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"Have you saw your name booked on a card, and just know that deep down in your soul, no matter what, you're going to win, and quite easily? Because that's the feeling I got as soon as soon as our esteemed General Manager-" Maverick smirks while stifling a giggle, enjoying the pure irony that Tyrone denied him title shots for a full three months, and yet now he was enjoying a Universal Championship #1 Contender's Match, "-Tyrone Jackson announced that I was in the Universal Championship Match. Now, let's be frank here. This match will require zero effort from me."

"Zero."

"Nada."

"Zip."

"Zilch."

"It's not hard to see why. As I'm going to be looking across the ring, I see a man who has resorted to liposuction to escape the looming threat of fat insults, a girl who fancies herself as this 'anti-authority leader' when nine times out of ten she can barely grasp a win, except for the most basic of bitches such as Amjetkun Socio, and a man who has become the, in his own words, 'bitch' of a crime lord and yet can still somehow not pay attention."

Maverick cracks up here, his stifled giggles turning into a small guffaw.

"Oh, Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth. You delude yourself by believing you're the hands on favorite. You delude yourself AND these fans by believing, that somehow, someway, you're going to achieve a victory here. What are some notable victories you have? Let's see here..."

Maverick reaches off- screen, pulling out a (very small) list of Macbeth's matches in recent memory.

"Let's see here... First match back, you beat a bunch of nameless j0bbers and Rebel Star! Good start, if only that WASN'T Rebel Star's first match here. At this point she was practically a nobody. Next, we have you beating the Lone Wolf!"

Maverick then looks up from his list.

"Who the fuck is the Lone Wolf?"

To which he receives no response, implying that nobody knows who the Lone Wolf is. Maverick titters, and goes back to his list, only to find that he's already at the end.

"Oh me, oh my. We've arrived at the end of the pitiful amount of matches and victories of the past three hundred and sixty-five days, a number nearly as low as your IQ, evidenced for when you said you had no idea why I was in this match."

"Hey, Tyrone? Do the honors for me."

The camera then flashes over to Tyrone immediately after the Hart Championship Match at last week's Warfare.

(02-25-2016, 01:06 PM)Tyrone Jackson Said: Ok, fans. As they're busy setting this up, and probably helping construct the method for one of our own to be murdered tonight, I need to address something. Next Warfare is going to feature a special event. A four way elimination match to determine who competes for the Universal Title against Vinnie Lane. The names were already drafted and pieced together. Here they are.

"You see? I had no say in being in this match, though I would have gladly jumped at the chance to settle the score with Lane. You, however, cannot properly hear. Hey, Halliday, that your name? If, for whatever reason you watch XWF promos, think next time you see Chris Macbeth- 'Would I want an incompetent knave who can hardly hear to be my right-hand man?"

"Macbeth, you compared me to Cougar, a cute, if rather meager, observation. The thing is, Cougar couldn't stand up to odds. He fell, he froze, he couldn't amount to anything. Now, there's something you should know about me. I may be regarded as a 'joke,' but when all cards are on the table and when all bets are off, I'm a different Maverick than you normally know. Gilmour knows that perfectly from Relentless and the last Warfare before War Games, don't ya, Pete? I can defy odds. You? All you've ever been known for doing thus far is beating a few nameless newbies, and yet somehow you believe that this automatically propels you to a win. Now believe me, the day Chris Macbeth wins a big match is the day Amjetkun Socio wins a regular match. It's the day that Calypso finally trains. It's the day that LeStrange is taken as a serious competitor. That is to say, Chris Macbeth will never ever win 'the big one.'"

"Now, after Macbeth falls, then comes Alexis Riot. Alexis, Alexis, Alexis. Oh boy. What to even say? No, like really, what do you even say about this chick? She got a massive momentum boost after beating Doctor D'Ville- D'Ville, for Christ's sake! Do you know how few people have beaten D'Ville?! This would mean that Alexis Riot is essentially better than the majority of the roster in that regard. So what did she do after accomplishing such an achievement?! She won the Snow Job Gauntlet, that's good! Then she went after the Hart Championship, that's a good start! Then she lost the match due to interference from Amjetkun Socio."

Maverick stares blankly at the camera before saying, "Whaaaaaat?"

"Then she beat Socio, thank fucking God, and has since accomplished well, nothing. Congratulations Alexis, you have literally wasted all of your momentum and now you're going to do essentially jack shit in this match. I mean, she has yet to say anything, and now I'm starting to worry. Perhaps we should rally our Twitter accounts to pull an Alexis and find her? #WheretheFuckisAlexis, anybody?"

Maverick shakes his head. He didn't have much on Riot, and as such was forced to spout mindless drivel, but hopefully it was enough mindless drivel to keep Riot occupied. But then his expression brightened upon getting to the one man he wanted to talk about for the longest time.

"Peter fucking Gilmour. Oh man, I've been waiting to get to you. You, I'm saving for last. I'm going to relish punishing you, drop that already pitiful IQ down to abysmal levels, and rip that dream of becoming Universal Champion away once more."

"Seeing you gloat is adorable. Watching you imagine that you're superior to me. Bragging about how you beat me. Complaining about me shitting on the title. Someone, like a certain bitch of a Crime Lord, hasn't been paying attention to the results."

Maverick snaps his fingers, and the camera snaps to Tyrone Jackson back in January.

(01-07-2016, 12:18 AM)Tyrone Jackson Said: Then we have Maverick's ass who couldn't even show the fuck up without being forced to wear a diaper and beat in the head with a fucking shovel until he was barely conscious.

"As you can see, the fucker ambushed me with a shovel, and made me lose sight of what the fuck was what. And it's sad, really, how you had to rely on interference from a man carrying a shovel who wasn't even a wrestler in order to finally beat me. Between that and ducking your Hart title challenges, you're kind of a pussy for a champion. Just saying."

"But oh dear, calling you a pussy just scratched the surface. Maria doesn't know about the abundance of sexual partners you've had in the past, no? Lemme tell you about one. Does the WCWA ring a bell, Gilmour?"

Maverick lets out a loud laugh, knowing that as soon as Gilly and Maria see this, Gilmour is going straight to the doghouse.

"Maria, if you thought Candy was bad enough, you haven't even scratched the surface. For instance, have you heard of one Ashley Marie? Peter Gilmour's ex-fiancee from back in the days of the WCWA? Maria, how can you trust your husband? Considering the amount of partners he's had, he could be cheating on you. Every minute. Every second. He may have given a vow, but vows can easily be broken. After all, didn't he cream his pants at the thought of Candy?"

"Now, while I let the thought of Peter cheating on Maria stew in her mind, it's time I address a certain... new side of Gilly."

Maverick smirks.

"He's no longer fat."

"Now, Gilly, you don't have to hide anything from us. You got liposuction, didn't you? You were so sick of weeping salty tears into your bed and cradling your Ashley Marie body pillow every time someone called you fat, no? You were tired of the insults, tired of everyone you met calling you fat, you had to call up your plastic surgeon, and get that fat removed? You didn't want to be known as the fat man anymore. You didn't want to be known as the blob. You want to be something more, but the truth is you'll always be a bitch that had to resort to fucking liposuction to escape the fat insults. Fuck you."

"And by the way, my mom died when I was born. Douche."

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Silence.

This was the maddening sound that was welcoming to Maverick's ears.

In silence, he was lost in his thoughts, alone. This was how he preferred his days. Exploring his own mindscape, training himself up from the inside. Alexis Riot may have her "demon" act as a voice inside her head, but Maverick might as well be the originator of having voices in his head. He had advice, a person to fall back on, and most of all, a friend. That's more than what some people could say. Talking about you, Gilmour. Liposuction bitch.

It was inside his mind that Maverick was inside now, training himself, sparring with the entity in his mind known as his "mind-father." The two are currently going back and forth. Mind- Robert delivered a stiff forearm that sent Maverick rocking a few steps, though Maverick promptly responded with a European Uppercut. Snap jab and a cross from Robert. Big knee from Maverick as Robert hunched over. Maverick was about to take advantage of this and bounce off the ropes, but all of a sudden, a buzzer sounded.

"Time!" Robert panted. He wiped off the beads of perspiration that were beginning to form on his eyebrow. "I swear kid, you're getting stronger and stronger everyday." After a large deep breath, Robert got back to his normal stance. "But I wonder if it will be enough to win your match on Warfare, let alone on Shove-It."

Mav, who was in a similarly tired state, responded, "What do you mean? We've been training hard. Surely I'd stand at least a decent chance."

"A decent chance is not good enough. Gilmour has been on a role as of late, Riot has beaten D'Ville before, and God knows what Macbeth is capable of. He's the wild card here, I doubt I'd be able to get a good enough idea of what he could do."

"I don't care how hard I have to push myself. Nobody is stopping me. I'm going to win, and then when I face Lane, I'm going to become a Grand Slam Champion."

"Jesus, you've won that many titles already?" Robert and Mav share a laugh before both of their faces get serious again.

"In any case, we need to get back to training. We both know you'll need every inch of training possible."

Mav shared a nod before the two of them got back to sparring.