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"HAH!"

Maverick lunged forward in the eternal darkness within his mind. This 'eternal darkness' within his mind wasn't usually the state of affairs there. Usually there would be some kind of scene to accompany whatever was going on, be it in a field, beach, desert or forest.

To be frank, Maverick felt alone. He felt the creeping darkness surround him, he felt that something was up. There was no sign of life, conjured or from his mind-father. He hated this kind of loneliness, the kind where you felt isolated, with no one to keep you company. With the literal voice inside his head, he rarely, if ever, felt this kind of loneliness anymore. That made the feeling here that much worse. No, he had to break free from whatever prison this was, that was why he was lunging.

Then, all of a sudden, the scene changed.

A bright light flooded his eyes. Multiple, in fact. Flashing cameras captured whatever spectacle was going on as Maverick was running inside a ring. He bounced off the ropes, only to be crushed by a Big Boot from a mind-created version of Peter Gilmour. Maverick stumbled back in response to this, and as he turned around he was greeted by a mind-created version of Alexis Riot. She hit Maverick with a Sling Blade, sending Maverick crashing to the mat. His breath escaped his body, a small puff exiting from his mouth. As soon as Maverick was about to will himself back up, his eyes spotted a mind-created version of Chris Macbeth. He was perched on the top turnbuckle, a boisterous smile dominating his face. Before Maverick was going toreact, Macbeth launched off the turnbuckle and hit a Party Hard. Maverick could feel his body violently convulsing for a second after the brutal attack.

Maverick grunted as he forced himself to his side after Mind-Macbeth's Party Hard. The continued bursts of light from the cameras began to piss off Maverick as he attempted to crawl, albeit with no success. The crowd who were previously enjoying the show began raining down boos. Maverick attempted to block out the boos as he finally was able to crawl. However, with every little, agonizing inch Maverick crawled, he began hearing voices. Familiar voices. Familiar voices with familiar insults with familiar intentions.

He heard Peter Gilmour.

(02-29-2016, 01:18 PM)Peter Fn Gilmour Said: You should have never came back after I whipped your sorry ass all over that ring when I beat you pretty easily a few months ago for this title.[/red]

Chris Macbeth.

(02-27-2016, 01:07 PM)Chris Macbeth Said: Your out of your depth you know it, it's probably best you just don't show up!

He heard their voices, their biting remarks. It drove Maverick insane, being unable to shut those two up. Then, suddenly he found a thing, a thing to help Maverick up. He didn't know what it was, nor did he care. He used it to pull himself up, only looking up when he was on his knees.

And he saw a mind-created version of Vinnie Lane.

(12-14-2015, 07:06 PM)LoverboyVinnieLane Said: [color=#ff33cc]"I've kicked Maverick's ass more times than he's touched a naked titty that wasn't feeding him alcohol-infused milk."

After that remark, Mind-Vinnie easily picks up the wounded Maverick by the head. It was during that moment, about to hit the floor from the Black Label Driver, being blinded by the flashing lights, having to shove down all the insults from Gilmour, Macbeth and Lane, that Maverick heard a voice that snapped him back to reality.

"Master Solomon!"

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"GAH!" Maverick shouted as soon as he woke up.

"Are you alright? I heard thrashing, so I came in to check on you!" It was evident that Gerald had just woken up from his slumber and had ran to Maverick, as evidenced by the fact that he is still wearing his pajamas, along with beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

Mav finally begins to calm down, letting out a few deep breaths before saying, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a nightmare. Just thinking about the contenders match..."

As Maverick began trailing off, Gerald pulled up a nearby seat. "Master Solomon, do you remember my position with your family prior to becoming your servant?"

"Of course. You were my father's best friend. You managed him on his matches, you were named best man at his wedding, essentially you were the jelly to his peanut butter. But what does this have to do with anything? Mav questioned.

"Well, this reminds me of your father. When we would have to work a show, we would rent a hotel room near the venue, as do most wrestlers today."

"Of course."

"Well, depending on the match, Robert was overtaken by pre-match jitters. Usually, the first sign was a nightmare with lots of thrashing in it, not unlike what just happened."

"So, how did he become calm?" Maverick asked.

"Well, there were usually one of two ways he would calm down for the night. Either he would go a few minutes on the punching bag we packed with us, or he would cut a promo on his opponents." Gerald smiled. "Lucky for you, Gilmour just cut a promo."

Upon hearing that, Maverick let loose a sly grin to match Gerald's own smile. "Well, in that case I know what I'm doing."

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"Gilmour. Gilmour. Gilmour."

"I have to ask you something here. Do you like being perpetually seen as bottom of the barrel? The man who lacks absolutely no brains? The man who thinks and deludes himself by believing that one day, one fucking day, he'll be someone worth noting in the XWF?"

"I mean, have you been paying attention to anything in the XWF? You mentioned the US title, a title last brought in, like when? 2013? Are you getting simple facts mixed up, and then have the gall and claim that you're smarter than me? Sorry, Gilmour, but unlike you my facts are usually true. You live this lie where you believe you're the best at everything, the best at wrestling, picking up girls, gaming, you name it and Peter Gilmour is the best at it, ladies and gentlemen."

"But Gilmour, the sad, sad fact is you're not good at anything. You're not a good wrestler. Aside from your wife, you pick up no one. Hell, I'm willing to bet Candy was just a blow- up doll."

"See, Gilmour, it's like I said. You like putting yourself up on this high pedestal above me, and just prance around, thinking that oh, you're the best, just off of one victory that required the help of Tyrone Jackson. And no, this isn't me complaining about Tyrone, this is more like me complaining about you. How dare you think you're better than anyone except for bitches like Prince and Bourbon. You haven't gotten a tre win over me. My win over you may have been a "fluke," but I can at least say I won my match clean. Can you, Gilmour? Can you live with yourself, knowing that there will always be that asterisk sitting pretty next to that win? Letting everyone who saw that match know that you didn't do jack shit. It's saddening, really. You going around, thinking you'll win. It's cute. But that's all you're good for, making cute remarks that everyone laughs at, because let's face it. You're Peter Gilmour. You deserve nothing in life. If anything, you're the hands-on reject who will be thrown out of the ring first thing."

"You also pass on the lie that you've managed to drop that gut by simply working out. Yet, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the recommended weight loss per week around one to two pounds? After all, you wouldn't want to be damaging your body by simply dropping half your weight, much like you did Gilly. Considering you shouldn't have had a match given such a rapid decrease in weight, one truly has to wonder why YOU'RE in this match. I mean, after all, you're techincally injured."

"And remember how I implied earlier how you completely missed the point of my promo? Maria may know your former flames, but that means nothing. She may know Ashley, she may know Rose, but the fact of the matter is, is that you're going to cheat on Maria. I mean, it's only natural, no? I mean, like you claim, you attract all the chicks. This evidently means that eventually, there will come a woman you consider to be superior to Maria, and after that Maria will find out you cheated on her, and then you split, boo-hoo, nobody cares."

"Gilly, it's as I said earlier in my previous promo. This match is requiring zero effort from me. See you at your loss."