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"Deal."

A clap resounded throughout the house as Maverick shook Thomas Girard's hand. It's time for someone to make their final push, and to return to the XWF.

"Merci," Girard smiles. With that, he promptly went to the guest room, most likely to pack up his things.

Mav slumped forward on the table, fingers at his temples. He knew he was about to get a lot of headaches, along with a lot of trash talking to do, but hopefully it would be worth it in the end.

You know, I'm actually genuinely surprised you took Girard's offer. For a second, I thought you were going to decline.

I figured maybe it would be for the best. After all, I may be currently banned from title shots, but last I checked I still have a nice stack of xbux, so I can immediately challenge for a title. Maybe the Intercontinental, I always fancied that one.

You... You haven't kept up with the XWF at all, haven't you?

I kept up with some stuff. For instance, I know Lane STILL has yet to drop the Uni. Why do you ask?

You should ask your butler about your xbux. Last I heard, they siphon some xbux away occasionally from inactive competitors.

Taking his mind-father's advice and shouted, "GERALD!"

Always there in a flash when you need him, Gerald turned 'round a corner and said, "You called, Master Solomon?"

"Yes, I did. What is the current state of my xbux?"

Gerald promptly whipped out his phone. After pressing a few buttons and making a few swipes, he reported, "Sir, you have six hundred and forty- one xbux."

"WHAT!"

THE HELL?!

Both Maverick and his mind-father were suprised, and for good reason. They were robbed, like, about as broke to the point of Robbie Bourbon after he had to rebuild his harem for dojo.

"B- but that's impossible!" Maverick managed to stammer out.

"Unfortunately sir, this appears to be the case. If there is any consolation, however, it is that one of the stipulations of the match is that the losing team must kneel before the winners and surrender half of their xbux."

"Huh." Mav scratched his chin and analyzed the situation before him. If he could win here, more than likely the majority of his fortunes would be restored. That was more than likely what Girard had meant by "small fortune."

"However, sir, there is another stipulation." Gerald continued. "That is that should you lose, you must recite a poem in front of the entire world."

Maverick sighed, "Great. Go up with a team I may not be able to get along with and potentially get rich, or get humiliated in front of the entire world." Maverick smiled, a cheeky smile that let the world know, whatever the odds placed before him, no matter what would likely happen, he would be more than ready to face them with a smile on his face. "I guess it's time to start training."

"With all due respect, sir," Gerald says. "All four of your opponent has made promos. I would suggest you respond to those."

Maverick nodded. "Good idea, Gerald. But after I lower my IQ to the level of LeStrange's by watching their promos, THEN it's time to train."

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When the camera reappears, we see Maverick casually sipping on a glass of wine. He takes a deep breath before saying, "Oh, XWF, it is GOOD to be back! The return of Shove- It, and what better than a Main Event match for my return!"

Maverick smirks. "Of course, I do realize here I'm going to have to share the spotlight here with three competitors, talented in their own ways. A couple of filthy memers, albeit capable wrestlers, in Luca Arzegotti and Austin Fernando, as well as a formerly undefeated former Intercontinental Champion in Game Girl."

"Now, on the other side of the field, we have a joke who somehow managed to get his way into a Main Event match, a rookie scrub who thinks she's actually worth shit, a diabetic man who's angry that no one ever takes him seriously, and Vinnie Lane."

"Now, LeDildo." As soon as Maverick's joking name for LeStrange came out, he cracked up. "Hahahaha! What the hell hasn't been said yet? He's a dumbass, a career jobber who's only purpose in life is to make midcarders like Mason Prince feel good about themselves, and he thinks cartoon pictures are a viable insult. Let's have that sink in for a second. Cartoons. You know, the shit grade school children watch once their home from school? Are you trying to imply something LeStrange? Potentially that you are on the mental level of Dim, a man who just a few months ago was reported to have passed the fourth grade? It wouldn't shock me one bit. I mean, the only insults besides those cartoon pictures that were aimed towards me were about a shit and a table. You know, characters that other people interacted with. We've had our fair share of murderers, psychopaths and insane people roll through here, hell we've even had a literal dick hold the Federweight title, yet for some reason me talking to inanimate objects that other people talked to apparently makes fair game for you. Yeah. O-kay. You let me know how that worked out for you once you get yourself eliminated."

"Next, we have Rebel Star. Now, if what I'm gathering from your promos were correct, you were designed to be a literal sex slave. A sex slave, designed that way from birth inside of a fucking test tube. Well, we've seen it all ladies and gents, we've had people shit on titles and frame other people for it, we've watched people get raped inside a pit and we've seen more deaths than Peter Gilmour can count, yet a sex slave from birth fucking takes the cake. Hell, one of the reasons she considered joining wrestling is because of her increased "endurance." What next? It turns out that her tongue can shoot out long enough it can give the impression of a dick? And this bitch goes on, stating how "me being on my team is insult enough."

Mav chuckles becore taking a sip of wine.

"Excuse me, Rebs- can I call you Rebs? Fuck it, I'm calling you Rebs- I won my debut match. Can you say the same? Sure, you can acknowledge it all you want, but don't put me down unless you have some sort of accomplishment that would make you superior to me. Really, what have you done? Lost your first match, showed up at Scully's "leaving" party, hired some bank robber and obviously pulled the fakest death in all of existance... That shows me nothing that would make you superior to me. Good day."

"Now, we get to Robbie fucking Bourbon. This fat ass. He's got a gut Peter Gilmour would be proud of. And like Rebel Star, well... He's done nothing of note. He's just tried so damn hard to get somewhere, get himself out of this rut, only to fail time and time again. Only to fall flat on his face-"

"Every."

"Single."

"Time. Remind me, when was the last time Bourbon won a relevant match? He tried going after the tag titles- TWICE- but he failed in that department. He tried going for the Intercontinental title, but he failed in that department as well. Bourbon will always be known as The Little Train That Couldn't. Keeps running on everyday, trying to make the best out of anything and make himself seem relevant, only he can't, each and every time. In all honesty? I'm not even sure I want to face him now. This guy makes a complete and utter mockery each and everytime he steps into the ring. Honestly, he's not worth my time. Guy goes off about me shitting in a diaper and drinking my piss, even though it was mentioned last promo Tyrone beat me down with shovels and made me act like Lane after downing fifteen glasses of wine. You don't really watch my promos, don't ya?"

"Now we go to the only guy who matters on the other team. Vinnie Lane. How's it hanging, champ? We didn't really talk much since Back in Black. But trust me, I have A LOT to say to you."

Maverick takes a deep breath.

Aw, man. He's gonna let Vinnie have it.

"Thank you."

Wait, what?!

"Yes, you heard me right. I said thank you to Vinnie Lane. See Lane, you made me realize something. When I was around back then, I made like I wanted to go after the top names, but I never followed through on that. And even when I had a chance to prove myself, a la Back in Black, I hardly put in effort. Sure I had my moments, defending the Hart, winning the tags, but I never really DID anything."

"And now that ends. Starting at Shove-It, rest assured you won't be getting the Maverick at Back in Black. You won't be getting the Maverick who lost to Peter Gilmour. No, instead you'll be getting the Maverick who beat Ginger Snaps, the same girl you couldn't beat in order to claim the Hart Championship. You're getting the Maverick who only a few matches in pulled off one of the biggest upsets in XWF when he beat John Samuels. You're getting a Maverick who at Shove-It, shall lead his team to victory."

"Believe that."