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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Lethal Lottery 3
Recollection (Origins Part 3 ~ Finale)
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Maverick Offline
With Fire in My Soul, I Return.



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
03-26-2015, 09:21 PM


[OOC: You can find Part 1 here, and Part 2 here.]


His coffin.


We were going back to the funeral.

A reassuring hand placed itself firmly on my shoulder, a whispering voice in my ear. 'You'll be fine. This funeral couldn't have traumatized you that much... could it?"

"You know..." I whispered back, "For someone who apparently lives in my mind, you're really out of the loop."

"Shall we note that I'm pretty much a manifest of the memories of your father, which have been residing here for years out in the middle of nowhere, unbeknownst what was going on in your mind?"

"Fair point," I conceded. My breath was beginning to get shaky, chills being sent down my spine. This was one memory, besides the actual death, that I didn't want to relive. Still... I need to move on.

With a shaky hand, I raised the casket door... only to be sucked into it, and brought back into the memory.





I awoke to the sound of sermons.

I grunted and groaned as I sat up, looking at where I was.

The Battle Creek Memorial Park.

I got to my feet, my stance shaky. My Mind- Dad was right next to me. "And here we are," he announced. "Fancy a little searching around to see where everyone is?"

I grunted as a response, my body slowly creeping forward towards the voice of the reverend.

"A- aren't we out in the open?" I said. "We could easily be spotted."

"Oh, don't worry about that." Mind- Dad said, nonchalantly waving his hand. "We're corporeal here. No one can see us."

"Huh." I muttered, creeping along towards the voice. "That sounds handy."

I slowly descended upon the group of mourners, all of them wearing black suits and dresses. The fat, balding preacher was delivering sermons, though I ignored him, going straight to the man in the casket.

I stepped right in front of the black, oak wood casket, the door closed. I hesitated before pondering whether or not I should open it, wondering if that would distort the memory. "Don't worry," Mind- Dad said. "I think you should be good with opening the casket." I took his response with a gulp, as I steadily opened the casket.

There he was. Right in front of me, was the dead-as-a-doornail Robert Solomon. His body was devoid of color. Everything excluding the forced smile exerted from the undertaker's restoration powers implied that Robert didn't exactly die a peaceful death.

I couldn't hold it in. What started as one small tear, slowly trickling down my cheek, turned into a barrage of waterworks, my knees buckling as the tears streamed out from under my face. All the venomous words, all the painful losses, everything in general was coming out of me, displayed as if I was some crybaby. I couldn't help it though. I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to be singled out before I even fucking debuted. I didn't ask to be called Iceman. I didn't ask to be framed for shitting on a belt. I didn't ask for any of those losses. And now, looking back and reflecting on my life in general, I wish that I could have one big gigantic do- over, just being that small little boy, growing up with father, watching his old footage, wishing that one day, I could become the greatest wrestler in the world.

But I can't. My entire reputation is muddled. Dragged through the dirt. Shanked in a back alley. All thanks to before I even debuted, being targeted by X-Pac and the Kliq. The framing of shitting on the X-treme belt, references to which are still being made to this fucking day, as people still refuse to see the light. All the failed attempts of winning a match, of pursuing a championship.

My hands slowly tightened, the half- moons known as my fingernails pressing further and further into my hand, my knuckles turning white. Blood slowly escaped, mixing with the still- falling tears. A reassuring hand patted me on my shoulder, Mind- Dad's hand tightening. But I wasn't paying attention to that. Right now, I was focusing on what the fuck I need to do to escape this cruel, horrid nightmare known as life, caused by a lot of names.

Aerial Knight.

Gator.

Vinnie Lane.

Frodo.

And, as much as I hate to say it, but my father might as well be part of it to. If he didn't have to fucking die, the era of depression wouldn't have settled over me. Sure, I may put on a brave face and try to brace myself against the scathing words ahead, but what good would that be doing? Bottling all these emotions just lead to a torrential downpour later.

But I need to accept this cruel fate. I need to accept my father, while taken from me unjustly, was still gone. He wouldn't be coming back. The closest thing I have to him now is a picture and memories. The last tear trickled down my cheek, the last drop of blood escaped my hand.

I took a deep breath. I rose. Shaky, periodic breaths were still escaping me due to my emotional meltdown. My shaky hand slowly went to the casket door. I took one final, long look. The pale, colorless shadow of a man was still lying there peacefully, waiting for the book to be closed. I obliged, sending the casket door down with a heavy thud.

"How do we get out?" I asked. As I said that, I noticed something. One of the nearby family gravestones was flickering. Once a gravestone, then a coffee table. Then others started tapering. They were turning into tables, chairs, doorways, pictures, my private gym.

"I daresay," Mind- Dad chuckled, "Your memory is returning to normal. I suppose, I'll have to let you go. Farewell, Joshua. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or a voice to hear, well, you know where to find me."

More things began to taper into my mansion, from tombstones into cleaning supplies to the tent we were huddled up into a refrigerator.

I held up my hand, waving it from side to side, showing that this was indeed, for now, the end.

The next thing I knew, I blacked out.





Warm, soft covers met my body, as I moaned, stretching myself awake. My bed. I was in my bed. My eyes were nearly shut once more from the fatigue I already suffered, though I forced myself up. I groped for my nearby phone, eagerly awaiting to see what match I had at Lethal Lottery. Even though I had already challenged Dylan George, I didn't get a response, so thus, I knew I'd be hung up in the air for this.

What I didn't expect, however, was:


#1 Contender's Match for World Tag Team Championship
Scythe
The Fallen Angel
- vs -
Scully
Maverick
Tables, Ladders, & Chairs Tornado Tag Team Match


"I must have been horrifyingly cruel to puppies AND kitties in a previous life to deserve this cruel treatment TWICE." I moaned as I facepalmed.

I flicked the covers off myself and readied my phone to make a call. Thankfully, I still had Scully's phone number from when we were still the Young Bloods. I pressed a few buttons, and yawned while the phone rang. Scully answered on the third ring.

"He- llo! You have reached Scully, the resident of the XWF! How may I help?"

"Scully, it's me, Maverick. We need to talk about our match." I began pacing around as I spoke.

"Oh, hey, it's Mav the scav! The guy who practically never shows up for a match!"

"Scull, I'm not in the mood to deal with your bullshit. We have a chance to become Tag Team Champions, so we can't be uncooperative with each other."

"You think I don't know that? I already dropped a promo on our opponent's asses! I also ranted about how you don't fucking show up!"

"Yeah, that's great. Listen, who are these guys? I don't know anything about this 'Scythe' or this 'Fallen Angel.'"

"Ugh, Mav the scav, haven't you heard of the Lost Homos?"

"Something like that vaguely rings a bell, yes."

"Well, do you wanna know something about them?"

"Uh, what?"

"They're homos!" Loud, ear- piercing laughter can be heard on the other side of the line.

"Scully, it takes common knowledge to know that our opponents are homos. I meant something useful."

"Why gee, I don't know why I should help you! You basically left me in a handicap situation against George and Desmond!"

"Hey, I'll have you know--"

"What? Did you pay Un to come out for you? Or were you planning on revealing a Deux? Or how about a Trois?"

"I'm just... going through some shit, okay?"

"What, can you no longer ignore the fact that you have a mangina?" As I facepalmed, Scully was chortling with delight.

"I... Look. I'm trying to cope with something private. My mind may not be at 100%, but I'll give it what I can. We need to unite. It doesn't even have to be long- term, just for two damned matches. We unite, we win this match, we beat Sane and CorVus and gain the Tag Champs, then maybe we can duke it out amongst ourselves to see who will get kicked out with freebird rules."

I could practically hear the wheels turning in Scully's mind, as he said, "Weeeeeeeellll... Fine. I suppose I can unite for you with during a short- term, so long as I get to prove who really carries the Young Bloods."

I let a sigh of relief escape me. Okay, for now, we're united. "Thank you, Scully. Really. That means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it." As I prepared to hang up the phone, Scully said, "Oh, and one last thing. Guess what, Mav the scav?"

"What?"

"Egg and snot!" Scully dished out some more hearty chuckles, while I was beginning to reach my breaking point.

I muttered to Scully, "Fucking cooper," before hanging up the phone. I then went to fetch my cameraman. It's time for some trash talk.





"I'm facing Twilight rejects. I'm fucking serious. I did some research on the Lost Homos, couple of vampires or some shit. And they say I'm going to have the toughest match of my career thus far? Weeeelll, let's see here..."

"Faced John Samuels, former Trios Champ, former Universal Champ, et cetra, basically think everything you will be unable to accomplish because you two are homos, multiple times. I even beat him once. So that's one opponent you two can't measure up to."

"I also faced Gator. One of the longest reigning TV Champs, only behind Azreal Erebus, and also another former Uni Champ. While I didn't beat him, that's still yet another opponent you two can't measure up to. Do you see where I'm getting at?"

"Christopher, you have every right to be surprised at this title opportunity. You two are supposedly brothers, and yet you fall to a random, hodgepodge pairing of Oni, your fellow Twilight reject, as he's a werewolf, and S.A.M, some guy who seems to wear a paper bag. But that's not the point. What is the point is that you two, who have supposedly been together pretty much your entire life, lost terribly to a random pairing. That right there is sad."

"But wait, there's more! Yes, these two have to be a special kind of stupid to not be using Steve Sayors as their interviewer. You see, for you Lost Homos, Steve Sayors is the resident interviewer here. Not this dumbass Walter Leads, who seems to be a pussy one minute, then some sort of rage- fueled freak the next. I mean, fuck, even that dumbass Thunderbolt X knows Steve Sayors is the resident interviewer here, and he tries saying he's not a Super Cena clone, even though he has his finishers, and his looks."

"And then you two try going ahead to bash S.A.M for wanting in this match. Personally? I don't blame him, the man has certainly proved himself capable. He beat the two of you, who are homosexual, incestual brothers, with some Twilight reject as his partners, and you go saying no, merely because he's a singles wrestler. I don't know if you've noticed, but being a tag team wrestler exclusively isn't a requirement here. I'm primarily a singles wrestler. Scully is primarily a singles wrestler. Hell, even the tag champs, Justin Sane and CorVus. Before Sane got pinned, he was the X-treme Champion, and CorVus is the Intercontinental Champion as well as the Tag Champs."

"And no, before you go saying, 'But Maverick, by your logic earlier about how S.A.M proved himself, shouldn't you and Scully be out of this match?' And to that, I say no. I didn't want in this match to begin with. I wanted Dylan George in a Last Man Standing Match. I know he wanted it to, because he meant to challenge me for that last Warfare, but couldn't, because of Lethal Lottery. Instead, he got dumped in that X-treme #1 Contender Match, while I get stuck with a of a partner while facing some incest- loving brothers."

"You two should just give up right now. Your in- ring skills are boring, your personality is boring, you two are just boring all together. To be honest, I don't really even want the Tag Titles. If anything, I just don't want Scully or the Lost Homo's grubby mitts to get on them. I'd be more than glad with just beating Scully after we get the Tag Titles so this way instead of just doing the freebird rule, I'll just give the titles into a tournament, or maybe I'll put them up for sale, I know Defiance will be lining up for that."

"To be quite honest, I don't even know why I'm trying. Perhaps I'm trying to get back on a roll and just using you two as a stepping stone, perhaps it's pride taking over, but either way, there is going to be no chance in hell of you two winning."

1x Hart Champion
1x Tag Team Champion
1x Xtreme Champion
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