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Dolly Waters · (05-30-2025)

The camera shot coasts over the frothing bubbles of a hot-tub, panning up to reveal Dolly Waters in a state of relaxation, The Complete Works of Friedrich Engels resting in her hands. She flips through the pages as the peaceful moment stretches on. But naturally, the serenity is short-lived.

Yoink!

A hand reaches from above Dolly and plucks the book out of her hands. Dolly’s eyes widen in disbelief as the shot pans back just in time to see Madison Dyson chuck the book into the nearby pool. It sinks, and Dolly is understandably upset.

What the fuck, Maddy?! I was reading that! Dolly stands up in the hottub, hands on hips, turning and facing her partner, stewing.

Madison looks down at Dolly, casting her arms out with her own brand of consternation.

And that’s exactly the problem! You’re getting radicalized by that socialist trash! You’re about to fall off the deep end!

Oh, you’re a fine one. Dolly retorts. We’re allowed to have differences of opinion, even as tag partners.

There’s differences of opinion, and then there’s slumming it with Stim-King Flynn and that wannabe Marxist, Schism. Maddy takes a calming breath. I’m merely trying to show you an alternate point of view.

Alt-facts, you mean? I’m really not in the mood for some MAGA bullshit today, Maddy.

No, no, no! quickly shaking her head It’s not MAGA, promise!

Dolly narrows her eyes. Then, what?

I know of a place that preaches the gospel of political moderation! A neutral space where we can just… reflect and balance out the radical side of things. We could both go and learn something.

Dolly stares at her for a long, suspicious beat, Great, so I get to go and listen to some milquetoast shitlibs talk about how we should “reach across the aisle” and stop fighting the good fight?

Madison bounces on her heels, eyes widening in excitement, unbothered by Dolly’s disinterest.

Yes! Exactly! It’s perfect, really. Think of it like team-building, but more bipartisan… soul-searching! And less…fighting. It could be one of those “growth exercises” Lux’s always prattling on about.

Dolly glares at her, visibly unimpressed. She shifts, the water swirling around her, nearly boiling from her mounting frustration.

Team-building? So, what? People like you and me are supposed to find “common ground” with a bunch of aspiring politicians and nepo babies?

Madison shrugs exaggeratedly, her hands raised as if to say “why not?”.

Exactly! Forcing her own enthusiasm, If you’re lucky, they’ll serve us plain coffee with some healthy, non-partisan snacks like triscuits. They’re not biscuits or crackers, but delicious all the same!

That sounds awful.

Madison’s playful grin falters, and her tone shifts into something more earnest.

If you care about these Tag Team Championships as much as I do, then you’re going to listen to me… for once. That crap you pulled at MayDay? Destroying XWF property, running with pariahs like Flynn and Schism, attacking a member of management… all in the name of “fighting the system”? It’s bringing unnecessary heat on us.

Dolly straightens up, her expression hardening, becoming uncharacteristically still.

It’s about sending a message, Maddy.

Madison raises her voice, cutting Dolly off before she can finish.

You’re damn right it is, and the message is clear: “Hey, XWF Management, here’s a laundry list of reasons to screw me out of my tag titles”... Peter Principle already said he was going to punish you at Rebellion.

Dolly shakes her head scoffing, dismissing Madison’s concerns.

He’s a joke.

He doesn’t seem like he’s joking to me. You embarrassed him because of this silly crusade you’ve embarked on, and I’ll be damned if I let it impact our run with these championships.

There’s a tense silence as Dolly stares Madison down, both women standing firm in their respective corners.

Fine. Gritting her teeth through a hint of remorse under her stubbornness. I’ll go. But if I’m going to sit through a bunch of wishy-washy “moderation” nonsense, it’s on my terms. No more games. I’m done playing by “*their* rules”.

Madison’s smile fades slightly but still looks pleased with herself.

Exactly what I wanted to hear. she smirks, It’s all about “finding balance”, right? Let’s go find our center.

—----------

The camera pans a bleak, nondescript building. Everything is dull gray and the air is thick with an oppressive -almost malicious- boredom. A sign outside reads “Welcome to the Moderation Camp: Where Minds Develop Balance.”

Dolly and Madison step out of a van, their expressions a stark contrast to the hopeful slogan plastered across the camp entrance. Madison is bouncing with excitement, while Dolly looks like she stepped into a funeral home.

See? Madison nearly dancing, her eyes widening, Not so bad! It’s… it’s a neutral zone for reflection and growth! And, you know, it’s just a little…corporate-backed.

Neutral zone? she deadpans, eyeing the entrance Maddy, the only thing neutral about this place is the soul-crushing beige aesthetic.

The tag-champs walk toward the entrance, where a volunteer greets them with an uncomfortably wide smile.

“Welcome to the Moderation Camp!” Their voice robotic. “Where we put partisan politics aside to focus on unity, understanding, and mutual respect. We’re so happy to have you here today!”

Dolly forces a polite smile as she glances over at Madison.

It’s a cult her voice low, and mocking, We’ve entered a cult, Maddy.

Madison grins, unfazed by Dolly’s sarcasm

Maybe, but our cult now, right?

Dolly rolls her eyes but nonetheless begrudgingly follows. Madison passes by a nearby door which bears a sign that says “Reaching the Center with Mitt”. Madison points to the sign. Hey, how about we try this?

Dolly shrugs. If I have to. Who’s Mitt….?

But Dolly’s question fades away as it’s naturally answered as soon as they walk in the door.

Why it’s none other than Mitt Romney!

In fact, Mitt is sitting cross legged on a dias in the middle of the room, wearing a drab gray robe with a yin-yang symbol stitched on the back. He’s surrounded by others also sitting cross legged atop yoga mats. The smell of incense is undeniable as our duo walk into the room.

Mitt Romney?! Oh HELL no, Maddy! Dolly hisses in Madison’s ear.

Mitt Romney starts to intone from his position in the center of the room, striking a stereotypical meditation pose.

"OHHHHHHMMMMMMMM-everyone’s political opinion is as valid as everyone elses-OHHHHHHHHMMMMMMM-there is no right or left wing, only a human wing-OHHHHHHHHMMMMMMM-corporations are people too, my friend-OHHHHHHHHHMMMMMM"

Dolly starts rolling her sleeves up in a threatening manner. Corporations are people my ass!

Madison takes hold of Dolly and forces Dolly to look at her. This is EXACTLY what I’m talking about. This VIOLENT EXTREMISM! You could learn something from Yogi Mitt about tolerance and acceptance!

Mitt Romney supports HUMAN SLAVERY!

Okay, you’re exaggerating a bit! I mean, those workers in China don’t make much but I’m sure they can at least pay for ramen noodles at the company store.

NOT. HELPING.

Well we’re drawing attention so how about we just move along, hmmmmm?

Madison grabs Dolly’s arm and pulls her down several beige hallways. Walls lined with posters extolling the virtues of “Neutrality,” “Balance” and “Political Harmony”. The air smells of stale lavender and overused incense. Every corner of the camp whispers that neutrality isn’t just an idea, it’s a commodity.

See? This place isn’t so bad! I mean, it’s kind of… looking sheepish ... calming, right?

Dolly shoots Madison a look that could kill. If Orwell vibes are calming, yeah. This place is fucking creepy, Madison.

Oh, quit being so negative!

They stop in front of a small, sterile room. There’s a staff member wearing a uniform that reads “Certified Mediator” in bold letters. He gives them a stern, but friendly smile.

“Welcome to the Center of Emotional Reconciliation! Our goal here is to foster harmony through understanding and connection. Your task today: “Hug Out Your Differences.’“

Dolly’s face twists with disbelief, as she looks on at the half dozen pairs of aspiring politicians settling in on yoga mats across the room,

Oh, you’ve gotta’ be kidding me.

Madison shrugs, her eyes narrowing as she looks over Dolly’s annoyance,

Hey, maybe it’s good for us. We’re supposed to be about building bridges, right? It’s Dyson and Waters in a nutshell, afterall. It’s the reason why we’ve been such badass tag champions. Two people a worlds apart morally, finding common ground and building an unstoppable alliance!

Dolly stares at her partner, incredulous.

It’s one of those days, ain’t it?

Madison opens her arms to Dolly, smiling,

Come on! We’re good at this hugging-it-out stuff. You got me to free Corey and Lux for christ sakes! And we came together after that. All I’m asking in return is that you chill out with the radical shit so we can stay focused on defending these championships
Dolly almost drops her guard, but before she can respond, she and Madison are whisked into the room and led to a yoga mat.

The staff member begins clapping in rhythm, and without skipping a beat, he gestures for them to sit at opposite sides of the mat.

“Now, you two will face one another and start with a simple hug. Trust the process. Foster the mutual respect of the institutions that you are!”

Dolly looks at Madison, sitting cross-legged on her mat, clapping along with the staff member, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

Hug it out. She groans Why not? Maybe we should just hug all the XWF corporate stooges too, huh?

Madison slaps the yoga mat, trying to get Dolly to sit,

Dolly, come on- focus! We’re in a place to reflect, just like you babble about all of the time. You’re letting this shit consume you! We’ve got these belts to defend, and you’re about to let cronie-hacks in the XWF and a bunch of chusy-brained billionaires throw us off our game!

This place ain’t about “reflection”, Maddy. It’s about buying into the same system that’s been screwing us and everyone else for years. Just look around us!

She gestures to the room full of lifeless, dead-eyed moderates, looking eerie, starved and robotically hugging one another.

“I think it’s really brave how you condemned college students writing about the genocide in Gaza.” one says to another, “How benevolent of you to bring desperate workers from the third world here to undercut wages.” another extols.

Madison grimaces a bit. Okay, you’re not wrong about *all of it*... but we can’t burn everything to the ground just because it’s uncomfortable. There’s got to be a way to work the system without letting it destroy us. We’ve got something to fight for. We’ve got each other and these titles. Your revolution doesn’t need to burn the bridges… yet. At least not until we’ve trampled all over em first.

Dolly meets her gaze. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, recognition. Maybe Madison’s right– Yeah- she lets out an exasperated sigh, -okay, but- but before she can continue she jumps and screeches at the sound of-

“*My friend*”

-Mitt Romney standing right behind her.

Dolly spooks and recoils at the sight of his face.

“I hear you’re having… trouble… acclimating to the camp activities.”

Oh, trouble ain’t the word, ya’ weirdo.

Romney’s face hardens,

“Security!”

Guards move in- ushering Dolly and Madison away.

Hey, what the fuck did I do?

“If you two are going to be so stubborn about this, perhaps you need a little more… direct reflection”

Fuck! See, Dolly! Your damn crusading is getting us both in trouble now!

Romney follows as they’re dragged away.

“Why can’t you two be more like Sebastian Everett Bryce and Isaiah King, huh? Two soulless corporatized cardboard cutouts who believe in and stand for NOTHING! I can’t think of anything more zen than that!”

Are you kidding?! Those ambivalent hacks?! They don’t believe in anything but their own self-aggrandizement

“EX-ZACTLY! No political opinions! No deep commitment to anything! The most blase examples of humanity the XWF has ever churned out! Why if I still had the capacity for an erection I’d be full mast right now!”

They’re dragged to a large door labeled “DEVELOPMENT ROOM”

“Enjoy!” Romney chortles.

The door slides open to reveal the room beyond, and what they see immediately causes Dolly’s blood to run cold. The room is cold and clinical. Fluorescent lights flickering overhead, illuminating a space that feels like a surgery theater.

In the stands, a few camp participants are chained to their seats. They look frail, their faces gaunt and haunted, as if they’ve been here for too long.

In the center of the room, one man is strapped down to an operation chair, facing a giant projection screen. His head is mounted with an electronic mechanism, plugging some type of sensors throughout his skull, metal clips attached to his eyelids, keeping them pried open.

“OHHH NOOO! STOP IT PLEASE! NOOOO I BEG YOU STOP, PLEASE!!!”

He screams in torture as a staff member stands next to him, dripping saline into his eyes forcing him to watch Isaiah King promos on an endless loop

“IT’S AGONY!!!!!!

HE KEEPS HIGH-BROW ALLUDING TO MUDDY WATERS AND IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!!!!”

“You’ll come to appreciate the uninspiring, the dull, and the repetitious.” Romney steps from the shadow of the doorway, with a malevolent tone

“I CANT…PLEASE! IT’S TORTURE!!!!”

The sound of the tortured man’s screams fill the air. Dolly and Madison are roughly escorted into the center of the room. It’s a stark contrast to the fake serenity of the Moderation Camp.

Holy shit. Madison whispers, eyes darting around the room. She grabs Dolly’s arm, pulling her back toward the door, We need to get out of here, now.

No.

She yanks her arm away, her eyes fixated on the man in the chair,

This is it. This is what we’re fighting. This is the system.

She locks eyes with Madison, hardened resolve forming in her voice,

This is the face of corporate “balance.” This is where it all leads… where it turns people into fucking zombies. We’ve got to free these people!

Madison shuts her eyes, looking contemplative.

When they snap open, something has changed.

Well, if I’m all about doing what’s right now, might as well go whole hog.

Madison reaches into the back of her waistband and pulls out dual handguns! Dolly’s eyes go wide with shock.

Holy shit, Maddy!

Mama’s always strapped! She tosses one of the guns to Dolly. The goons who dragged them to this hellscape take notice of what’s going on and start to approach, but Madison trains the gun on them, stopping them in their tracks. Don’t fuckin’ move! Then, to Dolly. Let’s take this place out.

Without another word, Dolly smiles wide and pops off a shot at one of the screens playing Isaiah’s King’s promo, splintering the glass and ending the transmission!

Let’s fuckin’ goooooooo!

Now yer’ cookin’ with gas partner. Let’s spread it on!

Dolly and Madison burst into movement, leveling their guns at the other screens and popping off shots. We’re left with the lasting image of an action shot of our intrepid tag team champions, guns blazing, as the shot cuts to static, then to black.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey Sebby,

….say my name.

Shouldn’t be a tall order, right? Hey camera guy. Focus on these big beautiful lips.

The camera zooms in on Madison’s lips.

Mad-i-son….Dy-son.

She speaks her name slowly and methodically, drawing out each syllable. Then, she wags her hand back at the camera, prompting it to return to a fuller shot.

Easy peasy eh?

But not for Sebastian Everett Bryce. Oh, no!

Because despite the fact that I am one of three people to beat him one on one in the XWF you won’t see yours truly’s name pop up in a SEB promo. And why?

Because he still can’t reckon with losing to me. Except now, he’s lost to me TWICE. In singles and in tag competition. You see, SEB is always too quick to toot that horn and list off his many many accolades. He’s quick to offer a tip of the hat on X to Bobby Bourbon, but only because he beat him. But me?

I’m a big problem for Sebastian Everett Bryce.

Madison pauses a moment.

Ya know SEB, something you said in your last promo against that goof Enigma really stuck in my craw. You told the world that beating Bobby Bourbon proved that you’re the best in the business.

All the while I’m standing RIGHT FUCKING HERE. YOUR PROBLEM. THE ONE YOU COULDN’T BEAT AND STILL HAVEN’T BEATEN.

And you have the goddamn AUDACITY to crown yourself the very best with me prodding the knife in your back? You mind sharing some of that crack rock you’re smoking, hon?

Oh, but sure, you’ve got those two Universal Title reigns while Maddy’s got bupkis. But what you also have that I don’t is Thad Duke tugging your turgid smelly little member. Because do you know how many Universal Title opportunities I’ve gotten? Also bupkis. And you know why? Because Thad Duke is butt buddies with Corey Smith. And Corey Smith hates my fucking guts.

I should have been ROCKETED to the top of the card after I beat you, SEB! Charlie Nickles’ spot should be MY spot. But it’s not! Because political maneuvering still reigns supreme in the XWF, and doesn’t apply to jet set pretty boy millionaires who hollow out Thad Duke’s asshole in the sauna at the country club for war criminals!

I get it SEB, I really do. The Madison Dyson’s of the world SHOULDN’T be beating the YOU’s of the world. Maybe that’s why you still can’t say my name. Maybe that’s why it won’t comport in that smooth brain of yours. Because you just can’t make sense of it. It flies in the face of the established order of things. But that’s just the thing, Sebastian. I’ve always flown in the face of the established order.

I made a vicious imbecile a megastar.

I won the King of the Ring at a time when I was best known for being a manager.

I blazed a trail for women in the XWF as a Bombshell and Shooting Star champion at a time when the promotion was as grotesque and misogynist as it comes.

And finally I beat you when no one expected me to do so.

That which should not have happened, HAPPENED. And your continued inability to confront that proves that you are an utter weakling and COWARD.

Say my name, bitch!

SAY IT!

He won't fer'get to now.

As for you, my once Prince Adeyummy….*deep mournful sigh*....I just don’t think it’s going to work out. And….and…..it’s not me! It’s YOU.

We had a good thing going in that three on three tag a few weeks back. We mopped the floor with SEB and his hangers-on. And still, despite the evidence of your very own eyes, you agreed to team with that multi-time tag team LOSER instead of continuing to hang with the final bosses of tag team wrestling.

*Another mournful sigh*

Honey, that is a level of dumby dumbs that I just can’t abide. I mean, you KNOW he doesn’t work well with others, you’ve SEEN it, week in and week out. And still, in your infinite wisdom, you decided to pop that John Hancock on that title match contract. I think this is a case of your eyes being bigger than your stomach, Isaiah. The lure of returning to the top of the tag team division (fuck you, Bobby) is sooooo great that you’ll overlook a lame horse of a partner and, what? Power through this bitch off the back of your own talent?

Oh, HONEY.

Trust me when I say this is going to take so, so much more than just the temerity of one Isaiah “No Longer Yummy” King to accomplish. This is Dyson and Waters. The penultimate of penultimates. The baddest bitches on the planet. And if you’re thinking you alone have what it takes, that gimp Sebastian be damned, I have some terrible news for you.

You ain’t it. And you ain’t enough.

Tell ‘em why, Dolly.

Thanks fer' the softball, partner.

King ain’t enough to make SEB good at team-wrestling… because the numbers never lie.

See, the only shred of wrestling-credibility King has anymore is the notion that “at least he’s good on a team”.

It gives XWF all the excuse they need to book this absolute mismatch.

Because surely, if anyone, it’s King who can wrest some humility out of that self-absorbed, doddering failure of a “leader” that’s SEB.

King was one half of the longest-reigning tag champs afterall.

317 days!

…of absolute mediocrity.

King ain’t enough for this moment, because the very tag reign he boasts was never enough for him at any moment. Too busy fellating himself and chasing a crown his head was never strong enough to bear.

Ten months, twelve days, and five - count em- FIVE total matches.

Three wins.

One no-contest

And one glaring loss at the hands of Aurora and Lucy, the very team me and Madison punked for these titles to begin with.

Meanwhile, Dyson and Waters?

We’re 5-0 in tag contests in half the time. Fighting for these belts for the third consecutive PPV of 2025. While “The Crucible” was only featured with the belts on ONE PPV during the entirety of your “reign.”

When we faced-off at MayDay, you said that you were better than me, because you represented the tag titles with honor. Way to represent! The blockbuster that was defending against the American Storm at The Revelry!

Pathetic.

But it’s the last feather in the cap you’ve got, ain’t it? This notion that despite bungling the Uni twice, despite boasting a losing record to Dolly Waters in singles action, at least you were, at one time, one half-of… the longest reigning transitional tag-champs in history.

Madison golf claps while Dolly smirks,

Tell me why it matters that you two walk into Rebellion as a squad of former Universal Champions. It didn’t matter for you and Ned. Is that supposed to make me shudder?

I’ve flat out beaten nine of em… you and your past partner included.

You and your present partner the last two times I’ve stepped in the ring!

So tell me, why should I believe that you, Isaiah, are gonna’ be the one to carry SEB to his first ever tag win in XWF?

That spoiled child who couldn’t even lead his besties to victories.

The Empire in name only, desperate to avoid the fact that he’s on a monumental downturn in his career:

4-6 in his last ten matches.

A thousand days of holding gold in pro-wrestling… over!

That’s why he won't say Dyson’s name, that’s why he won’t say mine.

That’s why he’ll call Bobby the greatest wrestler he’s faced in XWF. Saying, and doing anything to salvage his reputation… lol, I’ve beaten Bourbon at least three times. Hell, I’ve even beaten TNGB for the tag titles, and SEB all but crowned them the tag-GOATS!

But now that little Napoleon is clawing his way back from St. Elba at Rebellion, am I supposed to believe that you will be able to guide him to victory, Isaiah? Do you think I believe he’s gonna’ let you steer the ship?

Would.

It.

Even.

Matter?

SEB, the man who got blasted by Dyson one-on-one…

Partnering with King, the man who got blasted by Dolly one-on-one…

There is no middle-ground. There is no politically correct way to say this:

SEB and King versus Dyson and Waters at Rebellion?

It’s a complete mismatch.

Fer’ all of our polarity, Dyson and myself are the most balanced, perfectly paired team either of you have ever faced. We’ve taken these tag titles to heights not seen in years!

And we’ll be damned to see another duo of self-serving moderates inflict another -*crucible* of boredom on the tag division.

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