CBWL 024

 Scene: Monday Morning – CBWL Headquarters

The elevator dings on the top floor. You step out into the sleek but slightly chaotic executive suite. The walls are lined with framed posters from the Maximum Destruction PPV, and someone has already taped a printout of the new 53-person roster to the glass wall near the conference room.

You can hear voices coming from the big glass-walled meeting room at the end of the hall.

Cowboy Watts is already there, boots kicked up on the long conference table, sipping coffee from a mug that says “World’s Okayest Booker.” Jim Ross is sitting across from him, flipping through a thick printed copy of the roster with a highlighter in his hand.

Cowboy looks up as you walk in.

Cowboy Watts: Mornin’. We got a situation.

He gestures at the papers spread across the table — multiple copies of the roster, some with red circles, some with question marks, and one that looks like it has actual coffee stains on it.

Jim Ross: Mornin’. We’ve been goin’ over this list since 7:30. Fifty-three active wrestlers. That’s not a roster anymore, that’s a fuckin’ payroll nightmare.

Cowboy leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette (he’s not supposed to smoke in the building, but nobody’s stopping him).

Cowboy Watts: We need to talk about how the hell we’re gonna use all these people without the whole thing turnin’ into a goddamn clown car. Some of these names are real money. Some of ‘em are heat magnets. Some of ‘em… well, some of ‘em are just here for the check and the chaos.

He looks at you.

Cowboy Watts: I already told JR to get the top of the power structure in here. Stanley, Colonel Parker, Steve, Sheri, Dan, Tony… whoever’s in the building or can dial in. We need to figure out who’s actually gettin’ TV time, who’s gettin’ protected, who’s gettin’ buried, and who’s just collectin’ a paycheck until we figure out what to do with ‘em.

Jim Ross slides a copy of the roster across the table toward you.

Jim Ross: We got the full confirmed list now. Some of these signings came in fast. We need to start makin’ decisions before this turns into a mutiny or a goddamn media circus.

Cowboy exhales smoke toward the ceiling.

Cowboy Watts: So… what do you wanna do, boss? You want the full war room in here, or you wanna keep it small with just the key people first?

He looks at you expectantly.

The meeting hasn’t officially started yet — but it’s about to.

The big glass-walled room is quieter than usual. Only a handful of people are here.

Cowboy Watts is at the head of the table, boots up, cigarette already lit even though the sign on the wall says otherwise. Jim Ross sits to his right with a thick stack of roster printouts and a yellow legal pad. Sterling Marlin is kicked back in one of the side chairs near the window, sipping coffee from a paper cup and scrolling on his phone like he’s just here to hang out with the boys.

The match agents are scattered around the table — Tony Soprano, Sarah Palin, Joan Rivers, and Bill Parcells. They’re not in suits. This isn’t that kind of meeting.

You walk in and take your seat.

Cowboy looks around the room, then at you.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Just us. No Kubrick, no Sheri, no Dan, none of that bullshit for now. Just the people who actually gotta figure out how to book this goddamn roster without it turning into a three-ring circus every week.

He taps the stack of papers in front of Jim Ross.

Jim Ross: We got fifty-three active wrestlers on the books right now. That’s after the big signing wave. Some of these names are money. Some of ‘em are heat. Some of ‘em are just bodies. We need to start sorting this shit out before we’re two weeks into TV and half the roster is sitting at home wondering why they signed.

Tony Soprano: (leaning back, arms crossed) Some of these broads are here for the check and the spotlight. That’s fine. But if they ain’t gonna move the needle or do what we need ‘em to do on TV, we gotta be honest about it. I don’t need another fuckin’ headache.

Joan Rivers: (cackling lightly) Honey, half of Hollywood signed up thinking this was gonna be cute and edgy. They’re about to find out it’s not cute when you’re getting powerbombed through a table or sitting in a porta-potty.

Sarah Palin: We got some real political heat with Boebert and Greene. That’s free press. We should use it while it’s hot.

Bill Parcells: (gruff) Doesn’t matter how famous they are if they can’t work or won’t listen. I don’t care if it’s Beyoncé or some girl from TikTok. If they can’t go, they sit.

Cowboy looks over at you.

Cowboy Watts: So. Where do we start, boss?

He slides the roster printout toward the middle of the table.

Cowboy Watts: You want us to break it down by tiers? By who’s actually gonna get TV time? By who we’re protecting and who we’re feeding to the wolves? Or you got something else in mind?

Sterling Marlin stays quiet in his chair by the window, just listening, boots crossed at the ankles like he’s here for moral support and free coffee.

The room waits on you. You reach over, grab Cowboy’s lighter off the table, and flick it open. He leans in slightly as you light the cigarette already between his lips. The flame catches. He takes a long drag, nods once in thanks, and leans back again.

You drop into your chair, get comfortable, and say it plain:

You (Mr. Nasty): Remember, I’m hands off, bud.

The room goes quiet for a second.

Cowboy exhales a slow stream of smoke toward the ceiling, then looks at you with that half-smirk he gets when he knows exactly what you’re doing.

Cowboy Watts: Yeah… I figured you’d say that.

He taps ash into the tray, then looks around the table at Jim Ross and the agents.

Cowboy Watts: Alright then. Hands off it is.

He sits up a little straighter, boots coming off the table.

Cowboy Watts: JR, give me the quick and dirty on where we’re at with this roster. Who’s actually useful right now, who’s dead weight, and who’s just here to cause problems or make us money.

Jim Ross flips open his legal pad.

Jim Ross: We got fifty-three active. Some of these big names are gonna want TV time and protection. Some of the political ones are pure heat. The monster girls and the big names like Lizzo and Rebel are gonna be easy to book in certain spots. The former child stars… that’s gonna be tricky. Some of ‘em can work, some of ‘em are just names.

Cowboy nods slowly, thinking.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. First things first — we ain’t putting fifty-three people on TV every week. That’s how you kill a show. We need tiers. Clear ones. Main event, upper mid, mid, and then everybody else fights for scraps or gets used in multi-woman shit shows.

He looks over at the agents.

Cowboy Watts: Tony, Sarah, Joan, Bill — y’all are the ones who gotta sell these broads on what we’re actually gonna do with ‘em. Some of ‘em are gonna be pissed when they find out they ain’t main eventing next week. That’s your job to manage.

Tony Soprano grunts.

Tony Soprano: Some of ‘em already think they’re bigger than they are. I’ll handle the ones who need a reality check.

Joan Rivers chuckles.

Joan Rivers: And I’ll handle the ones who need their ego stroked before we bury them.

Cowboy looks back at you for a second, almost like he’s checking if you’re gonna jump in. When you don’t, he keeps going.

Cowboy Watts: JR, I want you and the agents to start putting together a working tier list by the end of the day. Main event names, upper midcard, midcard, and then the “we’ll figure it out later” pile. We’ll go over it tomorrow morning.

He ashes his cigarette again.

Cowboy Watts: And somebody tell me right now — who the fuck do we actually like on this roster? Not who’s famous. Who can actually go, who’s got heat, and who we’re not scared to put in the ring with the real workers.

He looks around the table.

Cowboy Watts: Somebody start talking.

The room turns toward you for a moment, but Cowboy quickly waves a hand.

Cowboy Watts: Nah. He said hands off. So talk to me.

He leans back again, cigarette between his fingers, waiting.

You push your chair back, stand up, and head for the door without another word.

Cowboy watches you go but doesn’t stop you. He just gives a small nod, like he expected it.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. He’s out. Let’s work.

The door clicks shut behind you.

Cowboy turns back to the table, takes one last drag off his cigarette, and looks straight at Jim Ross.

Cowboy Watts: JR. Who are the jobbers on this list? And I don’t mean the ones who think they’re jobbers. I mean the ones who are jobbers. The ones we can actually beat clean every week without it hurting the show.

Jim Ross flips through his notes, highlighter already moving.

Jim Ross: We got a few that fit that bill right now. Some of the newer political signings — Lauren Boebert and Sarah Huckabee Sanders especially. They’re not gonna be winning much, if anything. They’re heat. They’re there to lose and make other people look good.

Tony Soprano: (cutting in) Boebert and that Sanders broad are easy. They signed up for the spotlight and the check. They’ll do what they’re told. Put ‘em in multi-woman matches, have ‘em eat the pin, and move on. No fuss.

Sarah Palin: They’re useful for the culture war shit too. You put Boebert in there with some of the bigger babyfaces and the internet loses its mind. Same with Greene. They’re not workers, but they’re characters.

Joan Rivers: And some of these former Disney girls are gonna be jobbers whether they like it or not. Miranda Cosgrove, Hilary Duff… they can bump, but they’re not ready to carry anything yet. Feed ‘em to the monsters and the real workers until they prove otherwise.

Bill Parcells: (gruff) Some of these names are just bodies. They signed because the money was stupid. If they can’t go, they lose. Simple as that. I don’t care how famous they were before they walked in here.

Cowboy nods slowly, thinking.

Cowboy Watts: What about the real bottom of the barrel? The ones we’re not even pretending have a future right now. The pure enhancement talent.

Jim Ross: Right now? Some of the lower political and internet signings. Anita Sarkeesian, Zoë Quinn, Brianna Wu… they’re not moving the needle. They’re there for specific angles or to eat pins in multi-woman matches. Same with Boxxy. She’s a meme. We can use her that way.

Tony Soprano: Some of these broads are gonna cry when they find out they’re losing every week. That’s fine. They signed the contract.

Cowboy leans back again, cigarette burning low between his fingers.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. So we got a clear bottom tier already. That’s something.

He looks around the table.

Cowboy Watts: Next question — who do we actually like? Not who’s famous. Who can actually work, who’s got something, and who we’re not scared to put in the ring with the real talent?

The room goes quiet for a second as everyone thinks.

Sterling Marlin stays quiet by the window, just listening.

Cowboy waits.

The room is quiet for a moment after Cowboy’s question about who they actually like on the roster.

Then, from over by the window, Sterling Marlin speaks up for the first time. He’s still leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in hand, like he’s just making conversation with the boys.

Sterling Marlin: Miranda Cosgrove is gonna be huge. Real popular at the truck stops.

The room goes dead silent for a second.

Joan Rivers slowly turns her head toward him with the most judgmental look imaginable. Tony Soprano just stares at him like he’s trying to figure out if he’s serious. Bill Parcells lets out a low, gravelly chuckle and shakes his head.

Cowboy Watts raises an eyebrow, cigarette halfway to his mouth, and looks over at Sterling.

Cowboy Watts: …The fuck did you just say?

Sterling Marlin: (completely straight-faced, shrugging) I’m just sayin’. You put her in some of them little outfits, maybe do some of that bubbly shit she used to do on TV… them boys on the road are gonna eat that up. She’s got that look. Innocent but not too innocent. Truck stops love that shit.

Jim Ross pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s developing a migraine.

Jim Ross: Jesus Christ, Sterling…

Tony Soprano: (grinning now) Kid’s got a point, in the most fucked up way possible.

Joan Rivers: Oh my god. We’re really doing this. We’re taking booking advice from a NASCAR driver who thinks truck stop clientele is a viable demo.

Sarah Palin: (smirking) I mean… he’s not wrong about the demo. Just saying it out loud like a goddamn animal.

Cowboy takes a long drag off his cigarette, then exhales with a low laugh.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Noted. Miranda Cosgrove: truck stop approved. We’ll put that one in the “creative” pile.

He looks back around the table, still smirking a little.

Cowboy Watts: Anyone else got any brilliant demographic insights, or can we get back to actually figuring out who can work?

Sterling just shrugs again and takes another sip of his coffee, completely unbothered.

After Sterling’s truck stop comment lands with mixed reactions, Jim Ross clears his throat and speaks up, calm but direct.

Jim Ross: I actually like Miranda on this roster. She’s got something.

He taps his pen on the legal pad a couple times, thinking.

Jim Ross: She’s got that bubbly, cheerleader-type energy from her Disney days, but I’ve seen some of her newer stuff. She’s grown up. She can talk, she moves well for someone who hasn’t done this full-time, and she’s got that girl-next-door look that can work as either a babyface or a sympathetic tweener. Reminds me a little bit of Molly Holly back in the day — that same kind of wholesome presentation on the surface, but you could tell there was more underneath once you put her in the right spot.

Cowboy raises an eyebrow, interested despite himself.

Cowboy Watts: Molly Holly, huh?

Jim Ross: Yeah. Molly could go. She could bump, she could sell, and she had that “too sweet for this business” vibe that made people want to see her get beat up… or see her overcome it. If Miranda’s willing to work and learn, I think she’s got real upside. She’s not just a name. She can actually be a wrestler if we develop her right.

Tony Soprano: (grunting) Better than most of these other Disney broads, I’ll give her that.

Joan Rivers: At least she’s not walking around like she’s still twelve. Some of these other girls are gonna need a hard reset on their image if they wanna be taken seriously in this environment.

Cowboy nods slowly, writing something down on the edge of one of the roster sheets.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Miranda gets a note. Potential. Not a jobber out the gate.

He looks back around the table.

Cowboy Watts: Anyone else got actual wrestling opinions instead of truck stop demographics?

Sterling just smirks and stays quiet, sipping his coffee.

After Jim Ross finishes speaking on Miranda Cosgrove, Cowboy looks around the table at the agents.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Your turn. Who do you actually like on this list? Not who’s famous. Who’s got something we can use.

Tony Soprano: (leaning forward, hands clasped on the table) I like Mila Kunis. She’s got that look, she moves well, and she doesn’t seem like she’s gonna be a pain in the ass. She can work as a serious upper midcard babyface or tweener. Plus she’s got name value without being so big that she thinks she runs the place. Low maintenance, high upside.

Sarah Palin: I like Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene for obvious reasons — they bring free heat and they’re not afraid to run their mouths. But if we’re talking actual wrestling talent, I think Florence Pugh has real potential. She’s tough, she’s got that no-bullshit energy, and she can probably go if we give her the right opponents. She feels like a future main eventer if we develop her right.

Joan Rivers: (smirking) I like Amy Poehler and Tina Fey. They can talk, they’re funny as hell, and they’re not afraid to look stupid on camera. That’s valuable in this environment. Plus they can bump and sell without complaining. They’re not gonna be world beaters in the ring, but they can carry segments and make other people look good. That’s useful.

She pauses, then adds with a wicked little grin:

Joan Rivers: Also… Courtney Love. She’s a mess, but she’s our kind of mess. Unpredictable, chaotic, and she’ll do whatever we tell her because she doesn’t give a shit anymore. That’s dangerous in a good way.

Bill Parcells: (gruff, arms crossed) I like Anne Hathaway. She’s got size, she’s athletic, and she doesn’t carry herself like some fragile little actress. She can be a serious babyface or a hard-hitting tweener. She’s not just a name — she actually looks like she belongs in a wrestling ring. Anya Taylor-Joy too. Weird look, but in a good way. She can play that unsettling, creepy character really well. That’s money in certain storylines.

Cowboy nods slowly as he listens, jotting a few notes.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Some actual useful opinions in there.

He looks around the table again.

Cowboy Watts: We got some names floating. Mila, Florence, the comedy girls, Courtney, Anne, Anya… that’s a start.

He leans back in his chair and looks over at Jim Ross.

Cowboy Watts: JR, what about you? You got any dark horses on this list? People most of these idiots are sleeping on?

Jim Ross flips a page in his notebook and starts to speak—

Jim Ross: I got a few dark horses on this list that I don’t think we’re talking about enough.

He taps his pen on one of the names.

Jim Ross: Jennette McCurdy. Everybody’s looking at the bigger names and the political heat, but she’s got real edge. She’s bitter, she’s got something to prove, and from what I’ve seen she can actually go in the ring. She’s not just a name from a kids show — she’s got that “I hate this business but I’m good at it” vibe that can work really well as either a tweener or a pissed-off babyface. She could be a dark horse main eventer if we let her cook.

Cowboy nods slowly, writing it down.

Jim Ross: Anya Taylor-Joy too. She’s got that weird, unsettling presence that most of these girls don’t have. She doesn’t need to be the biggest star to be effective. You put her in the right creepy, psychological storyline and she can steal the whole thing without saying much. She’s got that “something’s not right with her” energy that wrestling doesn’t have enough of.

Tony Soprano: (grunting) She’s got that look. Like she’d smile while she’s stabbing you. I like that.

Jim Ross: And Tara Strong. I know she’s mostly known for voice work, but she’s got real promo ability. She can talk. She understands character. In a world full of people who can barely cut a basic promo, that’s valuable. She could be a sneaky good midcard act or even a manager/valet type who eventually gets in the ring. People are sleeping on her because she’s not a huge mainstream name.

Joan Rivers: (raising an eyebrow) Voice actress turning wrestler? That’s either gonna be brilliant or a disaster. I’m intrigued.

Bill Parcells: She’s got size and she can talk. That’s more than half these girls got.

Cowboy takes another drag off his cigarette, thinking.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. Jennette, Anya, and Tara. That’s three names worth protecting a little bit instead of just throwing them to the wolves right away.

He looks around the table.

Cowboy Watts: Anybody disagree with any of that?

The room stays mostly quiet for a moment. Sterling Marlin just smirks from his spot by the window but doesn’t say anything this time.

Cowboy nods.

Cowboy Watts: Good. We’re starting to get somewhere.

He looks back at the group.

Cowboy Watts: Next. Who do we hate on this list? And I don’t mean “I don’t like their gimmick.” I mean who’s gonna be a pain in the ass, who’s gonna cause problems, and who we need to keep on a short leash?

The agents start shifting in their seats.

After Cowboy opens the floor to who they hate on the roster, Sterling Marlin speaks up again from his spot by the window, still casual as hell.

Sterling Marlin: I’ll tell you right now who I’m already gonna hate driving.

He sets his coffee cup down on the windowsill.

Sterling Marlin: Paris Hilton. That girl’s gonna be a nightmare. She’s gonna want her own bus, her own driver, special food, special everything. Probably gonna try to bring a whole entourage with her. I already know how that shit goes. She’s gonna be late, she’s gonna complain about everything, and I’m gonna have to hear about it the whole goddamn trip.

A few people at the table chuckle.

Sterling Marlin: Kim Kardashian too. Same energy, but worse. She’s gonna want the whole production — security, hair, makeup, the whole nine yards — every single time we go anywhere. And Kris Jenner… if she’s coming with her, it’s gonna be even worse. That woman’s gonna be trying to run the whole trip like it’s one of her TV shows.

He shakes his head.

Sterling Marlin: And Courtney Love. I don’t even wanna think about what it’s gonna be like trying to get her on a bus on time. She’s liable to show up whenever the hell she feels like it… or not at all. That’s gonna be a headache.

Tony Soprano: (grinning) Kid’s got a point. Some of these broads are gonna act like they’re still in Hollywood instead of on the road with a bunch of wrestlers.

Joan Rivers: Oh, Paris is gonna be insufferable. I can already hear the complaints. “This bus smells like feet.” “Why is there no champagne?” I’m gonna have a field day with her.

Bill Parcells: (grunting) Some of these girls are gonna learn real quick that this ain’t a limo service.

Cowboy smirks and writes something down.

Cowboy Watts: Noted. Paris, Kim, Kris, and Courtney on the “high-maintenance transport” list. We’ll make sure Sterling’s got plenty of backup drivers for those trips.

He looks back around the table.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. We got some jobbers, some dark horses, and some headaches already identified. That’s progress.

He leans forward a little.

Cowboy Watts: Now let’s talk about who we’re actually gonna push. Who’s getting TV time and storylines first? Not next month — right now. Who’s ready?

He looks around the room again.

Cowboy Watts: Somebody start.

Speak up. I wanna hear it.

Tony Soprano: (without hesitation) Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian are gonna be headaches. They’re used to being the center of attention and getting whatever they want. When they find out they’re not main eventing every week and they’re gonna have to lose sometimes, there’s gonna be drama. Especially if we ask ‘em to do anything that messes up their “image.” They signed the contract, but they’re still gonna act like they’re doing us a favor.

Sarah Palin: The political ones are gonna be a different kind of problem. Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene are gonna want to run their mouths on social media and turn everything into a culture war. That can be useful for heat, but it can also blow up in our faces if they go too far or start fighting with each other publicly. They’re not gonna take direction quietly if they think it makes them look weak.

Joan Rivers: Courtney Love is gonna be chaos. She’s unpredictable as hell. One day she’s fine, the next day she’s a mess. She’ll do the crazy shit we want, but she might also do crazy shit we don’t want. She’s a liability and an asset at the same time. And Amanda Bynes… she’s got that troubled history. I don’t know how stable she actually is. That’s a risk.

Bill Parcells: (gruff) Some of these big names are gonna think the rules don’t apply to them. Beyoncé, Zendaya, Scarlett Johansson — they’re used to being protected. When we tell them they gotta lose or do jobs, there’s gonna be pushback. Especially if their teams get involved. And Kris Jenner… she’s gonna try to manage everything. She’s not just gonna manage her own daughters — she’s gonna try to manage the whole damn locker room if we let her.

Jim Ross: (adding in) I’ll also say Kristen Bell could become a problem if we’re not careful. She’s got real heat right now after what happened at Maximum Destruction, but she’s also got an ego. If we don’t keep her in line, she’s gonna start thinking she runs the place. Same with some of the other established names who were already here before the big signing wave.

Cowboy listens to all of it, nodding slowly and occasionally writing something down.

Cowboy Watts: So we got divas, political headaches, unstable personalities, and big egos who think they’re above the bullshit. Sounds about right.

He takes one last drag off his cigarette and stubs it out.

Cowboy Watts: Alright. We got a decent picture now. Jobbers, dark horses, headaches, and who we actually like. That’s enough for today.

He looks around the table.

Cowboy Watts: I want everybody to go think on this. Tomorrow morning, same time, we’re gonna start putting together an actual working tier list and figuring out who’s getting TV time on the next Friday Night Filth. Come prepared.

He stands up, signaling the meeting is over for now.

Cowboy Watts: Dismissed.

Sterling Marlin gets up from his chair by the window, stretches, and heads for the door without saying anything else. The agents start gathering their things and filing out.

Cowboy looks over at Jim Ross as the room clears.

Cowboy Watts: You got a minute?

Scene: CBWL Executive Conference Room – After the Meeting

The room is mostly empty now. The agents have cleared out. Sterling Marlin is posted up by the door like he was told, arms crossed, casually keeping an eye on the hallway so nobody wanders back in.

It’s just you, Jim Ross, and Cowboy Watts left inside.

Cowboy leans back in his chair and lights another cigarette. JR pours himself a cup of coffee from the pot in the corner and sits back down across from him. The mood shifts — less “meeting,” more two old hands shooting the shit after everyone else is gone.

Cowboy Watts: (after a long drag) So… how’s the wife?

There’s a short pause.

You (Mr. Nasty): Mine’s dead, Bill.

Cowboy nods once, no surprise on his face. He just exhales smoke and looks at the table for a second.

Cowboy Watts: Yeah. I remember you mentioning that a while back. Sorry.

Another beat of quiet.

Cowboy Watts: Mine’s still kickin’. Barely talks to me anymore. I don’t blame her. I’m gone more than I’m home, and when I am home I’m usually thinking about this shit anyway.

He takes another drag, then smirks a little — that crooked, knowing smirk.

Cowboy Watts: Truth is… I don’t think about her much these days. My head’s been somewhere else.

JR raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything yet.

Cowboy Watts: (lower voice) Mariska’s been on my mind a lot lately. More than she probably should be.

He doesn’t elaborate much, but the implication is clear. He’s not even trying to hide it from the two of you.

Jim Ross takes a sip of his coffee and sets the cup down.

Jim Ross: You know I’m not gonna judge you on that, Bill. But you’re playing with fire if you’re not careful. She’s the public face of this whole operation. People are already whispering that she’s just your… whatever. You make that real and it gets messy fast.

Cowboy Watts: (shrugging) I know. I ain’t stupid. I’m just sayin’ how it is.

He looks over at you.

Cowboy Watts: What about you? You got anybody these days, or you just buried in this shit like the rest of us?

---

After the personal talk dies down a bit, Cowboy gets back to business — but quieter now. More honest. No agents in the room. Just the three of you (and Sterling at the door).

Cowboy Watts: (lower, more serious) Alright… between us. Who do you actually think we need to protect on this roster? Not the ones we said in the meeting for politics. The ones we should really be careful with. The ones that can actually help this thing long-term.

Jim Ross: Jennette McCurdy’s got real upside if we don’t bury her too early. Anya Taylor-Joy too — she’s got something different. Anne Hathaway can actually work if we give her the right matches. And Miranda… she’s got more in her than people think. If we develop her right, she could be a real babyface for us.

Cowboy nods, thinking.

Cowboy Watts: What about the ones we shouldn’t protect? The ones we can afford to beat up and use however we want?

Jim Ross: Most of the political signings. Boebert, Greene, Sanders… they’re heat. Use ‘em, beat ‘em, move on. Same with a lot of the lower internet and reality names. They signed for the money and the attention. They’ll do what we need.

Cowboy Watts: What do you really think of this roster overall? Be honest with me. Not the company line.

Jim Ross: It’s a mess. Too many names, too many egos, too many people who have no business being in a wrestling ring. But there’s some real potential buried in it too. If we’re smart about who we protect and who we use as cannon fodder, we might actually have something here. If we’re not… it’s gonna be a disaster.

Cowboy exhales smoke and stares at the table for a few seconds.

Cowboy Watts: Yeah. That’s about what I was thinking too.

He looks over at JR.

Cowboy Watts: We’ll keep the rest of this between us for now. Tomorrow we’ll start putting the real tier list together with the others.

Sterling stays quiet by the door, pretending he didn’t hear most of it.

The room is quiet for a moment after Jim Ross gives his honest take on the roster. Cowboy takes one last drag off his cigarette, then stubs it out slowly. He leans in a little closer, voice lower than before.

Cowboy Watts: There’s one name I’ve been keeping close to the chest… Emma Watson.

Jim Ross raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt.

Cowboy Watts: I think she could be the next real super babyface if we build her right. Not right now — she’s not ready to take Taylor’s spot tomorrow — but long-term? She’s got the look, she’s got the promo ability, and she’s got that “too good for this shit” babyface energy that people actually buy into. If we protect her and give her the right story, she could be the one to step up when Taylor eventually drops the title… or if something happens to Taylor and we need somebody to step in quick.

He pauses, then adds:

Cowboy Watts: I’m not saying we push her hard right away. But I don’t want us sleeping on her either. She’s got real upside. Could be our insurance policy if Taylor gets hurt or we need to pivot the women’s division down the line.

Jim Ross nods slowly, thinking it over.

Jim Ross: I agree with you. She’s got that natural babyface presence. She’s not just a name — she can actually talk and carry herself like a star. If we’re smart about it, we can build her up over the next year or so without rushing her. She could absolutely be the next big face of the women’s division once Taylor’s run is over… or if we need a Plan B in a hurry.

Cowboy nods, satisfied that JR sees it the same way.

Cowboy Watts: Good. Then we keep that between us for now. I don’t want the agents pushing her too fast or trying to use her as a political pawn. We develop her our way.

He leans back in his chair again.

Cowboy Watts: We’ll start putting the real working tier list together tomorrow. But at least now I know we’re on the same page about a couple of the important ones.

Sterling Marlin stays quiet by the door, still playing security.

Cowboy looks over at Jim Ross one last time.

Cowboy Watts: Anything else you wanna get off your chest before we call it a night?

Scene: Later That Night – Atlanta

The three of them left the office together after the meeting. What was supposed to be a quiet steak dinner turned into a long, ugly night.

They started at Montana’s Steakhouse. The drinking started heavy and never really slowed down. By the time they were on their third round, Cowboy Watts was already loud and handsy with the waitresses. Jim Ross respected the waitresses but kept the demand for bourbon steady. Sterling Marlin kept to himself for the most part but was knocking back doubles like it was water.

The harassment got bad fast.

Waitresses were getting grabbed, crude comments were flying, and one of them ended up getting pulled into a booth against her will before security stepped in. Things escalated from there. A fight broke out near the bar after Sterling made one too many comments about a girl walking by. Chairs got knocked over. Glasses shattered. By the time it was over, Montana’s looked like it had been hit by a storm — tables flipped, blood on the floor, and half the staff either shaken up or screaming.

They got thrown out the back.

Instead of going home, they kept drinking.

They ended up at a strip club on the south side around 2 a.m. That’s where they ran into Gucci Mane and a few members of the 1017 crew. Surprisingly, it stayed cool. Gucci and Cowboy actually got along, trading stories and buying rounds for each other. The two groups partied together without any real drama — just heavy drinking, loud music, and the kind of chaos that comes with that much liquor in one place.

By 4 a.m., everybody was completely gone.

Jim Ross and Cowboy Watts took their own cars and headed out. Sterling Marlin left by himself in his truck.

Sterling never made it home.

He was sitting at a red light when two cars up ahead got into a violent crash. One of the vehicles spun out and came flying across the intersection, slamming directly into the front of Sterling’s truck. The impact was brutal. His truck got crushed in on the driver’s side. Airbags deployed. Glass everywhere.

When the cops and paramedics arrived, Sterling was still conscious but clearly fucked up. They smelled the alcohol on him immediately. He blew well over the legal limit. Even though the wreck wasn’t his fault — he was completely stopped at the light — he was still getting charged with a DUI on top of everything else.

By sunrise, Sterling Marlin was in the hospital, banged up pretty bad from the crash, with a DUI hanging over his head and no idea how he was going to explain any of this when he eventually had to face Cowboy and Jim Ross again.