something on the header of the conditional clause - - -

If there’s anyone who can pull it off, Dolly… It's you. I’ve believed in you since day one. And I know the others will too.

- - -The Offices of His Majesty: The King of XWF

She pulls her eyes over to Ari. His leg bouncing under the table.

Dolly nods.

Yeah they will. She looks back at Thad Time to get to work.

Later on: A Locker Room in Oklahoma ahead of Warfare

The place is mostly empty.

We remnants of folks like Thias Watts, and Solomon Kline, and Latoya Hixx filtering in and out.

Dolly stands near the door, in front of a plain whiteboard.

She pins a copy of the signed clause up with a single tack.

In bold, black letters, she writes underneath it:

60%

90 DAYS

She steps back. Looks at it.

Then, quietly at first –to whoever’s listening– she says:

You know who you are.

Her voice rises,

You know what you’ve given.

If you want a future… now’s the time to build it.

She turns back to the room where a handful of employees and talent alike have gathered.

Dolly pulls a chair to the center of the room, and stands in its seat.

She looks out at the names and faces that haven’t left yet. Some are waiting. Some are pretending not to. She doesn’t care.

Y’all see that?

She points to the whiteboard

That document on the wall? That clause?

Yer’ all officially a part of pro-wrestling first ever labor union- so long as you choose to be.

So long as you choose to say that you demand guaranteed healthcare. Guaranteed pensions. Equal pay and profit sharing. A guarantee that no one has to die in this business ever again….

But it ain’t victory. Yet.

It’s a countdown.

She gestures to the numbers she just wrote:

60%

90 DAYS.

That’s how long we’ve got before they rip this union out from under us. This promise. This admission of what they *can do*. An admission of what we’re damn-well entitled to! Hanging on that board in front of us like a damn bargaining chip. Something *they* don’t believe we’re strong enough to pull off.

I get it. Some of you think it’s a waste of time. Too little, too late? But if you’ve ever taped yer’ wrists with yer’ teeth because yer’ too sore to use your hands…

If you’ve ever looked out at the crowd and thought ‘This might be the last time I can do this… and nobody will even remember my name–’

Then the fight is already yers…

A few of the wrestlers and workers in the back exchange glances,

I aint the only one bleeding fer’ this.

But I am the one holding the Universal Championship for this. The one prepared to stand in that ring, with a mic in her hand and speak truth to all of yer’ perils. To tell the world that the XWF doesn’t belong to one King, or a Corporation, or any sinister gang. It belongs to all of us!

Tonight I go out there and wrestle one person in this company who I know gets it. Even if he’s too damn twisted up to admit it.

She looks directly into the camera now. Not smiling. Not posturing.

Dickie.

I see you.

I see what you’ve been doing these last few months… Chewing through every kind word you’ve ever said about this business. Setting fire to every connection you ever made here. Kicking at the walls just to prove they’ll break before you do.

You think it makes you dangerous?

It doesn’t.

It makes you lonely.

You walked in here saying you didn’t give a shit about legacy. That all you wanted was to wrestle. To feel something again That this was the last place you were going to try before you gave up completely… and I believe it. But now? Now yer’ snarling like a dog that finally bit the hand and didn’t like the taste of blood. 

You say this place never gave you what you were owed.

But Dickie… you never asked. And now yer’ gonna be standing across from me, Dolly fucking Waters, like I’m the last thing you need to burn before you finally believe yer’ free.

You wanna’ fight me?

Good.

I wanna’ wrestle you.

I want to show you that you can finally have a place in this world in you’ve been seking. You can finally have a cause to fight for between those ropes. You don’t have to lie to yer’ girlfriend about your gang affiliations anymore. You can have what you’ve always really wanted. The dignity and equality of a true family.

The Union is for Dickie Watson.

I’ll go to that ring tonight, not ready to ‘destroy you’, or be some calamity to yer’ wellbeing, tonight I go to that ring in the spirit of competition. To proudly wrestle against one of my peers. One of the most gifted athletes on the entire roster. And to celebrate what it means to be victorious over such a competitor.

There’s nothing to break between you and I, Dickie.

We’ve already been broken time after time in the quest for something worth fighting for…

She pulls the Universal Championship up on her shoulder

This ain’t just a belt anymore. It ain’t a reason to think you’ve *made it*. It’s so much more. It’s the damn match that lit the fuse.

And if Dickie, yer’ gonna’ stand across from me, looking for something to burn down?

Then you better be ready for what I’m building behind it.

This ain’t yer’ funeral, Dickie. And it ain’t mine either.

It’s a test.

To see which of us still has a pulse when the smoke clears:

The exploitive status quo of professional wrestling, or us, Dickie.

The Union. All of us together. Demanding dignity, and respect.

Deep down, I can’t help but to feel like I know you.

Yer’ someone who’s been abandoned one too many times. Someone who just wants to be loved. To be appreciated for all of the blood you’ve spilled on that mat. To be remembered for the impact you’ve made on our sport. That doesn’t make you special, Dickie. That makes you on equal footing with the rest of us. But you have to remember this Dickie: if all of those you’ve defeated to build yer’ name mean nothing, if they’re disregardable. Another object to be broken. Then what impact are people supposed to remember anyway?

The Calamity ain’t so savorery of a memory.

Our paths were different. I was kicked around from the beginning, while you were someone who right away burst onto the scene, and showed the world just how talented you were. You had the name, the accolades, the shining lights. But somethings always been missing ain’t it?

It’s why you could vanish for months after a loss.

It’s how an XTreme Championship could slip through yer’ fingers just days after winning it.

It’s how you could find yer’self unceremoniously chucked from the Leap of Faith match by a person with as shallow a heart as Matthias Syn.

It’s how you can find yer’self tricked into leading a dangerous crime syndicate like the Yakuza.

It’s because you wanted to believe more than anything that Kei had yer’ best intentions at heart. Because you need so badly to be needed that yer’ even anchored down by the promises of dead people.

My promise to you though is tangible, Dickie. It’s in the here and now. A promise that if we stand together, we who have bled so much, that we will have the home, the family that we’ve always wanted.

Solidarity fer’ all!

Dolly raises the title in the air. Some of the wrestlers and workers who’ve stuck around throw their fists up in unison,

I didn’t just defeat Charlie Nickles and The Corporation so that I could wear this belt, so that my name would be bigger. What’s a legacy without anyone to share it with, right? I did it for you, Dickie. For people like us. People who were broken by this industry, and told that the only way to success was to break people back. Problem is, eventually yer’ left without anyone. Yer’ left alone… much like you are now.

I heard what you said against Tatiana. You said you didn’t believe that wrestling be a better place. Granted, her idea of better was more about blowing up her own ego.

We shouldn’t demand cleaner matches because we think we’re superior in them. We should demand them because the vibrancy of this sport demands that we are standing in solidarity, outside of the ropes and in them. Because the future of the XWF demands that we lift one another up, not actively seek to destroy one another. There’s only one person who ins in that game, and spoiler alert: it ain’t Dickie Watson.

And you should know… you’ve seen just how little a *legacy* can mean once you’ve stepped on everybody on yer’ way to achieving one. Yer’ left without a home. With no one left to believe in Dickie. With nothing left for Dickie to believe in.

You don’t gotta; burn it all down to feel alive, Dickie.

You just need to believe that something better can be built.

And if you can’t… then the Union builds it without you.

But deep down, I think you want to believe.

I think you need to believe.

So meet me in that ring tonight, and bring everything you’ve got.

Not for revenge.

Not for ruin.

But for rebirth.

Because that’s what this is now.

A new day. A new fight. A new way onward.

And if yer’ man enough to stand beside me instead of stomping around like the world owes you something? If yer’ man enough to stand with me and demand that the XWF be that family we’ve always wanted.

Then I know there’s a place fer’ you in its future.

I want you to stand by me Dickie.

The Union needs Dickie Watson.

And Dickie Watson needs The Union.

But if not?

Then get outta’ my way… because tonight The Union marches on.

4x XTreme Champion    (1x as Misty Waters)
3x Television Champion
3x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles, w/ Madison Dyson)
2x Hart Champion
1x Universal Champion

5x Star Of The Month
July ‘25, August '24(As Misty Waters), 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

2024 Storyline Of The Year (The Misty Waters Takeover)