~The camera comes up inside the darkened warehouse, a location we've been so many times this year for Peter Vaughn during this time in Sin City. This time, as the lights come up, we see a single wooden easel sitting in the middle of the room. There's a large piece of art positioned on it, but as the easel is set up facing away from us, we can't tell what's on it. You'd think the cameraman could just walk around and show it to us, but apparently that's not allowed in the current circumstances. At the very least, the cameraman waits as Peter Vaughn slowly walks out from the right, behind the art. He takes it in, smiling, before stepping forward towards us.~
Peter Vaughn: Hello there, Sin City. Hell of a ride it's been so far, hasn't it?
~Vaughn appears to be in a good mood tonight, but it's always hard to tell with him. He may smile, he may scowl, but the emotions never seem to reach his eyes.~
Peter Vaughn: I mean, let's face it, who else other than myself expected the impact I would have when I first ran out to help out Mac Bane? I'm betting a lot of the veterans here at SCW simply thought I was a gimmick, brought in to boost the Saviors and propel Mac, Goth, and Kenny's careers forward, among others. Nobody expected me to still be here in June, tearing things up and dominating the competition.
~At this, Vaughn reaches down, rubbing across his lower belly. Get your minds out of the gutter, he's shining up his Roulette Championship that he's wearing.~
Peter Vaughn: Certainly no one thought I would storm Into The Void and walk out with this beautiful championship. With that victory, I made my first real mark in the company, showing how I can elevate this gold to a new level. I added another notch in my climb upwards as a future Hall of Famer in the business. And yet... still, for some reason... I feel like people view me as the outsider.
~For a moment, Vaughn frowns, before his smile once again returns.~
Peter Vaughn: It probably doesn't help that so many of my allies have had some bad breaks as of late. I've been seen more as a solo artist, rather than a member in good standing of the Saviors. But that doesn't change the fact that I've been unbeatable in singles competition. And one of those wins... is pretty important for my immediate future here.
~With that, Vaughn steps over to the artwork, slowly turning the easel around. He makes sure it stays steady, finally allowing us to see the professional print from an SCW match. With "Blaze of Glory XI" etched in flames at the top, we're shown a still of Peter Vaughn in mid-rotation, about to land the standing moonsault that put away Jack Washington in their contest at the PPV.~
Peter Vaughn: This was an epic clash, showcasing my skills to the SCW PPV audience. It was also, apparently, a wake-up call for this man, Mr. Washington. Only a few weeks after this picture was taken, Washington won himself the SCW Internet Title in an unconventional way, pinning Alexander Raven during the Blast From The Past mixed tag tournament. This is why our match at the next Climate Control is actually a champion vs. champion battle for the fans.
~Vaughn studies the photo for a few moments, focusing on Washington's pained expression on the mat.~
Peter Vaughn: It's actually rather fascinating how often this seems to happen. There have been several times now where I score the pinfall victory over someone, and it seems to boomerang them forward into success. I suppose some still take a loss to a former janitor as an insult, and find new motivation to push forward in the sport. That's at least better than the ones who outright quit, at least. Washington took his defeat, and turned it into a boost to his career. Gotta admire him for that.
~The picture is suddenly moving, as Vaughn hauls it off the easel, looking at it with both hands.~
Peter Vaughn: It truly was an amazing night in my SCW career.
~Vaughn seems to admire it for a few more seconds before suddenly raising it in the air... and ripping it apart across his knee!! After a few more 'knee shots' leave the fabric of the art in tatters. Vaughn then flings it off to the side, out of sight.~
Peter Vaughn: But hey, that's all in the past, isn't it? It's not like this one's guaranteed to be a repeat. You have to think Washer is going to take this contest more seriously, seeing as how we're both showing ourselves to be pillars of SCW right now. So I'm not going into this expecting the same result. I'm expecting Wash has learned a few new tricks, and I'll have to break out a few of my own to work towards another victory. It's going to be an epic Round 2.
~Vaughn then turns back to the empty easel, patting it on the side.~
Peter Vaughn: And who knows? We might find ourselves another inspiring piece of art to display in the future.
~With a smirk, Vaughn turns and walks away. We stay on the empty easel for another several seconds before finally fading away.~
~The picture comes back up on what appears to be a closed-off room, possibly in a basement somewhere. At the very least, there are no windows, nothing to indicate what time of day it actually is. The main points of light are coming from a series of television monitors set up on the right side of the room. On each screen, we can see what looks like a shot from a security camera, many angled downwards to focus on a specific line of sight. Most appear to show a ranch setting, with cowboy hats being visible in many of the shots. The camera slowly readjusts, showing us one screen in particular: it appears to be a shot of a large entry space, presumably a business of some kind. We soon know exactly which one as Wyatt Bailey, a cattle dealer who had a confrontation with Vaughn a few weeks ago, walks into frame. He's talking with one of his associates, a larger man who regularly hits the weights, and we can hear their voices through the speakers.~
Wyatt Bailey: You've gotten the delivery sent off for the Four Horseshoe ranch, Butch?
Butch: Yes sir, they should be getting them within the day, assuming the driver doesn't get lost again.
Wyatt Bailey: Who's driving?
Butch: Dwight.
Wyatt Bailey: Damn. He's going to get lost. Tell me why I haven't fired him yet?
Butch: Because he's Marie's cousin.
Wyatt Bailey: *sigh* Damn it. Give him a call later, make sure he's at least in the right state, okay?
Butch: Sure, boss.
Wyatt Bailey: Now talk to me about what happened with the grass seeds. What went wrong?
Sadie Anderson: Oh my God! This is so boring!!
~The camera suddenly pulls back from the screen, showing us Sadie sitting in a computer chair, leaning backwards while running her hands through her hair. She shakes her head, looking over her shoulder.~
Sadie Anderson: This really isn't in my job description, Thomas. Why are we doing this again?
~The shot shifts again, this time spinning to show that Thomas Hill, the half-brother of Peter Vaughn, is standing a bit behind Sadie. He takes a sip from his mug, which could have anything from vodka to iced tea in it, before responding.~
Thomas Hill: You know what Peter wanted. He thought we'd find something incriminating by watching this footage, something we could use for Peter to negotiate a delivery of cattle for the PMV ranch.
Sadie Anderson: And by "negotiate", you mean...
Thomas Hill: Probably blackmail. But I don't want to know the details.
Sadie Anderson: You know, there ARE other cattle distributors we could use. If this guy doesn't want to work with us, why are we so determined to force our way in?
~Hill shrugs, taking another sip before answering.~
Thomas Hill: Bailey said no to Peter. You know that never goes over well.
Sadie Anderson: ... We need to work on that with him. There will always be people who say no in this business.
Thomas Hill: Maybe, but in any business Vaughn's ever been involved in, he's always found a way to turn that "no" into a "yes". Hard to see him changing that policy now.
~Sadie sighs, pushing back in front of the displays.~
Sadie Anderson: Well, I don't think he's going to get anything he can use here. We've been watching for days and days now, and all I've really learned is that this Bailey guy is a stickler for doing everything right.
Thomas Hill: Yep, he's a straight arrow, and apparently a loyal son of a bitch, too, the way he's sticking to his guns for his friend Judd.
Sadie Anderson: At this point, Thomas, we're just wasting our time. We're never going to get...
~There's a sudden slam from the speaker, surprising Sadie. She turns, looking back at the screen, where Wyatt Bailey has just brought his fist down on the nearby desk.~
Wyatt Bailey: I'm tired of this, Butch! You may be one of my best workers, but you get these damn fool notions in your head that your ways are better, and they just end up screwing everything up! I've done this job for over forty years now! I know how to get it done! You just need to listen, boy! You understand?
Butch: Yes sir. I'm sorry, sir.
Wyatt Bailey: Just get this fixed! Pronto!
~Bailey storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Butch watches him go, straightening up in frustration afterwards.~
Sadie Anderson: He IS a yeller, isn't he?
Thomas Hill: An old yeller.
~Sadie turns, just staring at Thomas, as he chuckles to himself. He notices Sadie's expression, though, and coughs, going back for some more liquid refreshment. Sadie shakes her head and turns back, even as Butch meets up with another of the ranch hands.~
Cowboy: You alright?
Butch: Course I'm alright. I've taken plenty of his chewing outs in the past, it's not like one more makes any kind of difference. So is everything set?
~The cowboy looks around in either direction to make sure no one else is close. He neglects, unfortunately, to note the camera, possibly thinking it wasn't powerful enough to pick up their voices. But Bailey apparently spared no expense.~
Cowboy: We've got the old Mustang rigged. When old man Bailey goes for his Saturday drive in the country, he's guaranteed to have himself a little 'accident'.
Butch: Good. It's about time we put him out to pasture. I should have been running this place a long time ago.
Cowboy: You know you'll have the support of the boys.
Butch: Damn straight I will. No one would expect that "loyal Butch" would do anything to his 'mentor', the old fool. I just wish I could be there when it happens.
~The two men laugh, as the cowboy walks off. Butch, meanwhile, leans on the desk while giving an evil sneer in the direction Bailey had gone.~
Butch: Your time is up, grandpa. I'm sick of you calling me Butch. It's William, damn it!
~Butch, er, William then storms away, leaving the room empty. Flabbergasted, Sadie turns and makes eye contact with Thomas, who has apparently been so stunned, he's allowed his mug to lean forward, spilling out what appears to be... milk? A strange choice, to be sure, but Sadie's not concerned with that right now.~
Sadie Anderson: Call Peter and get him here. Now.
~Thomas nods, putting the mug to the side and getting out his phone. He heads for the stairs, since cell reception isn't that great in basements, as Sadie turns back to the set-up, working to make a copy of everything they just saw. We cut away.~
I gotta say, I'm always a lover of surprises.
Take this upcoming match, for instance. I thought Washey and I had already concluded our business and gone our separate ways. After all, he moved on to the Internet Championship, and I sealed the deal on getting the Roulette Title around my waist. It didn't seem like we were likely to cross paths anytime soon. And yet, here we are, booked in a non-title Clash of the Champions main event at Climate Control.
How'd you take that news, Wash? How'd it go over?
Were you excited, knowing that you had a chance to avenge your PPV loss to me? Were you anxious, realizing that you could end up 0-2 against The Mechanic, squashing your recent momentum against that Raven guy? Were you constipated? That... really has nothing to do with our match, you need to be careful about what you're eating, friend. Greens are necessary for a clean bowel movement.
But let's make our way out of anatomy and talk about the truth.
I'm willing to bet you felt a swell of several emotions when you found out about this contest, because let's face it: you now have everything to gain from it. If I knock you on your back once again and get the quick 1-2-3, everyone will say: Well, yeah, we knew that was coming. I won't get as much glory from it as I did the first time, doing it in front of an extremely active live audience. Even though you're wearing that pretty gold there that I'm told might be on a higher level than mine, a fact I disagree with, it just wouldn't be the same taking you down a second time.
But hey, if lightning strikes and you're able to get that quick roll-up or surprise me with a move I didn't see coming? You get all the praise. You beat the unbeatable machine that had been tearing up Sin City for months now. You'd get to say, maybe that first win was just a fluke... and it'd be hard for me to argue it. After all, we'd have one win each, and we'd have to go to a tiebreaker in the future. And hell, the way our careers are going right now, that tiebreaker might take place for that World Championship.
Yeah, I see you over there Michael. I'm still keeping an eye on you for the future.
So yeah, I'd say all the pressure should be on me. You're the one with nothing to lose, other than a little more pride. But you know, I'm not really feeling the pressure, either. I mean, my championship is not on the line. I've already added your name to the List of the Vanquished. I don't even get a guaranteed title shot against you if I do end up squashing you. So why should I be concerned that I could be defeated at Climate Control?
It seems to me that I don't have anything to lose, either.
Oh, sure, there's the winning streak and the pin streak. The boys on commentary like to make a big deal about that. But for me? It's all about moving on to the next match, the next glory. I'm making my way up the ladder, and if I hit a missing rung? It happens. I mean, hey, I lost a shocker in TPW, losing my championship there, but I kept moving forward, and now I'm basically running that joint, and will be getting my title back sooner rather than later.
I've stumbled in the XWF, and yet found my way to more gold. In the WGWF, aggravation just led me to win the West Coast Rumble. I've had teammates let me down, like here in the Blast From The Past Tournament, and still, I'm on the path to achieving even more success.
So I'm not worried about taking a loss to you, Wash. I'm also not concerned about gaining another win over you.
I guess you could say that I'm a little ambivalent on the matter.
But that's not going to keep me from bringing my A game to the show. After all, when all is said and done, it's all about the next match. And if the next match involves me shredding down the ego of another champion, then so be it.
Just know, Wash, that it's nothing personal, and really, I'm not going to get too much satisfaction out of wiping you out again. I mean, they'll be some satisfaction. I'll have a good time. But overall? It's going to be another night of the Mechanic taking care of business.
Afraid surprises will likely be minimal, boyo.
Butch: Your time is up, grandpa. I'm sick of you calling me Butch. It's William, damn it!
~As the man storms out of view once again, we see that Peter Vaughn is now sitting there, watching the footage. He sits with his hands in a steeple position, taking it all in. As the room's now empty, Vaughn turns to look back at Sadie and Thomas, both of whom look a little anxious.~
Peter Vaughn: So is that it?
Sadie Anderson: What do you mean, "is that it"? That's not enough??
Peter Vaughn: I'm just making sure there was nothing else you wanted to show me, that's all.
~Sadie looks over incredulously at Thomas, who clears his throat before responding.~
Thomas Hill: Well, Peter, we kind of thought that'd be more than enough there for you. It seems clear that this Butch guy...
Peter Vaughn: William.
Thomas Hill: What?
Peter Vaughn: He wants to be called William.
Thomas Hill: ... Okay, WILLIAM. This William guy is planning to take out Mr. Bailey and make it look like an accident! He's going to steal Bailey's company straight out from under him! Literally from his cold, dead hands!
Peter Vaughn: Uh huh. That seems to be what he's doing, alright.
~Vaughn nods, showing little concern, which seems to bother both Sadie & Thomas.~
Sadie Anderson: ... And what, we're just going to let this happen??
Thomas Hill: At the very least, we need to report it to the police or something. We can't just let this happen!
Peter Vaughn: And what, exactly, would you be telling them, Thomas? What would be your proof?
Thomas Hill: I... I mean, the video...
Peter Vaughn: You mean the illegally obtained video that we should have no access to? That video?
~That causes Thomas to pause, as he scratches at his head.~
Thomas Hill: Well... well, we'll just say that someone... overheard something... at the bar, maybe.
Peter Vaughn: Oh, heresy! Yeah, that always works out in the eyes of the law.
Sadie Anderson: Okay then, Peter, what SHOULD we do? How do we stop this?
Peter Vaughn: Are you sure we want to?
~There's a shocked silence in the room, as if a quiet bomb just went off, deafening everyone. But after a few seconds, Thomas speaks up.~
Thomas Hill: I don't understand, Peter...
Peter Vaughn: Well, it's rather simple. I want to do some cattle business with Mr. Bailey, but Mr. Bailey has, so far, turned me down. Maybe this William fellow would be more receptive to my offerings of double the price per head of cattle. He's certainly not going to have any loyalty to Judd or anyone else in the Union.
Sadie Anderson: You're... you're talking about just letting a man die, Peter. A death we could prevent.
Peter Vaughn: No, Sadie. I'm simply weighing all the options.
Sadie Anderson: I can't believe this! I thought... I thought you were better than this, Pe-... Mr. Vaughn.
~Shaking with undisguised fury, Sadie turns and stomps away, heading up the stairs. Thomas watches her go, then turns back to Vaughn, wanting to get through to his half-brother.~
Thomas Hill: We can't just let this happen, Peter. We have to do something.
Peter Vaughn: Why? With one flick of my finger, this video is erased... and this problem takes care of itself.
Thomas Hill: And... and you want to win that way?
Peter Vaughn: ... It's not about winning or losing. It's about business.
Thomas Hill: It's also about having control over a situation, Peter. Even if you don't take any action here, just letting it all play out... there are consequences. You just saw one pounding up the stairs. There will likely be more.
~Vaughn sighs, sitting forward in the chair. He reaches for the buttons, his finger hovering over the delete key. But he then rewinds instead, going back to where Bailey is reading the riot act to Butch/William. Vaughn studies it again for a few moments.~
Peter Vaughn: He really does sound just like my father...
Thomas Hill: ... What?
Peter Vaughn: This man. Bailey. He reminds me a lot of him, as he got older.
~Thomas chooses not to comment, letting the moment play out. Vaughn finally pushes away from the desk, turning and facing his half-brother.~
Peter Vaughn: Alrighty then. I suppose we'll have to decide on a Plan B.
Thomas Hill: Okay, and what would that require?
Peter Vaughn: Not much. Just unrestricted access to the garage where Bailey's Mustang is located, and a few hours for me to repair a problem or two.
Thomas Hill: You'd... you'd just repair the car? Like that?
Peter Vaughn: They don't call me the Mechanic for nothing. I mean, sure, I'm not a genius with automobiles, but I doubt they hid their handiwork that well.
Thomas Hill: Okay... okay... we can work with this. At the very least, it's a step in the right direction. I'll go see what I can arrange, okay?
Peter Vaughn: Sure, Thomas. You do that.
~Thomas hurries away, heading up the stairs, while Vaughn once again plays the footage forward, showing the evil grin of Butch/William zoomed in on the screen. Vaughn studies it, thinking it over, before flipping it backwards to bring up another shot of Bailey's face.~
Peter Vaughn: Maybe this can prove worthwhile, old man. Or maybe, just maybe, we'll find ourselves sticking to Plan A after all.
~Vaughn's hand again moves towards the delete button. But after a second, he saves it instead, moving it to a flash drive. Vaughn pops the drive out, pocketing it, before then getting up and leaving the room. He leaves behind a black screen on the main monitor, possibly not a good omen for the future. We fade out.~
