Pasadena to Spokane, it was going to be a relaxing drive up the Golden Coast with an overnight pitstop in San Francisco. Dolly was sick of flying, and with a little more than a week between her contests on Anarchy and Savage, she wanted to slow down and actually breathe the air that she’s traveling through. Take in the sights. Enjoy some company.

Bags. Check.

R.L. Edgar tosses a pair of travel slings into the back of an SUV rental, strewing them atop the rest of his and Dolly’s gear. Dolly meanders around the vehicle between the other parked cars in the hotel parking lot, and aids her uncle.

Cooler.

She grabs one arm of the plastic camping cooler, helping lift it into the back of the SUV. The two struggle and grunt through its weight

Check

Edgar strains the word before clapping away some imaginary dust from his hands,

..sheesh that was heavy! What’s in there? Cement?

Just the essentials. Edgar laughs, lifting back the lid of the cooler. It’s packed with ice, frozen fruits, protein blends, and a week's worth of meal prep. All buried under a gazillion bottles of water. The blue hue from their labels brings a glow out of the icebox. So essentially yer’ a fish?

I’m indeed one with the Waters he bows his head, mimicking a monkish gesture. A facetious tone given all that particular discovery entailed,

A quick recap for anyone who might care:

In 2021 R.L. Edgar discovered he’s the son of Misty Waters, just prior to winning the XWF Hart Championship at Snow Job. Misty is, and is safe to assume now, was, was, the mother of Muddy and grandmother of Dolly Waters. For reasons never learned, Misty tried coercing Edgar into murdering his niece Dolly during the XWF event MayDay - At Ye’ Ole Commune. With some help, Edgar was able to foil Misty’s plot and escape her clutches with his hostage family. But Misty wasn’t finished. She would again attempt to murder Dolly in September. This time via kidnapping, and killing friends and family of Dolly’s alike. But like Edgar, Dolly too would escape, this time with her hostage uncle, and while burning Misty’s world to the ground.

Since then Edgar and Dolly have been pretty tight. Especially since the wake of those events brought such devastating consequences for the both of them. They’ve coalesced in a family bond they were never supposed to learn about.

Well, even if you ain’t wrestling with me, it’s nice having yer’ company.

Families gotta’ stick together

... Dolly pauses on a thought concerning Edgar’s home-life. But as she watches him bent over, his face so genuine, so fixed on the contents of the cooler, Dolly lets it go. No need to stir anymore of the emotions that were on display last night in the hotel lobby. When Edgar finally admitted to Dolly that he was reconsidering his career as a wrestler over a cup of coffee.

As bad as she wanted to debate Edgar into remaining her tag team partner, she knew now wasn’t the time. And besides, at the end of this road trip up to Spokane was Reggie Estrada waiting in a steel cage. Dolly rightly knows that her focus needs to shift to her opponent.

So… Reggie Estrada

Edgar remains bent over and rummaging through the ice in the cooler, shifting the bottles around to maximize the ice’s affect on their temperature.

I told ya! You’re in the gutter of the card booking now.

Gutta-gutta, THUG life! she makes a toy he in cheek harmonization of her vocals, whilst throwing up incoherent gang symbols with her hands. Edgar watches all of this, his head turned back from the cooler,

Please never do that again.

Eat me, sucka

Nah. I’m good Edgar emerges from the cooler, munching on a baggie of apple slices.

Dolly’s brow bends, what’s that?,

Uh? he pulls the red delicious slice from his jaws, this obscure thing? Well, we humans call these ap-

No! That!

Dolly brushes past Edgar, and dives into the cooler, where a strange looking object has caught her eye. She retrieves its groadie looking surface. A bag of frozen is this molded dog diarrhea?

She holds the bag up, it’s triple bagged. it’s stiff, yet sloppy. A gravy type texture with pussing spores seeping through the pale green, diseased looking surface. There’s even some type of animal bone frozen through the layers of mold.

Oh. That’s the soup. he says nonchalantly between bites of his apple,

Soup? she pulls the bag away from her face to reveal a vexed expression, it looks like a frozen abortion

You know what it is! It’s the super soup stuff that War Criminal’s buddy sent you.

Wha-wait? Why do you have it?

YOU told me to keep it

Continued from: Family Matters In A Galaxy Far, Far Away. http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=43438 Backstage: Tokyo Dome: March Madness IV I believe I have a solution for that… she joyfully proclaims, holding up the thermos in her hand and giving it a good shake, What the hell is that? Sounds lumpy, and I feel like I can smell it through the container. Just some liquefied gratitude. A much appreciated gesture. Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul if you will. So what are you suggesting? That it’s time to let go of the things we’ve held onto. She says, unscrewing the lid to the thermos. Edgar’s eyes immediately well-up at the steamy rancid scent lifting from inside, Maybe you’ve gotta get knocked down a few times first, but maybe this is how we find out what REALLY matters in making a tag-team good team. Liquified Gratitude? He gags the words out, covering his nose and mouth with his shirt. Mhmm. Dolly turns the thermos up and empties its putrid contents onto the locker room floor. Steaming chunks of fermenting chicken soup splash onto the carpet, splattering up onto Edgar’s shins. She empties the whole thing, the bottom bits falling out like slow poured curdled milk, and drops the thermos to the floor with a smile. All the while, Edgar is gagging back on his vomit. His eyes squeezed tightly with tears streaming down. He gasps deep and opens his eyes, C’mon. We’ve got some work to do. Dolly says, turning away from Edgar swiftly and almost frolicing toward the lockerrom door. Edgar keeps the bottom half of his face covered with his shirt and cautiously steps over the puddle of fine aged broth. His eyes briefly fixed on the label across the thermos reading: Dear Leader’s Super Soldier Serum Homemade Chicken Soup. Brief contextualization. Dolly received this “chicken soup” in November of 2021. It’s currently March of 2022. Edgar moves past the mess and goes to follow behind Dolly, but not fully paying attention, he damn near tramples her to death as she abruptly stops in her tracks. I couldn’t see it… staring straight ahead at the closed locker room door. See what? a perplexed Edgar responds to the back of Dolly’s head, Dolly’s head rotates slowly, but on a dime, almost as if it’s spun completely backwards, her shoulders still square and facing the door, The girl doesn’t always take a hint- her voice seems to have morphed, and become not her own. But Edgar quickly considers the roaring echoes of the fans bouncing from the walls inside the Tokyo Dome. Do me a solid old boy, and clean that soup up. Edgar blinks in astonishment But don’t throw it out. We must hold onto the soup. and in the midst of this tingling sensation flicking between every inch of raised skin on his body, Edgar seems compelled. His vision tunnels and he soon finds himself scooping the soup back into the thermos with his bare hands. Unaffected this time by the horrible stench, and chalking this whole experience up to a-

You must’ve been dreaming that. I don’t recall that at all

Maybe you were dreaming it!

With the corner of the bag dangling from her fingertips, Dolly makes an icky face and drops the frozen soup back into the cooler. She goes to comment again, but is interrupted by a ding from her cell phone. She fiddles around with the screen and takes a quiet exit from the trunk of the SUV and moves out into the parking lot.

She reads the text message:

Great win last night!

Meanwhile Edgar shakes his head and moves toward the cooler to discard the chicken soup once and for all. He reaches for the bag, but feels a shoulder sized grip pulling him back.

You remember my voice?

Yes. his response is almost trance like,

I do believe I helped you out of quite the jam last May Edgar feels the hand move up his neck, a fingertip tapping now against his temple. The spot where Misty Waters planted a toxin releasing microchip. It was leverage she used to coerce Edgar into murdering Dolly, but thankfully was removed by- Your Majesty

We’re running out of time, Edgar.

Another text message flashes onto Dolly’s phone,

Have you given any more consideration to my offer?

It’s from Paul Heyman,

The girl must eat her soup. the voice warns,

Edgar spins on his heels to find that he is alone, clutching the bag of soup in his hands, and meeting the gaze of his niece from across the parking lot.

The scene fades.

A warning for you, Reggie Estrada:

There’s big things on my horizon, and you find yer’self in prime position to be the play tune-up band for the main event. By no means am I overlooking the “always-a-threat” Reggie Estrada, but I do have a greater prize in my sights beyond anything I can find in a steel cage with you in Spokane.

It’s something that means more to me than someone like yer’self could understand.

-Not calling you dumb, or shallow, or too obsessed with thotianas who smell like magnum wrappers to truly grasp the empty hand of something altruistic-

But my upcoming Universal Championship opportunity means more to me than pure achievement. More than material gain. It means more even than the majesty of the universe and the fabled brass skies of Valhalla.

… Dolly breathes deep through her nose, bottling back the rest of her thought on her upcoming Cannabis Cup match and reasserting her words toward Reggie

So don’t feel bad when I liken you to a pit stop.

Or better yet a truck stop, a real filthy one, somewhere near where you grew up. Where your mother and father had their first and only date. Because you are! You are the filthy truck stop on my road back to the East Coast. My road to the Velvet Rabbit in NYC. Spokane is a hole in the wall, Reggie, just like the one in your mom and dad's truck stop bathroom.

But again, don’t mistake me… we ALL need that filthy truck stop on the long road back home. It may be half functioning and worn down, but it’s there.

It’s reliable.

It does the dirty work that no other institutions have the guts fer’

It stuffs its toilets with millions of road anxious turds.

It paints its walls with misspelled graffiti and drawings.

It gives a safe place for truck drivers and lot lizards to exchange goods.

It faces Dolly Waters in a steel cage.

Escape? Ha! My friend, let make something clear to you: I won’t being trying to escape Reggie Estrada. I’m looking to tune up. To follow up blasting HGH by blasting Reggie Estrada before I go blast through some random field of competitors on Warfare. But it’s all essential my guy. Trust me, I NEED this match with you, Reggie. Going toe to toe with Duke reminded me of where my weaknesses still lie, going toe to toe with you? It’s going to remind me where my strengths are. I’m going to dart around like a hornet. By the time I’m done pounding you into the mat, you’ll be trying to escape the cage not to win, but in fear of risking permanent injury.

But I wouldn’t aim to hurt you that way, Reggie. I don’t ever want you to not be around. The people who think they're such big timers in the XWF, they need you Reggie. Little ol’ me needs you! They need you to build their egos, and build their lore. I need you for a pit stop. A place to piss before I go tear their bull down.

We all owe so much. Some of us more than others. After all, you letting ALIAS build you up before you crumbled in front of him might just be where this entire road began.

Funny enough that yer’ now a pit stop before that road comes to the end.

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]