Three:
Pardon Me
(in which our hero makes his first wish, and the pitch is made)
"Ooh. You look like you got an idea. One that may actually work, even." Fatima leaned backwards, smiling impishly as she eyed Raven upside-down. "Care to share with the rest of the class? I can't read your mind, you know."
"Yes. I do have a wish to make, whether you choose to be snide about it or not." Raven stood up and swished his hair out of his face, and folded his arms in front of him, smirking. "I wish to take that World Championship belt from Triple H. And I want to do it in a way that will humble him before me, that will bring him to his knees in humiliation, and when the dust clears, it will me standing, a more successful champion than he ever was."
"Quite a dilly of a wish, there." Fatima sprung gracefully from her upside-down position, leaping to her feet and turning to face her master. "Now, in order to get this right, you realize I can't just go 'poof' and make you champ. Apparently, you wanna do this the right way, you just want my insurance that it'll all come out to your favor, right?" Raven nodded in the affirmative, and the genie smiled at him. "Okay, cool. Now, this'll take a little time, but by the time it all ends, you'll have exactly what you want. Here's the plan..."
That Monday, he walked down the ramp unannounced and uninvited. This got everyone in the audience murmuring amongst themselves in curiosity, and even King and JR speculated what he could possibly want. After all, Raven seemed to keep to Heat quite a bit, and for him to just breeze onto Raw this way was... interesting. He plucked up a mic, and spoke. His dark, intense eyes were fixed on the entryway the entire time, as if glaring to a person in the back.
"I've had enough! You think I haven't seen what's been going on here? A damned monopoly, a show of uninhibited vanity and personal hedonism the likes of which I've never seen before and, to be quite honest, disgusts me to the point of being physically ill. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm talking about YOU, Triple H! You and your pathetic little clique, holding onto that belt with your sweaty little hands, keeping a deathgrip on it through cheating and deception. You make me positively sick. Now, be a man for once in your life, and come out here, because somebody has to take that belt off your hands... and it may as well be me."
And sure enough, in a moment, Triple H did come out, flanked by the handsome, incredibly talented Randy Orton and the living legend himself, Ric Flair. Evolution stood in all their vanity at the top of the ramp, the self-proclaimed past, present, and future of the business smirking at Raven as if he were joking. The champ snickered coolly, eyes sparkling with amusement, and spoke up first.
"You? You want a shot at this?" Triple H polished the belt with the cuff of his sleeve, and grinned out of the corner of his mouth. "That's great, that's beautiful. Glad you're getting this sudden burst of self esteem, mister Ultra Angst. And I'll tell you what, I'd love to take your challenge... but, honestly, I can't. You haven't earned it, Raven, you haven't. You wanna face me for this belt? Prove to me why I oughta let you."
Raven folded his arms in front of him, stared unblinkingly at the arrogant champion... and smirked in return. "I'll make a deal with you, then. Choose anyone. Anyone you like. I'll face them in a match next week. If your man wins, then I'll never bother you with a title shot request again as long as I live. But if I win... then you not only grant me my shot, you do it at WrestleMania.... under Raven's Rules."
It was all that Evolution could do to keep from laughing aloud. "Okay..." Triple H caught his breath after a moment, and replied in a laughter-shaky voice. "Alright, Raven, if you want to get your ass kicked that bad, fine. I'll go ahead and make my choice right now, if that's okay with you... hey, Randy!" Randy Orton looked to Triple H, his sapphire eyes glinting with anticipation. "You think you can take this Kurt Cobain wannabe out?"
"Sure, no sweat!" Randy grinned, and shot a wink to a boy-cut brunette and a raven-haired girl, both who were sitting in the front row giving him the eye. "This loser should be absolutely no problem, Hunter, no problem at all."
"Thought so." Hunter directed his attention back to the man in the ring. "'Kay then, next week, you get your wierd ass out here, you get yourself humiliated in front of all these little people, and you have a good idea of what your place is, got it?"
"Oh, I'll be here." The grin on Raven's face was unintimidated. Casual, even. "Although whether or not things will turn to your favor is highly debatable."
The grin was still on his face when he made his way to the locker room, where Fatima was waiting for him. She frowned.
"What a bunch of jerks. Y'know, it'd be really fun if I could turn 'em into naked mole rats or something. Teach 'em a lesson. Can I, Raven? Pleeeeeease, can I can I can I?"
Raven shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I'm afraid you can't. The humiliation of Evolution is part of my wish, and I intend on doing it my way. And though the thought of them as wrinkled hairless rodents is very tempting... I'm inclined to stick with my original plan."
"Man..." The genie sighed huffily. "I never get to have ANY fun."
Sighing heavily, Raven leaned against the row of lockers, head tilted upward, staring at the ceiling. "Fatima? How long have you been inside that bottle, anyway?"
"Huh? Oh, I don't know for sure... all flows together after awhile. Years and years I guess... usually nobody wants to put forth the little bit of effort it takes to yank the stopper off. Why does it matter, anyway? Out of the bottle, grant wishes, in the bottle, rinse, repeat. It gets really, really old after awhile." Fatima filed her nails idly, then folded her hands behind her head, nail file vanishing in a puff of lilac smoke. "Nobody's ever asked me a question like that before."
"I didn't think so." Raven stood up and stretched. "Come on, I'll take you down to Ben and Jerry's for a cone if you want. It's the least I can do... after all, you ARE granting me three wishes here." He tucked the bottle back inside his jacket and started out... then cast a second glance at Fatima. "You may want to change into something a little less... conspicuous, though."
"Hey, now!" Fatima looked down at her pointed shoes and violet harem pants, and laughed. "Look who's talking, mister Society-Puts-Too-Much-Emphasis-On-Appearances!"
She smirked, he smirked back, and they left.
Pardon Me
(in which our hero makes his first wish, and the pitch is made)
"Ooh. You look like you got an idea. One that may actually work, even." Fatima leaned backwards, smiling impishly as she eyed Raven upside-down. "Care to share with the rest of the class? I can't read your mind, you know."
"Yes. I do have a wish to make, whether you choose to be snide about it or not." Raven stood up and swished his hair out of his face, and folded his arms in front of him, smirking. "I wish to take that World Championship belt from Triple H. And I want to do it in a way that will humble him before me, that will bring him to his knees in humiliation, and when the dust clears, it will me standing, a more successful champion than he ever was."
"Quite a dilly of a wish, there." Fatima sprung gracefully from her upside-down position, leaping to her feet and turning to face her master. "Now, in order to get this right, you realize I can't just go 'poof' and make you champ. Apparently, you wanna do this the right way, you just want my insurance that it'll all come out to your favor, right?" Raven nodded in the affirmative, and the genie smiled at him. "Okay, cool. Now, this'll take a little time, but by the time it all ends, you'll have exactly what you want. Here's the plan..."
That Monday, he walked down the ramp unannounced and uninvited. This got everyone in the audience murmuring amongst themselves in curiosity, and even King and JR speculated what he could possibly want. After all, Raven seemed to keep to Heat quite a bit, and for him to just breeze onto Raw this way was... interesting. He plucked up a mic, and spoke. His dark, intense eyes were fixed on the entryway the entire time, as if glaring to a person in the back.
"I've had enough! You think I haven't seen what's been going on here? A damned monopoly, a show of uninhibited vanity and personal hedonism the likes of which I've never seen before and, to be quite honest, disgusts me to the point of being physically ill. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm talking about YOU, Triple H! You and your pathetic little clique, holding onto that belt with your sweaty little hands, keeping a deathgrip on it through cheating and deception. You make me positively sick. Now, be a man for once in your life, and come out here, because somebody has to take that belt off your hands... and it may as well be me."
And sure enough, in a moment, Triple H did come out, flanked by the handsome, incredibly talented Randy Orton and the living legend himself, Ric Flair. Evolution stood in all their vanity at the top of the ramp, the self-proclaimed past, present, and future of the business smirking at Raven as if he were joking. The champ snickered coolly, eyes sparkling with amusement, and spoke up first.
"You? You want a shot at this?" Triple H polished the belt with the cuff of his sleeve, and grinned out of the corner of his mouth. "That's great, that's beautiful. Glad you're getting this sudden burst of self esteem, mister Ultra Angst. And I'll tell you what, I'd love to take your challenge... but, honestly, I can't. You haven't earned it, Raven, you haven't. You wanna face me for this belt? Prove to me why I oughta let you."
Raven folded his arms in front of him, stared unblinkingly at the arrogant champion... and smirked in return. "I'll make a deal with you, then. Choose anyone. Anyone you like. I'll face them in a match next week. If your man wins, then I'll never bother you with a title shot request again as long as I live. But if I win... then you not only grant me my shot, you do it at WrestleMania.... under Raven's Rules."
It was all that Evolution could do to keep from laughing aloud. "Okay..." Triple H caught his breath after a moment, and replied in a laughter-shaky voice. "Alright, Raven, if you want to get your ass kicked that bad, fine. I'll go ahead and make my choice right now, if that's okay with you... hey, Randy!" Randy Orton looked to Triple H, his sapphire eyes glinting with anticipation. "You think you can take this Kurt Cobain wannabe out?"
"Sure, no sweat!" Randy grinned, and shot a wink to a boy-cut brunette and a raven-haired girl, both who were sitting in the front row giving him the eye. "This loser should be absolutely no problem, Hunter, no problem at all."
"Thought so." Hunter directed his attention back to the man in the ring. "'Kay then, next week, you get your wierd ass out here, you get yourself humiliated in front of all these little people, and you have a good idea of what your place is, got it?"
"Oh, I'll be here." The grin on Raven's face was unintimidated. Casual, even. "Although whether or not things will turn to your favor is highly debatable."
The grin was still on his face when he made his way to the locker room, where Fatima was waiting for him. She frowned.
"What a bunch of jerks. Y'know, it'd be really fun if I could turn 'em into naked mole rats or something. Teach 'em a lesson. Can I, Raven? Pleeeeeease, can I can I can I?"
Raven shook his head, chuckling softly. "No, I'm afraid you can't. The humiliation of Evolution is part of my wish, and I intend on doing it my way. And though the thought of them as wrinkled hairless rodents is very tempting... I'm inclined to stick with my original plan."
"Man..." The genie sighed huffily. "I never get to have ANY fun."
Sighing heavily, Raven leaned against the row of lockers, head tilted upward, staring at the ceiling. "Fatima? How long have you been inside that bottle, anyway?"
"Huh? Oh, I don't know for sure... all flows together after awhile. Years and years I guess... usually nobody wants to put forth the little bit of effort it takes to yank the stopper off. Why does it matter, anyway? Out of the bottle, grant wishes, in the bottle, rinse, repeat. It gets really, really old after awhile." Fatima filed her nails idly, then folded her hands behind her head, nail file vanishing in a puff of lilac smoke. "Nobody's ever asked me a question like that before."
"I didn't think so." Raven stood up and stretched. "Come on, I'll take you down to Ben and Jerry's for a cone if you want. It's the least I can do... after all, you ARE granting me three wishes here." He tucked the bottle back inside his jacket and started out... then cast a second glance at Fatima. "You may want to change into something a little less... conspicuous, though."
"Hey, now!" Fatima looked down at her pointed shoes and violet harem pants, and laughed. "Look who's talking, mister Society-Puts-Too-Much-Emphasis-On-Appearances!"
She smirked, he smirked back, and they left.