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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » "WAR GAMES 2015" RP Board
Surprise Press Conference
Author Message
Maverick Offline
With Fire in My Soul, I Return.



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

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


#1
09-11-2015, 10:03 PM

(( OOC: Continued from here: http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=21756 ))









FLASH!

That camera flash was the first thing that greeted the eyes of Maverick as he walked outside, temporarily blinding him as he blinked a few times. However, the cameras didn't care, they kept eating up his figure, ready to stick it in whatever tabloid journalism or story regarding Patrick Gordon XIII's arrest that was available.

You alright? I know the press can be merciless at times, but you seem. . . out of it.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.

Alright, I'll listen to you here. But, if you're feeling sick or the like, just tell me, and I'll take over, 'kay?

You worry too much.

It's what fathers do, kiddo.

While this little discussion was going on in Maverick's mind, the Avatar of Perfection confidently strode over to the press conference podium, ready to answer whatever questions the media could conjure up. At the moment, Maverick wore a mask of confidence, trying to hide the fact that he was taken by surprise here, and his headaches that were around all week were only getting worse. . .

"Welcome, welcome!" Maverick said into the built- in microphone, greeting the press who only responded by snapping more pictures of the Hart Champion.

"So, yes, you caught me. I'm ready to answer whatever questions you have here. Yes, you there, gentleman in the front row who looks like he's about to get a seizure trying to get me to notice you."

"Mister Maverick!" the reporter managed to breathe out, whipping out his notepad full of questions. "The wrestling analysts have been criticizing you all week for your choice picking up Patrick Gordon XIII in the War Games draft, and now they're only continuing to criticize you with the choice of replacing him with TJ Wallace now that he's been replaced! Your thoughts on the matter?"

Maverick chuckled a bit, then looked down at his podium, the first beads of sweat managing to make themselves noticeable. He knew a question along these lines had been coming- online columnists were having a field day with him for choosing a rookie who had practically said nothing the entire week to close out the second round. They were continuing to berate Maverick due to the choice to replace him for TJ Wallace, instead of going with a tried and true star who had been left out of War Games, such as Frodo Smackins.

"I'll tell ya what was on my mind when I chose Patrick Gordon XIII. I was listening to my gut- really, it's a 50/50 on if I listen to him. Sometimes he says good stuff, sometimes he says stupid stuff, and that time, he said to take a chance, go with the rookie. I still had my third round pick anyway, not to mention Lux was arguably one of the best draftees to pick up. So, I decided to listen to him. I chose Patrick Gordon, and looking back on that memory, I can safely say I was wrong. There were a lot of steals I could have picked up around that time- such as Abigail, for instance. Or, I could have broken up Lane's choice to draft the Killers, and snatch Peter away."

"Now, for the choice of choosing TJ. I chose him because I know he's looking for payback. TJ came back to the XWF specifically for Lane, and what does that dildo do? He fucking goes turncoat, and joins up with those CCWF ! Not to mention, once upon a time, TJ Wallace and Vinnie Lane were a part of a team, known as the Underground. Therefore, if there's anyone I know who I could've swapped out Patrick for, who knew Vinnie Lane like the back of his hand, all the dirty tricks he could have pulled out, all the moves he would attempt to do, I know that would be TJ's area of expertise. So, I picked him. Simple as that."

"Now then. You there, lady, third row, left side, red dress."
The reporter, finally realizing that Maverick was talking to her, cleared her throat before talking.

"Maverick! After Poppa Feder's dominant return to Madness last week, most fans can agree that your team is pretty much fucked. But, what do you say?"

Maverick studies the female reporter for a moment, the camera continuing to eat up Maverick's figure as he decides what to say. But then, a smile can be seen on Maverick's face, along with a low chuckle. He's laughing.

"Poppa Feder! Pfffft! I know I already said before I took back the 'has- been' line about him, but he truly is just a has- been now. He loves to keep reliving the past. Remember when he was talking about Gauntlet City?"

"Hey! Pops! We're not at Gauntlet City, 2013 anymore! We're at War Games, 2015! Gone are the aged fossils like Mark Flynn, Donathon Alphonse Francois De Sade, and Neonero! We are entering the Age of Perfection! Taunt me all you like, call me a , I fucking beg you. Because I know you'll do it, and it's nothing unique. Hell, I've been called a on pretty much a daily basis! Nothing you can say can truly harm me. Go on, try and prove me wrong. Go challenge accepted mode on me, I beg you."

"Guys, let me tell you how I feel about Poppa Feder. You know how your friends hype up this one thing, the best thing since sliced fucking bread, one of the best things to ever grace this planet. But then, when you get it, you're. . . disappointed. Like. . . it's a dud bomb. That's how I feel about Poppa Feder. I mean, he's regarded as one of the best in this business, hell, there's even a belt named after him! So, when I first managed to talk to him, I thought he was going to rip me a new asshole. . . but I was sorely disappointed."

"In the event that Poppa Feder does manage to see this little press response here, and would like to point out that I used the 'has- been' argument before, and he beat me back because of that, I'd just like to say this-- he hasn't done anything to disprove that. Oh, he threw me and Pest around the ring and lit me on fire. But shall we remember what happened before?"


All of a sudden, a screen pops down behind Maverick, and it shows the end to the Main Event on Madness.

(09-01-2015, 10:43 AM) 'Shane <img src="https://i.imgur.com/pUgtAVa.gif"> Said: ]
ENDGAME!!!


The package piledriver spikes Pest's head into the mat! He hooks a leg!

1...

2...

THRRRR

NO!

Maverick grabbed Peter for no reason! It's an elimination match! Peter slaps Maverick and goes off the rope. He comes back and Maverick lifts him high into the air before delivering a superkick!

PERFECT WRATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Peter hits the mat laying right beside Pest! Maverick leaps on and covers both of them!

1...

2...

THREE!!!!!!!!

What a statement has been made here tonight!

"YOU SEE?! I just fucking went through a grueling match where I humiliated your best friend and tag partner! And then you have the gall, THE FUCKING GALL, to brag about it and use it as a defense against 'has- been?' You mindless nincompoop, has your mind cease to function in it's old age? You haven't done jack shit. Therefore, you're not getting a shred, A FUCKING SHRED, of my respect. You and your two sons can go fuck themselves."

"You there, finely dressed gentleman, second row."
Maverick pointed to a man wearing a promotional War Games tee- shirt, that had the members of Team Perfection on it.

"Maverick! Maverick! What are your thoughts on Code Red's words?"

Maverick shakes his head at the thought of Code Red.

"Dumb asshole believes I took advantage of his situation, going to town on Sitre and Abigail. Pffft. Bitch, please. I would have went down there if there was no one else in there. In fact, I thought there was no one else down there when I made my way down the crowd. Serves me right for not checking the TV. But the thing is-- I don't need him and those pansy ass chair shots! I would have taken down Sitre myself! And I simply adore how he underestimates Abigail, even though she's proven her worth before. Code Red, you're a fucking moronic imbecile. You don't get it, do you? You act like teaming with Gilmour is a big deal, but the thing is, I made him my bitch. Twice."

"The thing is, Code- can I call you Code? Too bad, I'm calling you Code anyway. You see, Code, the thing is, I don't even know who you are. I mean, yeah, you're just some redneck hick, but why'd you name yourself after a flavor of Mountain Dew? Are you just begging for yourself to get made fun of?"

"And oh shit, who's the little chick you got with you? Miss Fortune, huh?"

"Wait a damn minute. . ."


Carson Waters's Application Said:Managers: The Mysterious and Handsome Stranger and Miss Fortune

"Yeah, that's right! Wow, so either this Code Red either has the hugest boner for the Brick Squad imaginable- we're talking bigger than the size of Vinnie Lane's vagina here, folks- or this guy is such a coattail rider he'd commit plagiarism. Like, damn. At least Carson's Miss Fortune is kinda cute, in a curvy sort of way, but then when you search for her, the results are now muddled by that motherfucking whore, Code Red's Miss Fortune."

"You there, lady in the first row."


"Uhhhh. . . Mister Maverick? Well, there's a whole bunch of crap Peter spewed. Like, for instance, he had his narrator say that Peter was about to win when he hit the Endgame on Pest, even though it was an elimination match."

"Wait, wait, what? Are you serious? That cockmuncher had his narrator do that?"

"Mhm. He also says that Shane's name is apparently 'Shance,' and that apparently he had a surprise for us, even though it was never mentioned."

Maverick shakes his head at the ignorance of Peter Gilmour.

"I didn't even bother myself degrading to watch that fat prick's promos. It's practically the same thing, every time. Recap, bla bla, incorrect facts, bla bla, Maria is supposedly sexy even though she looks like a tattooed gorilla, bla bla, suck my dick, , bla bla bla, I'll take you to the extreme, fin. It just becomes fucking rinse and repeat. Really, who's to say that this time won't be like the other two times? What has Gilly done that would prove otherwise? I'll tell you what- nothing. He's been humiliated, he's gotten his finisher stolen, he's had victory snatched away from him more times than I can count. And this week will just be another loss to be documented in the Book of Gilmour. Plain and simple."

"Alright, last question here. Dude allllll the way in the back row, purple shirt. If I were to wager a guess, you'd want my opinion on Vinnie Lame, no?"


The reporter all the way in the back, not managing to hear Maverick, shouted, "WHAT IS YOUR RESPONSE TO WHAT VINNIE LANE SAID ABOUT YOU?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. . ." Maverick bumped his head on the press conference podium, causing it to shake ever so slightly. After a few seconds and a deep breath, Maverick returned to normal, ready to respond to Vinnie.

"For fuck's sake, asshole claims I shit on the titles, even though it's fucking taped otherwise. Goddamn fucktard can't even tell the difference between the Crimson Dong and myself. He also claims I FIGURATIVELY shit on the titles, even though for the most part, I've been defending them like a FIGHTING champion. Or does defending it against one of your tag partners not count, huh Lane? What a way to fucking disrespect Gilmour, man. He might be fat, he might be a , and he might think that Maria Brink is cute, but dammit, Gilly doesn't deserve to be compared to shit."

". . ."

". . ."

"Okay, yes he does. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Lane loves to think that apparently I have a big- ass boner for Lux Lyden, and my whole strategy seems to pertain about him, but that bitch couldn't be farther from the truth. The thing is, if it comes down to you or any of your teammates, one- on- one, I don't need Lux Lyden. But no one can take on five people at once, so I chose one of the best people in this business today. Hell, I can probably wipe the floor with you should I so wish to. Yes, you fucking heard me. I could wipe the floor with you. Am I going to get mocked for that statement? Probably. Do I really fucking care? Nope."

"And then that fucker has the gall to say my promos have jack shit. You know what? Fuck this shit, I'm done."
Maverick flips the press conference podium and goes inside as the press scatters.

The camera fades to black.

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