Outside of a warehouse Louisville

My sincerest apologies to the reader. I know this story has gotten bizarre.

I’m as shocked as you are, and it’ll only get more shocking.

And so, before I bring you into the current day setting, I have to tell you about the year of our lord 2019. This exact location in Louisville, where teenage Dolly Waters whimsically founded a Think Tank, funded by her newly discovered stockpile of uncashed XWF royalties checks.

Dolly hired ten migrant workers from India, and tasked them with bizzare duties: predicting lottery numbers, perfecting March Madness brackets, designing cutting-edge memes, and driving social media engagement. The entire operation was more play than anything serious. Befitting the ambitions of their bored, teenage benefactor.

One day, as mysteriously as she had arrived in the lives of these migrants, Dolly vanished during a meth bender, never to return to the Think Tank. However, a biannual endowment from Dolly’s royalties continued to fund the organization. And as the money continued to flow, so did the work within the Think Tank.

More money, more problems.

Power struggles would soon emerge amongst the migrants, as different factions of researchers began to argue over the will of their mysterious founder. Their work became more intricate — some innocuous, others darker, exploring the edges of technology and mysticism. Factions formed within the group, each with its own vision and ambitions  Each group saw the money continuing to deposit into the shared spending account, and took that as a sign that Dolly was pleased with their work, and that the other groups were wasting their efforts. But as the research developed, so did the resources dwindle, and so each faction would continue to fight to fund their projects. Fearful if they let the other groups go on, the money would stop flowing in.

And now, arriving in a black stretch limo along the front sidewalk of this Think Tank, for the first time in 5 years, is their founder Dolly Waters.

Only it’s not really Dolly. There’s instead a madness animating her body.

ooohhh yeeeeah

A gaudy white cowboy boot, lined with glittering sequence makes an appearance from the limo. Stepping onto the sidewalk as Misty Waters stands from her lavish ride. White leather pant legs stretched tight up to her waist, matching the tassel lined jacket on her torso.

Momma’s back

A piece of gum smacks between her wide, smiling teeth that are shining under the reflection of her wrap around shades. Grinning, with her face clearly focused on the Think Tank. Leave the engine running, sugar She speaks back to the driver, this ain’t gonna’ take long at all.

Misty approaches the Think Tank with a confident strut, red wig under a cowboy hat and all. As she nears the door, a facial scanning device recognizes her features, Dolly Waters’ features, and triggers a locking mechanism to the tinted glass door entrance.

The portion of the warehouse allotted to the Think Tank is a large industrial office space. Maybe 2,000 square feet. Four different partitions of cubicle walls have cordoned off different sections of the office space. In the center of the room is a series of several desks lined up next to one another, making one long table. A line of rolling bulletin boards on either side of the long table, filled with graph charts.

The sound of someone entering the building caused a stir behind the cubicle partitions. The walls began to move. Fingers grasping out from the other sides, hands pushing the walls open. As Misty walked deeper into the office space, the cubicle walls opened up revealing the people behind each area.

There was Rohan Bail, Mamata Burgi and Tamil Kapoor appearing from behind one of the walls. Behind another was Sai and Shivanish Gopi, twin brothers. Four more of the original ten migrant workers each walked from behind the other sets of cubicle walls. One of those original ten however that’s missing… Patel Gagendepp. The man who left the Think Tank to become Dolly’s assistant in an undercover research mission for his faction. The man who became Dolly’s dear friend. The man who, unbeknownst to the rest of the Think Tank, just died in a hospital bed days ago. 

The awestruck in their faces can be seen in Misty’s sunglasses, as they slowly creep toward her, a twisted smile stretching across her lips. Tears flood the eyes of the weary migrants who’ve so long awaited the return of their founder.

Yer’ work here has not gone unnoticed, my children.

Though accented with a thicker southern drawl, her voice is unmistakable that of their founder, Dolly Waters. Her face, her frame, her eyes, her hair growing underneath that redwig she’s wearing. Yet the one thing that doesn’t remain of Dolly is the most important, her spirit. Because the woman delivering the words, the woman gazing upon this plucky and ancillary vestige of resources ready to foam from the mouth in excitement is Dolly’s grandmother, Misty.

Yer’ devotion to excellence has brought me to pay tribute after all of these years.

She says, widening her arms out and looking up to the ceiling.

We shall now be rich beyond our wildest dreams!

The migrants gather down each side of the desk, holding their arms around each other's shoulders. Some try to hold one another up from falling in elated shock. Weeping and cheering, shaking one another’s hands. But Rohan, Tamil and Mamata look on with more dazed glares. Their eyes wide, nearly looking petrified.

Now bow before yer’ Mother!

Misty leaps onto the table and slowly marches down it, as each migrant on either side falls to their knees.

My loyal children. Who were so devoted to bringing me back. After all these years.

Misty stops at the center of the desk and looks upon the floor at her subjects with a tender smile. Now let the ones responsible for bringing me back stand- All of the kneeling migrants along the table suspiciously eye one another. After all of these years. The tedious experiments, the squabbling over the available funding, their loss of Patel who they haven’t seen in nearly two years now. After all of that jockeying and infighting to see who was correct in interrupting their founders' will, the moment has finally come for them each to lay claim to the success of the Think Tank.

They all rise in unison-

- I said for the ones responsible for bringing ME back to stand-

The eyes of the twins Sai and Shivanish bulge from their heads The ones who brought Misty Waters back!

Sai and Shivanish dart from the table, and try to flee the building, but Rohan and Mamata chase after them, quickly tackling the twin brothers down. While the other four migrants look on in disbelief, Tamil flips one of the desks over and grabs young Kumarasan Gopoo, the youngest of the migrants, and holds a knife to his throat. The twins struggle on the floor with Mamata and Rohan. But Shivanish is subdued, strangled from behind by a belt in Rohan's hands, while Mamata bashes Sai in the skull with a paperweight.

Misty slowly steps from the table, and pulls a gloc from her waist. She smiles and exchanges the gun for Tamil’s knife. As Tamil now holds Kumarasan with a gun at his head in front of the other terrified migrants. Misty struts with a  swaggery step toward the action with the twins.

You two really thought you could thwart me?

She kneels down beside the strangled Shivanish. Sai’s head is being held up from the floor, forced to watch his twin brother, Mamata pulling his hair just near where his temple appears caved in. Pulling a little stunt like sending Patel to divert Dolly from me? Divert her from her destiny?!

She screams in Shivanish’s face,

Well let me let you in on a little secret -yeeeaah her tone lowering to condescending growl, It was Patel who led Dolly straight to me, and now he’s dead- she gets right next to his face -just like you and yer’ brother, oooh yeeeah she hands the knife to Rohan who wastes little time dropping the belt, and catching the breathless Shivanish as he stumbled forward on his hands and knees. Rohan stabs the blade into Shivanish’s jugular and quickly slashes down. Blood gushes out.

“NO!” Sai screams

One of the other migrants tries rushing Tamil, but his trigger is quick. With no hesitation, young Kumarasan is shot in the head. Sai, still screaming, somehow pushes up and away from Mamata, overpowering her. Tamil drops Kumarasan’s lifeless body, turns and fires at Sai, striking him in the hip as he falls through the door, out onto the dusty sidewalks of the industrial park. Rohan discards Shivanish’s lifeless body and goes to chase after Sai

Leave him! He ain’t making far wearing that tattoo. Plus, we got more pressing matters to attend to, my children.

after the gunshots

Misty is led through the office of slain migrants, to the corner where “her children” have been steadily working for all of these years. Mamata, Tamil and Rohan beam with pride and blood on their faces as they lead Misty behind their partition. Behind the partition, the industrial office transforms into a sleek laboratory. The centerpiece of this lab is a cylindrical device, standing about seven feet tall,crafted from polished stainless steel and reinforced glass. This device is known as the Synthetic Embodiment and Enhanced Realization System.

The S.E.E.R.S.

So this is it huh? …my baby

Misty approaches the machine, walking past a small desk cluttered with notebooks, sketches, and prototypes, showcasing the daunting process that Mamata, Tamil, and Rohan have undergone to perfect their creation. Among these items, a disregarded framed photograph of the original team, including Dolly, serves as a somber reminder of their journey and the ambitions that have driven them to this point.

Misty leans against the glass chamber in the middle of the machine, where a glowing liquid pulsates with a soft, blue light.

“Your baby,” Rohan is the first to speak, “is our magnum opus.”

Misty hugs the machine, closing her eyes and stroking her fingertips along the sleek stainless steel.
Oh the power…

“For a leader who appreciates its strength,” Mamata says while kneeling. “For a leader who deserves to wield it,” Tamil adds, kneeling alongside his colleague.

Above the machine, there’s a holographic control panel projecting various 3D models and data visualizations into the air. The holograms display genetic codes and detailed blueprints of human anatomy.

“The S.E.E.R.S. has all the data of humanity inputted into its mainframe. It can synthesize fully formed humans from artificial intelligence, my dear leader,” Rohan says, now kneeling as well.

Misty pulls away from the machine, awarding the trio’s work with a slow clap.

Stunning, my children. You make yer’ momma so, SO very proud!

The implications of this power being in Misty’s hands are unfathomable. Misty, who always watched Dolly from afar, saw the think tank not as a quirky side project that her granddaughter founded, but as a potent weapon. An ace in the hole. A manipulation project where she could secure the contingency of her life if it were ever jeopardized. Her goal to harness their expertise in AI, data prediction, and even darker, esoteric knowledge to further her ambitions has paid off. Global dominance, starting with the wrestling world, was now within her reach, and with the youthful exploits of having seized her granddaughter’s body, Misty has more time than ever to see her devious plots to fruition.

“What is your first command of The Seers, dear leader?” Rohan asks, still kneeling and bowing his head,
The lord has our path laid before us, my children.

The Universal Championship at Leap of Faith, the power, the influence, the money- it is just beyond our grasp. And en route to what will be our crowning moment in The Vatican City, we have been given an opportunity for even more momentum. The Television Champion, something called Jason Cashe, has been booked to defend his gold against me at XWF Warfare.

But the power that has been granted to me by the lord does not come without a price. The lord demands tribute to quell his thirst. For me to continue my ascent through the XWF, blood must be shed in his honor.

“What are you suggesting, dear leader?” Mamata asks,

What better way to study the man I’ll be defeating on Warfare, than to study him from the inside out?

The Think Tank trio raises their heads, their eyes wide,

Yer’ gonna’ make me a Jason Cashe

Some hours later

The sound of pressure releasing rolls through the warehouse, as steam emits from The SEERS machine, around the creases of a door. The once light blue liquid inside has turned to a bubbling green that begins to drain off from the inside. The hatch door of The SEERS opsn and out walks-



What the fuck is that?

“That’s Jason Cashe”

Rohan responds,

Y’all seen my cell phone? I need to check my twitter mentions. the Ai Jason Cashe asks,

That looks nothing like Jason Cashe.

“It appears as if the A! synthesized Jason Cashe from 2021”

Wow, he’s really undergone a dramatic change in appearance over the years.

Misty approaches the AI version of Cashe, he’s wearing a dumbfounded, toothless grin,

Whats your twitter handle? Lemme get that follow back.

Oh I’ve got somewhere for you to follow, old boy. You and all four of yer’ feet. Misty looks down at the bizarre, additional appendages that have grown on the AI’s body.

You got any lesbian underwear pics? The tone of his voice has an unsettling echo that multiplies while he speaks. I need to be seen shadow tweeting about how thirsty you are. I’m under consideration for one of the very elusive, very exclusive, OCW contracts. Be a huge fucking star, my dude.

Really? Why don’t you tell me all about it on the car ride?

Misty leads the AI Cashe, who walks bowlegged while tweeting on his phone with 13 fingers, out of the warehouse and into the limo where her driver has been patiently waiting.

Some more time later

Lord almighty

Misty calls out into a forsaken darkness, a lone light shining down on her and the AI Cashe,

I offer you tribute, my lord

There’s a horrible bellowing coming from the dark, that eases into a powerful, insidious tone,

Oooooooh, Waters? What has it to offer thine lord?

I bring to you- Misty looks over at the drooling Cashe who’s retweeting pictures of himself smoking weed, -uh, FUTURE megastar of the OCW, JAson Cashe!

Ah what?

A beast emerges from the dark, and it’s comically horrifying, like something out of a bad 80s sci-fi horror flick. A tall, slim beast with a spiny and sharp exoskeleton, and large horns protruding from its goblin-like skull. 

The beast, otherwise known as the lord, approaches the clueless AI Cashe, sniffing up and down his body while Misty stands frozen in fear. In a ghastly scene, the lord abruptly tears one of Cashe’s arms clean out of its socket. Cashe screams and crumbles to the ground, as Misty jerks back, her eyes bulging at the gruesome sight of the lord eating Cashe’s arm around the bone like a drumstick.

I hope this sacrifice pleases you, Lord Almighty

The lord stops, and glares at Misty.

This blood will not do, Waters!

What? Why not?

It’s only 26% percent human, the rest is stale, artificially manufactured emo boy garbage! YOU DARE DEFY ME, WATERS!?

But Lord Almighty! He’s just like the real Jason Cashe! Only younger, less sensitive and fruity!

I DEMAND PURE BLOOD OF THE FIRST WORLD, FOOL! NOT THIS WATERED DOWN, SENESITIVE TOUGH GUY SHIT! 

NEED I REMIND YOU OF THE POWER I GRANT YOU?! IF MY TRIBUTE IS NOT MET IN FULL, I SHALL STRIP YOU OF- - - EVERYTHING! he roars, while Misty cowers over and cuffs her ears,

Of course! Of course my lord! I shall never defy yer gifts! Let this be but an appetizer while I go on and fetch yer’ main course. Some vibrant, Indian cuisine! I’ve got a warehouse full of genius data engineers who would just LOVE

SILENCE! the lord roars while slamming his fist into the stomach of the grounded Jason Cashe, disemboweling him and tearing his small intestines out AND MAKE IT SO!
Misty turns curtly from the horrifying sight, just in time to be startled by the cameras,

he-he! Don’t worry about that- she nervously looks over her shoulder and waves her hand at the image of the lord mutilating the AI Jason Cashe.

What’s the harm in a little theatrics, right?

Yeah- see that’s something Jason Cashe knows a bit to be true too, yeah. What’s wrong with a little artificial intelligence? YEAH!

What’s the difference between that thing being mutilated behind me and another cheap knock-off wrestler, acting like a clone of the same garbage that came before em? What else would the XWF be without a brand new crop of entitled scabs who think they were brought in to save pro wrestling?
That was you too once, wasn’t Jason, right after the little preview the world got of you also being hired to save the OCW.

Remind the likes of the current Universal Champion of that after I take yer’ TV Title at Warfare and leave you knocking on his door- oooooh yeah!

The Misty Madness keeps her promises.

You remember that when yer’ twitter thirsting yer’ romance for the world to display, that the XWF and Misty Waters ain’t fer’ the faint at heart!

You’ve been reminded before, Jason, oooh yeah, you’ve been reminded all right. You’ve tasted the dirt here in the XWF, and listen to you cooing now, and asking fer’ your little pussy to patted because you “don’t opt in” you just “wrestle when they book me”, as if it weren’t an esteemed obligation of carrying that very Championship i’ve been lined up to take!

Listen to a man who once looked like a meth head from Bum-fights call into question the appearance of Latoya Hixx, chastising, and bullying her for going from fat-face to black-face on Warfare, when just years years ago you went from crack-face to tat-face. Those are VERY nice dental implants, Jason.

Yer’ too sensitive, yeah. See, you need the Madness in yer’ life, yeah. Just like Bulk Logan last Warfare. You can join the Madness with me Jason. Or you can get left to wallow like yer’ so used to doing. See as much as you, or anyone else might think I’m actually Dolly Waters, it is you, Jason Cashe, who most reminds me of her.

A pouty, self sabotaging head case who disrespects their elders! Yer’ Momma was right to beat you, just like I was right to beat Dolly. Had the two of you listened to the more sensible, more traditional, more stable pressences in yer’ lives, then people like Misty Waters wouldn’t have to intervene to clean yer’ act up.

The weight of the title wears on you Jason, it’s a boring weight. Yer’ destined for so much more. Just Misty Madness, oooh yeeeah. Join forces with me on Warfare. Relinquish yer’ title and let me guide you, as you go on to take yer’ rightful place as contender for the Universal Title. Let me guide away from the self sabotaging idiot who lost his wife. Let me show you how to be a man when you kill a lifelong fan the way you murdered Danny.

Or make me take the title Jason. Which I ain’t got no problem doin oooh yeah.

These days you may be a little artificially endowed, playing the tough man on twitter, but when the Madness comes on Warfare... YER GUNNA DIG IT!

2x KWA Unified Southern Glory Champion
6x KWA Middleweight Champion
4x KWA Tag Team Champion
1x XWF XTreme Champion


-Dumb Dolly records that no one cares about-

3x XTreme Champion
2x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles)
2x Hart Champion
3x 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