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Messages - Peter Vaughn

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21
Supercard Archives / Burying The Competition, P1
« on: August 19, 2023, 11:13:57 PM »
~Our shot opens up on the same quiet lot that once housed a gigantic, abandoned warehouse. That building has since been torn down (in dramatic fashion), but Peter Vaughn has continued work on the site, clearing away the debris and planting both grass & trees in specific locations throughout the area. Now, as we return, we can see him in the distance, working once again. The cameraman makes his way over, following what appears to be a freshly laid brick path. He reaches near the end of it, coming up behind Vaughn, who we can see is preparing another brick for placement. He locks it into position, making sure it sticks, before looking back at the cameraman and pointing a dirty finger in his direction.~

Peter Vaughn: You were late on purpose this time, weren't you? You wanted to see more of what I'd be doing today... while not helping any yourself. I get it. You're not interested in extra labor. Just "doing your job" or whatever. It's fine. Fine.

~It doesn't seem "fine" to Vaughn, but the cameraman doesn't argue. He just steps to the side, onto the grass, to get a better shot of Vaughn's path that he's building. It's really rather intricate, using different colored bricks to make a captivating pattern. It's still not clear, though, why Vaughn is going to all this trouble, as he's never explained the work he's been doing. Nor does it seem like he's going to do it now, as he gets up and splashes some water on his hands, cleaning them.~

Peter Vaughn: Construction is always messy work. But hey, the more you put in, the better things come out, right? I mean, take my Sin City career. I've put a lot into it at this point. I arrived here in February, nearly half a year ago, to help my man Mac Bane win a championship. I took on some of the supposed strongest guys here, wrestlers like Milo and Barnhart, and sent them packing. I went into my first SCW Pay-Per-View and got a victory over Jack Washington at Blaze of Glory XI. THAT one got people talking, didn't it?

~Vaughn smirks to himself, remembering the sensation of starting off so strongly. He then grabs another brick, pasting it up for placement in the path.~

Peter Vaughn: After that, it seemed like the sky was the limit. I went on to win the Roulette Championship at Into The Void XII, and there seemed to be nothing in this world that could stop me... until I lost that rematch with Washington. You'd think, since we're 1-1 against each other, there'd be another match, but it sure felt after that one that people said "Well, clearly, THAT'S the one that matters", because I haven't heard anything about a tiebreaker between us. Instead... instead, it feels like maybe I'm stuck in a rut now.

~The smirk is gone, replaced by annoyance, as Vaughn slams down the brick into position. He's a little too forceful, as the brick cracks upon impact. Grumbling to himself, Vaughn quickly pops it back out before it can set, tossing it to the side and going for another brick.~

Peter Vaughn: To be sure, I've taken the Roulette Championship to new heights. People are damn excited to see this belt defended whenever possible. But the higher-ups may have lost faith in me, because they first give ol' Barnhart another shot at the belt, and then pitted me against the man who lost to the Troll. He doesn't even deserve his name mentioned, to be frank, but I took him down nonetheless. I beat him expecting a major contender for my belt... and instead I get a contenders match between two lower-card guys, wanting their chance in the PPV spotlight. I've gone from Hall of Famers to the Backyard Rookies. I mean, how old's this kid Lyons? 18? 19?

~The cameraman flashes his free hand a few times, probably conveying the correct age due to Vaughn's reaction.~

Peter Vaughn: 22? Damn, that's hard to believe, but they do look younger every day, I guess. So I'm fighting the youngster with a couple of wins under his belt, defending my championship once again... and my man Goth comes back, and immediately is ahead of me in the World Title rankings. Yeah. Proud of him and all, but... well, we'll see what happens after Violent Conduct is over with.

~With a sigh, Vaughn gets another brick in place. Despite his discussion with the cameraman, he doesn't appear to have lost focus, as all of the patterns still look correct. Vaughn takes it in, figuring out his next move as he walks over to the nearby wheelbarrow, moving it further down the line. We can see, just ahead, several rounded pillars have been stacked up. They certainly look like they'll eventually form a full circle around... something. Vaughn begins to form a border to the circle, adjusting the bricks around it, as he looks back at the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: Overall, though, I won't let other people's opinions affect me. They think they can keep throwing cannon fodder my way, believing that someone, someday, will find a way to trip me up? They're willing to keep trying. I'll just keep shredding them to pieces and removing them from the board, so that they can't bother me again. I'll keep forcing the issue, with victory after victory, until they finally say... you're deserving of that World Title shot, Peter. And won't that be a glorious day in the sun?

~Vaughn looks upwards, grinning. Of course, it's a cloudy day today, so you really can't look towards the sun that well. But the point still stands. After a second, Vaughn looks back down, glancing at all the bricks he still needs to get laid in place today. Even for an all-star athlete, it's tiring work. He turns his gaze back to the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: You know, there's really no reason that you can't be helping me with this. I could pay you. I'm supposed to get some help in an hour or so, but you're already here...

~The cameraman is already shaking his head no, eliciting a chuckle from Vaughn.~

Peter Vaughn: Knew that would be your response. Oh well, can't blame me for trying. Of course, now you'll have to wait and see what this looks like in the end. Just like Lyons will have to wait and see what it feels like to be a champion, because this belt is not leaving my waist until I say so. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a project to finish...

~Vaughn turns away from the cameraman, continuing to build his circular pattern, as the cameraman steps away. He tries to take in the whole area with a wide zoom, as if trying to figure out Vaughn's vision. It's almost on the tip of his tongue, as something definitely looks familiar about all this... but it'll have to wait until next time, as the camera feed finally gets shut off.~


~When we return to the feed, we now find ourselves staring at an entirely different field: The Great Ballcourt of Chichen Itza in the Yucatan, Mexico. It's always an impressive sight, although to hear the grunts from nearby, it doesn't seem to have made an impact on some people. The camera turns, showing us Peter Vaughn standing there, studying the area with his arms crossed.~

Peter Vaughn: What a waste of space. This area could have been used for so many projects.

~Vaughn shakes his head, before turning away towards where a tour guide is apparently explaining some of the historic aspects of the area.~

Tour Guide: ... and the goal of some of the games here would ultimately be the player earning enough points so that he could lay claim to the "Home of the Gods"! Truly an amazing reward to fight for!

Tourist: Is it true they used to decide matters of law here, deciding if a person is guilty by having them compete?

Tour Guide: Well, there are some historians who believe that is true, although it's hard to say whether it's been confirmed or not.

Tourist: And didn't they build in a version of their calendars into the gaming area? I heard you could find it if you looked hard enough...

Tour Guide: Some of the details have been lost over the generations, of course, but yes, there are ways to view the Mayan Calendar from higher up, which is an astounding achievement...

Peter Vaughn: Hey, what about them playing their sports with the severed heads of their enemies? Any truth to that one?

~Everyone turns and looks at Vaughn, who simply shrugs, not ashamed at all to ask the question. The tour guide coughs for a moment, clearly annoyed by this one coming up yet again.~

Tour Guide: No. There is categorically no evidence at all that they did that. It's a stereotype created by people wanting them to seem more savage in their stories. There were NO severed heads used.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I figured as much. It really wouldn't be practical, using a head. It's too unbalanced and shaped wrong. A ball would definitely work a lot better. Plus, there's the stickiness factor...

Tour Guide: ... Yes. Now if you'll come with me, let's head to the Temple of Jaguars. There's much more to see there.

~The tour guide quickly heads off, wanting to get his tour back on track after a momentary distraction. Vaughn, for his part, stays a little longer, considering the round structures up above, meant for the ball to be tossed through. He nods.~

Peter Vaughn: Clearly too small for a head, as well. Then again, maybe they pulled out goalposts when the heads were used. Who knows, right?

~Vaughn then turns and walks off, leaving the tour behind. He's got better things to do with his time, after all. It's doubtful the tour guide will even care that he left, after that last question. We follow Vaughn as he pulls out his satellite phone, making a quick press of the automatic dialer. There's only one person who will answer, anyway.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello? Peter, is that you?

Peter Vaughn: Hey, Sadie. Just wanted to check in really quick. Things are looking good for my title defense here in Mexico. It's going to be a blast, I'm sure.

Sadie Anderson: It always seems to be with you. Well, things are looking up here at the PMV Ranch now that we've got a few extra hands working here. Are you going to be back more often once this tour is over?

Peter Vaughn: Definitely so, Sadie. I've got some ideas I want to implement. In fact, I'm going to be checking on one of those ideas this afternoon with some local guides. I'm going to get a first-hand look at something that could change our future farming needs.

Sadie Anderson: "Farming"? But... we really don't have any farming areas at the moment, just livestock...

Peter Vaughn: You always have to think towards the future, Sadie, and we've got plenty of acres to work with. If this works out, we might really give the PMV Ranch back in Texas a major leg up over our competition. After all, what if we were also raising our own food for the livestock to eat?

Sadie Anderson: I guess I see what you're talking about, Peter, but... what you're going to do today, is it dangerous?

~Vaughn hesitates, not wanting to get caught in another lie around his head ranch hand. She always seems to sniff it out. Really, she knows Vaughn better than almost anyone else in the world, not that Vaughn would ever fully notice. She certainly takes note of his silence.~

Sadie Anderson: You just make sure you come back to us in one piece, Peter, you understand?

Peter Vaughn: Of course, of course. I mean, it's only a short hike into a tropical rainforest, what could go wrong?

Sadie Anderson: A tropical what? Peter!

Peter Vaughn: Gotta go, talk to you later.

~Vaughn quickly cuts off any response, as he turns off the satellite phone and puts it back in his pack. He then walks off, waving to the two men waiting for him, as the picture cuts out.~


Does it feel good to get "ahead", Edds?

Seriously, I'm asking. I mean, you must have gone out to celebrate, right? After that victory over Jaycee MacDonald to win this title shot? I mean, you probably should be ecstatic, I'm not going to lie about it. It's a big win, earning a #1 Contendership, in any company, especially your first one.

Now, sure, a lot of people are saying that I, as the special guest referee, chose you to win, since you were the lesser threat. But I'm here to tell you that those people don't know what they're talking about. I honestly never even bothered to compare you or Mickey D over there. I called that match down the middle, because I didn't care who won. And yes, some of my counts were slower than others, but damn it, you try being a referee in a surprise pool match. It really isn't easy.

You have to slap the water JUST right to make that count. And checking to see if the shoulders are up? Damn near impossible.

So, anyways, you ended up getting the win, earning an opportunity by beating a guy who's not done much of anything in SCW. Before that, you got your debut win, beating a...  Rodrigo Afonso? I don't have a clue about that guy, either. Really, Lyons, you've been gifted a couple of easy matches to start out with, from what I can see. You haven't had that true test yet, that will determine whether you're going to be a huge superstar or a huge blundering bust for this company.

But consider that test set in stone at Violent Conduct IX.

You see, Edward, I'm basically the hottest talent in Sin City at the moment. I'm the one the top champions are ducking away from, hoping that I'll stay in my division, praying that I won't be gunning for their throats. It's only a matter of time before I slam this Roulette Championship against one of their heads, knocking their spit into the fourth row. And, well, Edds, to keep up that momentum... I'm going to have to make an example of you.

I'm actually sorry about that, believe it or not.

I know what it's like to come into a fed and want that immediate gratification, only to get denied and sent to the back of the line. It's a disappointing experience. But I'm afraid that's your future, Eddy. Well, that's after a lot of pain and suffering, too. But I have faith that you'll be able to bounce back. You won't crack after a single bludgeoning, will you, Ed? I hope not... although I HAVE ended careers before.

Never my goal, but always a milestone to add to the list.

Do you think that could happen, Eddie? Your third match in SCW, and it ends up being your last? I mean, I don't control the wheel... it makes up its own mind on how we're fighting. It could easily be something so high-risk that you end up slipping up and breaking your neck upon landing. I'm sure people would still blame me, even if it's entirely your fault. They'll certainly blame me if I'm the one who snapped you down. But I'm used to blame. I've been around for a while now.

Look, Eds, you're young. You've got... enthusiasm. I get that. You probably think that you can vault over me and be this "Unbreakable Lyon" or whatever it is you're going for. But everyone I've ever faced who has called themselves "Unbreakable", "Untouchable", or "Unstoppable"... I've beaten them all. Nobody's Unbreakable, Eds. Not even me... although, to be fair, no one's been able to break me yet, so maybe I'm wrong.

I shouldn't steal your nickname, though. I'm quite satisfied as the Mechanic.

By the way, who gave you that nickname? Alex? Vincent? Victoria? Or someone else in your famous family? I mean, I doubt you came up with it by yourself. After all, you've been riding their coattails so far, I'm sure they were willing to help you out with a name, too. And don't get me wrong: nothing wrong with using your family to get you ahead. It probably got you a nice signing bonus out of the deal, in the hopes that you'll be as great as them.

The only problem is... that's a hell of a lot of pressure, boyo.

Hope that pressure doesn't break you at Violent Conduct once I defeat you. It'd be a shame for your family to lose faith in you after only one loss. I doubt they'd turn on you and call you the "black sheep" of the family once I'm done with you, really.

But it HAS happened in the past, after all...


~We rejoin Vaughn as he's making his way through a portion of rainforest, following behind an older man in front of him. There's also a younger Mayan behind, keeping up with them while carrying a pack on his shoulder. The older man is clearing the path, moving them forward. Vaughn swats at a couple of large bugs, knocking them away.~

Peter Vaughn: So this place isn't TOO much farther, is it? I mean, I'm known for going off the beaten path, but even for me this is getting ridiculous...

Older Man: Sí, señor. Está justo a la vuelta de esta curva.

~Vaughn glances behind him at the younger man, raising an eyebrow.~

Younger Man: He says we're about there, senor.

~Vaughn nods, looking pleased. He's never been one for picking up languages, one of his rare deficiencies, when you think about it. Sure enough, just around the next curve, we find an area that has been cleared of all of the tropical elements. It looks like a section that was once used for horticulture, either for food or some other reasoning. The older man signals to the side, pointing to the place where the ground slopes downwards.~

Older Man: Lo que busca está ahí abajo, señor.

Younger Man: We go down there for what you are looking for.

Peter Vaughn: About time.

~Vaughn moves ahead of the two men, making his way forward. The older guide tells the younger man something, and he stays back, working with his pack, perhaps to prepare for their stay here. The older man then follows Vaughn as he heads down into a built passageway, dug out of the ground here. Seeing that they've lost a companion, Vaughn glances back at the entrance.~

Peter Vaughn: Don't we need him? For translation purposes, at least? Why keep him above?

Older Man: Es por su propia seguridad, señor. Su madre me mataría si dejo que lo lastimen.

Peter Vaughn: ... All I got out of that was something about his mother. Oh well. Time's a-wasting.

~Vaughn turns and quickly goes deeper and deeper inside, turning on a flashlight to shine ahead of him as soon as the sunlight is gone. He takes in the construction of the walls, noting how they've been sealed in specific ways. He appears to be taking mental notes for the future.~

Peter Vaughn: So this is what they used when groundwater was hard to come by, huh? They dug out these underground reservoirs to store their rainwater? Pretty impressive, I have to give it to them. I'll have to see if something like this would work in Texas, though.

~The older man just nods, leaving it unclear whether he understands a single word of what Vaughn is saying. He just points out a few specific spots, where vents have been created to help guide the rainwater. Vaughn nods in understanding.~

Peter Vaughn: So it would all pool up down here, where they could keep it saved up in case of droughts? I like how they built it. Of course, I'm going to have to modernize the task a bit. It wouldn't do to have to use buckets to lug all the water out when we need it. I could add in a machine or two to transfer the water to the surface with a flick of a switch. It'll be fairly easy to do, really. I'm surprised they never thought of it.

~Considering the civilization Vaughn is talking about, it's kind of a stretch to berate them for not using automatic, powered systems. But Vaughn is always one to look towards the future, and he always expects everyone else to follow the same logic as he does. He stops near one constructed pillar, checking out how much wear and tear is evident. The older man steps forward, concerned.~

Older Man: Por favor, no toque, señor. No es estable.

~Although Vaughn may not speak the language, he gets the gist of it, stepping back.~

Peter Vaughn: A little concerned with how it was built, huh? Yeah, I can see that. I'd definitely reinforce the walls with steel wire or maybe some welded wire fabric.  Of course, I want to keep it cost-effective, but then, safety still needs to be a concern. Hmmm. Something to think about. Okay, let's go ahead and go back...

~As Vaughn turns, looking back the way they had come, there is a sudden, roaring crash just ahead of them. It almost sounds like an explosion. Quickly, a wall of dust and debris flies towards the two men, who only have time to barely duck and cover before they're consumed, blocking out the light entirely. We lose sight of everything, as soon it's completely black... and now silent.~


Sometimes the future is just unpredictable, Edds.

Of course, you should know all about that, having to compete in a Poolside Brawl without any preparation. I know you borrowed those boring swim trunks from someone. Was it the Troll? No, no, too small. And they didn't look like they'd fit any of our female competitors, so I guess that narrows down the list. Not that it matters. Congrats on finding some at the last minute.

But that was just the warm-up for our match at the Pay-Per-View, Eddie.

So far, in my time as a Roulette Champion, I've fought in Staple Gun Mania, a Ladder match, Ultimate X, and a Stretcher match. It pretty much should show you that that Roulette wheel really runs the gambit between standard and insanity, meaning that we could really be doing anything at Violent Conduct. Personally, I hope it lives up to its name, and we go further into the hardcore realms, so that I could show the Sin City audience that I'm more than just a high-flyer.

The truth is, though, that no matter what the match turns out to be... I'm going to be more experienced at it than you, kid.

Being a rookie in a contest like this, well, it's rather unfair, when you think about it. You have to be able to pull on your years spent inside the squared circle and out, putting together a winning strategy on the fly. I'll be able to draw on my extensive knowledge of all sorts of contests, from Broom Closet Brawls to Hazardous Ladder No Limits to Barbed Wire Exploding C4 matches. When it comes to my career, Ed, I've really done it all.

You? You may think you're "experienced", but watching other family members doesn't count in the long run. You have to experience the pain to appreciate it. I don't care what stories or prep work they'll tell you when you call them that morning... it won't be enough to prepare you for what you're going to have to go through.

Honestly, for your sake, I hope the wheel decides to be nice and makes it a Three Falls match or something. That would at least give you a tiny chance of hope... although you pinning me once is laughable. Twice would require God's hand to come down from the heavens to smite me down.

You good enough friends with him for that? I didn't think so.

To be the Roulette Champion, you truly have to be ready for everything. And you're too wet behind the ears to be ready for a simple Ambulance match. Actually, that'd be kind of a trip, because I don't know where the ambulance would take you from here. It could end up being a long, long trip.

My point is, Lyonel, you've really bitten off more than you can chew here. You probably shouldn't have agreed to get pushed forward so quickly, making you a mincemeat sacrifice to my Roulette Title run. But it's your bed to lie in now, and you'll have to deal with the consequences... as unpredictable as those consequences might end up being.

About the only certainty? That you will be taking the Plunge.


~With everything finally settled down, we see Vaughn smacking his flashlight a few times, working to keep it lit. It finally does so, allowing us to view him a little better as he shines the light on the tunnel they previously came down... a tunnel that has now caved in completely.~

Peter Vaughn: So... welded wire fabric it is on the beams... safety first, right? *cough cough*

~Vaughn finishes clearing out some of the dust from his throat, before turning and looking around behind him, realizing that he didn't get a response.~

Peter Vaughn: Old man? Where are you?

~The light crosses the chamber back and forth, stopping on a hand being weakly raised into the air. Vaughn hurries over, finding the older man laying there, his head cut either by the debris or by how he landed against the wall. Vaughn reaches into his pocket, pulling out a long handkerchief to press against the man's wound. The older man groans, but still holds the cloth in place, as Vaughn scans around the chamber, considering their options.~

Peter Vaughn: So... you think the Mayans ever put in multiple exits to a place like this? Maybe multiple rain-collecting tunnels that we just have to track down?

~From his vantage point, Vaughn can't see any other openings. He shines back the way they came.~

Peter Vaughn: Or maybe that young friend of yours can start digging us out? I'm sure it's not... that much rock blocking the way, right?

~A few more stones fall from the top, rolling to the ground, as if to put that statement to rest.~

Peter Vaughn: At the very least... he'll go for help, right? So people will know we're here... right?

~After a few agonizing seconds, the older man finally looks up at Vaughn with grief in his eyes.~

Older Man: Es desesperado. Vamos a morir aquí abajo.

~Vaughn considers him for a few long moments.~

Peter Vaughn: Right. No idea what you said. But I'm going to assume it was something grim and unhelpful. Alright, then. I suppose it's up to me to get us out of here. I've got multiple title matches on my schedule, after all. Nobody's been able to keep me down yet, I'm certainly not going to let this damn place do it. So... where to start?

~As Vaughn turns back and forth, considering his options, the flashlight flickers again... and then goes out. We're back in complete darkness.~

Older Man: La Muerte.

Peter Vaughn: Don't even start.

~All we can hear now is Vaughn moving around, now having to search for a way out of this mess without any light to guide him... along with the quiet sobs of the older man, who now believes he has been entombed forever. We slowly fade out.~


Well... I did say to be prepared for anything. I guess I'll be putting that one to the test myself.

But don't you worry, Edz. You're not getting a cheap forfeit victory. If I have to dig my way out of here with my bare fingers, clawing my path all the way up to the surface, then that's what I'm going to do. I'll be there to fight you, Eddy. And I'll be there to end your winning streak and quickly crush the talk of you being the next great light of Sin City.

The Roulette Title stays with me.

Actually... the Roulette Title is sitting in my backpack. I figured it was a good thing to give me some extra weight, turn this hike into some good exercise. Plus, I wasn't going to leave it back at that shoddy hotel. So... I guess, either way, the Roulette Belt is staying with me.

But I'm getting out. Eventually. And I'll see you soon, Eddie. I'll see you soon.

Now where'd I put that shovel? Hmmm, wonder if the belt would work....


22
Climax Control Archives / Remote Recruitment
« on: August 04, 2023, 10:51:18 PM »
~The picture slowly opens up on what appears to be a long, grassy plain. Of course, the buildings seen a short distance away changes this opinion of yours rather quickly, as obviously, this is closer to being a city park of some sort. And for now, in a way, you'd be right. But once upon a time, this was where a rather abandoned warehouse once stood, a warehouse that was used for many a promo from one Peter Vaughn. That building has been demolished, though, with Vaughn working to apparently retake the land afterwards, digging up the soil and laying out new layers of grass across the area. But that's not all Vaughn has been doing. The camera turns, showing Vaughn lifting with his knees, bringing a small tree out of the back of his pick-up truck, affectionately known as Gabriella. He turns towards the cameraman, walking his way.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey there, friend. Haven't seen you in a few weeks. What do you think so far? Think we're making some good progress?

~The cameraman seems to shrug, not really knowing what Vaughn is fully going for. But Vaughn takes his response as a positive one, even as he steps to the side, where a hole has already been dug. An industrial-strength auger sits to the side, likely modified in Vaughn's typical style. It certainly dug a deep enough hole, as Vaughn easily gets the tree inside.~

Peter Vaughn: Just you wait, camera dude. This place? It's going to be magnificent once we're done.

~It's clear Vaughn has other help in this project, as he's been travelling around the world a lot lately. But right now, there are no signs of the rest of the crew.~

Peter Vaughn: So let's talk about a few weeks ago. You got to watch as I once again fulfilled my promise. I took down Bill Barnhart for a second time, this time beating him one on one, and the beautiful Roulette Championship stayed around my waist. I certainly earned a new appreciation for the usage of duct tape. It really does fix anything. All-in-all, it was a hell of a victory, making me extremely proud to continue my reign. I've got a ways to go to add up the days like some people here, but the count is still going up.

~Vaughn dusts off his hands, looking off into the distance for a second, considering things.~

Peter Vaughn: And thank goodness it worked out that way. How embarrassing would it have been to come to the next show, where the almighty Goth is making his return, and not have my championship with me? I'm glad I didn't let the Saviors down. And now, we're one step closer to taking over the reins here in Sin City once again.

~Vaughn nods to himself, and then heads back to the truck, apparently to get another seedling of a tree. The cameraman turns to the right, showing the strategically dug holes cutting a path through the grassy field. It's not a completely straight path. In fact, it seems to curve around, an interesting formation once all of the trees are in. The cameraman turns back to Vaughn, who's lugging in another one.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, I'd be remiss if I left out the other significant event at the last Climate Control. And no, it wasn't the short returns of Mac or Ken, although those were pretty memorable. No, the biggest moment was the fact that a fellow Savior member, The Troll, got a victory. He got an amazing sunset flip, perfectly improvised, to get the 1-2-3. It was a hell of a moment, one that admittedly many of us weren't expecting. And who'd he get it on? Why, it was my opponent for this next week... "The Outlaw" Max Steele.

~Vaughn shakes his head, laughing to himself, before plopping the tree into its desired position. He kicks some dirt on top of it, making sure it's settled, before turning back, with the cameraman following him.~

Peter Vaughn: When I heard I'd be competing in a Non-Title match, frankly, I was not a happy camper. I want to put as many defenses as I can with this championship, making everyone have to accept that my reign has truly been a great one. But when I saw who my booked opponent was, well, I couldn't really say anything. After all, Maxie Pad fell to the Troll. That's not exactly a ringing endorsement for a title shot.

~As Vaughn reaches the truck again, he pulls out the next tree, shifting it towards the edge of the pick-up. He stops, though, opting to turn back to the camera.*

Peter Vaughn: The funny thing is, in my last two matches, I've had to tell myself, don't underestimate the competition. Sure, I felt I was better than Milo & The Troll, and I was extremely confident about ol' Barnhart, but I forced myself to fight them hard, and it paid off. But now, man, it's going to be difficult not to come into this one with too much confidence. After all, Maxie's looking more like an invalid than an outlaw at this point. But I have to wonder: can he use this as motivation?

~Vaughn leans an arm on his beloved truck, clearly thinking backwards in time to some of his accomplishments in the sport.~

Peter Vaughn: I remember well how an embarrassing loss or two could find a way to inspire me to greatness. After all, once you've taken that fall from grace, you only have two options: sit there on your ass and cry about it, or start climbing back up to where you were. So which one will it be for Maxwell? We'll just have to find out, won't we? And hey, if I beat him in record time, we'll know what the answer was, won't we?

~Vaughn nods, basically agreeing with himself, as the cameraman doesn't appear to be doing anything. There's a honk from behind, and Vaughn turns, taking in several trucks coming in.~

Peter Vaughn: About time my army got here. I was thinking I was going to have to do everything myself.

~As the trucks start to park, the cameraman turns towards them, intent on getting a shot of some of the drivers. But Vaughn stops him, waving him back over.~

Peter Vaughn: No need to film them, boyo. The star's right here. And the star's going to keep rising when he pounds some Steele into submission at Climate Control. Now feel free to take off, my man. These guys and I have some work to do.

~Vaughn gets the third tree up and walks off, even as the cameraman turns to see him go. We can hear doors slamming close by, as people get out of their trucks. The temptation to turn and film must be incredibly powerful. But this cameraman knows better than to go against Vaughn, considering Vaughn almost buried him in a collapsing building without even having any animosity towards him. Instead. the footage cuts out.~


~As the shot shifts into a different location, we see a beautiful view off the side of a mountain. It's a view of Machu Picchu, a majestic sight as the ancient structures rise up before us. The shot moves forward, defying gravity, proving to us that this is a drone, as it begins zooming over the different walls and blocks, taking in the mysterious history of this place. The drone has a destination in mind, though, and it heads there, flying towards where we can see a man holding the reins of two horses, standing off to the side. He is unknown to us, a local, most likely. He glances to his left, and the drone follows, heading that way. We can now see another man standing nearby, staring off into the distance with a decent drop just a few feet away from him. Peter Vaughn is genuinely smiling, perhaps feeling something deep in his ancestral genes for being in a wonderous place like this. Or maybe he just ate a Snickers bar. You never know. Unfortunately, the moment of tranquility is broken up as Vaughn's satellite phone rings, wiping the smile from his face.~

Peter Vaughn: Knew I should have turned that off.

~Vaughn reluctantly pops out the phone, basically answering it just to stop it from disturbing the stillness around him.~

Peter Vaughn: Go for Vaughn.

Sadie Anderson: Peter? Look, it's Sadie.

Peter Vaughn: Sadie who?

Sadie Anderson: ... Are you serious?

Peter Vaughn: Of course not. What's going on, Sadie? How's the ranch doing?

~There's a distorted sound that comes from the phone, possibly grumbling or cursing, but it's done with the receiver covered, so we can't make it out. After a second, Sadie's voice returns.~

Sadie Anderson: The ranch is... still standing. But I really need to discuss something with you.

Peter Vaughn: I'm listening.

Sadie Anderson: Your new animals were delivered here last week, and we've been taking the best care of them that we can. But it's taking a lot to maintain all of this livestock with the crew you've currently got.

Peter Vaughn: How are the donkeys doing? I'm hoping they didn't get too airsick...

Sadie Anderson: Seriously, Peter, please listen to me. We... we need help here.

Peter Vaughn: Help? Really? I'm sorry, Sadie, I truly am, but I've got several wrestling events coming up, including this weekend. I'm afraid I'll be unavailable for some time.

Sadie Anderson: I know that, Peter, and I'm not talking about just you. With Thomas still recovering, and you out of the country, we're really short-handed. And we were never prepared to have the cattle come in along with all of the donkeys & mules you arranged for. Throw in the pigs and chickens and this place has become a regular farmstead with the crew the size of a ranch much smaller.

~Vaughn scratches at his chin, thinking it over. As much as he hates to admit it, Sadie's making sense. His ranch has been expanding dramatically as of late, and he hasn't hired anyone new in a month or two.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, then, why don't you go out and hire some more hands? You probably know the talent out there better than I do.

Sadie Anderson: It doesn't work like that, Peter. You have to be the one who talks to them and hires them. It's the way of the rancher. I can offer suggestions, but...

Peter Vaughn: Wait, how am I supposed to seek out people for you, all the way over here? Can't you just talk to some and I'll rubber stamp them or something?

Sadie Anderson: If we have to do that, you won't get the best respect from those you're hiring. They'll likely do sloppy work, and will leave us in a lurch in a moment's notice if they get something better. They need to trust the owner of the ranch, and that's not me.

~Vaughn sighs, looking around for a few seconds.~

Peter Vaughn: It's pretty barren of people out there, Sadie. I can ask a few who do some work in these hills, but I don't think many of them speak English.

Sadie Anderson: No, Peter, that's not what we need...

Peter Vaughn: I mean, I DID see a guy herding some sheep and goats earlier. They caught my attention, because I thought, what could we do with the wool and the goat's milk, as well as the...

Sadie Anderson: NO MORE ANIMALS!!

~The scream catches Vaughn off-guard, and he almost drops the satellite phone. Thankfully, his reaction speed is still up to the task, as he gathers it back in before it falls too far.~

Peter Vaughn: Geez, Sadie...

Sadie Anderson: I... I'm sorry, Peter. But we really need to take care of the personnel issue first, before anything else is added. Your ranch hands are getting overworked... including me.

Peter Vaughn: Alright, look... I'll see what I can do from here. If I can arrange something, I'll let you know. Okay?

Sadie Anderson: Thank you, Peter. And good luck at your match this weekend. I'll be cheering for you.

Peter Vaughn: Luck won't be required. But thanks. Goodbye.

~Vaughn hangs up the satellite phone, putting it back on his belt. He turns and walks over to where his guide is waiting, having brought Vaughn up to this spot. Vaughn considers the guide for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: You don't speak English, right?

~The guide doesn't respond. He just stares at Vaughn, waiting, with Vaughn sighing and nodding to the horses.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah. She didn't want me to import anything else to the ranch, anyway. Let's get going. I've got an impossible mission to take care of.

~Vaughn gets on the horse, with the guide saddling up as well. They ride off, as the picture cuts out.~


The things you have to do to keep moving forward, am I right, Max? Or should I call you Mad? I don't know for sure, you might be changing your name due to that whole "HBO Max" thing, and I guess I can't blame you. Besides, you probably want a new name after getting yourself pinned by The Troll.

That's one that's going to be extremely hard to live down, isn't it?

Really, if I were you, I'd only see two courses readily available for me. Either I'd leave Sin City with my tail between my legs, never to be seen again, or I'd rile myself up to an enraged state and put everything I have into my next contest. Boy, it's really a shame for you that you got booked against me next, because you certainly should have the motivation to be competitive... just not the skills or talent, apparently.

But I could be wrong. Maybe there's greatness somewhere under that skin of yours, waiting to find its way out. I suppose anything is possible.

I know from what I've seen of you is that you're not any bigger than I am, which is kind of a relief, actually, considering all the powerhouses I seem to get booked against lately. It'll be nice to match speed vs. speed with someone, seeing which one of us is the most agile (spoiler: it's me). I don't really know what makes you an Outlaw, though. Is it just because you don't call any place home? Or is it because you robbed a bank at some point and are hoping that you're never caught by the authorities?

Nah. You don't have the luck or skill to rob a bank and get away with it. Never mind.

Honestly, there's a lot I don't know about you, Maxine, and the fact is, it's not like I really need to know anything at this point. After all, they don't usually introduce the jobber to the fans, do they? And that's what you are right now, Max: the jobber. It's an unenviable position to be in, I know. But that's what happens when you lose to the guy who had been on a monumental losing streak. You immediately get planted at the bottom of the ladder, in the muck and mud below it, where it's hard to get back out again.

I plan to stomp you down even further, my friend.

Because my momentum is taking me all the way to the top, and there's no way I'm letting a man like you take that away from me. Your career is already in ruins, needing a miracle to find a restoration. And I'm not in the habit of granting miracles, at least not to people like you.

Those kids at the hospital that keep calling? Maybe I'll give them one or two miracle visits. Maybe. But not you, Maxey.

Ultimately, Max, I'm going to have to do something a little distasteful at Climate Control. I'm going to have to get in that ring and fight you when you're at your lowest, and do my best to basically end your career in Sin City Wrestling. You'd think I'd relish something like that, but you'd be wrong. Because it's wasteful, Max. It's trashing something without recycling it. But if that's what happens, then so be it.

It's all part of being in the business, after all. And you know I'm all about taking care of business.


~The picture comes back further down the mountainside, where the encampment has been set up for the SCW wrestlers and crew to live at for a few days. At least, the ones who didn't want to travel too far from the action, and who didn't mind roughing it a little. Just outside one of the well-made tents, we see Vaughn adjusting what appears to be a Starlink set-up. Once it appears to be working, Vaughn heads inside, sitting down on a cot and bringing out a laptop. He types in a few commands, fixes a few settings, and then finally seems satisfied with what he sees.~

Peter Vaughn: Internet out in Machu Picchu. What wild times we live in.

~He types in a few more commands, waiting, as a Zoom call can be heard beginning to ring. Our vantage point changes to over his shoulder, as Vaughn stares at the screen. After a few seconds, the image fades into view, showing us Mr. Wyatt Bailey, the ornery old cattleman that Vaughn recently worked out a deal with, getting himself some prized Texas cattle on his land.~

Wyatt Bailey: Vaughn? That you? Why you calling me on this infernal thing? I was just about to head out!

Peter Vaughn: Sorry, Mr. Bailey, but I had a question for you. I'm looking to hire some new hands for my ranch, and I wanted to check with you for some ideas.

~For a second, it almost looks like Bailey's connection freezes, but it's just because his expression of annoyance/confusion stays stuck on his face for a few seconds.~

Wyatt Bailey: ... Vaughn, you know good and well that I recently had to hire several new hands to replace the rats you helped point out to me. I really don't have anyone you could poach from me, and I wouldn't tell you their names even if I DID have them!

Peter Vaughn: Hold on, Mr. Bailey, don't get the wrong idea. I was actually wondering where you got your replacements from. Is there, like, an online site or something?

Wyatt Bailey: You serious? I went out and found them, Vaughn, and then I hired them! They'll be all around the Dallas area, looking for work. It's not that damn hard.

Peter Vaughn: *sigh* It is when you're halfway around the world...

Wyatt Bailey: Yeah, I guess that WOULD make it a pain in the butt. Well, you'll have to figure out something, Vaughn, because I don't want my cattle I gave you starving over there. They deserve to be well taken care of. They need to be kept clean, watered, and fed. Don't make me regret my investment.

~Vaughn's eyes suddenly widen slightly, as an idea seems to come to him.

Peter Vaughn: Kept... clean. Hmmm.

Wyatt Bailey: You don't want them to get sick, right?

Peter Vaughn: No, Mr. Bailey, of course not. And don't worry, the cattle are my ranch's number one priority. Thank you for your time. I'll let you get back to... whatever you were about to do, wearing that outfit.

Wyatt Bailey: What's wrong with this? The ladies love this look!

~Mr. Bailey readjusts the collar of the western-style outfit he's wearing. It's... not the greatest of looks.~

Peter Vaughn: Hope you have a good time, sir. I'll let you go.

Wyatt Bailey: Alright, son. I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, trust me, you were, Mr. Bailey. I'll talk to you later.

~Vaughn then disconnects the call, sending a confused Mr. Bailey to head out onto the town, painting it in whatever color he wants. In the meantime, Vaughn sets up another Zoom call, dialing it in. It rings for a minute before connecting.~

Bill Sykes: Hello?

Peter Vaughn: Bill? Peter Vaughn here.

Bill Sykes: ... Hello, Mr. Vaughn. What can I do for you?

Peter Vaughn: I'm needing some help with the work on my ranch...

Bill Sykes: ... What, like plumbing or janitorial help?

Peter Vaughn: No, basically all-around help... and I think the Custodial Coalition is just the way I should go. After all... who's more dependable than custodians?

~A very puzzled Bill Sykes keeps talking to Vaughn, having no other option. That's because Vaughn is still the head of the Custodial Coalition, a position he inherited from the former Head Custodian last year. It's a union of janitorial server workers all around the United States (and also in a few other countries), working as an underground unit to better the lives of custodians all over. While Bill sounds skeptical, Vaughn is already pushing ahead, his idea seemingly too perfect to fail, as we slowly fade out.~


Sometimes my own brilliance amazes even me. Of course custodians would be amazing working on a ranch! After all, look at me and my background! It's going to work out flawlessly, I'm sure of it.

Just as I'm completely certain that I'll be dominating you at Climate Control, Steal. The only real question in my mind is if you'll even show up. It wouldn't shock me if I walk out to the ring, raising up my Roulette Championship above my head, and I end up all alone out there, listening to "Evil Ways" playing without anyone showing up. That spotlight, just highlighted on the entryway, with no sign of movement behind the curtains.

But again, maybe you'll take the other road and come to fight, and hey, I'll take that, too. It won't change the outcome, but it will make things more entertaining, for sure. In the end, though, that referee WILL be raising my hand at the end of the contest, whether it's due to pinfall, submission, countout, or a forfeit. I'll take any of them, really, to record another victory in Sin City.

You see, I'm still treading water here in the company, because Goth's return is imminent. He'll rocket to the top of the federation, and I plan to travel along in his wake, as I take my place near the most dominant competitors in the main event. I've already taken the Roulette Title to new heights, and I'll continue to bring glory to myself and the Saviors in the months to come.

And at some point, whether Goth gets there or not... that World Title will still be on my mind sooner rather than later.

But none of that matters to you, Maxie. All that matters is how quickly you go down.

Just show up. Take the beating. Take the paycheck and whatever exit fee they're willing to give you as they kick you out the door. Use the money to find life somewhere else, in some other part of the world.

Or prove you belong here. It's up to you.

Prepare yourself for the Plunge, boyo.


23
Climax Control Archives / Expansion, Exploitation, & Exploration
« on: July 21, 2023, 10:55:03 PM »
~The picture slowly comes up on what appears to be a heavily-leveled field. There is no grass or weeds to be seen, at least not in front of the camera, as the dirt seems pretty heavily worked on. In the background, we can see a large dump truck leaving the area, seemingly filled to the brim with concrete slabs of various shapes and sizes. The camera slowly turns, showing us more of a 'vacant' area, even though we can see some buildings ahead of us, showing that this section of land is a zoned-off area in a city somewhere. The camera moves again to the right, and this time we see Peter Vaughn approaching us, pushing in front of him what appears to be a heavily-modified cordless tiller. It's chewing up the ground as it approaches, thanks to a few extra blades having been attached. It's honestly a little scary to see, and it must be just as terrifying in person, because the cameraman quickly begins backing up to try and get out of range. Vaughn, though, shuts the machine off, stepping around it and nodding to the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: About time you got here. I'm about done with this part of the work. Hey, you ever consider helping some with the labor, instead of just filming? No? I didn't think so.

~Vaughn smirks, before stepping back over to the tiller and checking it over. The engine is still hissing, with Vaughn studying it for a moment, making sure it's hanging in there. He looks back at the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Sure, some might say building in a V8 mini into a ground-shredder like this is overkill. They're probably right. But hey, it sure makes the work easier when I need it. It's also good for parts if needed.

~Vaughn pats the tiller on the side, and it almost seems to grunt from the contact, as if it's alive. And with Vaughn, you never really know, although odds are pretty heavy that the noise was just a coincidence. Either way, Vaughn gets back to his feet, still smiling as he wipes some sweat off his brow.~

Peter Vaughn: You may wonder why I'm out here again at the old warehouse site. I'm sure you thought, now that it's been torn down, you wouldn't have to come here anymore. Well, you'd be wrong. I've got plans for this place. Big plans. You'll see.

~He glances around at the 'field' once more before focusing his energy back on the camera lens.~

Peter Vaughn: That being said, how about we talk about Sin City? I'm sure that's why most of the folks are watching this, after all. So after that little cruise, I've managed to continue my Roulette Title run. It was a valiant effort... from one of my opponents, at least... but I now have an Ultimate X victory on my list of achievements. It was a good feeling, holding up my belt, even if my team wasn't able to win later in the night. But hey, sometimes that happens. What matters is that I continue to be the most dominant singles wrestler in SCW to never have had a Heavyweight Title match here. Something to think about, boyos.

~Vaughn grins, shrugging it off with a sly wink to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Still, we're moving up in the world. I've even been booked in the main event for Climax Control, putting up my belt on the line once again. For the second time, it's against a man I beat to win the title. But it's not Milo once more, no... it's Barnhart. Bill Barnhart. The man I keep hearing described as a legend and Hall of Famer, yet someone who has yet to ever bring his A game to the table against me. It's really a conundrum for me.

~Vaughn's phone beeps, and he takes a quick look at it, nodding, before continuing his train of thought.~

Peter Vaughn: After all, let's face it: I only want to be facing the best. I want to take on all the challenges that Sin City has to offer, and find a way to blast through all of them. And that brings me to Barnhart, the Hall of Famer who's been losing constantly lately. I just haven't seen that fire that I'm wanting to see, befitting someone who's challenging for my gold. But I made a vow not to underestimate anyone. I even came into the cruise trying to give The Troll the benefit of the doubt. I mean, clearly, nothing I did would have mattered as he eliminated himself so damn quickly, but I did my best to try and consider him the tiniest of threats.

~Vaughn shows his index finger and his thumb only the slightest bit apart, measuring out the Troll's threat level the best he can.~

Peter Vaughn: So I don't want to overlook the Bulldog. I really don't. But I'm going to put out this plea to him just in case. Bill... you're supposed to be worth a damn in the squared circle. You're supposed to be someone I should be worried about as a top contender. So can you man up and be that guy one more time? Make it a fight worth winning, where I walk away thinking I managed to scrape through by the skin of my teeth? Or are you going to disappoint me once again, leaving me thinking that your retirement has to be just over the horizon? I look forward to your answer, Bill. I look forward to your decision.

~There's a loud noise behind the cameraman, making him jump. It's a truck horn, blaring out to alert the two men that the large vehicle has arrived. The cameraman spins around, focusing on the large Dodge backing towards them, its back fully loaded with what appear to be rolled-up grass strips. There appears to be plenty of grass, especially when we see two more trucks pulling up as well. Vaughn smiles, happy to see them.~

Peter Vaughn: Cool. I just need to make a few more passes, and then the next phase will begin. I'm telling you, this is going to be a hell of a plan, friend. It's all moving ahead like clockwork.

~Vaughn moves back to his tiller contraption, getting it ready to start once more. He looks back at the cameraman, pausing for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: You sure you don't want to join in and help us? A little exercise never hurts, although for a cameraman, you're in decent shape.

~The camera slowly shakes left to right, signifying a reluctance to join in whatever crazy scheme Vaughn is currently brewing in. Vaughn shrugs, then reaches down for the cord.~

Peter Vaughn: Your loss.

~With a yank, the noisy engine starts up again. Vaughn begins to effortlessly move forward, continuing to till up the soil around his zoned area. The trucks get themselves lined up, with the workers stepping out to start unloading their cargo. Sensing that the activity is about to pick up in intensity, the cameraman slowly retreats, keeping the camera trained on Vaughn's efforts until we finally fade out.~


~The shot returns, this time coming from what appears to be an office window overseeing the plains of Texas. We can see the beautiful view in the reflection, even as Wyatt Bailey, one of the top cattle distributors in the state, steps forward, staring out the window. He has a phone up to one ear, apparently in mid-conversation. Thankfully, in spite of the glass, we can hear what he's saying through the magic of editing.~

Wyatt Bailey: You're still a smug son of a bitch, you know that, right?

~Bailey turns away from the window, as we suddenly find ourselves inside his office. He steps over to a nearby computer, typing away with one hand to bring up an apparent invoice.~

Wyatt Bailey: Okay, okay. It says here two dozen head of cattle will be delivered to your ranch this weekend. I know you were wanting more, but I need some assurances that you can actually handle this much before you go any bigger. After all, you've never wrangled cattle before, have you, Vaughn?

~The screen suddenly divides, and we see Peter Vaughn standing on the other side, leaning against a large wall of rock. He's got his own phone up to his head, although it's a much larger variation than Mr. Bailey is using. He shakes his head.~

Peter Vaughn: Maybe not officially, but I've always been good with animals, Mr. Bailey, and you know I hire only the best to work at my ranch.

Wyatt Bailey: Uh huh. I saw that Sadie you have over there. Quite a looker.

Peter Vaughn: That has nothing to do with how talented she is as a ranch hand.

Wyatt Bailey: You're right, of course. I can't help being a little old-school, but I'm sure she's plenty qualified. Still, you're not going to see another head of cattle from me until some time has passed and it's clear you deserve to have them, you understand?

Peter Vaughn: Fair enough. But I'm telling you, *static* can be trusted to *static* when I need them.

Wyatt Bailey: What was that, Vaughn? You broke up some there. Where are you calling me from, anyway? Your ranch?

Peter Vaughn: Not exactly.

~The camera split suddenly ends, as we're fully focused on Vaughn. He looks around his surroundings, as the camera zooms out, showing us the ruins he's currently standing in. It appears to be The Dam in Petra, Jordan, where SCW's Climax Control is set to take place this weekend.~

Peter Vaughn: Look, you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Bailey. I trust my staff implicitly. Every animal will be taken care of. For now, I've got to take care of some business. I see my ride coming around the corner. I'll talk to you later.

~Vaughn presses a button on the satellite phone, cutting it off. He then turns to his left, where we see a man approaching, guiding a large camel. The camel takes one look at Vaughn and spits to the side, before giving a small, annoyed grunt. Vaughn just stares at the creature for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders.~

Peter Vaughn: "The Ship of the Desert", huh? Okay, we'll do as locals do. Where's the stirrup to get up there?

~The man, apparently understanding what Vaughn was asking, just grins. He says a command to the camel, who reluctantly goes down on his knees. There is no saddle, of course. Vaughn takes it in, looking a little disappointed.~

Peter Vaughn: Guess I should have worn a cup today. Oh well. Let's get a move on, I haven't got all day.

~Vaughn positions himself on the camel, which quickly raises back up. The man then begins to guide them away from the Dam, as Vaughn works to sit as comfortably as possible. It's no easy task.~


Sometimes you just ride the position you're given. Isn't that right, Billy?

I mean, c'mon. Let's go over some recent history here. It's a year in review for Mr. Barnhart, 2023. It's kind of... well, I don't want to whitewash it, but from all appearances, it's pretty much sucked for you, hasn't it? Oh, sure, you started the year with my Roulette Title, but Goth quickly took that one away from you in January at Inception VI. Since then, well, you just haven't found your fire after getting scorched by the Saviors, have you?

Look at this list. You and Senor Vinnie lost to the Saviors in February. You got your rear handed to you by Chris Page at Blaze of Glory XI. And then you started to come into my airspace, didn't you? You took that loss to Malachi, then got to be the referee in my match against him. And after I knocked Malachi cold and got you to count to 3 (good job, by the way), I laid you out as well with the Keyholder.

Oh, did I forget to mention your Dog Collar loss to Alexander Raven? He beat you pretty badly, too, didn't he?

The losses to me continued at Into The Void XII, when I took both you and Malachi down to begin my epic Roulette Title reign. Then, wonder of wonders, you showed signs of life. You actually won a match! Sure, it was against Sal Darius, a guy I've never heard of, but it counts, man! You're in the record books with a victory in 2023! Congrats!

Sorry to say, that's about the last bright spot, though, isn't it? Because the Barnharts would go on to lose a contender's opportunity to Alexander Raven & Luna Vanity. But you tried to shake that off, saying that you deserved to be in the ring still with the best of the best. I guess that's why you agreed to matches against Austin James Mercer and J2H, right?

Neither of those went particularly well, did they?

To cap it all off, you were given a #1 contenders match at Summer XXXTreme XI, a chance for the Barnharts to finally pull themselves out of the losing column. All you had to do was beat Ben Jordan & Sam Marlowe! That's it! Yeah. Man, bummer that the losses kept happening for you. But at least you got to face Team Go on Climax Control... oh. Never mind. You lost that too.

So by my count, that's 11 losses this year. Sure, it's been against some intense competition a lot of the time, but that's still not a great record. Surely not one that signifies that you've earned yourself a Roulette Championship rematch. But I guess we're still trending on history, aren't we, Billy? You once were one of the best here, so you keep getting the benefit of the doubt... when what I really think is for you to go back to the bottom of the ladder and stay there for a while.

I don't mean to sound too condescending. But the fact is, Billy, you've lost something. You've got to find it again if you want to be competitive in Sin City, facing wrestlers like Austin, J2H, and myself. Right now, the higher-ups aren't doing any favors putting you against me. I don't care what kind of a payday you're getting for this main event appearance.

It's not worth it.

Just trust me on this, Billy. After we fight, when I plant you into the ground and get the 1-2-3, adding yet another loss to your record this year, go and talk to management. Tell them you want to face some lower-level opponents and regain your mojo. Tell them you need to rebuild your reputation from scratch, fight your way up the ladder, and maybe find a path to once again becoming this Hall of Famer I've heard so much about.

Hey, I'm pulling for you. As I've said earlier, I want to face the best. I'm just not sure you're ready for me yet.

It's just a lousy position for you to be in, apparently.


~The man in front slows the camel as they come up on a set of constructed buildings and fences near the ruins of Petra. The camel once again lowers, maybe a little quicker this time, happy to be getting rid of the wrestler on his back. Vaughn may not be a big powerhouse, but he's not light as a feather, either. He happily gets off the camel, walking gingerly for a few steps as he regains his 'sand' legs. He then straightens up, nodding to the guide before walking over to the group that's waiting for him.~

Peter Vaughn: Ibrahim?

~The man in the center, wearing a slightly more expensive wardrobe than the men around him, steps forward and does a quick bow.~

Ibrahim Saleh: It is good to meet you at last, Mr. Peter Vaughn.

~Vaughn returns the nod, adjusting his tanned coveralls for a moment before moving into step with Saleh and his men. They head inside a nearby building, which is mostly fabric with a few wooden walls. It is clearly built more as a mobile location.~

Ibrahim Saleh: So I hope you had a pleasant trip into our country.

Peter Vaughn: I can't complain... about most of it...

~Vaughn shakes out one leg, which gets a laugh from Saleh.~

Ibrahim Saleh: Yes, I would imagine camels must take time to get used to, after riding horses like you cowboys always do.

Peter Vaughn: It's certainly a different experience. But then, that's why I'm here. For different experiences.

Ibrahim Saleh: So you say. I remember the deal you proposed well. Do you truly think that some of my livestock would work in your new... ranch, is it?

Peter Vaughn: I am still looking to expand it piece by piece. I've already added chickens, pigs, and now cattle to my ranks. I have horses, but I'm short of manual labor animals, such as donkeys and mules.

Ibrahim Saleh: And camels?

Peter Vaughn: I'm not sure camels would do so well in Texas. It's a pretty different environment. But I'd be willing to consider any alternatives.

Ibrahim Saleh: Indeed. Well, Mr. Vaughn, let me show you what we have currently! They are right back here.

~The group makes it way out the back of the building, through what appears to be a man-made door in the fabric. We see several fenced area set up, with the animals separated from each other. There appear to be a good supply of donkeys, mules, and camels, as well as a few other animals further back. Vaughn's eyes narrow slightly as he walks towards the first block, taking a few extra steps so that he can leap over the fence. Saleh laughs behind him.~

Ibrahim Saleh: You could have easily used the gate, Mr. Vaughn. It is right down here.

~Saleh and his group laugh to each other, saying a few words in a language that Vaughn doesn't understand. He's not listening, anyway, as he studies one of the donkeys standing there. It looks to be worn out, in rough shape from a lot of work hours having been put in. It stares at Vaughn, almost pleadingly, as he reaches out and grabs the heavy chain hanging from the donkey's neck. You can see some scraping underneath the chain, where it's done damage to the skin. Vaughn steps around this donkey and checks on another, which appears to be favoring its right front leg. Vaughn looks it over, patting on it, as Saleh and the rest of his group make their way over to them. Saleh seems to take in where Vaughn is looking, as he shakes his head for a moment.~

Ibrahim Saleh: Oh, Mr. Vaughn, you've come to the wrong area, I'm afraid! If you look further back along the fence line, I'm sure we can find much better surplus for you to work with. These animals in the front are mostly used up. But if you want to talk a deal about them...

~Vaughn doesn't answer. Not in words. But he does suddenly stand up straight, wrapping the chain he just took off the donkey around his hand. Saleh, confused, steps closer.~

Ibrahim Saleh: Is there a problem. Mr. Vau-

~The chain hits Saleh in the chest, knocking him backwards into the group. They all manage to catch Saleh before he falls, which is too bad, as he would have gone right into a pile of 'fertilizer' created by the donkeys in the pen.~

Peter Vaughn: There's no problem. Ibrahim. I appear to be exactly where I need to be.

~Saleh coughs, trying to get his breath back, as the other men begin to shout for others to come. Vaughn, meanwhile, straightens up, readjusting the chain.~


I never like to be out of control in any situation. Of course, being the Roulette Champion, that feels very ironic.

You see, that might still be your best chance to slip in there somewhere, Billy. As you know, the wheel will likely spin, deciding on our contest in the main event, and I, as the champion, have no power on what match it ends up on. Now, obviously, there are some that are very favorable to me. If it lands on a Ladder match again, well, you're pretty much toast and should just stay in the back buttering yourself up while I take the victory.

If it ends up being any kind of agility challenge, I'm the obvious choice to pull way ahead of your bulky self. So I assume you're going to be hoping for more of a hardcore variety, but then, I enjoy myself in those kind of matches too. But what if, say, it ends up being a power maneuver match? What if I have to give you a powerbomb or something?

I mean, you've clearly put on weight lately, haven't you?

I do think I'd still find a way, even though it sounds like a tall order. But then, there are so many other possibilities. What about an Inferno match? If you ended up on fire, watching that beard of yours burn away, it'd be an amazing sight. Talk about giving yourself a disadvantage with that long growth on your face!

Oh, but what if it's a shaving challenge? Would I win automatically, or would I lose just because I have less to shave?

That'd be a pretty boring match either way, though, so I don't think they'd put it on the wheel.

Suffice to say, you and I can't fully be prepared for our contest, can we? Really, anything could pop up as our match of the night. But I've wrestled in all sorts of weird and wild concepts the last two years. At this point, it'd take a lot to surprise me and take me off-guard. But with Sin City, hey, you never know.

What if it turns out to be a Dog Collar match, which should be one of your specialties, and yet I still beat you? Would you be able to survive that, Billy? Would you just walk out of the arena afterwards, retirement speech already being written inside your mind, as you get ready to give up on this sport that made you famous?

I'd rather you didn't quit because of me, Billy. Not because I'd feel bad about it, but it would probably be used as ammunition against me for years to come. "I'm Coming For You Because You Made The Bulldog Quit!!" Yeah, I don't need that kind of harassment. So if you announce your retirement, could you slip in another match first? Maybe give Milo another opportunity, he'd probably be pleased.

Overall, Billy, we'll see what the Roulette Gods have in store with us, if any of them actually exist. Whatever the end result, I know that I'm going to come into this one giving 110% or more of myself to make sure my title reign continues. And you may say it's not possible to go over 100%, but then, that's what losers say to themselves. When you believe you can't give any more of yourself, that's when you've been defeated in life.

And I never let myself lose like that, Billy. I always keep myself in control. Always.


Ibrahim Saleh: SAEID!! TAEAL ALAA HUNA!!

~With Saleh's yell, more men come running from all directions, as Vaughn waits patiently, chain still wrapped around his hand. The numbers have now turned against him for sure, as a dozen men move around him. Some look ready for a fight, while others simply look puzzled at how a business deal has turned against them. Saleh, for his part, looks furious at having been hit.~

Ibrahim Saleh: I don't know what you are thinking, Mr. Vaughn, but you have made a grave mistake!

Peter Vaughn: Have I now? You believe so?

~Fuming, Saleh pulls what appears to be an antique pistol out of his pocket, holding it in his left hand.~

Ibrahim Saleh: You should not have put your hands on me.

Peter Vaughn: And you shouldn't have abused these animals, Ibrahim.

Ibrahim Saleh: Abuse? We do not abuse! We put them to work! They are doing what they are supposed to be doing!

Peter Vaughn: They're supposed to be having the chains so tight around them that damage is done? They're supposed to work without stopping until they are dead? This is no way to treat your animals, Ibrahim.

Ibrahim Saleh: You know nothing of our culture, Mr. Vaughn. But you are about to learn more about it.

~With that, the men start to step forward, only to stop when Vaughn clicks his tongue, before raising up his wrapped fist once again.~

Peter Vaughn: So you're all thinking right now, can we take him? Can the dozen of us manage to beat down this man from the West who has caused so much chaos throughout the fighting world? You've seen him break noses and shatter jaws. You've seen him do absolutely anything it takes to come out victorious. So can our group take him? And how many will fall before they do?

~Vaughn takes a slight step towards the men. A few actually step back, looking nervous. Saleh doesn't, as he still has his gun drawn, ready to use it at a moment's notice.~

Peter Vaughn: It'd be a hell of a fight between us, boyos. I wish we could see it. But unfortunately, it's not meant to be, I guess. Rutabaga.

~Vaughn stops talking, waiting, as all of the men look around at each other, puzzled.~

Ibrahim Saleh: Rutabaga? What do you mean, rutabaga? Is that an insult?

Peter Vaughn: No, no, it's just a word they told me to say. Silly, really. I also thought they'd react quicker. Rutabaga?

~Vaughn waits a few more seconds, but nothing happens. He starts tapping on the left side of his coveralls, as if trying to make something work. Selah grimaces, angrily grabbing at his pistol and clicking off the safety.~

Ibrahim Saleh: I know nothing about this rutabaga! You've made this word up!

Random Guy: Actually, I've heard of it. It's like a yellow vegetable, but they taste like a carrot, only less sweet. I think they call it a Swedish turnip usually.

~Vaughn, Selah, and all the other thugs slowly turn towards the man, staring at him. He looks a little defensive.~

Random Guy: I like the Food Network when we can get it! Alton Brown is incredible!

~Selah sighs, rubbing his face with the non-armed hand.~

Ibrahim Saleh: I'm sorry. This is my cousin, and you know we have to hire family...

Peter Vaughn: Say no more. I know how that goes.

Ibrahim Saleh: If we can get back to...

Peter Vaughn: ... what we were doing, yes. Hey, Rutabaga? RUTABAGA!!!

~As Vaughn's voice echoes throughout the area, the sound of multiple engines starting up is heard all around. Suddenly, several vehicles pull in around the fences, startling the group as they face away from Vaughn, who lets out a breath of relief. The men with Saleh turn, seeing others riding in from both sides on camels, armed and aiming their direction. The cluster of forces quickly surround them, making a second circle to block them in. Saleh, beside himself with fury, starts to raise up his pistol, but Vaughn is there, quick as a cat, grabbing his arm.~

Peter Vaughn: I really wouldn't do that, Ibrahim. I really think they're just waiting for the opportunity here. They've apparently wanted you for a long time. Don't let them just kill you off for nothing.

~His face fading in color, Saleh drops the pistol to the ground. All the others drop their own weapons as well, mostly knives and tools, as the forces move in, corralling them back. One man in particular comes up to Vaughn, nodding to him.~

Officer: Your distraction worked. We found everything we needed to find once the spaces were unoccupied for the search. We've got enough there to put away Ibrahim Selah for a long time. He won't be running his illegal operations anymore.

Peter Vaughn: Uh huh. Glad to have helped. Make sure you include in your report to the government my involvement, okay?

~The man nods and walks away, dragging a furious Saleh with him. As the rest of the group starts to get broken up, a lady in a duck-billed hat walks over to Vaughn. She is all smiles, looking extremely pleased as she stares over at the pens holding all the animals.~

Woman: This all went just as you expected, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: For the most part, yes. I didn't plan on riding a camel, but other than that...

Woman: Well, you've done an amazing service for us. On behalf of PETA, I'd like to thank you for your efforts in saving these animals.

Peter Vaughn: Sure. They all look like they need a good, long break for the time being. So... is our deal still in place?

~The woman from PETA hesitates for a moment, then nods. Vaughn breaks into a large grin, before walking back over to the pen and staring at the donkeys again.~


When a plan comes through successfully, it always brings a strong feeling of satisfaction to you. Sure, it may not go EXACTLY as you planned, but it's the end result that matters.

As for Billy... well, I've got a few plans for him. All set up depending on what I see in Petra that night. If it's the 2023 Billy who's been unable to tie his own shoes without falling over? Obviously, the plan is much more simple. But there's always the chance that the 2021 Bulldog finds a way to show up, which means I have to be ready for a fight.

Even if I don't really expect it.

But I can still have hope, Bully. I can still have faith that you're going to give me some actual competition for this one. Do you have it in you, Bulldog? Do you still have a main event flair? Can you make me concerned about Sweet Dreams, about the shoulder breaker, or about the Camel Clutch?

... Seriously, I've already had issues with camels on this trip, I'd prefer to avoid that if at all possible.

If you can find a way to fire yourself up for 5 minutes, senior, I think we can have a match that people will be talking about for a long time. If you could make it 10 minutes, well, I think some people will assume that you got some medical assistance before coming out there, but as long as there are no side effects, I think we can both survive that.

If you're still going after three hours, though, maybe see a doctor.

Look, I make fun, but all-in-all, I really do want the true Bulldog in there. I don't want this white-washed carbon copy that has sucked the fun out of every bingo hall to the east of the Mississippi. I want a true test, because only then does it matter. I want to hear the people say "He defeated "Bulldog" Bill Barnhart" and have it ACTUALLY MEAN SOMETHING!!!

So be there, Bulldog. Get your ass to Jordan and give me the fight I crave. Let's make the Roulette Championship the belt everyone wants, and let J2H go off crying about how his belt just isn't as pretty. We'll spin the wheel, make a deal, and have a meal afterwards, if you can still chew your food once I've kicked you in the face a few times. Because if you show up, if you're actually in a competitive move, I'm buying.

I seriously don't know what restaurants are around here, I haven't seen much other than a few stands, but we'll find something.

Even if you're at full power BULL, though, don't be expecting a different result, because no matter what you bring to the table, I've got the better hand. Whether it's the Keyholder knocking you senseless, the Revenged chipping out some teeth, or when you're taking the Plunge, the ending's going to be the same.

I am the champion, and you, Billy, your time is almost up.


~As all the excitement starts to wind down, Vaughn steps off to the side, staying away from where more men are being arrested. He reaches into his side bag, pulling out his satellite phone once again. It's unclear if this has been modified by Vaughn or not, as we've never seen him work with anything so small before. Then again, the Custodial Coalition HAS been known to tinker, so it's possible. Either way, the phone still works, as he dials in his number and waits as it rings.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello?

Peter Vaughn: Hey, Sadie. It's Peter. I thought I'd call and get a few updates. How's... how's Thomas doing?

Sadie Anderson: Peter! It's good to hear your voice!

~As always, Sadie's comment flies right over Vaughn's head, as he doesn't react to it. But then, who knows what Vaughn is thinking, after everything he learned from his tag-team partner, Kim Pain.~

Peter Vaughn: So how's... how's Thomas doing?

~The line is quiet for a moment, as Vaughn seems to steel himself for the worst.~

Sadie Anderson: Thomas is... still doing okay. He hasn't woken up yet, though, I'm afraid. The doctors say it's natural when you're trying to recover from a wound like he had.

~Vaughn nods, taking a deep breath. Just recently, his half-brother Thomas Hill had been stabbed in a plot that focused on Vaughn. He hated to leave him, but multiple reasons forced him to go back on the road.~

Peter Vaughn: Thanks for looking in on him, Sadie. I appreciate it. How are the new pens coming along?

Sadie Anderson: We're in good shape on the ones for the cattle we have coming in. I know the other boys are still working on that second fenced area you wanted. I still don't understand why we need it, though.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, about that... I might have worked us out a deal to get some donkeys, mules, and camels added to our inventory.

Sadie Anderson: ... What??

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, you see... I kind of worked something with the local PETA offices here in Petra. Heh, PETA in Petra, nice word play, right?

Sadie Anderson: ... Keep talking.

Peter Vaughn: Right. Anyway, there was this guy who was known for treating his animals pretty badly, and so I worked out a deal with PETA and the government here to find a way to remove him. It worked out almost flawlessly, too. They found all the evidence they needed. His group's in prison now, or at least, they probably will be soon.

~There's silence on the other end, going long enough that Vaughn starts to wonder if they've been disconnected. But then there's a sigh as Sadie seems to figure it out.~

Sadie Anderson: You scammed them all, didn't you? You got those animals at rock-bottom prices, while barely doing anything to earn it.

Peter Vaughn: ... Hey, I had a gun pointed at me. Doesn't that mean I earned it?

Sadie Anderson: And this 'evidence' you said they found... was it placed there for them to find?

Peter Vaughn: ... I have no comment.

Sadie Anderson: PETER!!

Peter Vaughn: Honestly, though, Sadie, you should see some of these animals. The chain wounds and the damaged backs and legs, it's not going to be easy rehabilitating all of them. Trust me, they deserve to get out of here.

Sadie Anderson: But... but how are you getting them all back here?? I doubt SCW is going to pay for all that cargo!

Peter Vaughn: Oh, don't worry, the government is gladly footing the relocation bill. We don't have to worry about it.

~Vaughn smiles at the thought of so much coming his way for so little. Sadie, though, still doesn't seem impressed.~

Sadie Anderson: I still don't know what we're going to do with a bunch of donkeys, mules, and.... wait, did you say CAMELS???

Peter Vaughn: Yes, but...

Sadie Anderson: We can't have camels here!!! It would make no sense!!

Peter Vaughn: It's not a problem. I've already enlisted the help of a guy named Ali. He's going to be running this subsidiary of the PMV Ranch here in Jordan.

Sadie Anderson: ... Subsidiary??

Peter Vaughn: Yeah. The camels and some of the mules and donkeys that are in better condition will be staying here. We'll be renting them out like before, only they'll be better cared for. Ali's good for that. We'll be splitting the profits 50/50.

Sadie Anderson: ... You've really thought of everything.

Peter Vaughn: Eh, nobody can think of EVERYTHING, but I've got this bow wrapped up pretty well as far as I can tell. I'll let you know when I know more about the travel accommodations of the livestock. We're doing well, Sadie. Take a deep breath. The PMV Ranch is going international, that's all. I'll talk to you later, okay? Goodbye.

~For a second, there's a bit of sputtering on the other line, as if Sadie wants to say more, but Vaughn is already disconnecting the call. He looks back around, noticing an officer heading towards his still-running truck. Vaughn hurries over to him, making sure to reveal himself as soon as the officer turns around.~

Peter Vaughn: Excuse me. I was wondering... my previous ride over here is, uh, occupied... and I was hoping that maybe you could give me a ride back to where the SCW wrestlers are staying? I'd be extremely appreciative.

~The officer agrees, since he's headed that way anyway, so Vaughn goes around to the passenger seat. He takes a second to look out at the pens, spotting a particular camel that's watching him... and apparently spitting in his direction. Vaughn smirks.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I'm glad to never see you again, too, camel.

~Vaughn then gets into the truck and it pulls away, leaving the area behind. We fade out.~


24
Supercard Archives / Drivers & Deniers - A Roulette Championship RP #2
« on: June 30, 2023, 11:18:08 PM »
~The picture slowly comes up on a great deal of flashing lights and loud noises. Hopefully, no one is triggered by this, as we forgot to put a warning right before the video began. Sorry, our bad. So, be careful. The camera pans around, showing us that we're actually inside the casino area of the Princess Cruise, a place where the liner can make a lot of extra money on the poor bums who are having such a good time, they don't even notice their wallets emptying. The cameraman moves among the people at the different machines, many of them who probably aren't even wrestling fans. They were here for the thrill of gambling, nothing else. As the cameraman goes around another corner, he finds a special machine added just for this cruise: an Sin City Wrestling slot machine. Standing in front of it is Peter Vaughn, nicely dressed for once, as part of his deal with Kim Pain.~

Peter Vaughn: What's up, boyo? Care to test your odds?

~Vaughn taps at the side of the machine, where we can see the rules and odds of winning listed. He reaches down, using the special club card to activate the machine. He then pulls the handle, sending the icons spinning across.~

Peter Vaughn: Let's face it, this machine is perfect for SCW. Every match always appears to be a lucky twist of fate... or unlucky, depending on who it is. Why, look at this match-up?

~The dials finish twirling, showing us that we've gotten two Austin Ramseys and an Alexander Raven. Predictably, no money is added to the card for this pairing, as those two rarely sell.~

Peter Vaughn: Bad luck means that you get something that doesn't work. Good luck means that maybe you find a way to win.

~Vaughn reaches down and snaps back the handle again, starting the spin once more. The machine is keeping track, deducting the cost from Vaughn's card. It continues to twirl, as Vaughn suddenly picks up his phone from beside the machine. We can see that a wired connection has been made between the phone and the slots, although Vaughn is doing his best to keep this concealed from anyone else's view.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, when you're as good as I am, you don't have to rely on luck, do you?

~With a couple of button presses, the slot seems to make a change of its own, with the spinners finally ending up on one Troll... two Trolls... three Trolls! The machine lights up... but there is only a quick ding from the cash mark-up, as nothing is added to the card other than the value that had already been put into it. Vaughn nods, expecting this result.~

Peter Vaughn: That makes perfect sense. Why would any combination of Trolls add up to being a winner? Clearly, I should have just lost everything I had on the card, if it was true to life. Betting on the Troll should probably bankrupt me. But, thankfully, the makers of this machine weren't that cruel. Honestly, they probably could have left the Troll off of this one and it would have been fine. I guess they wanted everyone on the card included? Still... not much to work with, there.

~Vaughn once again grabs the handle, but then hesitates. He looks back at the cameraman for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: Seriously, do you want to spin it? It's kind of addictive.

~After a short hesitation, the cameraman steps forward, going ahead and cranking on the machine's handle. The spinning begins again, with the shot taking a step back once more. Vaughn pats the slots on the side, even while he's once again manipulating the phone.~

Peter Vaughn: So let's see, will our cameraman be a winner?

~Thanks, surely, to Vaughn's hack into the system, the spinners all end up on Miles Kasey. It's not the greatest picture of him, to be honest. Maybe the programmers didn't have access to a good photo of him, which honestly is strange, because he's certainly not terrible looking. Either way, this time the money recorder lights up, and $100 is deposited onto Vaughn's playing card. Vaughn nods in approval.~

Peter Vaughn: Nice job, boyo. Three Milos equals $100. I suppose I can see that. After all, Milo's been in the main event before for Sin City. He's shown the world that he can fight at the top level... even if he has trouble pulling off the victory once he's there. But Milo's a good star for Sin City, and extremely competitive. I really am looking forward to beating him once again, this time in a race across the wires. Still... I think we can do better.

~Vaughn reaches over with his arm, grabbing hold of the handle... at the same time the cameraman's hand lands on another part. The two look at each other, with Vaughn laughing.~

Peter Vaughn: I warned you it was addictive.

~Vaughn then voluntarily lets go, stepping away, as the cameraman gives it another shot. The spinners fly, as Vaughn makes some selections on his phone. Slowly, the spinners come into place, with one Vaughn... two Vaughns... three Vaughns. The machine starts letting out a loud, celebratory blast, even as a large dollar figure starts to be added to the card. People all around look over, always interested in the big winners. Of course, Vaughn quickly has removed the cable from below, tucking it away in his pocket, knowing that the attention would be a problem. When the machine stops beeping, we can see that $1,000 has been added to Vaughn's card.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. You would think that you'd get more for three Vaughn's. That's a winning hand, right there, no matter how you look at it.

~Vaughn shrugs, reaching down and plucking his card out of the machine. He pockets it, walking away, even as a few people move in, now interested in some slots that might actually be paying off. Unfortunately, they'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. The cameraman, meanwhile, follows Vaughn over to where a roulette table is set up. The woman there nods to Vaughn without saying anything, even as Vaughn pulls out a small handful of chips. He looks back at the cameraman for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: What's your lucky number?

~The cameraman doesn't really have a verbal answer, as he just raises his hand up. But Vaughn nods, immediately putting the chips on 5. He steps back, smiling, as the worker nods and starts spinning the roulette wheel.~

Peter Vaughn: You know, it's rather sad that the roulette wheel won't be in play for my defense this time. But then, I guess there's no harm in knowing what the competition's going to be before we get there. It makes it rather an even playing field, doesn't it? Other than the fact that I'm so far ahead of both of them. Still, I'm going to miss the randomness of it. Maybe I can make a few surprise changes, depending on what I bring with me to the match. I guess we'll see if it can raise the unpredictability, when the ending is so, so clear.

~Vaughn points down at the wheel, which is quickly slowing down... with the small marble now sitting in the 22 position. The worker quickly sweeps away the chips, with Vaughn turning to the cameraman and shrugging his shoulders, still smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, but that would have been so cool if it just landed on your lucky number, right? Guess I needed you to be an Emmitt Smith fan. But that's alright. I already made my profit here, and I'm going to make my profit here in a few days at the Ultimate X match. It's going to be a hell of a ride.

~Still grinning, Vaughn walks away, leaving the cameraman behind. He watches Vaughn depart... and then turns back to where the Sin City slots machine is still sitting, with one person just finishing a roll. The cameraman starts to head back over there, as we start to fade out. I guess Vaughn was right: that slots machine IS addicting.~


~As the picture comes back up, we see a long, green carpet in front of us. It's actually artificial turf, set up on the back of the cruise liner, as part of their benefit packages. The camera zooms out a little to show Peter Vaughn standing there, golf club in hand, as he prepares to take a swing off the 'driving range'.~

Peter Vaughn: Gotta say, this feels pretty unique. The few times I've played golf, I always knew to try and avoid the water hazards. It looks pretty impossible here, though.

~There's a short laugh next to him, as the camera pans over, showing Wyatt Bailey standing there, leaning on his own golf club. He doesn't seem nearly as thrilled with what they're doing, but he's doing his best to make it appear better than it is.~

Wyatt Bailey: I know golf is a patient game, but I've got other things to do than to sit here and wait for you to swing. C'mon, Vaughn!

Peter Vaughn: Just waiting for the perfect wave surge. And... there.

~The cruise ship does seem to rise slightly, as if hitting a bit of wake. Vaughn immediately swings, driving the decomposable golf ball deep into the distance. There's no real way to measure it from the cruise ship, but it's still a beautiful shot. Mr. Bailey shakes his head in annoyance, as Vaughn turns to him with a smile.~

Peter Vaughn: Something tells me I'm getting that drink paid for.

~Grumbling, Mr. Bailey steps forward, determined to hit a better drive. He tries to wait for the perfect lift as well, but his timing's off, causing him to rush... and he slices the shot over to the right. After a few curses, Mr. Bailey comes back over to Vaughn, ignoring the urge to send the golf club flying.~

Peter Vaughn: Sure you don't want to up the stakes? We could start betting on cattle prices.

Wyatt Bailey: Not happening, Vaughn. You already got me on this dang cruise ship. I'm still waiting for the women you promised me!

Peter Vaughn: What are you talking about? They're all over the place, aren't they?

Wyatt Bailey: But you're not introducing them to me! I thought you were a ladies man!

Peter Vaughn: Oh, you couldn't be further from the truth. You've got a much better shot approaching them yourself, believe me. Now, let's go again. How about this time... we bet on dinner?

Wyatt Bailey: ... You're really annoying, son, you know that?

Peter Vaughn: So I hear.

Wyatt Bailey: But you're on. Let me just get my better driver. Bobby?

~A man steps out, handing a custom-made club to Mr. Bailey. Vaughn's eyes widen slightly, as the thought that he may have just been hustled crosses his mind. Still, he goes with it, getting things set up, as the camera slowly pans over to the other side... where we see two men peeking around the edge of the wall.~

Shiloh: How long are we gonna wait, Butch?

Butch: Keep your voice down! I don't want the old man to hear us!

Shiloh: But isn't this the perfect moment? They're both near the railing. With one push...

Butch: It's still daylight, and there are people all around. That would be stupid to try now. Just wait, we'll get them on their way to dinner, don't you worry about it. And then Bailey's cattle will be all mine.

~Butch gives a quiet laugh, making sure to stifle it so that no one can hear him. They back away, disappearing from sight, as Vaughn and Mr. Bailey prepare for the next round in their driving range duel.~


It seems to be a trait amongst wrestlers that we tend to thrive the most when we put ourselves in hazardous situations.

Of course, some get burned in those situations, but that's all part of the risk.

So let's talk about Milo & The Troll. Man, doesn't that sound like a Disney movie in the works? Kids would probably go flock to see that show... and then have traumatic nightmares afterwards. It might be like that Brave Little Toaster movie. Still have flashbacks to that whenever an appliance of mine dies. So, Milo & The Troll... are you guys feeling any sort of confidence yet?

I almost feel like leaving Gabe off of this one, really, because everyone knows he stands no chance. I'm curious at this point to see if he even shows up for the contest. Does he get paid if he doesn't wrestle? Probably not, right? Look, Gabe, neither Milo nor I actually want to see you get hurt, so let's just say you go to Alfredo's and eat some pizza, okay? Let us handle this.

Milo, now, there's a man that's supposedly brimming with confidence. So I'm facing you when you're at your peak, huh, Miles? You probably don't believe this, but that's EXACTLY when I want to be fighting you. I'm so tired of taking someone down, squashing them into the mat and getting the 1-2-3, and then they complain afterwards that it wasn't a true win. I cheated them in some way, maybe, or they weren't feeling the best at the time.

You'd be surprised how many 101 degree fevers are announced after the fact.

But you, Milo, you're not going to use that excuse, are you? Because I'm facing you at your best, in a match that you seemingly have more experience in. That'd make you the odds-on favorite, right? So then, once I take you down, sending you crashing into the water, and reclaim my Roulette Championship, there will be no excuses, right? I'll be the better man, from now and into the future? Or will you come up with something after the fact? Like, maybe you shouldn't have eaten those oysters or something?

Nah. Nothing's going to change on that, Milo. This is the definitive finish. Once I've taken you down a second time, it's all set in the rulebooks. I'm just flat out going to be the better champion. The one that people remember. The historic start to a magnificent Sin City career.

Now, I know you brought up how I'm fighting in two matches at once, just like all of my tag-team competition did. It's really thoughtful that all of you are concerned about the effort I'm going to be putting into both of my matches at the PPV. That said, the tag-teams at least have a step in the right, logical direction. Their match comes later in the night. But we're opening this one, Milo. It's not like I'm going to be trying to 'throttle' back my energy or anything. That just isn't me. I'm going to be giving 110 percent like always. And as I told them, I'm built for multiple matches, boyo. Once I knock you looping into the pool, I'll still have plenty of fuel to burn on the next contest.

And once we reach the end of the night, when Kim and I take hold of the Mixed Tag-Team Titles as well, maybe we could give Team Go another shot, since they're one of the ones who cried about me being a cheater. I'd love to take them down again as well. And who knows, Milo? Maybe you can find yourself a mixed partner as well, and we could go one more time. I mean, you'd have to find someone twice as good as Kim, so good luck with that, but you never know.

Still, that's in the far future, when you're reevaluating how you're out for blood and all. Quite simply, Milo, you just don't stand a chance against me in a match like this. You'd be better off letting the Roulette Wheel make a random call, maybe putting me in a submissions match or something, where I'll admit, I'm not a complete dominator. Facing me in something high-flying and suicidal? That's just my walk in the park, my friend.

Unless you can manage a bounce off of Gabriel's stomach that propels you straight at the gold, you really don't have a shot in this one. It's going to be another cruise where you again wonder, what's it going to take to win? And I don't know what to tell you, Milo. I'll pull for you after this, I swear I will.

But I'm certainly not pulling any punches in this one. If I have to ko both of you guys as a prerequisite to regaining the gold, then that's what I'll do. I'm not losing this belt. Not here, not now, and not to guys like you. Especially not to Gabe.

I don't think I could show my face afterwards if that happened.

Fortunately, it won't be a problem. Because I'm ready to thrive and survive, and you're ready to getting pounded down and get drowned.

Bring it on, boyos, and prepare to take the Plunge.


~The camera follows Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey as they head down to another level on the cruise ship. Vaughn is leading the way, with Mr. Bailey right behind him. We can hear them talking as they get closer.~

Peter Vaughn: I still think it was a fluke. A trick of the fading light, maybe.

Wyatt Bailey: You're not getting out of this one, son. My last shot clearly went much further than yours. This dinner better be something exceptional!

~Vaughn sighs for a second, although he seems to be trying to hide a grin. After all, one of the main reasons here is to butter up Mr. Bailey and get him to open up his cattle business for Vaughn's ranch. It wouldn't exactly pay to beat him in a competition, would it? They reach a specific doorway, which has the name "Vaughn" on a sign out front. Vaughn nods to it, stopping them.~

Peter Vaughn: Here we go, this is what I told you about.

Wyatt Bailey: So they'll really have a private chef come and cook for just us, with an exclusive meal?

Peter Vaughn: That's right. They don't offer it to any random guest, but I certainly have the connections to pull it off.

Wyatt Bailey: You think the chef's already in there cooking?

Peter Vaughn: Uh, probably not. We still have 30 minutes to go. But we can go in and wait for him.

Wyatt Bailey: ... Couldn't we go and invite a few ladies to join us? What about your tag-team partner?

Peter Vaughn: Not a chance in hell... sir.

~Mr. Bailey grouses about it for a moment, then shrugs.~

Wyatt Bailey: Oh, well, I'll enjoy the free meal then! Is there at least a TV or something in there?

Peter Vaughn: I honestly don't know. Let's find out.

~The two men head inside, shutting the door behind them. The camera, though, stays out, as it veers to the left, showing, once again, the other two men who have been following them. They step out, not worried about being overheard this time.~

Butch: I don't see how we'll ever get a better chance than this, Shiloh.

Shiloh: Yeah... seems that way...

~With the prospect of things actually happening, Shiloh suddenly looks uncertain, a fact that Butch picks up on very quickly. He grabs Shiloh by the shirt, pulling him closer.~

Butch: You're already too deep in this, Shiloh. You don't get to back out now. We take care of this, and we're on easy street for the rest of our lives. Now let's get this done before that chef shows up. You got your weapon?

~Butch produces a small club in one hand. Shiloh reluctantly reaches into his back pocket, pulling out what appears to be the thicker edge of a pool cue that he probably got from one of the establishments in the cruise. The two men take positions at the door, preparing themselves.~

Butch: Remember, move fast, before that Vaughn can react. Got it?

~Shiloh nods. Butch grabs the doorknob, counting to three, and they charge in, each raising their arms... and stopping in shock, as they see Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey standing on the opposite side of the room, arms raised, waiting for them.~

Peter Vaughn: It's about time. I was starting to wonder how blatant I had to be to get you guys to move in. But they finally did it, didn't they, Wyatt?

Wyatt Bailey: Damn straight they did, and I've never been more disappointed in my life. Both of you are fired, of course.

~Butch looks between Vaughn and Mr. Bailey, trying to figure out what's happened. It doesn't take long to come to the obvious conclusion.~

Butch: This was all a trap?

Peter Vaughn: Now he gets it. You really were proud of yourselves, weren't you, being able to follow Wyatt here to that blueberry patch in the middle of nowhere? You never stopped to consider that, maybe, we had already talked?

~Butch's face is almost carved out of stone, but Shiloh's shock is extremely evident.~

Shiloh: You... you knew we followed him?

Peter Vaughn: We planned on it.


~There's a sudden wavering in what we're seeing, as we're being drawn into a flashback. Instead of blueberries, though, we find ourselves inside Wyatt Bailey's house, as he goes about getting himself put together for the next day. He goes into his closet and turns on the light... and gives a short yell, as he sees Peter Vaughn standing there, waiting for him.~

Peter Vaughn: We need to talk. Privately.

~Before Mr. Bailey can do anything, Vaughn yanks him into the closet, slamming the door behind him. There's the sound of a scuffle, likely Vaughn subduing the old man long enough to tell him the truth about Butch and his boys. We don't know, as the flashback is already ending.~


~Mr. Bailey can be seen, shaking his head in annoyance at remembering what happened that night.~

Wyatt Bailey: I almost shot this guy, and I would have, too, if I could have reached my gun. But he eventually convinced me to work with him. All along I said, that's not the Butch I work with. I defended you, son. And look at you now. And you, Shiloh... no one else would give you a chance, but I did!

Shiloh: Yes, sir... at the minimum rate you could buy me for. You never gave me more, what I deserved!

Wyatt Bailey: But I would have. If you would have talked to me, I would have.

~Shiloh at least has the grace to look slightly ashamed, but Butch just nudges him, telling him nonverbally to stay strong.~

Butch: So you set us up with the cruise. You made sure we heard you, and you basically planted the idea in our brains, huh?

Peter Vaughn: That about covers it.

Butch: But your plan has a major loophole, doesn't it? You've brought us here to this empty room, where it's still two-on-two, and quite frankly, I like our chances. Your massive ego put you in this situation, Vaughn, and you're going to pay for it by swimming with the fishes. So we gonna do this or what?

~Butch raises up his club menacingly. ready to come in hard at the first sign of movement. All he gets, though, is Vaughn giving up a long sigh.~

Peter Vaughn: First off, swimming with the fishes? Of all the ocean puns you could make, that's what you decided to go with? Now, secondly, yes, I have a pretty substantial ego, in line with all the success I've had. But did you really think we went to all this trouble just to have a brawl at the end? A knock-down, drag-out fistfight that may or may not go our way? No, Butch. Unlike you, we're smarter than that.

~Suddenly, the door opens again behind Butch and Shiloh. They turn, as several officers charge in, grabbing hold of the two men. Although Butch tries to fight back, he and Shiloh inevitably end up on the ground, getting their wrists cuffed.~

Butch: Get off of me!!

Coast Guard Officer: You have the right to remain silent...

~Despite their struggles, the two cowhands are quickly dragged away, with Butch only managing one more glare at a smiling Vaughn. They disappear, likely to be put in the brig for the rest of the cruise. Vaughn dusts off his hands, apparently pleased with the result.~

Peter Vaughn: So you've got the proof you needed?

Wyatt Bailey: I can't say I like it that much, but yeah, I've seen it. I'll have to figure out who else was working with Butch. There's going to be changes in my organization.

Peter Vaughn: Understandable. So... would some of those changes 'happen' to be possibly working with a newer ranch?

~Mr. Bailey laughs to himself, unable to contain it in the moment.~

Wyatt Bailey: You're a stubborn cuss, Vaughn, but it's starting to grow on me. Alright, let's discuss a future together... over that dinner you're supposed to buy for me.

Peter Vaughn: Wait, but that was all part of the subterfuge, right? It wasn't a real bet.

Wyatt Bailey: Son, you don't seem the type to ever throw anything in your life. You lost that driving contest, and I definitely aim to collect. I buy the drinks, you buy the dinner. That's the deal.

~Vaughn can't help but smirk, admiring the audacity being displayed. Again, he feels like he has a little too much in common with this man, a guy whose mannerisms remind him so much of his father.~

Peter Vaughn: You win. Let's head to Sabatini's. I feel like Italian.

Wyatt Bailey: You're on.

~The two men move off, leaving behind the empty room that worked so well for their plans. The camera zooms into the corner, showing that a camera was stationed there, to add more evidence against Butch and Shiloh. We focus on the camera, an interesting double look between lenses, before we fade out.~


25
Supercard Archives / The Makeover Of Peter Vaughn, P3 (A Saviors RP)
« on: June 30, 2023, 08:19:26 AM »
~The picture slowly opens up with a bit of a rocking motion, as we appear to be aimed out onto the beautiful, blue sea. As the camera readjusts, turning to the right, we can tell that we are, indeed, on the Princess Cruise liner, host of SCW Summer XXXTreme XI! The ship is really magnificent, a true marvel of the ocean, judging from the happy faces of the people walking past in their bikinis and swimsuits, heading for the poolside area. The cameraman, though, isn't expected down there. He gets a few more shots of the expansive top deck of the liner, before there's the sound of a throat being cleared behind him. He turns around, showing Peter Vaughn standing there, looking cool under the collar in spite of wearing his new, custom black coveralls. He nods to the cameraman, apparently pleased that the man is promptly on time. After all, the bars are always open on this ship, so anything could happen.~

Peter Vaughn: Glad you could make it. Enjoying the cruise so far? Have you visited the two-story Lotus Spa yet? It's pretty incredible. I'm sure this probably feels less dangerous than my old warehouse, huh?

~There's a definite nod from the camera. After all, the guy almost lost his life in there during the demolition of the site. It was a chaotic scene, to be sure, one whose blame falls firmly on Peter Vaughn’s actions. Still, the current environment has the cameraman feeling more forgiving. A cruise with beautiful men & women has to feel more comfortable, after all. Vaughn nods again, taking a moment to look out over the ocean, before pointing over to his right.~

Peter Vaughn: Let's head on up, then. I want to give this course a try.

~Vaughn moves off, with the cameraman quickly realizing what he's talking about. The camera shot shows the extensive ropes course that has been put in rather recently, as one of the Princess Cruise's newest additions.~



~There's an audible sigh from behind the camera, before the man hurries to keep up. Vaughn is already getting himself secured up in a harness, a necessary safety measure that Vaughn barely seems to care about. He starts up, as the cameraman finishes getting locked into his straps. He then hurries to catch up, managing to shimmy his way up the ladder, an impressive maneuver considering he's still holding the camera. You have to applaud SCW for the talent they hire behind the scenes. As he makes the final climb  up top, Vaughn is already on a rope bridge, showing off his remarkable balance as he turns back to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: So things are looking extremely good for our tag-team competition. I checked the cruise roster sheet, and wouldn't you know it, every single one of the competitors made it on board! Even Ollie! I have to tell you, I'm ecstatic. I really thought some of them would ‘accidentally’ miss boarding and have to watch this contest from dry land.

~With no sign of difficulties, Vaughn continues across the rope bridge, barely even needing to have his arms out for balance. It's not as easy for the cameraman, as he almost slips a couple of times on his way across. But, trusting in the safety harness, he keeps going, even as Vaughn starts taking a small series of steps higher up.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, as expected, I was seeing a common theme mentioned multiple times. The general thought is that, clearly, I'm going to be exhausted after defending my Roulette Championship earlier in the night, which means that I'm not going to play as big a factor in the Mixed Tag-Team match. It's an interesting theory, and I can see where they're reaching their conclusions. There's only one problem: the facts don't support their hypothesis.

~With nimble feet, Vaughn starts again across, this time on round cylinders that can almost remind you of pool noodles. That is, if you ever saw a pool noodle before. Otherwise, think, I guess, a fluffy snake? A cleaner for the pipes in the toilet? Wait, that's a snake, too, isn't it? Funny. Anyway, Vaughn doesn't seem to have any trouble with the rolling items, getting all the way across. He looks back, waving to the cameraman, who appears reluctant.~

Peter Vaughn: Remember the safety harness, boyo.

~After a few moments, the cameraman sighs and starts across. He slips several times, and we expect a plunge any minute, but somehow, against all odds, he makes it, bringing an impressed smile to Vaughn's face.~

Peter Vaughn: See, this is why I keep requesting you. I know, you've put in applications for other wrestlers, but c'mon, when are you going to have fun like this?

~There's no response from the cameraman. He's probably too floored at Vaughn having blocked his reassignment.~

Peter Vaughn: So let's talk about the facts. Fact is, I'm very good at multitasking. Fact is, I'm used to wrestling multiple matches in a weekend. Heck, I've wrestled eight times before in a single 48-hour period. Sure, part of it was a tournament, but hey, I won that tournament, didn't I? Honestly, I seem to do better the more matches I have in a single weekend. Another fact is, my competition for the Ultimate X match? Not exactly that intense. I've beaten Milo before, and as for the Troll, well, let's just say that I'm not too concerned. I'll probably breeze through that contest, saving as much energy as possible for the Tag match to come.

~With that, Vaughn turns and starts climbing up a wall of ribboned fabric, getting up to the highest point of the ropes course. Having no choice, the cameraman follows, struggling all the way. How he's managing it is anyone's guess, but he does get a helping hand at the end by Vaughn, who reaches down to grab the camera and haul it up first. Once the cameraman's back in position, Vaughn continues.~

Peter Vaughn: Really, I'm skipping over the biggest fact of all: my teammate. Kim Pain could probably win this match all by herself if she wanted to. She's easily got the advantage on Eiley, Luna, and even Tempest. Yep, I fully believe Kim could take down Tempest one-on-one if she wanted to. So the fact is, no matter what energy I use, I'll still be fresh enough to keep the rest of the male mop heads at bay, so that Kim can take care of business. Once she's completed the route, I'll have two victories on this cruise, and two championships to proudly raise to the sky.

~Grinning, thinking about the gold, Vaughn actually does put his arms up in the air. But it's only so he can grab the highest rope, which really looks like it's more there for the harnesses than an actual transport device. But he climbs across easily anyway, hand over hand, reaching the other side. He looks back, waving the cameraman on, but gets a firm shake of the camera. We've reached the max of what this man is able to do. You can’t really shimmy with only one arm free. Looking a tad annoyed, Vaughn nonetheless climbs back over, landing in front of the cameraman once again. He doesn't even look winded.~

Peter Vaughn: You missed out, that was the best part of the course. But hey, some people just can't complete their goals, just like the opponents we'll be going against during the show. Other than the end there, though, you did pretty good, pal. Just don't shirk on your workouts, because keeping up with me? It sure as hell is not easy, for anyone in Sin City. See you at the bottom!

~With that, Vaughn turns and takes a massive leap off the top, spiraling downwards!! The cameraman quickly rushes forward, focusing on Vaughn, whose harness thankfully holds. He bounces on it for a second, before he's finally lowered into the net below, another safety mechanism. A few of the workers move in to start helping Vaughn out of the net, looking like they’d like to tell him off for just leaping like that with no warning. Of course, nobody says anything, because it’s Peter Vaughn, and they know better. Vaughn points up at the cameraman, who realizes that from where they are, there really isn't another way besides making the whole trek back down and getting in the way of others on the course. With a brief, muttered prayer, the cameraman tilts himself over the side and begins downwards, the netting below coming closer as we fade out.~


~We return to a different camera shot, this one showing the outside of one of the establishments on the cruise, Bellini's Cocktail Bar. It’s a rather nice bar, which is what you would expect from such a high-end operation as the Princess Cruise. We see Peter Vaughn walk into the shot, still dressed in his custom black coveralls. The maître d at the door studies him for a few moments, apparently trying to decide that he is actually seeing what he thinks he's seeing. He blinks a few times, but nothing seems to change. Vaughn, noticing that the door hasn’t been opened for him yet, turns to the man.~

Peter Vaughn: Everything alright?

Maître D: ... Of course, sir. Right this way.

~Vaughn nods, heading through the door and into the bar. As Vaughn moves off, the maître d can be seen shaking his head sadly.~

Maître D: Wrestling cruises... oy...

~The camera follows Vaughn as he makes his way through the bar, studying the faces. He finally spots the one he's looking for, walking over to where his tag-team partner, Kim Pain, is sitting. Vaughn sits down as well, with the bartender immediately turning their direction, as a good bartender should.~

Bartender: What can I get you?

Peter Vaughn: Do you have Yellow Rose?

Bartender: ... No, sir, I'm afraid not.

Peter Vaughn: Just give me something on draft then. Your pick.

Bartender: Very good, sir.

~As the bartender goes to work, Vaughn turns to Kim, who still hasn't acknowledged him.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey, Kim. Nice ship, huh? I went down and checked out the engine room. It's pretty incredible down there. I offered a few suggestions for maintenance, but they really didn't need them.

~Still Kim doesn't say anything, sipping on her drink. Peter, confused, leans closer to her.~

Peter Vaughn: Kim? Partner? Hello? Is everything alright?

~Finally, after a few more moments, Kim turns towards Peter, studying him. Peter, obviously unnerved by the almost glare, leans backwards, considering his options and wondering what he did. Maybe it was something he didn't do. Vaughn's never good at these partnership things. But just as Peter is going through the flight or fight instincts, Kim suddenly smiles, nodding to Peter.~

Kim Pain: It looks like I still have my work cut out for me.

Peter Vaughn: Work? What, you mean like the makeover? I thought we were done with all that. I'm sitting here in my new duds, I'm holding onto less hair, and I even took those skin vitamins that Brianne gave me. They tasted awful, by the way.

Kim Pain: I'm glad you're keeping up with that, Peter, but you do realize that's only half the battle?

Peter Vaughn: ... Did I just enter a GI Joe episode? What do you mean? What's left on me to change? Because I guarantee to you I'm not undergoing any plastic surgery. I like the way I look.

~Kim gives a small laugh to this, before shaking her head.~

Kim Pain: It's nothing about the outside, Peter. It's what's inside... inside your head. I think you're due a bit of a makeover there as well.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, uh, I've had people try to mess with my brain before. I don't really want to revisit that.

Kim Pain: So tell me about this Sadie woman that works with you?

~The abrupt shift in conversation throws Peter, but he's given a reprieve as the bartender puts a large mug in front of him. Peter carefully sips at it, then looks thankful that it's nothing too bad, taking a larger swallow to clear his throat.~

Peter Vaughn: Why do you want to know about her? How do you even KNOW about her?

Kim Pain: I pay attention, Peter. I noticed that she's texted you at least a dozen times since the cruise started.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, yeah, she's keeping me up-to-date on issues with the ranch. It's an ongoing process, getting that one off the ground.

Kim Pain: Uh huh. And yet I believe she was inquiring a lot about how the cruise was going, and especially how it's going with me as your teammate.

Peter Vaughn: ... I guess she's just curious. I don't really know, she hasn't talked much about wrestling before, but maybe she's actually a fan.

Kim Pain: Or she just wants to know more about what drives you, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: Why, so she can work better for me or something? I mean, she already does a damn good job, I don't see room for much improvement.

~Kim shakes her head again, possibly a little shocked that she has to explain this straight to Peter's face. But then, Peter's been rather oblivious to anything regarding the opposite sex for the last few years, ever since his... treatments.~

Kim Pain: Here's the thing, Peter: Sadie's into you.

Peter Vaughn: ... As a fan? As a fan, right?

Kim Pain: No. Not as a fan. She's interested in you... as something more.

Peter Vaughn: ... Like... as a partner, like you?

Kim Pain: Not at all like me. Just... trust me on this, Peter. Sadie... would like to date you.

~Vaughn, still puzzled, takes another long drink from his frosted mug. He sets it back down before looking back at Kim.~

Peter Vaughn: I think you've got your wires crossed here, Kim. Sadie's just a co-worker of mine. I think I'd know if there was something else there.... wouldn't I?

~Kim just waits, as Vaughn starts running things through his head. Some of the comments that Sadie has made lately. The way she has greeted him in the mornings on the ranch, and the time spent at night along with Thomas and some of the other crew. The way she laughed at some of his weak attempts at jokes. Suddenly, Peter sits up.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh my God...

Kim Pain: There we go.

Peter Vaughn: But... but no. I mean, I don't really feel like that... well, with anyone, anymore. I would think she'd be able to see that.

Kim Pain: The heart wants what the heart wants, Peter. Not much can change that.

Peter Vaughn: But... exactly! My heart... doesn't want. At least, I don't think it does. I can't say it's really telling me anything, to be honest.

Kim Pain: Look, Peter. You need to make some of your time on this cruise work for you. You need to find a way to reach your old self, and start reopening old passageways in your mind.

Peter Vaughn: ... The old me sucked. He never won matches. He always got beaten up. He was... a janitor.

Kim Pain: I don't think the last one there is a bad thing, just a little different. But I'm not saying return to the Peter Vaughn you once were. I'm just saying be open to the fact that you can find a way to merge those old paths back into your new ones. Honestly, I think it'll help you in the ring, too.

Peter Vaughn: You think so?

Kim Pain: At the very least it will add to your knowledge base, which is always good to do for a wrestler. You DO want to learn more, don't you?

Peter Vaughn: ... I suppose so.

Kim Pain: So here's your mission, Peter: reacquaint yourself some with life on this cruise. Go and try new things. Talk to new people. See if you can break out of your shell and start seeing the colors of the world again. Then, I think you'll become the perfect tag-team partner, and we'll absolutely destroy all those other teams and grab those championships for ourselves. Are you willing to try that, Peter?

~Vaughn is quiet for a long period of time, drinking away more of the draft beer he had been given, thinking about Sadie and what he might, no, surely DID miss. He finally decides to nod his head.~

Peter Vaughn: I'll try.

Kim Pain: That's all I can ask.

~Kim raises her glass, clinking it against the one still held in Peter's hand. Peter still seems to be trying to process everything, running it through his mind again and again, as we slowly cut away.~


It's amazing, the twists and turns that can happen on a simple cruise, isn't it?

Take, for example, the twist that everyone in our mixed tag-team match prepares to be ready to compete? I truly thought I might see some of them just taking it easy on the crew deck, getting a tan, just taking advantage of the free trip on the cruise. But then I spend my time running around the liner, getting some exercise while taking in everything I see. And all I really see is everyone else involved in this match doing their prep work and continuing to train.

So, bravo, teams! You're not all complete losers, and I'm proud of you for that!

Of course, that doesn't mean that they're not all still making some mistakes in their preparations. For instance, good ol' Austin seems to think that Kim and I are going to underestimate them. Underestimate Austin & Tempest. The only team here to have held the belts before. So I have to ask... why the hell would you think we're underestimating you? You're the #1 target, for us and, I'm betting, for the rest of the teams as well. Honestly, the biggest threat is that we're overestimating you. You might come into this one and lay an egg, sucking up the entire ring, and suddenly a lot of our early strategy would be for naught.

So, you know, please don't suck, Austin. It would mess up our plans.

But I don't think he will. Austin's feeling a ton of pressure in this one, after all. He's already falling from the main event scene, he can't afford to put a brick up in the Mixed Tag-Team ranks. If anything, he'll probably try TOO hard and screw over his partner with an accidental slip-up near the end. Hey, I'm all for it. You screwing up? THAT we've planned for, Austin.

Really, the one I guess I should talk about underestimating might be the rookies. Ollie & Ellie look like they're planning to take this one seriously, even if nobody else is giving them a chance. That being said... I still think they're the underdogs in this one, because the energy might be there, but the experience is not. Most of the time, it felt like Ollie didn't even know what he was talking about. After all, Ollie seems to think that Kim doesn't care at all about championships.

Well, that's really on her to discuss, but from what I've seen, she DOES like to win. That means we will become the champions, so those go hand-in-hand. Either way, my interest in championships will be far and away enough for both of us, no matter where Kim sits on it. I'll definitely be a driving force in this contest.

And by the way, Ollie, let me clue you in on one other thing: losing in a tournament, no matter to what team, is never something to brag about. You and Ellie both lost to the eventual winners? So you're both losers? I mean, that's what that comes out to. It's not even a humble brag. It's a desperate attempt at making a terrible moment something that's worth a damn.

It's not. You lost. So did I. Get over it and move on.

Finally, we have Xander, who has his own underestimation issues. Boy, a lot of estimations going wrong, isn't there? Xandie seems to think that I'm nothing, just because I'm with the Saviors. In fact, there were a lot of negative feelings about us Saviors, which I thought was funny, considering how many of you moved your way forward in this tournament. As I've already said, I'm working to rebuild the Saviors' glory one step at a time, and we're definitely getting there. So if your personal hatred of the group of the past is going to mess with your mind in the present, well, that's just another benefit for us, isn't it?

Also, Raven, you're just as arrogant as I am, if not more. I mean, look how great you feel about yourself despite getting denied championships recently? You'd think your ego would have suffered a few more holes, but I guess you're able to seal up those wounds and move forward, huh?

Probably should get yourself a tire patch commercial. It would sell well.

Overall, boyos, and ladies, while I do believe now that all of you are actually here to compete, I'm just not sure all of you are equipped for the feat. Maybe some of you should just stay away from the tags and locate yourself some nice seats in the front row, away from all the action. You could put your feet up, get a martini (or a juice box for Ollie), and just relax, knowing that you're on a boat, mothertruckers, and that's as good as it's going to get.

Because once again, I have to tell you that nothing's stopping Kim and I from taking home those belts. I'm going to be a tag champion. If it means I have to throw each and every single one of you overboard to make that happen, then that's what I'm going to do.

It really gives "Taking The Plunge" a new meaning, doesn't it?

And when they're retrieving you from the ocean, sputtering and out of breath, you'll wonder to yourselves: why would he do this? Why would he take it so far? Well, it's obvious. Gold's on the line, and that means I'll do whatever I have to do to carry my partner and I across the finish line.

Brace yourselves. Rough waters ahead.


~It appears to be the next day on the cruise, although that could just be because we're outside once again. Now, we're at the poolside area, where fans can be seen enjoying the cool water on a hot summer day. There are a few SCW wrestlers in the pool, too, splashing each other and having a grand old time. They're not the wrestlers we're looking for, though, so the camera continues past them and heads to a nearby sitting area. Hanging out there, having just finished a thorough workout, is Kim Pain. She turns to the person sitting next to her, striking up a conversation.~

Kim Pain: Are you enjoying the trip, Brianne?

~The other lady rolls over, showing that it is, indeed, Brianne from the hair stylist shop. She smiles, sitting herself up.~

Brianne: This has been absolutely a great adventure, Kim! Thanks again for getting me a ticket!

Kim Pain: It's the least I can do after having to deal with so much of my partner's, well, you know.

Brianne: It's all... part of the job.

~Brianne says this without conviction, but then, she shouldn't complain. She DID get a trip on a cruise for it. As if to symbolize this further, a waiter shows up, handing both of them drinks. Kim sets hers to the side, seemingly not wanting to overindulge with a match coming up. Brianne dives right in, drinking away.~

Kim Pain: You don't want to drink too much, Brianne. Being drunk on a rocking cruise ship never goes well.

Brianne: It just tastes so good! Like they bottled the sun to give to us in these mimosas!

Kim Pain: If you say so. Hey, have you seen Peter around?

Brianne: No, I don't think so. Why?

Kim Pain: Just wondering. We had a talk last night, him and I, and I'm curious as to how he's reacting to it today. I doubt we'll see much of a change, though. Peter doesn't seem the type to radically change overnight, you know?

Brianne: I don't know, with all that hair *hiccup* gone, he definitely changed a lot.

Kim Pain: That's not what I...

~Kim suddenly stops talking, as she sits up a little straighter, staring off to the right. It takes Brianne a minute to notice the shift, as she's busy finishing off her drink. She finally gets it, though, turning back, confused.~

Brianne: *hic* What's going on?

Kim Pain: Over there... walking on the side path...

~Puzzled, Brianne looks around, finally finding what Kim is looking at. Her eyes widen in shock. The camera, similarly, turns and focuses in that direction, locking onto the man walking amongst the group of younger people, talking them up. He's wearing swim trunks and nothing else, with his hair styled up in a unique pattern. As he turns to some of the people, he raises up his arms, giving the victory sign to them with a big smile.~



~As shocking as it is, that does appear to be Peter Vaughn. He turns to a few fans who are anxiously waiting nearby, talking with them and offering to sign autographs, something that Vaughn never does. The look on his face is one of someone who's trying way, WAY too hard. He continues to gather a crowd, as it's clear that people are willing to take advantage of this seemingly "change of heart". Kim, though, knows better. She sighs, standing up to get a better look.~

Kim Pain: I may have created a monster...

~Brianne just laughs, thinking the whole thing is hilarious. But Kim is taking it seriously. She reaches down to gather up her stuff, before turning back to Brianne.~

Kim Pain: I think I'd better go after him. I should have known he'd take things to the extreme. Are you going to be alright here by yourself?

Brianne: I'm a grown *hic* woman, of course I'll be okay. You go get your partner.

~Kim nods, moving off at a brisk pace, as Brianne turns, noticing that Kim's drink is still sitting there, untouched.~

Brianne: Don't mind if I do... *hic*

~Brianne picks up the second mimosa, beginning to work on it, and we're forced to wonder what her tolerance level could be. It's extremely difficult to get drunk of mimosas, believe me, it's been tried. The camera leaves Brianne, following Kim's trek as she heads after her partner. However, in the minute it took for her to check on Brianne, Peter Vaughn seems to have gotten away from her. She looks around, wondering how he could have moved so fast.~

Kim Pain: Peter? ... Peter!

~Kim starts calling out, moving off, as the picture slowly fades out.~


26
Supercard Archives / Bombshells & Blueberries - Roulette Championship P1
« on: June 24, 2023, 10:42:50 PM »
~We open the shot to a scene of devastation. The destruction appears to be fully completed. There are concrete pieces laying all around, the leftover remains of Peter Vaughn's warehouse. At least, at this point, we HOPE it was Peter Vaughn's warehouse, because there's really nothing left after Vaughn and his partner, Kim Pain, began the deconstruction of the building. We can see, in the distance, a few different bulldozers and cranes working their way through the rubble, collecting what they can and dumping the remains into various dump trucks scattered around the area. The cameraman zooms over the destroyed wasteland before turning to his right, where we can see Peter Vaughn proudly standing across two large pieces of cracked walls. He looks more relaxed than usual, probably because of the release of some pressure thanks to the tear down. After a few moments, he turns to look over at the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: How are you feeling, friend? Still pissed at me?

~There's no response from the cameraman, who professionally keeps the lens pointed at Vaughn. Of course, that doesn't stop him from bringing a hand in front of the camera, shooting the bird towards the Roulette Champion. For those who missed it, when the demolition event started, the cameraman was inside, having been given bad directions from Vaughn. Thankfully, he made it out in one piece, even if he does appear to still hold a grudge. As for Vaughn, he simple smirks, before looking around again.~

Peter Vaughn: We truly did a lot of damage, didn't we? Thank goodness I have some contacts in the local government, getting us a crew to cart away the remains. Otherwise, well, this would have taken me a while.

~With uncanny balance, Vaughn jumps off the one piece of crumbling wall and lands on another piece, which rocks dangerously for a moment before settling. Vaughn doesn't seem concerned at all. He reaches down, pulling out what appears to be a chunk of wall with a light switch on it. He detaches the wires from the back, allowing him to hang onto the piece.~

Peter Vaughn: Always good to have a memento of your past, right? You want one? Something to signify you're still living life? The bathroom area should be over there to the east, we could probably find a toilet seat or a piece of sink.

~The camera just shakes negatively, so Vaughn shrugs, tucking the debris away in one of his large coverall pockets.~

Peter Vaughn: Looking at this now... yep, I believe this was the right choice. Tearing down the past and moving forward, heading into a new, bright future. If only I wasn't facing an opponent from the past... an opponent I've been locked against more times than anyone else in Sin City. Good ol' Milo. Of course, they added the Troll to this, because of course they did. You'd think, maybe, there's someone in the front offices who would like to see me lose the Roulette Championship. They even made a big deal out of it being an Ultimate X match, as if that was a danger to me.

~Vaughn laughs to himself, even as he hops to another piece of debris, then another. Somehow, despite the chaotic pattern of destruction, Vaughn's having no problems navigating the area. The cameraman, meanwhile, is being extremely careful in where he puts his feet down. A lot is covered in an SCW Cameraman's insurance, but a demolished building might be pushing things.~

Peter Vaughn: For some reason, I thought they knew me better than that. I mean, I won the Roulette Championship by winning a Ladder match. I love high-flying and risk-taking. I enjoy any match where the rules are... relaxed. A match like this? Where I just need to dunk a couple of fools into the water in order to get a free path back to my title? Where balance and agility is of utmost importance? Where it's a Pay-Per-View, which means I'll be at my absolute best, rising up for the big time? Yeah... this one's going to be glorious.

~Vaughn jumps over onto a piece of rebar, which doesn't look like it's going to hold his weight. But Vaughn doesn't even hesitate, continuing to flip over to another piece of debris, staying upright. We can see now that Vaughn has gotten near the edge of the destruction zone in a half dozen hops. The cameraman, meanwhile, is much further back, as he starts to carefully move to his left.~

Peter Vaughn: It truly is a beautiful sight, isn't it? And it's only the beginning. Wait until you guys see what I get built here. It's going to take some time, but this place? It's going to be memorable.

~Vaughn grins to himself, then turns to go, towards the parking lot where we can see his beloved truck, Gabriella, sitting. After a moment, though, Vaughn looks back, taking in the fact that the cameraman is struggling to get around the pieces of concrete safely. With a sigh, Vaughn shakes his head before coming back his direction.~

Peter Vaughn: I suppose I already almost killed you once today. That should probably be my limit. Let's get you out of there.

~The wrestler moves to the side, picking up what appear to be a series of long planks, which look like they used to be part of the roof of the warehouse. Vaughn slides them out, one by one, forming a bridge across the debris field. Gratefully, the cameraman makes his way that direction, managing to get onto the first one. He struggles across, finally landing on the other side, with Vaughn staying close by. When the cameraman gets his balance back, Vaughn steps in front of the lens once more, smiling hopefully. He has another decent-sized piece of concrete in one hand.~

Peter Vaughn: So we're all good now? No reason to escalate anything to a higher office or anything?

~Vaughn tosses the concrete piece up and down a few times, while never letting his eyes leave the cameraman. He gets the message, nodding the camera, basically saying that things will stay as they are. Vaughn's grin gets larger.~

Peter Vaughn: Good. I've become a fan of yours, after all. And you're going to love what comes next.

~Vaughn throws the piece of concrete away and starts walking towards the truck. The cameraman takes one last look at the fallen building, before finally fading out, taking us away from here.~


~The video shifts, this time taking us to a shot of the outdoors. At least, that's what we see along the side of the road. The shot is moving, though, showing that we're seeing from the perspective of someone inside a car or truck. The vehicle makes a turn to the right, making its way into a specific destination, and we quickly catch a shot of the sign outside.~



~The vehicle continues on, heading to the parking area near the large red barn on the property. Leaning against the barn, clearly visible, is Peter Vaughn, with one foot up against the barn wall as he waits patiently. The engine shuts off, and after a moment, the camera turns to the side... showing us Wyatt Bailey, a prominent cattle distributor in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. He's also had a few confrontations with Vaughn over his PMV Ranch, swearing that Vaughn will never get cattle from him. Bailey pulls the keys from the ignition, staring out at Vaughn, who is calmly waiting for him.~

Wyatt Bailey: Smug son of a bitch.

~The older man pulls himself out of the car, walking over to where Vaughn is straightening up, preparing for him.~

Wyatt Bailey: So any reason you had me drive all the way out here, other than just for you to talk my ear off again and for me to turn you down?

~Vaughn shrugs his shoulders before speaking.~

Peter Vaughn: I figured we could meet on neutral ground to talk things out.

Wyatt Bailey: Really? That's why we're here, instead of at a restaurant back in town? Because I'd rather have a steak, medium rare.

Peter Vaughn: What can I say? I'm a fan of blueberries. I know a lot of people out there would rather have apples, oranges, maybe some strawberries. Some of them eat bananas just because they think they're healthy for them. But blueberries, they're the underutilized crop. Despite all their benefits, people still tend to push blueberries to the side. I suppose... I can relate, in some ways.

~For once, Mr. Bailey seems a bit speechless, as he's likely never heard someone compare themselves to a blueberry before. Vaughn shrugs again, looking off into the distance.~

Peter Vaughn: Suffice to say, Mr. Bailey, I think you're someone who could make good use of a crop of blueberries... if you could remove your own preconceived notions of them. C'mon, let's go pick a few. I'll feel a little better away from the main entrance, anyway.

Wyatt Bailey: ... You're a strange, strange fella, Vaughn. Gotta say, it feels like there's something... different about you. Hmmm. Did you get a haircut?

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, something like that.

~Vaughn instinctively runs a hand across his chest, wincing slightly, before walking away. Mr. Bailey moves after the wrestler, heading into the blueberry grove, still on his guard. As they depart, we see another vehicle slowly pull into the parking lot, finding a space further down the lot. We cut away.~


Milo, Milo, Milo...

How is it that we keep finding ourselves in each other's orbit?

I don't think there's a single wrestler I've faced more than you, Millo, here in Sin City. We've had some fun times, haven't we? I mean, I defeat you, you almost defeat me, it's a wild ride. So does that last time we fought still burn you? Because I won't sugarcoat it: you definitely had me on the ropes. Some would even say that there was no way for me to escape... except that the time ran out, didn't it? A draw. In other words...

You. Still. Haven't. Beat. Me.

I'm betting that result has stayed in that Milo-tic brain of yours, rattling around and never finding a way out. That thought of you hitting the move that I may or may not have kicked out of, only for it to be useless. Pretty crazy. Probably depressing. For you, that is.

And then look how things have gone since then? I went on to win the SCW Roulette Championship at Blaze of Glory, while you went and got yourself another unsatisfying ending. A double pin draw, ugh, hate when that happens. I guess you should have tried to get a shoulder up, huh? After that, despite your inability to get away from draws, you were given a World Title opportunity, which, hey, I was pulling for you back there. I really was.

So you can guess how disappointed you made me when you took the pin from Harris.

I mean, how did you not see that coming? Harris, cheating? The guy's pretty well known for it at this point. But you didn't duck, you didn't dodge, and you didn't stay conscious. Another bummer for Milo. I swear, if I hadn't put a bet on Harris to win exactly that way, I would have been furious. You dropped the ball, Milo. Again.

And yet, here we are... once again being booked against each other. Once again, you're getting a title opportunity, even though you blew your chance to face me twice. You should have been there for the Mixed Tag Titles two, but, once again, you failed to stop a cheater. Man, that's gotta start feeling painful, boyo. At least you got some revenge on the kid, but still...

It's becoming like a broken record with you.

That being said, I DO have good news for you, Millie. See, since this is booked as an Ultimate X match, it technically ISN'T possible to cheat. There are no rules, other than get to that championship and don't fall in the pool. So you can feel free to bring yourself some weapons if you want, because they're legal. I bet the Troll brings some, because there's no way in hell that guy is climbing up those ropes. He'll probably bring an extender grappler, that'd be his best bet. And I know I'll be... prepared, with any items I need to have on me.

So how far are you willing to take things, Milo? Are you going to finally shake off your fan-friendly persona and live up to the name of Summer XXXTreme? Are you going to turn this match up to 11, and have the two of us carry off one of the greatest opening matches in SCW PPV history? Or are you going to show up wearing a life preserver, knowing exactly where you're going to end up at the finish?

I'm not going to let this one end in a draw, Miles. I'm continuing what will be a historic run with the Roulette Championship.

And for once, I won't be joining you on the way down as you take the Plunge.


~We rejoin Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey as they move through the blueberry patch. Vaughn has actually collected a nice amount of them in his small basket. Maybe he really DOES like blueberries. Mr. Bailey seems less inclined, as he's starting to look impatient.~

Wyatt Bailey: You know, you may be some kind of famous wrestler who doesn't have to worry about wasting his time, but some of us DO have a business to run! Are we going to get to the point of this little meeting?

Peter Vaughn: What's your rush, Wyatt? Don't you want to enjoy this beautiful Texas day, out here in nature?

Wyatt Bailey: Don't try to con me, son. You're stalling. And I'm getting awfully tired of...

~There's a sudden, single beep from Vaughn's cell phone. He pulls it out and takes a look, nodding, before putting it back away and turning towards Mr. Bailey, who looks ready to start hiking back out of there, blueberries be damned.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, Wyatt, let's talk.

Wyatt Bailey: By all means, "Peter"...

Peter Vaughn: So how much do you know about your guy Butch?

~Bailey's face reveals his surprise, as he was prepared for many conversation starters, but Butch wasn't on the table.~

Wyatt Bailey: Butch? He's been working for me for years. He's probably my best cattleman, reminds me some of myself at his age. Why? You trying to poach him from me? Good luck to you. He's basically next in line to run my business when I retire.

Peter Vaughn: So he is. And when exactly do you think you'll be retiring, just to ask?

Wyatt Bailey: Hah! Not anytime soon, I'll tell you that! I'd be too bored in retirement!

~Vaughn nods, agreeing with the older man. Retirement does, indeed, sound... boring.~

Peter Vaughn: So, then, the only way Butch will be taking over... is over your dead body?

~This gets Mr. Bailey's attention, as he glares over at Vaughn. Like any self-respecting Texan, he's packing, as his hand involuntarily goes towards his side.~

Wyatt Bailey: You threatening me, son?

Peter Vaughn: Nope. Just warning you. That Butch? He's not fond of waiting.

Wyatt Bailey: What? I don't see what you're getting at...

Peter Vaughn: Had any car troubles lately?

~This gets the older man's attention. After all, how could Vaughn know about the mysterious failure of his prized Cadillac's engine?~

Wyatt Bailey: How do you know about that?

Peter Vaughn: Sources. The same ones that have told me that ol' Butch and a few other cowboys are looking to remove you from the equation. They want to retire you permanently, Wyatt.

~Mr. Bailey's eyebrows climb high on his forehead... before settling back down as he laughs, slapping his knee just like an old-timer.~

Wyatt Bailey: You're a funny one, Vaughn. You really expect me to just take your word that some of my best boys are coming after me? Just because of some engine failures?

Peter Vaughn: Anything else go wrong recently?

Wyatt Bailey: I... well, there WAS a problem when one of the bulls got loose. Nobody could tell me how he got out of his pen... but that was just an accident!

Peter Vaughn: Uh huh...

Wyatt Bailey: Now listen here, son! I trust my boys, I always have! You've got to give me more than "sources" and "coincidences" if you want me to believe you.

~Vaughn hesitates, and it's for good reason. He remembers seeing the video feed that showed Butch and another cowboy, identified later as Shilo, talking about causing Mr. Bailey's death via an automobile accident. Of course, Vaughn's illegal feed into Mr. Bailey's surveillance cameras meant that he couldn't come right out and reveal where he heard it. He also couldn't confess to breaking into Mr. Bailey's garage and sabotaging his ride, in order to keep the old man from dying after a major accident, because that wouldn't exactly be celebrated, either, would it?~

Peter Vaughn: I don't have anything other than what I know, Wyatt. And what I know is that your life is in danger, and maybe the lives of your family.

Wyatt Bailey: Hah! That's not a concern for me. My wife passed a few years ago, and my daughters have all married up and are living their own lives out there. Hell, Butch is the closest thing I've ever had to a son, and you say he's trying to kill me??

Peter Vaughn: Yes. Yes, I do. And I think, somewhere in there, you suspect a little, too. Otherwise, you would have stormed off long before now.

~There's a silence between the two men, a silence that's broken up as a few kids come by, unstoppable in picking some more blueberries for themselves. They swarm over a nearby bush, taking several, before running off, giggling to each other. Both Vaughn and Mr. Bailey watch this, before Vaughn looks back at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Believe me or not, I figure it'd be good for you to get out of town for a little while. So here's what I'm going to do.

~Vaughn reaches into his pocket, causing Mr. Bailey to once again consider his pistol. But Vaughn just pulls out an envelope, handing it over to him.~

Wyatt Bailey: Alright, I'll bite. What's this?

Peter Vaughn: It's tickets. Specifically, it's tickets to fly you out and get you onto the cruise I'm going to be on, Sin City Wrestling's Summer XXXTreme XI.

Wyatt Bailey: A... a cruise?

Peter Vaughn: Yes, sir. I figure you've worked hard enough, you could use a break away from your guys, especially in light of the fact that they're trying to kill you.

Wyatt Bailey: Allegedly.

Peter Vaughn: Whether you believe me or not, that's a great opportunity there, Wyatt. It's a chance for you to stretch your legs and enjoy some time off. Why not take it?

Wyatt Bailey: It's, what, a bribe? You trying to buy me, son?

Peter Vaughn: You're not someone who can be bought. But if it puts me on your good side... why not? Now, the ship leaves from the Port of Los Angeles on the Princess Cruise. It's going to be an amazing event. It's up to you, really, whether or not you take advantage of it.

~Mr. Bailey sits quietly for a moment, considering his options. The thought of tearing up the tickets right in front of Vaughn has to enter his mind. But there's also the thought of... a cruise... fully paid for... and with some interesting clientele likely expected.~

Wyatt Bailey: I suppose... there will be a lot of ladies in bikinis?

Peter Vaughn: I would definitely expect to see more ladies in bikinis than gentlemen.

Wyatt Bailey: I guess there's no hard in... getting away for a little bit.

~Vaughn smiles, as Mr. Bailey carefully tucks the tickets away in his pocket.~

Wyatt Bailey: I'm not saying this changes anything between us, though, Vaughn. You're still an outsider in our cattle game.

Peter Vaughn: So I've been told before.

Wyatt Bailey: But I'll do the gentlemanly thing and say... thank you.

~Mr. Bailey tips his hat towards Vaughn, then turns, walking away. Vaughn watches him go, still smiling. He turns and goes in the opposite direction. At the same time, the camera shifts away from them, slowly circling around the bushes to show where two men are currently bent over, having been listening to the majority of the conversation.~

Butch: So you heard all of that?

Shiloh: I heard every word. Damn fools, allowing us to follow like that. Acting like this was some sort of secret meeting!

Butch: The question is, how does that guy know about our plans? You been talking while drinking, Shiloh?

Shiloh: Of course not! I don't know how he knows! But we need to do something.

Butch: You think so? Didn't sound like the old man believed a word of it. Still... this could be the perfect opportunity.

~Butch lets an evil grin cross his lips, as he thinks through the possibilities.~

Butch: After all... isn't it kind of common on cruises like this to have someone 'accidentally' fall overboard? Why, it'd simply be a tragedy if one or both of them simply... disappeared.

Shiloh: ... It would definitely be tragic.

Butch: Let's go see if we can book passage for ourselves. I'm sure the place is sold out at this date, but you know there are always some bootleg tickets for sale.

Shiloh: I better pack my Dramamine.

~Both men laugh as they move off, evil thoughts in their minds as we cut away.~


Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of men?

Hell if I know. It's definitely not the Troll, because from what I've heard, he's usually wrong when he's broadcasting from his mom's basement.

So, Troll... yeah, I can't call you that. I mean, I like doing nicknames, but that's just pathetic. So, Gabe... you've been placed into a match where you are required to have upper body strength and a great deal of agility. And I have to ask... when you heard it was an Ultimate X match... why did you sign the contract?

Seriously, Gabe, you're putting your life on the line in this one, and I know it hasn't exactly been the greatest of lives, but it's still what you've got. Why didn't you turn tail and run? That'd be the smart play.

Is it because Mac once invited you to the Saviors? Because you know what? I don't really see that in the same light that you do. After all, soon after that invitation, everything seemed to fall apart for the Saviors. Mac left, Goth fell, Ken got hurt, we let a bitch into the group before quickly kicking them out, I mean, the whole stable nearly collapsed. But you know who was there to fix it?

Me.

I'm the man who's kept the good name of the Saviors going, even when it looked like it'd be better for me to take a walk from the group as well. But I didn't. I stayed. I brought in the Roulette Championship. I'm bringing in the Mixed Tag-Team Titles. We're bringing this group back to life, one piece at a time. And you know what, Gabe?

I'm not sure that you're one of the pieces we need.

The only time I remember seeing you lately, Gabe, was when you got the holy hell beat out of you by Austin James Mercer. Have you won a match in Sin City? Are you even a competitor here? I mean, I'm sure I could look back in the logs and find out for myself, but... it's rather boring, looking into your career.

So here's the truth, Gabe. You really don't stand a chance of winning this match. Miles and I, we'll be flying around, doing some gravity-defying stunts as we work to get to the championship. It's going to be damn impressive, I'm sure. But you, Gabe? You're built differently. This is quite possibly the worst possible match type for you. But you can still succeed in one way, Gabe.

You could always tackle Milo into the water when his attention is diverted by me.

Sure, it would eliminate both of you, but it'd be a strike for the Saviors, wouldn't it? It'd ensure that I keep the Roulette Championship safely in the organization. Do you think you could do that, Gabe? Or do you think it'd be better if you just stay in your room in third class, keeping it a one-on-one battle? It's really your decision, after all.

That being said, Gabe, if you show up and decide that you WANT to fight for the championship, well, then I'll show you the respect I think you deserve. I'll fight you head-on, with everything I've got, and, well, I quite frankly don't think things will turn out well for you.

You make your choice, Gabe. You do what you think you have to do.

You find a way to make Mac proud of you.



~As the two sinister cattle herders move off, still laughing to themselves, the camera slowly zooms in on a nearby blueberry bush. Strangely, it appears to be at least partially artificial, judging by the camouflage net that hangs on it. Inside the bush, we suddenly hear another loud beep, followed by a voice coming out of a speaker.~

Peter Vaughn: I see them taking off. You good there, bro?

~After another moment or two, the net slowly pulls to the side, as a man pokes his head out. He looks around in both directions, making sure the coast is clear.~

Thomas Hill: Yeah, Peter, they're gone. I still can't believe you made me do this.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, c'mon, you know you enjoyed it. Those kids really seemed to like your blueberries.

Thomas Hill: Shut up. That was humiliating. I thought for sure they saw me.

~Thomas shakes his head, even as he struggles to dislodge himself from the hole in the blueberry grove. It isn't easy.~

Thomas Hill: Those guys were idiots, thinking that they're the only ones who could follow someone.

Peter Vaughn: So did they react like we thought they would?

Thomas Hill: Yeah. They're going to try and get on the cruise. This is getting dangerous, Peter. Don't you think we should let the authorities know?

Peter Vaughn: We still have no real proof.

Thomas Hill: Are you kidding? I just recorded them!

Peter Vaughn: And I'm sure they kept it a little vague, right? They didn't outright say what they're going to do.

Thomas Hill: ... I guess not.

~Thomas sighs, as he lifts a leg towards the ground. The other foot, though, gets stuck in the tree, causing Thomas to topple over with a thud.~

Peter Vaughn: I didn't catch that last part.

Thomas Hill: Ow. Uh, look, I just don't want anything to go wrong on the cruise. You've got too much riding on it.

~The camera angle suddenly switches, showing Vaughn standing in the loft of the large red barn. He has binoculars up to his eyes, as he watches Butch and Shiloh sneaking back into their car. Mr. Bailey left long ago, while Vaughn hid his truck behind the barn, out of sight.~

Peter Vaughn: I know it, Thomas. It's going to take a lot for me to come back from this event with two championships around my waist, with more to come. But I've factored everything into account. My plan is going to go perfectly.

Thomas Hill: Nothing ever goes perfectly, Peter. You know it and I know it.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, it's GOING to be perfect, Thomas. No matter what it takes... it's going to be perfect.

~With that, Vaughn lowers the binoculars, glaring down at the departing vehicle below. Vaughn is set on a career high at SCW: two championship matches, with all the eyes of the world on him. Numerous individuals who stand in his way. All of them will fall... no matter what it takes. He disappears into the darkness of the loft, out of sight from the camera, as we fade out.~


27
Supercard Archives / The Makeover Of Peter Vaughn, P1 (A Saviors RP)
« on: June 24, 2023, 04:26:12 PM »
~The camera slowly comes up on a sight we've seen many times before over the last year. We're inside the same unknown warehouse, its location in the world having never been disclosed. For all we know, we're in Borneo.~

~But, honestly... it's probably not Borneo.~

~Nonetheless, the cameraman takes in the large room, which appears to be even more empty than usual. It even appears that some of the light fixtures and other electronics have been removed, making it a darker place, with the main light coming from the windows nearby. The cameraman, used to these situations, positions himself in the center of the room and waits. Patiently.~

~After several seconds tick by, we suddenly hear the rumbling of an engine from outside the building. It's not the normal sound of a car engine; oh, no, it's far louder and more powerful than that. The cameraman turns, showing a shot through one of the windows... as a large bulldozer plows towards the building. We hear the cameraman gasp, then he rushes backwards, with movements you normally only see in found footage horror movies. He manages to get out of range, even as the bulldozer crashes through the side of the building, sending bricks and mortar flying everywhere!! Fortunately, the rest of the wall manages to stay up, even as the cameraman moves cautiously back in, focusing on the man in the bulldozer's driver seat: Peter Vaughn. He leans out, giving the cameraman a once-over before grinning.~

Peter Vaughn: Not exactly the best place to be standing, boyo. Didn't you get my note?

~In answer, the cameraman raises up his phone to the camera, where we see the text from Peter: "I'll see you at the warehouse." He shows it over towards Vaughn, who nods.~

Peter Vaughn: Yes, "AT" the warehouse. I never said to go in this time. Still, I guess I could have been more clear. My bad.

~The camera shakes for a moment, and you have to wonder what's going through the cameraman's mind. Probably nothing good. But he's a professional, so he stays focused on Peter, who looks around at the destruction he's caused.~

Peter Vaughn: You see, after my loss to President Washburns, I decided that it was probably time to turn over a new leaf. To do that, I figured I'd need to destroy the old leaf first. I'm moving forward, after all. There's no time to waste looking backwards. This warehouse? It's been fun, I'll admit. But it's time for something new. Something better. It's just like me, really.

~There's a puzzled silence for just a second, but Peter picks up on it, looking back at the cameraman for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: Yes, I'm changing as well. You hadn't noticed? Didn't I show enough in my work on the last Climate Control, propelling my team to victory and earning a second title match at Summer XXXTreme XI? It's no longer just about smashing through the singles ranks for me anymore. It's now about decimating the tag-team ranks as well. Because as luck would have it, I found myself an extremely talented partner, one that can hold her own in any situation. Between us, we now form one of the most dominating teams Sin City has ever seen... and we're just getting started.

~Peter smiles to himself, enjoying the thought of the chaos to come, with the Saviors continuing to roar back to prominence. It's a good thought to have.~

Peter Vaughn: Yes, indeed, times, they are a-changing. This whole first run, taking over the Roulette Division and smashing down every opposition to it? That's just the first scene of a full show on the way, boyos. You all just wait and see what's to come. A newer Peter Vaughn. A BETTER Peter Vaughn. The future of this company, written in stone as it was meant to be. You think I was tough on my own before? Just wait and see...

~Suddenly, Peter looks off past the cameraman, across the warehouse from them. He nods, settling himself back into the bulldozer. But he can still be heard as he speaks to the cameraman one last time.~

Peter Vaughn: You probably want to clear out of here now, friend. As I said... I have a partner now. And I think she's too excited to wait any longer.

~As Peter backs up the bulldozer through the hole he made, the cameraman turns to focus on the other side. There, we can see a large machine closing in from the other side, swinging what appears to be a wrecking ball. The crane rotates, bringing the wrecking ball back, before launching it forward towards the warehouse. With a wild yell, the cameraman abandons all pretense of professionalism and makes a run for it, racing towards the earlier hole that Peter had made. We hear a loud crash from behind, as the building's walls are caved in from the other side. A cloud of dust overtakes the camera, covering us up for several moments. Finally, the dust clears enough for the camera to show what's behind it: a partially-destroyed building, with more parts coming down every second, as the bulldozer and the crane continue their work. The cameraman can be heard, cursing, as he moves away, possibly to call about getting a different assignment next time. We fade out.~


~The picture comes up on a shot of Peter Vaughn, making his way slowly forward. He has a rope in his hands, slowly twirling the loop around as he inches forward. After taking a few more steps, he brings the swinging rope over his head, spinning it, before finally letting it fly. It hangs in the air for what feels like a long period of time, before coming down right on target, going right over the horns sticking upwards. Peter pulls the rope taut, smiling to himself, then starts as the sound of clapping reaches his ears. He turns and looks back, seeing one of his best hands, Sadie Anderson, making her way over.~

Sadie Anderson: Keep it up, and you'll actually be able to rope a real steer, Mr. Vaughn.

~Vaughn scowls for a second, even as the camera pans over to show that Peter had just roped a wooden post with two cow horns positioned on top of it. It was still an impressive toss, just not as impressive as it could have been.~

Peter Vaughn: If that Wyatt Bailey would just sell me cattle, I'd be able to practice for real.

Sadie Anderson: You know we don't usually do much cattle roping, don't you? That's more for TV and movies. Sure, it's a great skill to have, but you probably won't get to use it much.

Peter Vaughn: You never know. Sometimes anything goes in a wrestling match, after all.

Sadie Anderson: If you say so. Anyhow, I talked to two other cattle distributors, and they're willing to work with us. The fees aren't cheap, but I think we can afford it, if we cut back on a few other expenses.

Peter Vaughn: Don't even bother, Sadie. I've got another meeting with Bailey set up later on today.

~Sadie sighs, before leaning on the nearby post.~

Sadie Anderson: You're a stubborn son of a bitch, aren't you? There are other options. We shouldn't just ignore them because one man angered you.

~Peter doesn't say anything. He just starts rolling in his rope, walking towards the post to pull the lasso off of it.~

Sadie Anderson: If you're going to be a ranch owner, Mr. Vaughn, you really need to learn how to adapt.

~This causes Peter to look up at Sadie, before consulting his watch.~

Peter Vaughn: That reminds me, I'm supposed to be meeting Kim soon. She said she's got some... plans for me.

~A dark look flashes across Sadie's face, but Peter doesn't notice it. He's too busy taking the rope over to a nearby storage shed, hanging it inside. When he comes back, Sadie has moved into his path, trying to look as disinterested as possible.~

Sadie Anderson: So you and this Kim seem to be getting close.

Peter Vaughn: She's a great tag-team partner. I think she's going to be the one, Sadie.

Sadie Anderson: The... the ONE??

Peter Vaughn: Yep. The one that finally gets me to tag-team gold.

~Peter nods to himself, looking pleased at the thought, and again missing the mixture of expressions crisscrossing Sadie's face.~

Peter Vaughn: I've tried with so many teams. Chris Page. Mark Flynn. Bam Miller. But I've never been able to get over that hump. Y'know, Bam just won tag titles with Mac Bane. I'm happy for them... but damn it, I hate that hole in my resume. But I do think maybe, JUST MAYBE, this could be the turning point. Kim could be the one to get me there.

Sadie Anderson: So... so she just wants to meet with you to go over your strategy for your PPV match? Or is it going to be more training?

Peter Vaughn: Actually, I think she said something about a make-over.

Sadie Anderson: A... a what??

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, something about how I'll fit in better with the team. Apparently Sin City is working on some standard press pictures, and she wasn't a fan of the first few.

~Peter pops out his cell phone, shooting the photos over to Sadie's cell. She looks at them, with each showing Vaughn and Kim Pain standing close together, as a tag-team normally would. Sadie looks a little annoyed, but works to cover it up, as Peter puts his phone away.~

Peter Vaughn: Look, I've got to run. Make sure that the chickens actually got their food this time, okay? The feeding machine's been a bit buggy the last few days. Thanks, Sadie.

~Peter pats Sadie on the arm, before turning and walking away. He heads towards the parking lot, where his truck, Gabriella, is waiting. Sadie watches him go, looking conflicted.~

Sadie Anderson: One of these days... you're going to figure it out... Peter...

~Sadie recovers, looking down again at her phone. She savagely deletes the pics, clearing them from her cell's memory, before stomping off towards the chicken coop. We cut away.~


It's a new experience, trusting my fate with another. I'm used to being fully in control of my own destiny.

But maybe this is what's needed for me to finally hold a tag-team title in my hand... one that I haven't stolen and hit someone across the skull with, I mean.

I've worked with Kim many times before, in various federations, and once or twice outside of wrestling. We saved a girl's life once. Wonder what ever happened to her? Anyway, it's clear that we make a superior tag-team, as shown by the way we dismantled Team Go and made our way into the finals for the Mixed Tag-Team Titles. Sure, some will moan and cry about me "cheating", and how it wasn't a clean win, but as a former janitor, I can assure you that it was plenty clean enough for me.

As they say, it's not cheating if you don't get caught. Everything I did, from that standpoint, is 100% legal, and if you think I won't be willing to go to those lengths again on the cruise, you're missing a few brain cells from too many shots to the head. I want this victory. Badly. Kim wants it just as much, if not more. If that means taking advantage of the situation in any way possible? So be it.

If I happen to, say, use an illegal object in the course of the Mixed Tag-Team Titles match, which allows us to score the pinfall victory, there will be no asterisk next to our team's name. We'll be the champs. If I maybe hold onto the tights just a little too tightly, the other teams can cry and demand rematches, but we'll still be the champs. And if Kim and I are just too dominant and don't even need to resort to 'alternative' options, again, nothing changes. We'll. Be. The Champs.

And that's the only outcome I'm really concerned with.

So let's talk about some of our male opponents, starting at the bottom. I'm looking at you, Oliver Zahn. Crazy to see you in this, along with Eiley. I'm surprised you were able to get out of school long enough to take the cruise, you kid, you.

If people want to bring up our victory being 'stained', that's nothing compared to Zahnie's way of moving forward. Using a distraction by having music played, then stealing the victory? Hey, I'm not knocking it. It's a good way to win. But the fact that you lost to Milo in the singles rematch, well, that tells everyone what they needed to know. I think it's clear in everyone's minds that Ollie is the weak link in this one. He's too young, he's too inexperienced, and he thinks he's a hell of a lot better than he actually is.

Not that I think Eeely is any better.

I give their team a 2% chance of walking out with the belts, and that would require an army's worth of interference.

Next up, we've got Alexander Raven and Luna Vanity. Y'know, Alex, you've got a name that strikes a chord with me. Raven. I made it a point last year to work to take down every Raven I could find. And you know what? I succeeded. I defeated "Raven" Matt Knox in a title match, while also knocking him silly when I first came to SCW. I took down James Raven multiple times, beating him last at the CCPE vs. The World supercard. I even defanged a guy named Rufus Raven.

I think that was his name, anyway. Guy didn't deserve to be on the list. At all.

So having a chance to clip another Raven's wings is always a joy to behold. That being said, it remains to be seen where you end up on the list, Al. After all, you're not exactly swimming in wins lately, are you? You weren't able to reclaim the Internet Championship at Into The Void, getting your ass spanked by Mr. WashingMachine. Hey, been there, don't plan on doing it again. You also got your 'bells' rung by Calvin Harris, which I'm sure required a lot of ice on your part afterwards. Could you see the swelling? Or was it about the same?

At least you managed one win, with your team getting into the finals by beating... the Barnharts? Seriously? THAT was your competition? Oh, man... Ollie's starting to look better and better, honestly.

I give Raven & Vanity a 5% chance of winning. I think I'm being generous.

But let's look at team #3, and the one that everyone seems to think is the biggest threat coming into this one. We've got Austin James Mercer & Tempest, former Mixed Tag-Team Champs, and I will say, this is the team I'm most looking forward to fighting. Mercer's got something there, a great deal of history being at or near the top. He's even held the Heavyweight Title here, along with guys like Wash, Cross, Mac, and Knox... all men that I've beaten, by the way.

I'd love to add another former champion to the list.

And then, of course, there's the fact that you're the only team in the mix to have held Mixed Tag gold here before. And you got there, I'm sure, in a very honorable fashion, by beating...

The Barnharts? Seriously?? Why do they keep popping up? I destroyed Bill easily, after all. Hmmph. Well, I GUESS that doesn't take away from your run with the belts... that much... but then you eventually lost them to Goth & Mercedes. Did I mention that I've beaten Goth? Not an easy victory, by any means, but I'm proud to have fought him when I could, taking him down.

All-in-all, Austin, I still consider you the most dangerous male involved in this one. You're the reason I'd give you guys a 10% chance of winning, much better than the other two teams. I mean, Kim & I are still far and away at the top, but you two could be the dark horses. That means you're going to be the man I fully target, Austie. I take you out, I eliminate you, and Kim will get to blow Tempest away. Because when it comes down to it... Kim Pain is going to be the most dominant force out there, even more dangerous than I will be.

And I'm looking forward to seeing it, as I send all you guys flying out of the way, clearing the path for a lot of Pain and punishment.


~The truck pulls up outside of the small shopping center, parked expertly to the side, where there is a lesser chance that anyone's car door will dent Gabriella. Peter pops out, making his way over to the store front, considering the businesses that are all located here. He doesn't look too pleased, but then, Peter's never been the type to spend much on anything relating to fashion or looks. His 'style' has always been more focused on in-ring action. Another car door opens, and he watches as Kim Pain gets out. She had apparently been waiting for him.~

Kim Pain: Hello, Peter. Thanks for agreeing to meet here.

Peter Vaughn: Of course. We're partners, after all. So what do you have in mind for today? I thought you might have a photographer with you, so we could take more promotional shots.

Kim Pain: That will wait for later. For now, we have a lot of work to do, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: We do?

Kim Pain: Look, Peter, I think you're a great guy and a heck of a wrestler. But if you're going to be with me in a championship team, well, there are some standards that need to be met.

~Peter arches a slightly overgrown eyebrow, looking puzzled. This might be what helps Kim make her first decision, as she grabs Vaughn by the arm and starts dragging him to the left.~

Kim Pain: Let's start off with that haircut of yours.

Peter Vaughn: What's wrong with my haircut? It's a practical look, and it keeps people from being able to yank on my 'long locks'. It removes a vulnerability, having it cut like this.

Kim Pain: Maybe, but I think the stylist here can do something to... freshen it up a bit. Maybe bring that cut into the 2020's.

~They get to the door of the hair stylist, which has a bright sign stating "A Breath of FresHair". Peter stops them there, noting a couple of pictures displayed on the front, one of them being an older man who bears more than a passing resemblance to Patrick Stewart, aka Captain Jean-Luc Picard.~

Peter Vaughn: Just tell me that bald isn't in style right now.

Kim Pain: You'd never pull it off. Now, c'mon! Don't you trust me?

Peter Vaughn: .... Sure I do. We're partners.

~Kim gets Peter inside the salon, as the door shuts behind them.~


~We rejoin the Saviors duo several minutes later, as there's very little less entertaining than a haircut, no matter who's doing it. We see Kim sitting to the side, reading a fashion magazine that might be from 2020, judging by how weathered it looks. She looks up as the door to the side opens, with the stylist stepping out. She gives a small sigh before walking over to Kim.~

Kim Pain: What's the verdict, Brianne?

Brianne: Well, I did what I could. You didn't bring me much to work with, Kimberly.

Kim Pain: I know. If we only had the time to grow it out more, but our cruise match is coming up too soon.

Brianne: Just remember, I'm not a complete miracle worker. Peter? You can come out now.

~The two turn towards the door, where Peter Vaughn cautiously pokes his head out. His hair is now styled up, somehow seeming to sit more fully on his head. His eyebrows look like they've been reshaped as well, adding more detail to the lines in his face. It's not a massive change, but it's enough for anyone who knows Peter to notice the difference. Kim claps her hands, showing respect to the stylist.~

Kim Pain: What was that about not being a miracle worker? Peter, you look great!

Peter Vaughn: If you say so. It seems like an awful lot of work to make it appear like this. It's so much simpler just to comb it in the morning and be done with it.

Kim Pain: Trust me, Peter, this makes a world of difference. Your life is about to start changing.

Peter Vaughn: That sounds like a threat.

~Brianne laughs, assuming it's a joke, but Peter doesn't join in. She adds in a few coughs before clearing her throat.~

Brianne: So if you agree, that takes care of the hair on his head. The next step would be the rest of him.

Peter Vaughn: Wait.... what?

Kim Pain: I don't know how bad it is under those coveralls, but we'll definitely need to make it more presentable.

Brianne: I'm sure. I've gotten in a new Super Fruit Wax that should work. It's got elements of cranberry & pomegranate added in, which helps the skin recover.

Kim Pain: That sounds like a perfect solution for him.

Brianne: It's not cheap, but then, good looks never are, are they?

~Both ladies laugh at this, as Peter repeatedly glances between them, looking suddenly concerned.~

Peter Vaughn: No. Nope. Not happening. The only wax I deal with is when I want my kitchen floor to shine.

~Peter seems adamant, but Kim's expression doesn't change. She steps towards him.~

Kim Pain: I thought you trusted me.

Peter Vaughn: I... I do, but...

Kim Pain: You know this is for your own good, right?

Peter Vaughn: But... but I...

Brianne: People do this all the time. It's natural.

Kim Pain: It'll all be over quickly. I promise.

Peter Vaughn: .... But...

~Both ladies take Vaughn by the arm, as they begin to direct him towards the back. His eyes flicker towards the exit, as if contemplating a prison break, but he knows that could backfire on him. Reluctantly, he goes with them, disappearing into the back.~


The things you put yourself through for team unity.

That said, Kim has earned my trust over the last few years. If she says this will help us towards becoming Mixed Tag-Team Champions, that I'm willing to go along with it. After all, I want those belts. I want to climb up one turnbuckle, raising the gold over my head, and be able to look to my left and see my partner doing the same thing. I want to hear the crowd react, realizing that Peter Vaughn is now a tag-team specialist as well as a singles dominator. I want to see the faces of our competition as they deal with the notion that the belts are now out of their range for the conceivable future.

It'll be a great sight.

Now, I know I didn't talk much about the other ladies in this contest. There's a reason for that. Two reasons, actually. First, the fact that I can't fight them here lowers my interest in them. I'd much rather focus my attention on zapping Zahnie and annihilating Alexie and Austie.

I hadn't really thought about the alphabet representation in this one. Crazy.

The other reason, though, is that I have seen Kim Pain in action. I've seen her destroy opposition, both male and female. I've watched her in training, sending unfortunate 'students' flying in every direction, learning only that wrestling can hurt. There's nothing stopping her from becoming one of, if not THE greatest female wrestler to ever come into Sin City.

You compare her to Eiley? Please. Kim's experience edge will swamp her. Luna? She's already proven she doesn't belong as a champion, losing the Bombshell Roulette Title in, what, one week? And then there's Tempest, who's this monster Bombshell threat, supposedly. And yet, what has she done without Aussie by her side? You'd think in three years, she would have won a singles title or two in Sin City. That just tells me that she's clearly the weaker member of her team, just as I suspected.

I'm one of the top wrestlers in the world today. I'm always a threat to become a World Champion wherever I go. But I still give credit where it's due, and I know for a fact that Kim is going to be the reason we win those Mixed Tag Belts.

Because once all the guys have taken the Plunge and are out of action, Kim's going to turn the Lights Out for one of your ladies. And that'll be all she wrote.

Prepare to meet your Saviors.


~We return to the stylist's shop, where the camera focuses on the clock above on the wall. It shows that it's been over an hour and a half since Peter was dragged to the back by Kim and Brianne. The camera slowly turns to the doorway, where it seems all the noise has finally stopped. The door swings open, with an exhausted-looking Brianne stepping out. She walks tiredly over to the nearby chairs, plopping down in one. Behind her, Kim steps out, a large smile on her face.~

Kim Pain: Great work there, Brianne.

Brianne: I... I never expected that to take so long. It was like... his hair was actively resisting the process.

Kim Pain: One of Peter's strongest attributes is the fact that he's stubborn. I guess that translates to his body as well.

Brianne: And that body!!! Did you... did you expect those abs under those coveralls??

Kim Pain: He's a great wrestler. Of course he's got an outstanding physique.

Brianne: ... I still would have never believed it.

Kim Pain: So how are you doing in there, champ? Ready to go?

~For a few seconds, there's no sound. We finally hear footsteps as Peter approaches the doorway, moving carefully. Very carefully. He's got his coveralls back on, but he's wearing them a little more loosely, probably to avoid any additional skin irritation. He looks from Brianne to Kim, showing some fatigue.~

Peter Vaughn: ... I've been held and tortured for days by sadistic men trying to change me. This... might have been worse.

Kim Pain: Stop being such a baby. At least you don't have to do it as often. Now, if you're good, we've got to keep moving. We've got a lot to get done still.

~Kim turns and pays off Brianne, giving her a large tip for her services. In the meantime, her words are just finally penetrating into Peter's brain.~

Peter Vaughn: Wait, there's... there's more?

Kim Pain: Of course there is. I think, next up, we need to talk about... what you're wearing.

~Vaughn looks down at his trusted coveralls, his face paling. Kim smirks as she directs him out of the stylist shop, even as Brianne gets out a beer from her fridge and pops it open, needing a drink after what they just went through. We slowly fade out.~


28
Climax Control Archives / Samples & Success - A Collaboration By The Saviors
« on: June 16, 2023, 08:25:16 PM »
~As the camera comes up, we see what appears to be the inside of a glass door. We’re close enough to the lettering that we can’t quite read what’s on the door; plus, it’s reversed. But we can see the two figures approaching from outside of the shop. The first to step up onto the curb is Kim Pain. She’s followed by her Saviors ally, “The Mechanic” Peter Vaughn. The two uncomfortably come up to the door, with Peter, showing some manners for once, opening it for Kim. They step inside, looking around the entire area.~

Peter Vaughn: Dear God…

~The camera slowly spins around, showing that the two wrestlers appear to have entered a wedding-themed store. There is a lot of white throughout, including various picture displays of successful weddings of the past. Tables are set up to the side, with versions of wedding snacks and wedding place settings placed alongside them. To the side, there’s another couple already going through samples of some of the good, grinning like mad at each other as they take turns feeding each other the delicious treats. Across the way, a wedding chapel display has been set up, apparently to help a couple decide on their decorations for the big day. All-in-all, it’s a lot to take in. Vaughn rubs a hand across his head, before looking back at Kim.~

Peter Vaughn: You know… I went to Hell last month.

~Vaughn nods to himself, as if this is common knowledge, as well as a perfectly legitimate thing to say while in a store like this.~

Peter Vaughn: I will say, it didn’t look like this. It was more fire and brimstone than art and decor. But, y’know… if I had to describe Hell… this still wouldn’t be that far off.

Kim Pain: I am sure it is as close to hell as we can get up here. It looks like a unicorn barfed all over that sector over there..

~Kim had the full body shivers from this place and she was glad that they were only supposed to do some catering but even for this she had doubts now.~

Kim Pain: Don’t ya leave me behind here…

~The owner of the store had come to greet them and if there was ever a perfect example of a Karen. This woman was it. Looking at Kim and Peter like a total snob.~

Karen: I think you two have come to the wrong place.

~Kim snarled a bit at the attitude.~

Kim Pain: We have an appointment. The Riddle-Penston wedding. My fiance could not make it so I brought my tag-team partner instead.

~Kim pulled Peter closer to her because she already disliked this Karen. The woman is still eyeing Peter with distaste, most likely because he still came dressed to this event wearing his favorite style of coveralls. Peter, for his part, is also taking in this Karen’s outfit, shaking his head at the excessive amount of fake jewelry and make-up applied.~

Peter Vaughn: If you want to default their deposit and give it back to them, by all means. But you’d be making a major mistake…

~The woman stares at Peter for a moment, still trying to decide if this isn’t just a practical joke from one of her staff. But, seeing as how there’s no laughter, she shrugs with a sigh and directs them over towards one of the tables.~

Kim Pain: Oh this pink has got to go. There is no way we are having pink at our wedding. Or white.. Or cream colored.

~The woman looks at Kim with something close to disgust written on her face. Especially when Kim strips the table of the pink and white linen tossing them on another table. The plain black table underneath was filled with the gold accents and Kim sighed.~

Kim Pain: Much better. Can you imagine Cyrus in a pink wedding setting…

~The woman stood there looking at Kim like a fish, mouth opening and closing...~

Kim Pain: Peter what do you think?

Peter Vaughn: Right now? I’m unable to stop myself from thinking about Cyrus in a pink wedding gown… because I thought that’s what you were going to say. And now the thought is trapped in my head…

~Peter shakes his head back and forth, as if trying to toss the thought out of his head. He then sighs, before looking back at the table.~

Peter Vaughn: I will say, this table looks better this way. Never saw a need for tablecloths. It was just another item you’d have to wash at the end of the meal.

~After a moment, Vaughn looks up at the still stunned woman, raising his eyebrows.~

Peter Vaughn: Well? We haven’t got all day. What else have you got to show us? Oh, that’s not pink, or white, or cream colored?

~No words come out of Karen’s lips. She just shudders for a second, before turning and heading to the back, likely to try and figure a way out of this nightmare. Vaughn sits back in the chair, shaking his head.~

Peter Vaughn: Customer service just isn’t what it used to be. So, Kim, about our match…

Kim Pain: Ariana and Carter right. I know Ari is good, and Carter is no slouch either but how well they can work together is a mystery to me. Ari has the attention span of a fruit fly.. She is a total sweetheart but oh my god is she easily distracted. We train together regularly as it is.. We have known each other and worked together before. We go in and kick ass...

~The Karen had returned with a simple black tray with some of the smallest snacks Kim had ever seen. She groaned at the sight of it.~

Kim Pain: You know that the guest list is about 20 wrestlers right. One of these trays would not fill them up for 10 minutes.. One of these trays each that is.

~Oh the look of disgust intensified at the commentary of the snacks. And Kim just raised an eyebrow at this.~

Kim Pain: We will want the size of the portions to be at least 4 times as big.

~Ignoring Karen Kim turned to Peter and grabbing one of the snacks which looked like a fancy little salami.~

Kim Pain: Team Go.. They can be a good opponent for the both of us. Carter is one of the most underrated superstars on the roster. He is a bit extra but he is a total sweetheart. Inside the ring he has had some knock downs and was only recently cleared to compete again after he was attacked.  Ari.. She is a tiny little thing but fast and has a quick mind.

Peter Vaughn: I can’t say I know that much about Ariana. I suppose some respect is due for her holding the Women’s Roulette Title for a time, much like I’m staying the reigning Men’s Roulette Champion. But one reign does not a career make. As for Carter, we’ve already fought here in SCW. Technically. Although if I’m being honest, I don’t feel like I had Carter’s… full attention.

~Vaughn reaches forward, looking at what might possibly be caviar on a cracker. He quickly puts it back down, before snatching a classic “pig in a blanket” variation. He takes a bite, his face showing some disdain as he looks into it.~

Peter Vaughn: What is that, lamb? A lamb sausage? Eh… I guess not terrible. Anyway, Carter looks like he’s been struggling since he came back. I’m sure he thought the tag division would be a blessing for him, at least until the other team bailed and the SCW staff made the right decision, giving the Saviors a slot. I’m hoping he’s going to feel a little bit more motivated in this one, what with having a partner and all. If he’s not, I’m afraid Ari’s going to have a lousy night. Actually, I probably will, too, since Carter wouldn’t be tagging in much.

~Kim nodded and grabbed another snack from the tray and it looked like a little puff pastry ball and when she took a bite out of it the disgust on her face was clear she was looking around for something where she could spit this out of her mouth. She found a little trashcan by the door and rushed over and spit out the supposed snack.~

Kim Pain: Goat’s cheese.. That is disgusting!

~Grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one go as she still shivered from the taste.~

Kim Pain: Okay.. I am seriously regretting this already.. This entire tray is a hell no… Moving on.. I am hoping Carter does tag himself in and he can be his true self again because the kid is definitely good.. Very talented.. I have seen him working with Whisper to get back on his feet and he is highly motivated and  talented when there is no crazy drama in his life.. Not too often but when he does he is on fire. Ari.. She is a scatterbrain.. Bit awkward at times.. Says crazy shit all the time..

~Still tasting the last snack she grabbed the bottle of water and poured herself another glass and filled one for Peter as well. The other couple was looking at them funny and they made a weird looking duo indeed. Peter in his coveralls and Kim in a very tight fitting pair of jeans and top.~

Kim Pain: I never been in the ring with Ariana.. I know her from the European tour mostly where we were dropped in the forest.. Bit of twitter interaction but that is it.

Peter Vaughn: Isn’t she supposed to be a Greek Angel? You know, it’s amazing how many angels and demons I’ve fought in the wrestling business. They’re really all over the place. You’d think it’d make them more dangerous, having wings and what not, but I guess that’s taking things too literal. I mean, honestly, from what I’ve seen of her, I’m extremely confident that you can annihilate her. She’s probably our best path forward to qualify for the Mixed Tag-Team Title Finals. That being said, if I get an opportunity to give Carter the Plunge, I’ll do it.

~Nearby, the other couple appears to be listening in, with the woman looking a little concerned at the talk of “Plunging” somebody. She is whispering to her fiance, saying that he should do something, but he’s already sized up Peter and decided not to do anything, a wise decision. Peter glances over their way, giving them a wave, before picking up another sample. He bites into it, then studies the half-eaten cookie for a second.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, that’s got a little coffee mixed in with the chocolate filling there. That’s not half bad. Caffeine and sugar, a righteous combination.

~He looks around for a sample for Kim, but doesn’t see one, so he gets up, walking over to the other table. The couple freezes, looking shocked, as Peter reaches across them.~

Peter Vaughn: Excuse me.

~Peter then grabs one of their samples, bringing it back over to his partner and setting it in front of her. The woman looks ready to lose it, but her fiance is still pleading for patience.~

Peter Vaughn: I’d try a couple of those variations. They might have possibilities for later in the evening.

~Kim picked up the cookie biting into it and agreed with Peter on the taste of coffee and chocolate being a winner.~

Kim Pain: You are right, they are good but how good of an idea is it to have a house full of wrestlers on sugar and caffeine?

Peter Vaughn: A fair point.

~The word wrestlers made the couple freeze again and they quickly looked away from the dynamique duo that is the Saviors tag team of Kim and Peter. Karen showed up and looked down her nose again which was starting to annoy the hell out of Kim.~

Kim Pain: Excuse me Miss..

Karen: My name is Karen..

Kim Pain: How fitting.. This tray is no good. The only tasty thing I would like to eat again was the coffee chocolate cookie. Other than that it won’t work for our guests or for myself and my fiance. And if you do not want my business I can take it elsewhere. We may have a small party but you would need to quadruple it in the amount of food served. I may be a wrestler Ma’am.. But I know when someone is looking down on us.. And we make 10 maybe even 20 times what you make..

~Kim hates to boast like that but she was done with the looks of disdain.~

Kim Pain: So are we going to be treated properly or will I be taking my 5 grand deposit back and find someone else who does not mind catering to big eaters.

~Karen flushed and grabbed the tray and hurried to the back. Kim snarled at the lady looking her way with terrified wide eyes.~

Kim Pain: I am sorry Peter now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?  Ah yes.. You were confident in my abilities. Dude you know I always believed in you and I know you got your side of the match covered. And with us training together more often now. We will be a team to take notice of..

Peter Vaughn: Definitely. The work’s already begun on bringing back the strong name of the Saviors, with my holding of the Roulette Championship. Things will only get more clear when you and I storm through all of the competition and claim those Mixed Tag-Team Titles. It’s been a dream of mine for a while to finally hold tag belts in my career, one of the few holes in my resume as a professional wrestler. I think this time? You and I? We’re going to be golden.

~He gives the table in front of them a smack, rattling it, as he smiles in anticipation of their future triumphs. Beside them, it’s beginning to look like another wedding might be in trouble, as the bride is furious with her groom’s inaction. They are bitterly complaining to each other, already arguing like an old married couple. They’re loud enough that both Kim and Peter look over at them.~

Peter Vaughn: You two mind keeping it down? We’re trying to make some big decisions for a wedding and a match over here.

~The bride, apparently having had enough, angrily grabs one of their remaining samples, a pastry of some kind. Who knows what it could be filled with, the way this tasting has been going. It doesn’t matter to her, as she angrily chucks it right at Peter… with Kim effortlessly catching it before it lands.~

Kim Pain: Bad idea bridezilla..

~Kim gets to her feet and slowly walks over to their table. The bride looking scared and growing more scared with each step Kim takes while the groom is focused on Kim’s boobs. His bride to be sees this and whacks him across the arm and points at Kim coming right for her.~

Kim Pain: We were having a pleasant conversation before you so rudely interrupted us.. Now let me introduce myself. I am Kimberly Pain.. The name is not a gimmick it is what I deliver.. And that right there is the current reigning and defending SCW Roulette Champion Mister Peter Vaughn. We are tag team partners and we are discussing business matters while he helps me pick out what is actually edible in this place. Do you have a problem with us? I mean you tried to throw this at my partner..

~The woman slowly shakes her head.. No..~

Kim Pain: I didn’t think so. Now while I go back to my partner you two can settle this properly or brawl but take it outside there are people trying to have a decent conversation here.

~Kim walked back to their table with that extra little sway in her step and it was not long until a vicious slapping sound was heard. Kim sat down at the table and glanced over at where the couple was sitting. The bride was gone and the groom sat there with his hand pressed against his cheek.~

Kim Pain: Now where were we.. oh right! We are golden.. With every match we have we will be getting closer and closer to being golden for sure. I mean.. Individually we are great.. I see no reason for us not to be great together.

Peter Vaughn: I mean, it’s all but guaranteed. It’s a super team. We may be facing Team Go, but we’re clearly going to be Team Gold. It all comes down to confidence. I don’t think Ari and Carter have enough of it. They’re almost surely coming into this match thinking that they don’t stand a chance. And yes, they’re correct, but you can’t go into a fight with those kinds of negative thoughts.

~Vaughn reaches over, grabbing one of the nearby mugs. He takes a drink to clear his palate, wincing as he does so.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, that’s disgusting, whatever it is.

~He slides the mug away from him, sloshing some of the brownish liquid onto the table.~

Peter Vaughn: Now it’s true. I am coming off my first singles loss in SCW, and I know a lot of people, including Washington, were predicting doom and gloom to come into play with my future here. But once you’re a veteran in this sport, a single loss doesn’t remove your confidence. I’m 1-1 now with old Washy, and there will be a third meeting soon enough. Right now, though, I’m still fired up with the thought of getting to have two matches at the same PPV. Talk about stacking the deck!

Kim Pain: Dude we are gonna be rocking the PPV that is for sure. But for now.. Do you see the crazy hairdo on that chick over there.. I bet you 10 bucks you can not get that goats cheese creampuff in that beehive..

~Kim smirked and held out the disgusting snack out and raised an eyebrow at Peter. She had already decided that she was not getting her catering done here. The food was meh.. The drinks disgusting and there was only 1 decent cookie in the entire taste testing.~

Kim Pain: Well partner? Can you?

~Vaughn can’t help but smirk. He’s never been one to turn down a challenge from anyone. He takes the creampuff from her, weighing it in his hand.~

Peter Vaughn: It’d be better if they had kept the weight distributed the same, but clearly they have no concept of perfection here.

~After a few seconds of aiming, Peter launches the creampuff with a strong throw, trying to keep it accurate. It doesn’t quite work, as the creampuff spins end over end… but it still manages to wedge itself into the back of the beehive, sticking there thanks to the leaking contents inside. The woman barely seems to notice, acting as if she just felt a fly buzzing around her. She finally turns, looking frustrated as she walks back over to their table with another large tray of samples. Many of these items look considerably less fancy, including what appears to be chicken nuggets, beef sticks, and a few small pies.~

Karen: We can make considerably more of these items… Miss.

~She reluctantly adds on the “Miss”, clearly not meaning it. She then turns away with a grumbling sound, moving towards where she expects her “better” couple to be. But the only one sitting there is the groom, who appears to be crying as he talks on the phone to someone. It’s possibly the bride, as he’s leaving a message, begging for another chance, saying that it’s all that woman’s fault. Slowly, Karen turns back around, looking back at Kim and Peter, who are both nonchalantly munching on wings. Vaughn raises one of the bones her direction.~

Peter Vaughn: Needs dipping sauce. Got any ranch?

~Karen, shaking with entitled rage, stomps over to them. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out an envelope, which she quickly throws into Kim’s lap.~

Karen: That’s your deposit. Now… Get… Out!!

~Kim and Peter glance at each other, neither budging out of their seats just yet.~

Peter Vaughn: But, what about these samples that you just had your chef back there work so hard on? You want them to go to waste?

~Karen leans heavily across the table, almost spitting as she responds to Peter.~

Karen: I don’t give a damn! NOW GET OUT!!

~As Karen sits there, seething, Peter glances over at Kim, who has casually picked up one of the pies in her hand.~

Peter Vaughn: It really would be a waste, wouldn’t it?

Kim Pain: It really would.

~Kim looks at the pie in her hand and smirked devilishly towards Peter. Karen is shaking in anger now but is getting visibly uncomfortable as Kim and Peter get up holding pies in their hands.~

Kim Pain: Food fight!!!

~Kim throws the pies as hard as she can towards Karen while Peter takes care of the man formerly known as the groom. How dare he blame them for that Bridezilla walk out after all. Karen screams as one of the cream pies hits her dead in the face. The second slammed into her chest the cream slowly sliding down into the blouse she was wearing. The food fight truly got underway when Karen and the groom started throwing food but Kim and Peter had already moved away from their table and while munching on an apple pie they walked out of the building.~

Kim Pain: I am thinking of a big ass cake that Kat makes for us and a BBQ after.. Sound good?

Peter Vaughn: You can never go wrong with a Kat cake. I’ve got a couple of nice BBQ grill set-ups I can have delivered, if you want.

~Behind them, the door flings open, with Karen stepping out.~

Karen: YOU… !!!

~The two halves of apple pie hit her at the same time in the face, sending her reeling back inside. The door shuts, but not before we hear a loud crash, most likely of Karen tripping back into one of the tables. A hysterical laughter follows, as the now ex-groom is sounding a little unstable. Kim and Peter, though, aren’t listening. They’re already heading towards the truck.~

Peter Vaughn: After eating all that terrible food, I feel like I need to get some training in. Shake some of it loose from my body before it tries to become a permanent resident. And hey, can’t hurt to keep prepping for AriCar, right?

~Kim nodded and opened the door to the truck to climb in.~

Kim Pain: Definitely need to work this crap out of my system too.. Oh BBQ tonight? We could ask Maria if she makes those badass wings and ribs.. I am pretty sure the entire HG will help us convince her if she needs it.. I can not believe those tiny bite snacks though. Who in the hell pays for that crap. I might be more motivated than ever to beat Aricari..

Peter Vaughn: Well, once we tear through them and move on to the PPV, you’ll be able to work out the finer details of the perfect BBQ reception. Oh, and the wedding, of course. And I look forward to being there, cheering you on.

Kim Pain: You got to be there.. I mean I need my wingman, my tag team partner right there with me.. But for now.. HG here we come and I am gonna tell Cyrus that he can forget about fancy catering bills they won’t be coming because that crap was horrible.

Peter Vaughn: Plus, you see how messy and disorganized that place was?

~Vaughn laughs as he puts the truck into gear, pulling out. They start to drive off, leaving behind the building they were just in. We can see the glass doors again, now with various ‘samples’ smeared across the windows. Inside, we can still hear hysterical shrieking and yelling, as the chaos continues inside. We slowly fade out.~

29
Climax Control Archives / Action & Inaction Can Both Have Consequences
« on: June 02, 2023, 11:47:15 PM »
~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.~




30
Climax Control Archives / Possession Is 9/10ths Of The Law...
« on: May 19, 2023, 07:24:02 PM »
~The warehouse where we normally see Peter Vaughn is oddly lit up this time, allowing us to see practically into every corner of the building. Most of the corners, though, appear to be empty, at least with our viewpoint. The only item that seems noticeable is a strange, liquid-like line that seems to go down the center of the warehouse. The camera focuses on it, as, off-camera, we hear the striking of a match. Suddenly, the liquid, which is apparently flammable, ignites in the distance, with a wave of fire coming right at the camera. Smartly, the cameraman jumps to the side, while still managing to record the flames as they pass by. There's a reason this man gets paid the big bucks.~

~As the cameraman turns, we see the line of fire head straight at a large structure of some sort. As soon as the first lick of flame hits, the entire structure goes up, or at least portions inside of it. The inferno flares upwards, igniting, as we can see it through the gaps carved into the structure. These gaps, when you step back far enough, become clear as letters. The word "CHAMP" is spelled out in flames, glowing inside the warehouse, likely putting off an incredible wave of heat. The cameraman focuses on the word for a few more seconds, then finally turns back to his right... where we see "The Mechanic" Peter Vaughn casually leaning against the wall, his SCW Roulette Championship wrapped around his waist. He smirks at the camera, then taps the belt.~

Peter Vaughn: What do you think, Sin City? Too subtle?

~Vaughn laughs, before straightening up off the wall while looking towards the lens, the glow of the flames still evident on one side of him, casting some wild shadows.~

Peter Vaughn: I told all of you when I first appeared here in Sin City that I'd be wearing gold someday, sooner rather than later. I'm betting some of you out there didn't believe me, but here we are. I'm now holding Goth's favorite championship, the Roulette Title. It's gold that has an impressive history, worn by such greats as Mac Bane, Griffin Hawkins, and, well, I'm sure some of the others were pretty good as well. But now, it's got an accolade it's never had before: it's been held by the greatest wrestler in the world today, "The Mechanic" Peter Vaughn.

~Vaughn unbuckles the belt, holding it up and staring at it for a few more seconds. Then, surprisingly, he drops it on the floor, stepping away from it.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, that gold doesn't matter at the moment, because I've already been assigned a match for Climate Control, and wouldn't you know it? It's non-title. Honestly, that's probably one of my least favorite words in the wrestling lexicon. But I get it. The powers that be didn't think my next opponent was worthy of the title shot, and considering it was set to be ol' Milo again, I suppose I can see their point. It's not like losing in the main event should give you a boost towards another belt, right?

~Vaughn turns and walks over to the still-burning structure, although the flames certainly seem much lower now. The fuel may already be running out.~

Peter Vaughn: I have to admit, I actually was looking forward to facing Milo for a third time, if only to put a few things behind me and get a strong, convincing win on him. But the "card is always subject to change", and you just have to roll with it. So here I am, fresh off my second Pay Per View victory in a row, wrestling against a returning challenger, someone who had some success in the Underground, but not as much on the main show.

~Vaughn moves to the right, reaching to the side, where he grabs a fire extinguisher that was sitting there. He pops off the safety switch with precision, showing that he's definitely used one of these on more than one occasion.~

Peter Vaughn: HB Carter. You've been granted this chance to shine on your return, but I can't say they had your best interests at heart. I've already beaten down two former SCW Roulette Champions and one former SCW Heavyweight Champion to reach where I am today. I've proven my worth to the Saviors, earning my first piece of gold after less than 3 months in the company. How long have you been around, anyway? Well, that's not important.

~The wrestler turns towards the structure, blasting off some sodium bicarbonate towards the flames that are left. They're quickly snuffed out, with Vaughn finishing with a few more shots in the corners. He then tosses the extinguisher away, giving us a loud clanging sound when it hits the ground nearby.~

Peter Vaughn: What's important, HB, is that I'm the hottest commodity SCW has ever seen... and it's going to be extremely tough for anyone straight off the injury list to be able to cool me off. Have you got what it takes to hang with me? Or are you going to end up like Milo, Washington, Malachi, & Barnhart... and get burned?

~Vaughn snaps his fingers. Miraculously, the fire inside the structure rears back up again, engulfing the gaps around the letters. This time, Vaughn doesn't make any move to put it out. He walks away, collecting his newly-won championship, and departs, leaving the tall flames to grow even higher. The cameraman slowly beats a retreat as the picture fades out.~


David Schoeder: Call to order! Call to order, everyone! That means shut the hell up, Doc!

~The view comes back into focus as we're once again back at the meeting area for the Dallas Cattle Union. The head of the union, David Schoeder, is shown sitting in the center of the main table once again, pointing to one of the guys who was still standing and talking. There's a bit of laughter as the man known as Doc nods and walks back to his seat good-naturedly. Satisfied, Schoeder turns back to the main group.~

David Schoeder: Alright, folks, so the votes have been tabulated. We have the results of the request from the PMV Ranch made a few weeks ago. I'm proud to say that Mr. Peter Vaughn HAS earned enough votes to be granted a first-level cattle license, allowing him to join our union and become a thriving member in the best field in the world today! Congratulations, Mr. Vaughn: you're a cattle rancher!

~There are a lot of cheers from the crowd as Peter Vaughn stands up, nodding and smiling at those around him. Of course, there's also a large contingent that looks extremely displeased. It's uncertain how close the vote was for Vaughn's license, but you can almost guarantee it wasn't unanimous. One person in particular, Judd Harrison, is shown storming out of the room, obviously disgusted with the result. Vaughn doesn't pay him any mind, shaking a few more hands that are offered to him. He then steps up to the table, where Schoeder hands him a mic.~

Peter Vaughn: I just wanted to say thank you for everyone who voted to approve my application. I swear that I won't let any of you down, and I'll work with anyone who wants to make some money over the next few decades. Thank you again.

~Vaughn hands back the mic as there's another round of applause. Vaughn then steps away, nodding to everyone before heading out the door. He goes down the hall, to where two people are seated, waiting for him.~

Thomas Hill: So, what's the verdict?

Sadie Anderson: Are we in the cattle business or not?

~Vaughn shrugs his shoulders, then smiles. He pats his half-brother Thomas on the shoulder.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course the vote went our way. I'm surprised you guys doubted it.

Thomas Hill: You... you got it?? The license??

Peter Vaughn: We're now certified as the PMV Cattle Ranch.

~Thomas gives a cheer, excited, while Sadie happily jumps up and lands in Vaughn's arms, giving him a celebratory hug. The hug seems to last a little longer than necessary, but she finally lets go, a little red in her cheeks as she steps away. Vaughn, of course, barely seems to notice, as he's still smiling down at the paperwork he brought out with him. Thomas, meanwhile, shakes his head, then puts an arm around his half-brother's shoulders.~

Thomas Hill: Let's go celebrate!

Peter Vaughn: And I assume the ranch will be financing it again?

Thomas Hill: As your accountant, I can assure you that business meals are easy to write off come tax time. Now let's go!

~Thomas goes to put his other arm around Sadie's shoulders, but she deftly maneuvers herself in front of them, leading the way out of the area. As they leave, we can see Judd Harrison step out from a nearby room, glaring after them. We cut away.~


There are some people that just can't stand when you're a winner.

I wonder if you're going to be one of those people, HB. I've researched you some to prepare for this contest, but I can't quite decide if you're a sore loser or not. I guess we'll find out after Climate Control, won't we? Assuming I win, of course, but then, I always assume that's going to happen, whether it eventually does or not. I tend to be a pretty positive guy about my chances to annihilate the competition.

You know, usually, during this time, I make up lots of silly nicknames and goofy bits for my opponents to get annoyed by. But I can't say I've faced someone with the name "Helluva Bottom" before. I get the feeling that my usual tactics there won't bother you at all, considering you gave yourself that name. So I'm just going to stick with HB and move forward, okay?

So, HB, I searched through the SCW title records, looking for your name. I found a Kevin Carter as a former SCW Heavyweight Champ. I found a Brooklyn Carter and a Cadence Carter. But I didn't find an HB Carter. I was a little disappointed, until I realized I could also check in the lower-ranked fed, Sin City Underground... and you were all over that, weren't you? I don't know how much clout is given to someone who won championships there, because that place was pretty much deceased by the time I started showing up.

But you know what? We'll count it. Just so I can say I've throttled another former champion.

Now, I expect you to give me the same props, since I've currently got a championship that you've never been able to gain. I know you're probably more focused on Austin James Mercer, due to him putting your ass on a shelf for a month. You also seem like you want to get your hands on Michael Harris, which, let's face it, almost everyone in Sin City is interested in that. But all eyes on me, HB. You being distracted is going to make this contest be over WAY too fast.

You'd better be coming into this one thinking it could be your greatest test in wrestling so far, facing the stiffest competition you could ever see across the ring from you. You'd better not be thinking of me as some sort of "warm up", expecting that you'll shove me aside in your pursuit of vengeance. Because if you do that... I'm going to bash the back of your head in, just out of spite.

But we don't have to do that, do we? You're going to respect my skills in the ring, and I'm going to give you the chance to prove you're exceptional enough to come out from the Underground.

And then, when I earn the 1-2-3 after a hard-fought battle, maybe I'll give you some encouragement. Maybe I'll show you some respect. Just earn it, HB. Prove to me that you're worthy enough to be competing in that squared circle.

And then, assuming you come through as a competitor, even when I'm standing there victorious, I'm make sure not to be a sore winner. I promise.


~The shot comes up on the PMV Ranch, Vaughn's new pride and joy. The shot, clearly from a drone, shows how the ranch has expanded, with a new line of fences set up to create a cattle pen on the south side of the ranch. The drone drops down, getting us a closer view, before turning and showing Peter Vaughn standing next to the fence, with one foot up on it. He shakes it back and forth, nodding in appreciation of its sturdiness, before turning away. Sadie is seen walking up to him as we join them in a more standard shot.~

Sadie Anderson: So do you think the workmanship will hold up?

Peter Vaughn: Your guys did a good job, Sadie. I'm confident that this will work. I'm less confident in letting the cattle graze on the back fields, but we'll figure out some way of keeping track of them once they arrive.

Sadie Anderson: You really are gung ho about this cattle business, aren't you? Why are you so motivated? You're a world-famous wrestler now, and it's not like you grew up out in the country. I still don't get why you've fought so hard for this.

~Vaughn opens his mouth, then closes it again, thinking things over before he just says the first thing on his mind. After a moment, he collects his thoughts and continues.~

Peter Vaughn: Honestly, Sadie, the first reason was because a ton of people told me I couldn't do it. I never take that well. I've been a competitive force for years now, and the best way to get under my skin is to tell me I can't pull it off. But if you want to know why I bought the ranch in the first place... I guess it's because my dad used to dream about stuff like that.

Sadie Anderson: Really? You know, you don't talk about your father much. I know he was a janitor in the city, and you followed in his footsteps. So he dreamed about getting outdoors and away from custodial life?

Peter Vaughn: Isn't that what most people do, Sadie? Whatever world you're stuck in, you always think about how to escape it and do something else. I've been luckier than most. I've gotten to choose a variety of different paths. My dad, though? He was pretty much trapped... because of me.

~Even as Vaughn delivers the line with basically no emotion, it still hits a chord for Sadie, as she once again wonders what's hidden behind the mask that Vaughn normally wears. In the last year since she first met him, she's rarely seen anything behind it, and despite all her best efforts, she's never been able to pierce Vaughn's emotional walls... despite wanting to, more than anything.~

Sadie Anderson: You can't blame yourself for your father's profession. Wasn't he a janitor even before you were born?

Peter Vaughn: Depends on how you look at it. I think he took it as a side job when he got married, hoping to return to college... and then, well, it never happened. Maybe if Mom hadn't left him, he could've found a way out. Now, he's gone, but maybe he's living through me a little bit. Who knows, right?

Sadie Anderson: Yes, Peter... who knows...

~As Sadie turns away, looking out at the newly built cattle pen, Vaughn's phone rings with the tune of "This Time It's Different". It's a very popular download for ringtones, or so I've heard. Vaughn answers it, stepping away.~

Peter Vaughn: Vaughn here. Yes? We're expecting a delivery in the next two... what do you mean? Really? And who do I have to thank for this? Okay... they're located nearby Dallas, right? Okay, give me the address. I'll pay them a visit.

~Vaughn hangs up the phone, glancing over at the empty cattle pen again and shaking his head.~

Sadie Anderson: What's going on?

Peter Vaughn: It never gets any easier, does it?

~Vaughn turns and walks away, heading to where his beautiful truck, Gabriella, is parked. Sadie, having no clue what's happened, just watches him go, walking away from her once more.~


It IS interesting that I've yet to have what anyone would call an "easy" match in Sin City Wrestling.

I know in some organizations I've joined, I've immediately been fed the scrubs, the dregs of the roster. Those men and women who haven't come to the realization yet that they shouldn't be competing in the professional ranks. I think I've helped more than one realize that their future belongs in some other field, if I left them any future at all.

But I'll admit, Sin City hasn't been a smooth ride, despite my many victories. I've had to fight hard for every step up the ladder I've made, and that even includes people like Malpractice and the Barnie. I mean, neither one backed down, even when it became clear that they had no chance against a man like me in a Ladder match. For all my insults towards them, hey, they didn't run, so good for them. Maybe Malachi even IS a future champion someday.

And now, instead of resting on my laurels after a great Roulette victory, here you are, HB, my next opponent, and I'm certainly not overlooking you. I get the feeling that you could be an intense fight, with your unique style in the ring. I'm not going to underestimate your talent. I know, I know, people probably comment on your looks or actions, but you know... look at me. The usual comments I get is "He's just a janitor" or something, being judged before they've even got their face kicked in.

So I won't be doing that to you, HB. I'm just going to stick to the facts that you've yet to win a championship in Sin City, and that you need to find a way to earn that way up the ladder once again. After, of course, I've defeated you.

You see, I've got the Saviors' good name on my shoulders. I need to keep getting the victories, keep promoting how great our stable is until guys like Kenny, Mac, Goth, and the others can get back on their feet. That means this one's not just a run-of-the-mill match to me. It's an important contest. So I'll be coming at you with both barrels, not holding back in the least.

I'm hoping that's not too much for you, and that you'll be able to stand toe-to-toe with me. It'd be a real bummer if I land a knockout blow in less than five minutes. I mean, sure, you can blame the ring rust and having been injured and all, but that doesn't do me any favors, does it? I want every victory to be one worth praising, even if it's because I grabbed some trunks in the pin or got in a surprise shot when no one was looking.

A win's a win, but I still want it to be seen as an accomplishment, rather than a gimme.

But you're not going to break my streak, are you, HB? You're going to give me a fight, right? You're not just going to stand there as I pummel you into oblivion, or as I launch you into darkness with the Revenged? You won't just lay there, with zero energy left in you, as you take the Plunge?

Don't make it easy, HB. Because I don't want easy. I want a challenge.

Otherwise, I really might put you back Underground, and you may find yourself thinking of what Austin did with fond memories.

Looking forward to the fight, JB. Looking forward to the Plunge.


~The shot comes up on Gabriella coming to a stop, sending up a small cloud of dust. Vaughn pops out of the truck, making sure to lock and arm it, before heading towards the door. He heads straight inside, not bothering to knock, as he looks around at the couple of men standing there.~

Peter Vaughn: I'm looking for Wyatt Bailey.

~The two men look at each other, then one steps forward, an older man with a scruffy mustache.~

Wyatt Bailey: I'm Bailey. Who are you, and why should I not have my boys toss you out of here?

~The other man steps to the side, clearly contacting a few more guys to come in, but Vaughn isn't intimidated. He steps right up to Bailey, sizing him up.~

Peter Vaughn: So I heard that you've refused to accept my offer to purchase some starting cattle from you.

Wyatt Bailey: Ahhh, I shoulda known. You're that Vaughn fella, aren't you? The one who just bamboozled the Cattle Union? Those idiots may think they have a grip of what's going on in our business, but most of them are just fat cats who have never been out on the field, scrapping manure off their shoes. Just like you, I'd expect.

Peter Vaughn: If you're thinking I'm fat, you need to get your eyes checked.

Wyatt Bailey: I was more meaning in the pocketbook for you. You thought you could just breeze in here and buy your way into the ranching world?

Peter Vaughn: ... That's exactly what I've done. And as you can tell from how the PMV Ranch is doing, I've done it exceedingly well.

~Another group of men come in, now alerted to signs of trouble. They move to the side, watching, as Vaughn and Bailey face off.~

Wyatt Bailey: You may have gotten your fancy little license there, Vaughn, but you haven't proven to anyone that you belong here. Why the hell would I sell you perfectly good head of cattle, when you're making a mockery of everything I hold dear?

Peter Vaughn: Interesting. Is it because I'm a wrestler? Or because of my past employment? Or is it just because I wasn't born here?

Wyatt Bailey: All of the above. And more.

Peter Vaughn: You know, you've got a pretty strong attitude about this. Not sure I exactly understand where this hostility is coming from.

Wyatt Bailey: Well, it ain't up to me to explain it to you. You're just going to have to deal with it, aren't you?

Peter Vaughn: So I suppose offering you double for each head of cattle wouldn't make a difference?

Wyatt Bailey: You can take all of that city money and shove it up your behind. We don't need a dime of it.

~This gets a raised eyebrow from Vaughn, as he starts to put two and two together.~

Peter Vaughn: "We", huh? I bet that means you've been having a discussion with one Jughead Harrison.

Wyatt Bailey: Old Judd and I, we go way back. So there ain't no way in hell I'm giving you anything, city boy.

~Vaughn nods, then looks around at the men standing around. He looks pretty confident that he can take all of them in a fight, if he needed to. They should have gotten more to come in.~

Peter Vaughn: So bribery's out. That leaves violence. What happens if I decide to beat the hell out of all of you? Will I be able to get my point across that I deserve to be sold to?

~Bailey, clearly an old-school western sort, isn't intimidated, either. In fact, he looks ready to get his own shots in, if needed. But he also smiles and points to the nearby corner, where we can see a red light flashing.~

Wyatt Bailey: If you attack me and my boys, well, we're going to have to do a number on you. And then, with those cameras, we'll have all the proof we need to show that you started it. Get out of here, Vaughn. Don't show your face in my establishment again. You want cattle? Have them shipped in from overseas or something, because there's no way you're getting any of my prime stock.

~Vaughn glances around at some of the other cameras, working things through in his head. He then turns and steps towards the door, even as one of the cowboys steps in his path, grinning. Vaughn gives him a look, then starts to step around him. The man gives him a shove, as if to help him towards the door.~

Cowboy: That's right, take your scrawny...

~Vaughn is immediately spinning, though, coming back around with a massive heel kick that sends the cowboy flying. He's out before he hits the ground, lying flat on his back. The rest of the men look shocked, but Bailey's still not showing much. He just shows some disappointment at the boy laying there.~

Peter Vaughn: Be sure to keep that footage handy, so it'll show he went after me first. Be seeing you, Bailey.

~Vaughn turns and goes out the door, as Bailey grabs a mug from the nearby desk and steps forward. He splashes whatever was in the mug onto the downed man, who comes awake, sputtering and trying to clear his eyes.~

Wyatt Bailey: Get this chump out of here.

~Two men grab the cowboy and pull him away, taking him out the back door, as Bailey turns and stares out the window to where Vaughn is getting back in his truck. Bailey can't help but give a small smile, which he quickly erases before turning away. We then join Vaughn as he's inside the truck, dialing a number on his phone.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey, Bill, it's Peter. Yeah, I know, I KNOW! But I've done right for the Coalition whenever it's needed me, right? Okay then. So here's what I need from you. I'm going to need access to a select line of security cameras on a specific network. I've got the address, and I can get you more information if you need it. Alright. I'll email it to you, then, but you really should start carrying a pen with you. Just get it done, okay? Thanks.

~Vaughn hangs up, then starts the engine. Gabriella purrs, as she's been retrofit to run extremely smoothly. She's probably better cared for than any of Vaughn's current livestock. He pats the wheel, then looks one more time at the building in front of him.~

Peter Vaughn: Gotta admit... he kind of reminds me of you, Dad. Seemed like a tough customer. He's probably stood his ground for decades now, making his opinion law. Then again, he's never had to deal with someone like me before, has he?

~There's no answer, not that Vaughn was expecting one.~

Peter Vaughn: Here's to another battle, old-timer. I hope you're ready.

~Vaughn then puts the truck in reverse, backing out, before heading off down the road. We fade out.~


31
Supercard Archives / Just Some Minor Obstacles In My Path...
« on: May 04, 2023, 04:27:39 PM »
~Welcome back to the warehouse! The room looks fairly empty this time around, as the camera pans around the darkened area. One by one, though, light begins to come through the various windows scattered around. The light, though, isn't your typical light. It's the familiar red and blue flashes that signify the police have arrived. Some of them cast an ominous glow through the iron bars on the windows, bringing to mind thoughts of prison life. At least, for those of you who have experienced it. As the lights continue to flash, we see Peter Vaughn step out of the dark corner, walking towards the camera. He is dressed a little differently here, as his coveralls are now of the orange variety, typical for prisoners of the penal system. He looks behind him, taking in the flashing lights, before turning back to look straight at us.~

Peter Vaughn: There's something about those lights, isn't there? The red and blue flashes that immediately grab your attention, especially if you see them gaining on your vehicle from behind. Add in the shriek of the siren and the threat of violence nowadays, and you can't help but feel some anxiety about what's going to happen next. It's enough to get anyone's blood pumping, wondering what they did wrong to bring out the 5-0 on them, tracking them down.

~Vaughn reaches down to his faithful remote, which is currently strapped to a pocket in his coveralls. Blinds start lowering, gradually cutting off the lights of the police.~

Peter Vaughn: That being said, I've never found myself fearing the "PoPo", as my dad used to call them. Back in the day, in a different time, I truly believed that the police were on our side, so I knew in my heart that they were on my side. They were there to protect me and my family. I expected the best of them. Of course, nowadays I have a different interpretation: namely that I don't care what their motives are. I just know they're getting in my way. They're just a nuisance, a hinderance... an annoyance.

~The heavy blinds lock into position, completely cutting out the world outside. Of course, that does have the effect of making everything dark inside the warehouse as well. From the darkness, we hear Vaughn's voice.~

Peter Vaughn: But I can block out their sirens and their lights, because there's only one light I care about anymore... the spotlight.

~A blinding light comes down from above, highlighting Vaughn as he stands there, smiling. In the dark, he apparently shed the prison outfit, as he's back in his usual clothes.~

Peter Vaughn: At Into The Void, I'll be claiming the spotlight for myself, no matter how many people are inside the squared circle with me. I'm going to continue my Sin City Pay-Per-View winning streak, and I'm going to claim my first championship with the company, as I continue my ascent to the top. As for guys like Bulldog and Malachi? Well...

~Vaughn looks around to either side of him, where there are no additional spotlights shining down. It's complete darkness all around him.~

Peter Vaughn: I guess those two are going to have to get used to seeing in the dark, because no way in hell are they coming with me.

~Vaughn turns and starts walking away, and surprisingly, the spotlight follows with him, staying straight above him. It must be on some sort of track, designed to keep Vaughn in range. The man does love his gadgets. He reaches the door, kicking it open as soon as he's close. We once again can see the flashing police lights outside, along with what are apparently a few yells towards the door. Vaughn looks back, grinning.~

Peter Vaughn: The spotlight... will always be mine. And so with the Roulette Championship.

~Vaughn storms outside, slamming the door behind him. If there are any more sounds, they're muffled, as the spotlight goes out, taking us back into the darkness.~


~The video comes on, seemingly taken from the cameras inside the police car. We see the view out the windshield camera, as the vehicle comes to a stop behind Peter Vaughn's prized truck, Gabriela. The officers both get out, marching over to where Vaughn and his half-brother, Thomas Hill, are looking at them with shocked expressions. We can hear the officer's shouted warning loud and clear.~

Police Officer: Peter Vaughn! Stay right where you are with your hands visible at all times!

~The rest of the conversation is muffled, as Vaughn looks ready to strike, only to decide on a more peaceful approach after his half-brother calms him down. The officers bring Vaughn back over near the car, his hands cuffed in front of him. He turns at the doorway, looking back at the semi-distraught Hill.~

Peter Vaughn: You know where the spare keys are kept, Thomas. Keep Gabriela safe, okay?

~The officers don't wait for the brother's response, as they push Vaughn into the car. The angle switches to a front view, where we can see both the front and back seats of the vehicle. The two officers get inside, as Vaughn leans back on the seat, as if preparing for a vacation rather than an inquisition. They head out, with the one officer reaching for the mic.~

Police Officer: Unit 8 calling central. We've got a 10-15 at Chamberlain’s Steak & Chop House. No issues expected. We're 10-19. Over.

~The station worker replies, receiving their transmission, as the vehicle pulls out. They drive down the road, with the driver making sure to slow down for a few moments at the stop sign, pretending to look left and right several times. In the back seat, Vaughn can be seen tensing up. As we know from the end of our last promo, he's currently seeing his ranching nemesis, Judd Harrison, smirking at him as he watches him get arrested. The car then pulls forward, heading down the road.!

Police Officer #2: Glad this run is almost over, Martinez. This is a waste of our time.

Officer Martinez: Are you kidding, Phillips? This is for your benefit too, you know. Just trust me on this.

~As the vehicle continues on its journey, we focus on Vaughn, who seems to be studying the handcuffs locked around his hands. He then works with them, managing to twist them enough so that he can reach his watch. He fiddles with it, making some adjustments, and suddenly the watch gives a loud beeping sound. Martinez immediately looks in the rear-view mirror, checking things out, but Vaughn has straightened up. He nods to them, now putting a smile on his face.~

Peter Vaughn: So you boys work for ol' Judd-head, do you? He pay well? Good benefits?

Officer Phillips: Be quiet, Vaughn. You have the right to remain silent, don't waste it.

Peter Vaughn: Hey, I just want to know how much it's worth, putting together some trumped-up charges against me. I mean, assault? That's an easy one, I'm a wrestler, I can see everyone believing it. But bribery? That's a bit of a stretch. Do you really think people are going to look at me and think I'm loaded enough for that?

~Phillips just looks away, but Martinez gives a loud snort.~

Officer Martinez: You own a ranch, for God's sake...

Peter Vaughn: And you think that makes me a rich man? You should see the overhead I have to put up with. I DO plan on that ranch being profitable, though, if I can find a way past your boss Harrington.

Officer Martinez: Good luck with that. Mr. Harrington is the most powerful person in this city.

Peter Vaughn: More powerful than the mayor? I'm friends with him, by the way.

Officer Martinez: The dirt that Mr. Harrington has on him will keep in line, and you don't have to worry about that, anyway.

Phillips: Enough, Martinez, we don't need to talk to him.

Officer Martinez: Hey, the man wants to chat after being screwed, what's wrong with that?

~Martinez gives a short, raspy laugh, as Phillips shakes his head. Vaughn sits forward, getting his hands up on the barrier between them.~

Peter Vaughn: So Judd told you guys to come and arrest me? And you just did it? Without worrying about any consequences?

Officer Martinez: Hah! What consequences? We're perfectly within our rights to arrest anyone we believe has committed a crime. It's up to the prosecutor's office to decide if the case should move forward or be dropped. Of course, by the time they get around to tossing this one out with an 'apology' to you, your little vote will have taken place, won't it?

Peter Vaughn: Ahhh, so you know about the cattle union vote. I guess that makes sense.

Officer Martinez: When that board hears all about what you've been arrested for, and how you're suspected in the death of Mark Pettigrew, well, I'm pretty sure that vote's not going to go your way.

Peter Vaughn: Pettigrew, huh? Never met the man. Actually, I heard he was actually a rival of Juddies as well. Seems to me it'd make more sense that Harrington took him out.

Officer Phillips: Pettigrew died of natural causes.

Officer Martinez: Oh, that's what the medical report says, kid, but I happen to know there was something covered up in that one. Who knows? Maybe Pettigrew WAS eliminated. A lot of people think that... and many would be glad to suspect the man who bought his ranch from his widow.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, yeah... people always suspect me of doing the wrong thing, don't they? I'm kind of used to it by now.

Officer Martinez: Well, then, you should be perfectly fine just sitting in jail for the next day or two until you're able to make bail, knowing that Mr. Harrington has squashed your dreams of being a cattle rancher once and for all.

Peter Vaughn: Well, Harrington and you bozos, since you've trumped up these charges against me.

Officer Martinez: Damn straight! You remember us when your little ranch is going belly up, hah hah hah!

~Martinez laughs loudly as he makes another turn. Phillips just looks annoyed with the whole thing, slumping to the side. In the back, Vaughn's smile is slowly growing as we cut away.~


I do so love it when someone can't keep their mouth shut. It makes my job so much easier.

Like, say, my man Mallary. Or Malic. Or just Mal.

All fun nicknames, and it's true, I do tend to love mixing things up... Malachi. And do you know why I do it, when everyone thinks it's juvenile and ridiculous? Well, because it gets under people's skin like nothing else I've done. Why, it's worked on you, obviously, as you're ready to make another careless mistake and get ko'ed once again. I was taught a couple of years ago that the best way to get a victory over an opponent is to start early, before the match, before the night of the match, before the wrestlers have even arrived at the arena.

You start worming your way into their psyche, and you've got weapons to use against them. That's something you're going to need to work on, Mally. You need to build up some defenses for that sort of thing, and not let them get under your skin... or in your head. Then, maybe you WILL someday live up to that "future champion" billing.

And let's get one thing straight: I don't want to see you go walk off a bridge or anything. I'm not that kind of guy. I definitely want to see you competing at Into The Void, because I've learned that you don't get much respect for beating up on someone who's not fully invested in winning. I'd rather my opponents come into the match with some sense of thinking they could win, even if in their mind, it would be a miracle.

I want you to try, Malk. Try and not get defeated.

Hey, in this kind of match, you might even get to say you didn't get pinned or submit. You can leave that to the bulldoggy and have something to hang your hat on. Unless it's a ladder match or something, then, well, damn, sorry about that. You'll just have to find a way to deal with the fact that I took you down twice in a row, coming out victorious and leaving you in the dust.

But hey, you've still got the future to look forward to, right?

You still that Bella lady hanging off your arm, and I think I heard she's pregnant? Could just be a rumor in the tabloids, but if she is, congratulations. Maybe that's where your "future champion" can come into effect, getting that bright blue medal that says "World's Greatest Dad" or something. You can get all those participation trophies that they love to hand out as you spend time with your family.

I know it sounds like I'm mocking you for that... and I am, a little. But the truth is, I know I'm never going to have a family. I'm never going to come home to someone waiting for me, because it's just not in me to have a relationship like that. I just don't have that... kind of connection. So you should cherish what you've got. Go home to it and be happy.

You've got something that I'll never have, and once I get the Roulette Title by smacking you two bums down after a tremendous brawl, I'll have something that you'll never have.

It feels like a fair trade to me, personally.


~The cruiser continues on its way, getting off the main highway.~

Officer Martinez: Only a few more blocks, Vaughn, and then we'll be getting you... checked in.

Officer Phillips: And don't even think about causing us any problems there. You're in enough trouble without adding the assault of a police officer to your record.

Peter Vaughn: Y'know, I think I've been accused of that before, so it wouldn't exactly be a new addition to my file. I mean, I don't think anyone would be surprised by some... aggression from me.

~Both men turn for a second to side-glare at Vaughn, who's still smiling in the back of the cruiser. He's got his hands up close to them, tilting one of them to the side.~

Officer Martinez: You're a real nutcase, aren't you?

Peter Vaughn: You're not the first to say that, and definitely won't be the last. So you guys should know... I kind of admire your willingness to earn some extra money for your families. I assume that's why you're doing it, at least, Phillips. I see that wedding ring you've got on.

~Instinctively, Phillips puts one hand over the other, hiding the ring, even though it's already been seen.~

Peter Vaughn: I don't see one on you, Mitchell. Your woman bail on you? You have the feel of a divorcee.

Officer Martinez: Shut up, Vaughn, or you're going to 'trip' on the way into the precinct.

Peter Vaughn: Ahhh, okay, as long as we're going with threats... you two have one more chance to do "the right thing" and let me out before we get to the station.

Officer Martinez: Or what? The big, bad wrestler's going to tear off this screen between us and attack? We don't have and tables or chairs in here, you idiot.

Peter Vaughn: ... You're sitting in one right now...

Officer Martinez: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!! You aren't going to be able to fight your way out of this one!

Peter Vaughn: Maybe not... but I do have some other connections, which include a half-brother who's a big fan of technology.

~Martinez grins and nudges at Phillips, who looks slightly concerned with where this conversation is going.~

Officer Martinez: And what? Your brother going to hack us or something? Hah!

Peter Vaughn: Oh, no, he wouldn't be doing anything like that. He loves technology, but he's not particularly great at working with it. No, I bring it up because he's wanted me to get more into the modern world. He even gave me this watch...

~Vaughn taps at the watch on his wrist, not an easy thing to do with handcuffs on, but he manages it. He manages to turn it and press on something, and there's another loud beep that catches both officers' attention, having heard it earlier.~

Peter Vaughn: You have to love watches these days. People couldn't just rely on them telling time. They expanded them to have stop-watch capabilities and to set alarms to wake you up. But even that wasn't enough. Now they come with built-in internet access, able to communicate with the World Wide Web... and of course, they now have mics, giving them the ability to record conversations and ship them out to... I think they call it The Cloud.

~Phillips' face has noticeably paled, as he looks over at Martinez, who has been talking way too much during this cruiser ride. Martinez looks pissed, gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary as he works through what Vaughn's saying.~

Peter Vaughn: The nice thing is, you can set someone else up to have access to your Cloud information. See, I'm not big on keeping track of things like that, but my half-brother? Oh, he's a wizard at it. He's probably a little OCD if I'm being honest, but sometimes that can work in your favor... like now, for instance.

Officer Martinez: You son of a bitch.

Peter Vaughn: Now, now, let's not bring families into this. You know if I wanted to, I could have waited and revealed this information later on... in court, for instance. But instead, I decided we might as well do this here, because it's better for all concerned if we just get this over with now. You let me go, removing any hint of those 'false charges', and that recording magically never surfaces again. Your careers are safe. Now doesn't that sound like a win/win?

Officer Phillips: Donny...

Officer Martinez: Shut up, Phillips, I'm thinking!

Officer Phillips: What's there to think about?? I never wanted to do this stupid thing anyway!! Now pull over!!

Officer Martinez: GOD DAMN IT!!

~The police cruiser suddenly, violently snaps to the side, causing one car to blare its horn at them. The cruiser then ends up parked alongside the curb, only a block or so from the police station. Martinez angrily fumes as Phillips gets up and opens the back door. Vaughn gets out, raising his hands suggestively, and Phillips quickly takes the handcuffs off.~

Peter Vaughn: There now, that's better. Don't you feel better, officer?

~Phillips just looks away, disgusted. It's hard to tell if he's more annoyed at Vaughn, Martinez... or himself.~

Officer Phillips: Just get out of here.

~Vaughn nods, then looks in the passenger window at the still furious Martinez, who glares over at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Good luck in your explanation to Judd, boyo.

Officer Martinez: This isn't over, Vaughn.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, I can GUARANTEE it's not over, Martinez. Not for you, and not for Harrington. Because you only get to take me by surprise once... I'll be seeing you.

~Vaughn pats Phillips on the shoulder, causing him to wince. He gets back in the cruiser, not looking at Martinez as he grabs the mic off the dashboard.~

Officer Phillips: Unit 8 calling central. 10-22, repeat, 10-22. Over.

~The radio operator acknowledges the call, sounding confused at the cancellation, but doing their job nonetheless. The cruiser pulls away, leaving Vaughn standing on the edge of the road. He looks left and right, as if trying to place exactly where he is, before he pulls out his phone and presses a quick-dial number.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey, Thomas, it's me. What? No, I'm not wasting my one phone call on you. I'm free. Huh? NO, I'm not on the run! Look, just come pick me up and I'll explain everything, okay?

~Vaughn starts giving directions to his location as we cut away once more.~


Always have your back-up strategies in hand when you are forced to improvise. It makes things so much easier.

Of course, to have a back-up strategy for me, you'd have to actually know me and what I can do inside the squared circle. From what I hear, Barnowl didn't even really care to find out the smallest bit of information about me, even AFTER I kicked his ass after my match with Mally. I mean, that's pretty dense, Billy, even from you. You didn't bother to look into my record, and how I've dominated everywhere I've gone in the wrestling world. You didn't take note of how I have yet to be pinned in Sin City, taking the fight to everyone who's stepped in front of me?

Gotta admit... I'm a little insulted.

I mean, I did the research on you, and I thought I gave you rather decent props for what you had done in your career. But now I'm wondering if you just lucked into those title reigns you've had. Maybe you weren't the real threat in this one, after all.

Boy, my optimism for this one has really been shot to pieces. First a God is forced to bail out due to injury, and now a bulldog appears to be neutered. Thank goodness for Malachi, I suppose.

Look, Burnheart, you've still got a few days. At least spend a few minutes looking through YouTube. You'll find some of my greatest moves there, clipped by fans of the sport. Maybe you can least get a SMALL sense of what you're getting into, because right now, you're in no shape to fight "The Mechanic". And I'm not referring to that gut you've got there, I'm talking about your mindset.

You can't just come into this thinking you're going to get handed your third Roulette Title. It doesn't work that way. You already showed you had no idea of how to dodge one of my favorite moves. How are you going to be able to stand against the Plunge?

The answer, of course, is you won't be standing, but if you had studied me, you'd know that.

I know we're going to be having to play things by ear in a Roulette Rules match. I know none of us have any clue what kind of hellish contest we're going to be put through. But as Ben Franklin said, "By failing to prepare, you're preparing to fail." Or something like that. I think it was Franklin. The kite guy, right?

Essentially, by not preparing for the parts of this match you DO know about, you stand no chance of surviving the parts you don't. And Bill, it would take me quite a while to list all the things you don't know about. You're looking fairly brain dead to me. Bummer.

Well, I'll see if I can jog some of those brain cells if given the chance. Smashing some steel into your forehead might do it. Sending you flying from the top of a cage might jostle them loose. Keeping you locked inside the zero-degree freezer while I walk out the champion, well, that probably won't help.

Do you guys do Below Zero matches here? It's something to look into, as long as you don't mind the loss of a finger or toe.

Whatever the type of match it ends up being, my experience will allow me to adjust to what's asked of me. I'll fly higher and strike harder than either of you two, as my ascent to my first championship here will be not be denied. I plan to be ready for anything and everything... will you?

First start preparing yourselves to take the Plunge... and go from there.


~We rejoin Vaughn on the side of the road, as he annoyedly checks his watch once again. He paces back and forth, clearly impatient. Suddenly, he hears a familiar truck horn and turns, smiling as he sees Gabriela driving towards him. The truck wavers slightly, causing Vaughn's smile to falter. He watches as the truck comes close to the curb, then inches away, then gets closer again as it closes in on him. Vaughn takes a reflexive step back as the truck finally comes to a stop next to him, almost hitting the curb. Thomas Hill puts down the window, smiling in relief at his half-brother.~

Thomas Hill: So you weren't lying! They did let you go! How'd you do it?

Peter Vaughn: Out.

Thomas Hill: Exactly, you're out, that's why I...

Peter Vaughn: Get out. Now.

~Vaughn stomps around to the driver's side, with Thomas finally opening the door and sliding out. Vaughn pushes him to go around to the passenger's seat, before getting back into the truck and patting the dashboard.~

Peter Vaughn: I'm sorry I put you through that, Gabriela. Trust me, I'll do my best not to let him drive ever again, okay?

~As trucks can't talk, there's no answer. Thomas gets in the other side, grumbling under his breath.~

Thomas Hill: You'd think I dented her or something...

~The truck pulls away, headed down the road, as Thomas clears his throat and looks over at his half-brother, who's now looking more relaxed.~

Thomas Hill: So?

Peter Vaughn: So, what?

Thomas Hill: Are you going to tell me what happened? How'd you get out? Was there any bloodshed? Is there going to be a manhunt for you? A man needs to know these things, Peter!

Peter Vaughn: Nah, you don't have to worry about it. Everything got... cleared up on the way to the station. Actually, in a strange sort of way, I have you to thank for it.

Thomas Hill: Oh, really? Now I'm really curious. What did I do?

Peter Vaughn: You remember that Apple watch you got me for Christmas?

Thomas Hill: ... The one that you refuse to wear, because you like the old-fashioned ones that don't have viewscreens attached to them? What about it?

~Vaughn grins, reaching over with one hand to tap the watch on his wrist. Getting a better look at it, we can definitely tell it's not as high-tech as Vaughn made it out to be. He presses the button on the side of it, once again causing the loud beep to sound out. Since we can see the screen, we can see that a timer has now started on the small digital display, one of the few additions to a watch of this type. Clearly, it's not something that would have recording capabilities.~

Peter Vaughn: Let's just say thinking about it allowed an idea to pop into my head...

~The grin gets a little larger, as Vaughn replays the fact of how he put one over on the gullible officers, who were too egotistical or nervous to really take a good look at Vaughn's watch. Looks like neither Martinez nor Phillips will ever make detective. The truck drives on down the road, as Vaughn heads back to the freedom of his ranch... prepared to once again make some plans on how to deal with one Judd Harrington, as well as a few cops on the take. We fade out.~


32
Supercard Archives / Approaching My Goals...
« on: April 29, 2023, 07:56:47 PM »
~Once again, we find ourselves returning to the quiet warehouse owned by Peter Vaughn. At least, everyone assumes he owns it. Wouldn't it be a trip if it turned out that Vaughn has been breaking into this warehouse for his own use this entire time? Wouldn't that be crazy? But for now, let's just stick with that he has the right to be here.~

~This time, the warehouse space looks to be remarkably empty, except for what appears to be a round object covered by a cloth in the middle of the room. The camera starts to focus on this cloaked item, expecting an activity from it, but instead, there's a loud, grinding noise to the left. The camera turns, showing one of the garage doors of the warehouse opening up, inch by inch. As it does so, a blinding light begins to flow through the widening crack, quickly overwhelming the camera's dimming abilities. Nonetheless, the cameraman stays focused, as the shot soon becomes one bright, squarish light. After a few seconds, a figure can be seen, stepping forward, although it's not easy to make him out. He walks through the light, into the warehouse, with both hands propped before him as if in prayer. As he gets a little closer, we can finally make out the details of one Peter Vaughn.~

Peter Vaughn: Hello, again, my children. Hello again, Sin City. Namaste.

~Vaughn gives a slight bow towards the camera, then raises up, bringing both hands into the air. It appears like he's holding a relic of some kind, reverently displaying it in the air. He then slowly grips it with both hands... and presses the button. The remote control immediately turns off the halo-style spotlights behind him. It takes a moment, but the camera adjusts, allowing us to see Vaughn, and the spotlights, clearly for the first time. He smiles towards the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: You'll forgive the indulgence there, I trust? For some reason, I felt like making a... Godly entrance...

~Vaughn presses another button, and the garage door immediately closes again. Hopefully no one steals the spotlights from the alley outside.~

Peter Vaughn: You see, when I won my Roulette Rules match over Malachi on the last Climate Control, and put down the Bulldog as well, I was feeling pretty powerful. It seemed like my destiny was ready to go up in lights, earning me my first championship in SCW. And then the news broke: once again, I would be facing my ally in the Saviors, "Godly" Ken Davison, this time in a Fatal Fourway match along with the poor boyos I had already taken out.

~Vaughn shakes his head, even as he steps closer to the covered object in the center of the room.~

Peter Vaughn: Last time we fought, Kenny, it wasn't exactly a clean decision between us. You did have the better night... thanks to your having a better random tag-team partner. I mean, that's just my luck, isn't it? Excel as a singles competitor, never finding the right partner for the tag-team ranks. But I have to admit, your joining the match after falling in the tournament did get my interest. I thought, hey, this is going to be a competitive one, with an amazing chance that the Saviors would get the Roulette Title. I was quite fascinated by the possible fight. I looked forward to facing a God once again.

~Suddenly, Vaughn stops moving, and his shoulders seem to slump.~

Peter Vaughn: That's until I received word that the doctors had refused to clear Kenny for action. I guess even Gods get injured. So here's the deal, Kendrick. Once I win the Roulette Championship, and once you're finally fit for action, I'll offer you an opportunity whenever you want it. Because let's face it: SCW clearly wants us to fight, and they really want the last of the Saviors to fall. Maybe we can give them a Five-Star affair as we move forward into the light, eh?

~Vaughn takes a moment to recover, then smirks towards the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: And then... there were three. Myself, a five-time World Champion with incredible victories all across the world. The Bulldog, who's probably still a little delirious from the clubbing I gave him last show, but also the only man in this one to hold top-tier gold in SCW. And Malicky, the man who thought he could easily take down the Mechanic and found himself knocked cold. This isn't really set up to be a war. It's set up to be a slaughter. Of course, a lot of that depends on... the random factor.

~Vaughn reaches over, finally pulling off the cloth to reveal a custom-made Roulette table underneath. Vaughn pats the side of it, grinning, his own craftsmanship having gone into building this device. We can see that, much like SCW's version, there are numerous match possibilities set up.~

Peter Vaughn: I've gone back and watched numerous Roulette matches to begin to prepare for this one. I already know about the Staple Gun variation, and let me just say, that wasn't a pleasant experience, even if I DID get the victory. But there are so many other possibilities. For instance, last year's Into The Void match was fought under Submission rules.

~With a twist of the spinner, Submission is brought to the arrowed portion.~

Peter Vaughn: Some might think that would put me at a disadvantage, but I do have a few special moves I like to break out in a match like this. And hey, who doesn't enjoy making their opponent scream in agony and have to tell the referee that they submit to the pain? I'm sure I could surprise Mr. Maliki with my Calf Crusher, for instance. But what if, say, it becomes a Ladder match?

~The dial is once again turned, bringing up another match stipulation underneath.~

Peter Vaughn: That'd be in the realm of my specialty, high-flying, so you might as well give me the championship right now. Neither of the guys left will be able to move near as quickly as I could. I'd probably have the belt and be halfway to the back before Bully and Mally even realized the match was over. It'd be pretty funny to see their faces, really. But let's face it, the most likely destination for us is, well... something extreme.

~Vaughn points at several of the items left on the spinner, including "Hardcore Rules", "Falls Count Anywhere", and "Graveyard". He taps that one for a few seconds.~

Peter Vaughn: Odds are probably high that we'll be in a match with little to no rules. This Graveyard one, it was an interesting watch, seeing everyone try to toss their opponents into graves to win. And hey, who knows? It could come up again, and I'll be literally burying my competition.

~Chuckling to himself, Vaughn turns and smacks the spinner, sending it flying through all of the various categories. As it spins, Vaughn turns back to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: The Roulette Rules certainly make this contest a lot more intriguing... but ultimately? The choice doesn't matter.

~With that, Vaughn hefts a sledgehammer out from behind the structure. As the spinner is starting to slow down, Vaughn lets loose, smashing straight into it! Pieces shatter in all directions, as Vaughn swings again and again, leaving a great deal of wreckage to clean up later. Finally satisfied, Vaughn turns back.~

Peter Vaughn: You see... the match stipulation doesn't matter. The competition in the match doesn't matter. The people who will be watching this with drool dripping down their chins? They don't matter, either. All that matters is that it's Peter Vaughn and it's a championship contest. No matter the rules, no matter who's in and who's out... I'm taking that championship home, adding it to my impressive collection. And there's nothing anyone out there will be able to do to stop me.

~With that, Vaughn tosses the sledgehammer into the pile of debris, before turning and walking off. The camera quickly scans the wreckage, seeing that what's left of the spinner is now pointing towards a unique stipulation: Armageddon. We slowly cut away.~


~As the shot comes back into view, we can hear the noise you usually associate with a large gathering of people in one room. The camera pans the large room, showing what almost looks like a courtroom, except it's been repurposed for a gathering area, as the judge's area has been switched to a long string of tables. Seated at the center of the tables is a familiar man to those who watched last week: David Schoeder finishes talking to the man next to him, and then turns forward, grabbing up a gavel and hammering it to get everyone's attention.~

David Schoeder: Alright, now, everyone settle down. Let's get this Union meeting back in order. Are we ready to continue?

~There are some mumbled agreements from the various men seated all around. There isn't a lot of excitement in a meeting like this, usually. Apparently, though, that's about to change, as Schoeder seems to take a long, deep breath before reaching for the paperwork in front of him.~

David Schoeder: As we're up to date on everything that's been happening, it's time to discuss some new business. While I know this has been spoken of before in smaller settings, I believe the time is right for us to bring this matter before everyone's attention. Yes, it's time to discuss the cattle application of one Peter Vaughn of the PMV Ranch...

~There are some shocked shouts from the crowd, as few were expecting this to be brought up. Some furious murmuring commences throughout the group, even as Schoeder again reaches for the gavel.~

David Schoeder: Settle down, people! This petition was brought to us months ago, and the submitter has been quite... persistent. As you all know, I'm a fair man, and I truly believe that everyone deserves their chance to be heard.

~As Schoeder talks, the screen splits for a few moments, showing on the bottom Schoeder's meeting with Vaughn the previous week... and how Vaughn revealed he knew Schoeder's most secret bank account. Vaughn used this information to blackmail Schoeder into what's happening today, while also promising that he could increase Schoeder's bank account if he follows through. It's hard to say if fear or greed was the larger motivating factor for Schoeder, but either way, it clearly worked.~

David Schoeder: As you all know, it will take a majority vote here today for Mr. Vaughn's cattle application to be approved, allowing him to raise livestock on his ranch. Mr. Vaughn is here today to speak to all of you.

~The door swings open on the left, with Peter Vaughn stepping out. He seems to have been given a lesson in what to wear, possibly from Schoeder himself, as the coveralls, for once, are not to be seen. Instead, Vaughn portrays the stereotypical image of what everyone believes a rancher should look like. Honestly, on Vaughn, it looks strange, as it's so different from how he normally dresses. But to the union members, it seems to generate a slight increase in respect, as he steps up to the mic.~

Peter Vaughn: Thank you for this time, Mr. Chairman. I'll try not to waste it. To those who don't know me, I am Peter Vaughn, and yes, I am a professional wrestler. But apart from that, I am also a man who doesn't mind getting his hands dirty. Since I purchased the PMV Ranch last year, I have worked hard to rebuild the ranch to its former glory. I have made several renovations, not shying away from the hard work that all of you have likely grown up with all of your lives.

~Only those that know Vaughn would hear the slight sarcasm in that comment. Most of the 'fat cats' in here have lived their rich lives with other ranch hands doing the work for them, while they reaped the benefits.~

Peter Vaughn: I think I have proven that I am taking the life of a rancher seriously. I am willing to put in the long hours and make the PMV Ranch a truly profitable endeavor. Many of you, I've taken the time to speak with over the past few weeks, and I hope I've made my points clear to all of you.

~The camera shot switches to several individuals in the audience, some looking more uncomfortable than others. The split-screen once again reappears, this time showing Vaughn speaking to each one of them behind closed doors. One, he's clearly threatening, showing off a series of pictures that were taken of the union member in question. In another, Vaughn is shaking the hand of an older man, having made a deal for future teamwork between them in the future, increasing both of their profits while working to shut down a competitor. The third shot shows Vaughn walking out of an office, as the man behind him slumps to the floor, crying, holding some unknown paperwork. That man still looks green in the gills as he sits nervously in the union meeting. It's clear that Vaughn has, truly, been working hard for his goals, even if his methods aren't exactly role-model material.~

Peter Vaughn: I have every faith that all of you will see that I am ready to prove myself deserving of being in your space of existence. I may not have been born a rancher, but I got here as fast as I could, and being a true Texan at heart, I'm always ready to aim big. All I need is you to give me that opportunity. Thank you.

~Vaughn nods and steps away, to applause from the gathering. Some clap louder than others. Some, like Vaughn's main rival, Judd Harrison, refuse to raise their hands at all. Vaughn doesn't seem to care, as he heads back out the door he came. Schoeder hammers once again to quiet everyone down.~

David Schoeder: Now, we all know how this works. We can have discussions today about Mr. Vaughn's application, and then we will have our vote at the next meeting. For my part, I see Mr. Vaughn as a valuable addition to our ranks, as he is clearly a man who will not stop until he gets what he wants. I will be voting for accepting his application. Would anyone else like to speak?

~Everyone looks around, as few usually like to be the first one up to go against the Head of the Union. But that doesn't stop Judd Harrison, as he steps up and walks to the mic.~

Judd Harrison: As you all know, I'm basically neighbors with Mr. Vaughn's ranch. And you should hear all the crazy sounds that come from there! This man deems himself an 'inventor', creating a series of machines to take the place of true ranchers while he goes around the world punching people in their faces. Ever since he bought the old Six-Star ranch from Mark Pettigrew's widow, Vaughn has done nothing but become a mockery of our profession. I can't even believe we're discussing this right now, if I'm being honest.

~Harrison turns and glares back at Schoeder, who has the good sense to not look away, lest it reveal something about what's changed.~

Judd Harrison: It's an easy decision here, gentlemen. Turn this wrass-ler down and let's get back to doing business the right way!

~There is some cheers from the more vocal members of the Union, even as Harrison steps down. He looks surprised, though, at the individuals who didn't seem to cheer with them. One even gets up and takes his spot at the mic, beginning to give praise to Vaughn. This is the man we saw crying in his office earlier. Taking in a quick measurement of the room, Harrison excuses himself and steps outside. He gets on his cell phone, looking around in annoyance.~

Judd Harrison: Yeah, this is Judd. Look, I don't know what Vaughn's got on people, but I'm sensing some bad vibes from in there. We need to nip this in the bud before the vote takes place, and I think I know how. It's time to exploit Vaughn's own reputation against him. Here's what we're gonna do...

~Harrison turns away, quietly speaking into the phone, as we break away.~


Confucius was quoted as saying "The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones."

Did he actually say that? Who knows. But it's an apt analogy. When you set yourself up some nearly impossible goals for your future, you have to start moving step by step towards them. You need to chop away, swing by swing, until you reach what you're aiming for.

Besides, I like thinking of Malimar and the doggy as being small stones in my journey.

It's interesting to me that the press releases for Into The Void XII were referring to Mal as a "future champion". It's almost as if they're setting up the fans' hopes on him to take out the Saviors and finally achieve that destiny of his or something. The problem is, when you refer to someone as a "future champion", you expect them to make that climb. You see them as achieving greatness and moving on to a Hall of Fame career.

But Malachi has been here for THREE years.

Don't you think by now, if he was going to become a singles champion, he would have done it already? Has it just been bad luck? Bad timing? A combination of the two? Or is it possible... is it PROBABLE that Mally just isn't putting in the work necessary to rise up to those lofty expectations? I mean, I didn't see his 'potential' being achieved when we fought. Oh, sure, he got in some hits on me, especially with that damned staple gun. If anything he showed me that I need to practice with staples more.

I prefer the nail gun variety. More accurate, you understand.

But in the end, I easily reversed his terrible finisher and planted him in the ground with one of my better moves, the Keyholder. That said, it's not exactly my most dominant finisher, is it? I didn't give him the Plunge. I didn't get my Revenged. But I still put him down and out, getting that three count to dash the hopes of everyone in that audience that I would get pinned.

That has to be rattling around in that large skull of yours, Malk. You have to be thinking, "I had everything available to me. Every advantage. And he still beat me clean." Hell of a rough morale strike, isn't it, going into a contest like this? Now you not only have to defeat me, you have to find a way to survive the Bully Dog as well. The odds are truly not in your favor. Anyone who's betting on you to win is just hoping for that miracle long-shot.

Hey, maybe the Roulette wheel will make it a Wood-Chopping Contest or something. You never know. That'd be about the only way ol' Mally would have an opportunity to win... although I still think I'd beat him in the end.

I think I'll always beat him in the end.


~The video cuts back in, showing us at Chamberlain’s Steak & Chop House, one of the better steak houses in Dallas. Inside, seated at a table, Vaughn sits back in contentment, having just worked over a beautifully cooked New York Strip. He finishes the final bite, swallowing it down, as he looks over at his half-brother, Thomas Hill, who seems to just be pushing his fork around his plate at this point.~

Peter Vaughn: You doing okay there, Thomas? You've barely touched your... what the hell was that called again?

Thomas Hill: It's an almond crusted goat cheese salad with scallops added in.

~Vaughn can't hide his shudder, as it was completely involuntary.~

Peter Vaughn: Sometimes I really wonder if we're actually related, half-brother...

Thomas Hill: Normally it tastes great... it's just... I can't stop thinking about your appeal to the cattle union...

Peter Vaughn: What about it? I told you, it went well. They listened to me, and I'm cautiously optimistic about our chances.

Thomas Hill: Yeah... but that's part of the problem. They listened to you.

Peter Vaughn: Wait, that's a problem now? I thought you'd see it as good news.

~Hill is quiet for a moment, still picking at his salad, before finally saying the question that's been on his mind.~

Thomas Hill: Did you do anything... illegal... in order to get them to listen to you, Peter?

~A normal individual would probably have feigned shock and outrage at being called out. Vaughn, though, isn't your normal anything. He simply shrugs, taking a drink from his beer before answering.~

Peter Vaughn: I wouldn't say illegal. I'm sure it'd be frowned upon by some people... but it's part of the business. If anything, Harrison has taught me that much.

Thomas Hill: Peter... if I'm going to be a part of this... I need things to be legitimate. I know you're used to skirting the edges of the rules in the wrestling business, but we're in a whole different world now. You've already stirred up the hornet's nest. I really don't want to be the one who gets stung.

Peter Vaughn: Seriously, you're worried about that? You should know by now that I'll have everything handled. Nothing's going to go wrong, trust me. The head of the union, Schoeder? He and I have an understanding, and I'm sure he's going to come through for us. And if something happens there, I've got several other irons in the fire. We are going to succeed, Thomas. You think I'd be here eating this expensive meal if I thought we were going to fail?

Thomas Hill: Hard to say. You never said who's paying for this.

~Vaughn genuinely laughs, a sound you don't hear too often from the man. His half-brother is one of the few people who can actually seem to reach him, bringing out some of his old emotions before the 'treatment' that changed his life forever. Vaughn nods, taking out his wallet.~

Peter Vaughn: Don't worry, I won't stick you with the bill. I've got the winnings from Malachi ready to be spent, and I can't think of any better way to use it than to spend it like a champion would. Of course, if you'd get around to getting me that company credit card for the ranch, we could use that...

Thomas Hill: I already told you, Peter, the bank turned us down. They seem to think that giving a card like that to a ranch would be a risky business decision for them.

~Vaughn grumbles, finishing his beer before standing up and putting some cash on the table.~

Peter Vaughn: Once I'm done with the union, I'll work on that particular problem as well. And I always find solutions, Thomas. Now let's get out of here. Do you need a box for... uh, that?

~Vaughn gestures at the half-eaten salad, but Thomas just shakes his head and gets up as well.~

Thomas Hill: It's not worth saving. Let's just go home.

~Looking relieved that he doesn't have to get that monstrosity boxed up, Vaughn nods, and the two men head out of the restaurant. They look around on the street, spotting where Vaughn parked his prized truck, Gabriela, and start heading that way.~

Thomas Hill: I just hope all this political nonsense doesn't distract you from your big match at Into The Void.

Peter Vaughn: Nah, this won't interfere with that at all. Just like the union, I've got several plans ready in order to take that championship. Believe me, half-brother... I'm ready for just about anything.

~As the two men reach the truck, a siren is suddenly heard. A police vehicle parks right behind the truck, with the two officers getting out, brandishing their weapons.~

Police Officer: Peter Vaughn! Stay right where you are with your hands visible at all times!

~Hill, immediately raising his hands, turns towards his half-brother, who looks legitimately shocked.~

Thomas Hill: You were saying?

~Vaughn can only shrug his shoulders, even as he raises his hands as well, having no idea what's going on.~


Okay, so even I can't be prepared for everything. But then, the same is true of my opponents.

Just look at Heartburn, who played at being a referee last show. He wasn't expecting to get so 'involved' in the conflict, was he? He sure wasn't expecting me to give him a dose of the Keyholder afterwards. I could tell by his shocked expression... just before he hit the mat and stopped seeing anything for a while.

I will admit, that was a little petty of me. I can't complain about how the referee'ing went in the match, after all. But I couldn't help myself, Bullfrog. You left yourself so wide open... and I hate to miss an opportunity to teach a lesson. I wonder, did you learn anything from it? Or will you be just as vulnerable in the future?

I guess only time will tell.

The oddsmakers would say you're the biggest threat left, Billy, now that we've lost a God. But you know what? I'm really not that scared of a Georgia Bulldog. Give him a Doberman or a Pitbull any day, and they'd shred that bulldog to pieces. They're slow, they're usually overweight, and you can tell when they're near the end of their rope. Just like you, Billy Boy.

Let's face it, you've had a good run here, maybe not an exceptional one, but a good one nonetheless. But you're not padding your stats with another victory at Into The Void, no sir. Kenny may be gone, but the Mechanic's still going to be there to make your life worse than a squashed Georgia peach. I've already proven that I can take you down. Now I just have to show the world that I can take you out.

Really, the best option you and Mally might have is to try and work together against me. I'm cocky, but not stupid. It'd be an uphill battle, fighting both of you at once in a Handicap match. But then again, you can't share that Roulette Title, can you? So it'd just be a matter of time before Malic's greed got the best of him and he waited for you to turn your back... as you're known to do.

So I wouldn't trust him, Bill. I wouldn't trust him at all. But hey, that's just me. Take whatever chances you think you need to in order to have a chance at winning.

Maybe it won't even be as bad as a staple shot to the groin this time. Or maybe we'll find a way to make it worse.

Once I've planted you in the ground and you've taken the Plunge, Billy, I'll have beaten three former champions here in SCW, and I'll be firmly established as one of the great Roulette Champs of all time. I will hold that belt with pride and dignity, defending it against everyone who deserves a shot.

And let's be fair, I'll probably defend it against undeserving doofuses, too, because that's just the way the wrestling business works.

Either way, Billy, Mally, you're going to find yourselves out of the running. Mal will once again have to live with just being a "future champion", and Bill will have nothing left but to look back on his glory days and wonder where it all went.

While me? I'm going to continue building my ladder of accomplishments, making my way up to the top of SCW step by step, inch by inch. I'm not getting stopped by you two boyos, and I'm not getting stopped by anyone else. The gold will be flowing, and the Saviors will be taking over all of the top spots.

Ready yourselves, kids. The war is just about to begin. See you then.


~As Hill and Vaughn keep their hands in the air, the two officers approach them. We can already see people watching from the sides, getting out their phones to record everything. That's what we do now in society, hoping for something good for TMZ.~

Peter Vaughn: So... something I can help you with, fellas? Did I miss a parking ticket or something? I thought I had everything paid off.

Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent, Vaughn. I recommend you use it. Turn around. You're under arrest.

~The officer turns Vaughn around forcibly, grabbing his arm. Vaughn's eyes flash, as if he's about to react in his normal fashion. But Thomas, seeing what might happen, quickly steps in.~

Thomas Hill: Officer, please! There's no need for that. He'll go along... quietly. Won't you, Peter?

~Vaughn glances over at Thomas, who has a pleading look on his face. Vaughn sighs, then seems to relax slightly as the handcuffs are put on.~

Thomas Hill: Now, if I can ask, what's the charge? Is this because of something to do with wrestling?

~As the second officer steps in, working to take Vaughn over to the police vehicle, the first one gives Thomas a cynical grin.~

Police Officer: The charge? That's easy. Vaughn here is under arrest for assault and bribery. He's also coming in due to his involvement in the death of one Mark Pettigrew.

Thomas Hill: Wait... Pettigrew? The guy who used to own the ranch? Peter didn't even know him before he died! This makes no sense! Peter? What's going on??

~Hill looks upset, as if he's not completely sure about his half-brother's capacity for violence. He looks over for reassurance as Vaughn is loaded into the car. Vaughn just looks back, not looking too concerned.~

Peter Vaughn: You know where the spare keys are kept, Thomas. Keep Gabriela safe, okay?

~All Thomas can do is weakly nod, even as the officers get into the car and pull out, driving away. The police vehicle stops at the next stop sign, spending a slightly longer amount of time than needed to sit there. As Vaughn looks out the passenger window, he can see the man in the truck nearby. Judd Harrison gives him a sly grin and tips his hat, having been there to witness it all. Vaughn glares at him as the police car moves on, leaving Harrison behind to bask in his triumph. We fade out.~


33
Climax Control Archives / The Power of Negotiation
« on: April 21, 2023, 09:18:17 PM »
~As the cameras slowly come up, we once again recognize our surroundings as the private warehouse that Peter Vaughn owns, somewhere in an unknown location (although it's likely in the Dallas area, all things considered). This time, there are no large-scale constructions in the warehouse. Instead, it looks like a circular running track has been drawn into the floor, covering the span of what we can see in the camera. Slowly jogging towards us, a calm look on his face, is Peter Vaughn. The camera follows him as he continues to make his way around the track, while turning his head to speak to the people at home.~

Peter Vaughn: When I first made my way to Sin City, the federation that everyone was talking about, I had two goals in mind: helping Mac Bane win the championship, and getting another crack at Matt Knox. Well, I succeeded on the first part, but Knox's quick retirement, brief though it was, was enough to derail my early plans here. Instead, as a member of the Saviors, I looked to build up my reputation in this company.

~Vaughn makes the small turn easily, showing no loss of breath as he continues his jog. For him, this must feel like a relatively tame exercise, when he's used to moving at full speed while inside the squared circle.~

Peter Vaughn: I thought I was making some headway. I took down two former champions in Milo and Washington, getting myself a fairly decent payday with a pay-per-view victory. It seemed like I was going to start on my way up to the top, along with the other Saviors. But then... things took an interesting turn. The Blast From The Past Tournament came and went, and suddenly I found myself back at the starting line: once again facing off against Milo on Climax Control. You could say it felt like I was running in circles...

~The jog continues. The cameraman has to be feeling it by this point, but being a true professional, he's not asking for a break. He keeps the shot continuous as Vaughn passes another turn, back to where he had been running when we first came on the air.~

Peter Vaughn: Things didn't go particularly great with Milo the second time. I didn't get a second victory. Instead, we went to a time-limit draw, with many believing that Milo should have won. Well, that's not what the record books say, and he sure as hell didn't get the three count on me, so it looks like things will remain the way they are. But once again, the circle seemed to continue. There was even talk that people thought we should have another rematch...

~Vaughn shakes his head, even as he continues around the track. Hopefully none of you viewers are feeling any dizziness at the moment.~

Peter Vaughn: In the meantime, things seemed to be going wrong for the Saviors. Injuries have limited some. Mac had his championship stolen. One member came and went in a short period of time, bringing back some memories of my time as an Exile. It seemed like every reason I had come to Sin City for was quickly dissipating into the air, vanishing into nothingness. It appeared like my time here might be coming to an end.

~Vaughn shakes his head, looking away from the camera for a moment. But when he looks back, his smirk is back on his face, as he starts to speed up, forcing the cameraman to keep up with him.~

Peter Vaughn: Anyone who thinks that I would just walk away, though, is fooling themselves. I am a competitor. I am a warrior. I am a champion. And now, I've found a way to break the cycle. I've found a way to turn one Savior's struggles into a gold mine. I find myself with the opportunity to become the SCW Roulette Champion. Which means that the path... has changed.

~Suddenly, Vaughn branches off of the track, at a prearranged spot, jogging straight forward. He ends up near the entrance doorway to the warehouse, stopping there as he turns to his right, flipping up a cooler and pulling out two energy drinks. The camera is visibly shaking, thanks to the fatigue of our brave cameraman. Vaughn, showing his respect for the man in keeping up, tossing him one of the drinks.~

Peter Vaughn: You earned it, boyo. And I damn well earned it as well. Because it's time that Peter Vaughn once again takes the road less traveled, and makes his way into golden territory. I'll see you there soon, cameraman.

~Vaughn departs into the sunlight outside, still carrying his own drink, as the cameraman seemingly chugs down the fluids. We eventually cut away, as there's nothing else to see here.~


~We come back up showing a large crowd of people making their way across a street, most dressed like they're going to a western-themed movie party. They all seem to be in good spirits as the camera follows them, showing that they're headed into a large stadium. A banner nearby proclaims that this is the Dallas Ranching Rodeo, a three-day event taking place this weekend. We join the crowd, making our way inside. The camera pans around the auditorium portion, where different stalls have been set up. Some are showcasing goods for sale, others have livestock for photography (or a good deal for some meat). The camera eventually stops on the man making his way into the area: Peter Vaughn. He's wearing his usual coveralls, which makes him stand out even more than usual in the place like this. A couple of cowboys nearby guffaw as soon as they see him.~

Cowboy #1: What the heck are you wearing, son?

Cowboy #2: You look like a damned fool! The Comic Con is probably down the street, hah!

~In response, Vaughn turns and stares at the two men intently, as if memorizing their faces. The look in his eyes is enough to make the first cowboy take a step back, bumping into the second one.~

Cowboy #1: Now, sonny, that's just a joke... uh... we'll be getting out of your hair now.

~The two men move off, both a little shaky from the stare they just looked into. Vaughn watches them go, then seems to think to himself for a moment. He looks down at his outfit, then turns and walks over to a nearby western gear store, set up just for this event. The man behind the table awkwardly coughs before getting up, never one to turn down a potential sale.~

Salesman: What can I do you for, friend? We've got the finest knives and pistols here the world has ever seen...

~You would think someone like Vaughn would be interested in the lethal weapons. But instead, he steps to the side, grabbing at a black cowboy hat that was hanging there. He looks it over, putting it on his head for a second. If anything, it amplifies how bad the coveralls look, but Vaughn seems satisfied. He turns back to the salesman, who's got both eyebrows raised.~

Peter Vaughn: I'll take it.

~Vaughn flips through one of his many pockets, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill and dropping it on the table. He turns and walks away, even as the salesman scoops up the bill, quickly making sure it's not a forgery. Satisfied, he waves after Vaughn.~

Salesman: I've got some great vests as well! Come again anytime!

~Vaughn doesn't look back. He's headed into the stadium area of the rodeo, where the competitions are already beginning to take place.~


I've never been one to be too concerned about my looks.

Back in the day, when I was a... slightly different person, even then, it was more about the work than the image I portrayed. I wanted to be respected for everything I did. I may not be a supermodel, but I was a super worker. At least, that's how I saw it... before everything took a twist, and I became the man I am today. But now, it's even less about my appearance and more about what I'm bringing with me to the ring... including my five World Championship reigns.

I made it my goal that any federation I went to, I'd find a way to get a championship, and for the most part, I've succeeded in that goal. The only two stand-outs for me are Level Up Wrestling, which is still on extended hiatus, and the world-class federation known as Sin City Wrestling. But now, I've been given my opportunity to change that... with my first opportunity at championship gold.

Of course, my opponent this week, Malachi, has had his opportunities here to claim a title or two. Too bad he's blown every one of them, most recently by taking the loss to Goth at Blaze of Glory.

It must feel like an amazing stroke of luck, Mally, that the man who beat you and retained his championship had to then forfeit it, and somehow the powers that be decided that you deserved yet another shot at it. There must be some strong reasoning somewhere there, something they saw in your match with Goth that made you worthy in their eyes.

All I really remember is you tapping out to Goth's submission, giving up once again on being a champ. But maybe they saw something in the way you nodded your head or something.

Here's the thing, Mal: you and I both know that you were not on Goth's level. I mean, there's no shame in that. Goth is a hell of a wrestler, one of the best in the business. I mean, I'm 1-0 against him, having eliminated him from a tournament, but that doesn't change anything for you... because you're not on my level, either.

If I were you, Mallard, I'd be thinking about how Into The Void XII is just going to be another paycheck for you. It doesn't seem like you're highly rated enough to find a way to get that victory. But then, maybe you learned something from your most recent loss, just like I learned something from my time limit draw.

Or maybe you're just stubbornly going to do things your way until they finally cart you out of this place, with no more chances on your bingo card.

I gotta say, Mal... it doesn't look good for you.


~We rejoin Peter Vaughn inside the stadium, where the ground has been covered in dirt for the events taking place. On one side, we hear the countdown, followed by a buzzer. A gate swings open, and a cowboy comes flying out, riding a furious bull, who works with all his might to send the brute on his back flying. The cowboy gamely hangs on, as the crowd counts along, loving absolutely every second. The buzzer goes off again at eight seconds, earning a wave of respect from the audience, as the cowboy quickly dismounts and rolls away, while some rodeo clowns move in to distract the bull and keep him from goring open the pest who was riding him. As the audience settles down, we find ourselves in a small sitting area to the side, where a well-dressed cattleman in a white hat is nodding along in appreciation.~

David Schoeder: I tell y'all boys, there's nothing finer than seeing a grown man conquer a bull, no sir! What a ride!

~The other men around him, clearly yes-men by the way they're already nodding, are in full agreement. There's just one guy who doesn't seem to join in the affirmation.~

Peter Vaughn: ... I don't get it.

~Schoeder and the rest turn and look at Vaughn, taking in his 'interesting' appearance as Vaughn stares out into the small arena setting. He watches as they corral the bull, driving him back into the stocks to keep him out of harm's way.~

David Schoeder:  What's not to get? It's a majestic sport!

Peter Vaughn: But... they only have to last eight seconds. And they don't even have to take the bull down and slaughter him. What's the point?

David Schoeder: I don't think I quite understand, sir, what you are referring to.

Peter Vaughn: I'm just saying... in my profession, sometimes you have to fight 30 minutes straight against your competition. Occasionally it's more like 60 minutes or more. It takes everything you've got, with the goal of completely annihilating your opponent until they can't get up. Here, you guys applaud somebody staying in there for mere seconds. Yeah, I doubt I'll ever understand it.

~Schoeder looks at Vaughn in disbelief for a few moments, before breaking into laughter. The other men around him immediately laugh as well, following his lead. Schoeder finishes off his cackle before turning back to Vaughn, who still is shaking his head.~

David Schoeder: Well, I'll say, my boy, you've got a unique view of the world to be coming in here thinking like that. What, may I ask, drove someone of your... caliber into an event like this one, anyway? It doesn't really feel like you're comfortable here.

~Vaughn shrugs his shoulders, tapping his new black cowboy hat, before turning back to Schoeder's gaze.~

Peter Vaughn: It's true. This will likely never be a place someone like I fit in. But I don't mind it. I've always been better at standing out. That being said, you ask why I'm here, and it's simple: I'm looking for you, Mr. Schoeder. I heard you'd be here today. I also heard you're one of the top representatives in the Dallas cattle union I've been seeking an audience with.

~Confusion spreads across Schoeder's face, before recognition finally appears.~

David Schoeder: My lord, you're that new owner of the old Venkman ranch, aren't you? The... the PPV one?

Peter Vaughn: The PMV Ranch, actually, although I like the way you think. If you're able, I'd like to have a few private moments of your time. If your... friends there can let you go, that is.

~Schoeder looks around at the men around him, all of whom seem a little uncertain to leave their boss's side. But Schoeder just pushes himself up, nodding towards Vaughn with no concern.~

David Schoeder: It just so happens I have a private little lounge here at the stadium. One of the perks of being a long-time supporter. Follow me, and sure, we can talk.

~He gestures to Vaughn, directing him to start moving off, and walks after him. Schoeder then looks back for a second, giving one of the guys a dark smirk and shaking his head, before they continue on their way.~


So let's talk about the man who's going to have the power at Climate Control: the surprise referee, "Bulldog" Bill Barnhart.

I say, Triple B, you seem like you should be the one I'm wrestling, not Malic Acid over here. You've actually had success in the SCW, holding that Roulette Championship twice. I mean, that's extremely respectful, showing you've got more of a warrior's spirit than the man I'm currently set to fight.

That being said, you, too, lost to Goth, right? Losing the championship to him? It seems to be a streak going on here, where all the men who fell to the former champion are now getting their second chance back up the ladder. It doesn't fit for me, but I'm still hoping for my shot at a brawl or two with Goth here, a Saviors Special, if you will. Until then, it's only fitting that I find a way to keep his title warm from him, away from the vultures.

Now, here's the thing, Bulldog. Logic would stipulate that I come into this match kissing your ass, saying you're such a wonderful wrestler, to get you on my side and have you help me eliminate Malfoy from the Fatal Fourway. But that's not really my way. I call things how I see them, and if that brutal honesty bothers you, well, then we'll see what happens at the contest, won't we?

But if you call things straight down the middle as you're supposed to, there won't be any problems between us. If you try to screw me over for some reason, though, just because Mally has been here longer or because you maybe don't like the Saviors, then I guess we're going to have problems. Both at Climate Control and at the PPV. But I suppose that's on you, and how you want things to be.

Back to the actual punching bag I'm going against, Malpractice. I'm sure you're planning to deliver some Pure Malice to me, touting how you've got such incredible moves in your repertoire. I've heard that all before. Milo and Washington both thought that, too, actually. And yet, things turned out poorly for them, and I'm thinking it's going to be even worse for you.

If I truly dominate you, Mal, would you consider this an 'elimination' match? Would you willingly drop out of the Fatal Fourway once you realize how much my wrestling skills outclass yours? Or will you continue to be the stubborn fighter who won't deal with the truths that are sitting right in front of him? Judging by past history, I'm assuming you're still going to compete at the PPV, as is your right.

But I want you to at least be the lesson for Barney and the Mysterious Stranger. I want them both to see you and think "Well, hell, we know who the biggest threat in this contest is."  I want to set a high bench mark for all of you to ponder, and see if you think you could possibly reach it.

I also want to just get another victory added to my totals here at SCW, and I can practically guarantee that's going to happen... as long as the bull god follows through on his responsibilities. Worst case? I deliver a two-pronged lesson to both men. I guess we'll see how it goes down.

There's no limit to the number of plunges that can take place, after all.


~The private lounge door shuts quietly behind them with a simple click. Vaughn steps into the lounge, taking in the two couches, as well as the balcony in the back that seems to overlook the stadium itself. He steps over to the couch, taking a seat, as Schoeder heads to the right, getting out two glasses.~

David Schoeder: Can I at least assume that you're a man that can handle whiskey?

Peter Vaughn: Over the past year rooming with some strong-willed individuals, my drinking abilities have definitely been on the upswing.

David Schoeder: I suppose that's good to hear.

~Schoeder laughs to himself again, before bringing over the half-filled glass and handing it to Vaughn. He keeps one for himself, sipping at the whiskey and smacking his lips at the taste.~

David Schoeder: This is a rather potent variety. I managed to get my hands on it thanks to a lucky run of cards. I would take my time in...

~Vaughn sets his empty glass down on the table, with Schoeder looking over at it in surprise. Vaughn doesn't seem to be showing much of a reaction, other than giving it a nod.~

Peter Vaughn: A decent taste. Is that a Woodford Reserve?

David Schoeder: I... why yes, I believe it is. Incredible.

~With a slightly increased amount of respect, Schoeder sips at his whiskey again, before looking back at Vaughn.~

David Schoeder: So what is is you want from me, sir?

Peter Vaughn: Simple. I want your support and backing in my claims to earn a cattle license here in Texas.

~Schoeder doesn't look shocked, having expected this request. He nods to Vaughn, telling him to go on.~

Peter Vaughn: As you probably know, I've been looking to expand my new ranch into the cattle business, but have met a great deal of... resistance... from the local ranchers. Each one of my attempts to speak at one of the union meetings has been denied in one way or another. I've also had some... costly setbacks on my ranch, thanks to the actions of a select few in this group. It's come to my attention that, for this style of business, I'm going to need some support. And from what I hear, you've got the most connections on the board.

~Schoeder sits forward, puffing up slightly at the flattery. He's the type of man that loves to hear compliments about his power and skill, something that Vaughn has likely picked up on.~

David Schoeder: It's true, I do have a great deal of respect from the members of the union. They'd likely listen to me, if I wanted to go that direction. Sad to say, though, Mr. Vaughn, I'm not quite inclined to step in on your side.

Peter Vaughn: May I ask why not?

David Schoeder: Well, I'd say it's fairly obvious. You, sir... are not a rancher.

~Schoeder gestures towards Vaughn's wardrobe, sticking his nose up in disgust.~

David Schoeder: From all I've heard, you're just a city slicker who got some lucky wins in the wrasslin' business and decided to buy your way in to our way of life. But it's not that easy, Mr. Vaughn. Families here have worked for generations to make themselves into successful ranchers. You can't just come in with money and 'join the club'. Quite frankly, son, you're a bit of an embarrassment to all of us.

~Vaughn looks down for a few seconds, as Schoeder finishes off his drink. He sets it down on the table, then begins to stand up.~

David Schoeder: If you'll excuse me, I need to get back. One of my boys are riding later on, and I'm sure they're going to set some tremendous records out there... even if it's, as you say, only eight seconds.

~Schoeder turns to leave, walking towards the door. That's when the glass comes flying past his shoulder, shattering in front of him. He stumbles back, surprised, then turns, as Vaughn is now on his feet, grinning at him. It is not a pleasant look.~

Peter Vaughn: Do you have time for my rebuttal... sir?

~Schoeder, suddenly realizing that he's without any security around him, steps back to the wall, as Vaughn picks up the second glass, tossing it slightly in the air before catching it. He looks over at Schoeder, as if working out the best angle for a toss. But he doesn't let loose of the glass... yet.~

Peter Vaughn: I've got two points I'd like to make for you, Mr. Schoeder. The first one is, you're right. I grew up in the city. I worked hard there, earning my keep, earning my strengths, and finally found a way for me to get out of there and become a man I wanted to me: a champion. But it's true, I did happen to win a million-dollar tournament or two, which earned me the right to purchase the PMV ranch. If you think I did it without a lot of blood and sweat, you're badly mistaken.

~Vaughn steps closer to Schoeder, who looks more nervous now. But Vaughn then steps away, instead heading back over to the bar. He fills up the remaining glass with more whiskey, as Schoeder nervously glances at the door, trying to judge his ability to get out before he can be caught.~

Peter Vaughn: As for my second point.... 05291-23628-99732...

~Schoeder, who has taken a tentative step towards the door, freezes in place as the numbers get recited. He looks over, his face losing all its color as he realizes what he's just heard.~

David Schoeder: Where.... where did you get that account number??

~Vaughn has comfortably sat back on the couch now, this time enjoying the whiskey a little more before answering.~

Peter Vaughn: You see, Mr. Schoeder, I'm not just a wrestler, and I'm not just a rancher. I'm many things, including an individual that has lots of contacts all over the world. One of these such contacts happened to be in your employ at one time. You know, you REALLY should invest in a shredder, rather than simply throwing your papers away into the trash. Why, they're easily recovered there... including secret oversea bank accounts like the one I've found. Ones with hundreds of thousands of dollars in them.

~Schoeder almost looks like he's ready to have a heart attack, sliding partially down the wall. Vaughn, seeing this, gets up and comes over, hauling Schoeder up and helping him over to the second couch.~

Peter Vaughn: Now, now, take some deep breaths, Mr. Schoeder. I still need your help, after all. You see, I know that you've made some choices for the union based on... donations to your special account there. I assume it's basically a retirement account for you, one your current wife doesn't know about. The thing is... it'd be very easy for all that money to just... disappear one day, wouldn't it? You'd have no way of proving who moved the funds, after all.

~Vaughn offers the left-over whiskey to Schoeder, who quickly downs it, coughing heavily from the burn. Vaughn smiles, before leaning down and looking Schoeder in the face.~

Peter Vaughn: On the other hand, it'd be just as easy to transfer MORE funds into this account, wouldn't it? And all you'd have to do... is what you've done in the past. It really sounds like a simple choice to me. But then, it's all about what you want to do. I'll see myself out. I'm sure you know how to contact me, being a man of your... knowledge and experience. Enjoy the rodeo.

~Vaughn pats the suffering man on the shoulder, then turns, heading right out the door. Schoeder looks after him, still gasping as if he was short of breath. He slowly recovers, leaning forward and putting his hands to his head, as we slowly fade out.~


By failing to prepare, you're preparing to fail.

I always have my plans in place, and I always know where I'm going next. The first step of the latest plan? It's all you, Malady. You will serve multiple purposes for me at spreading my message across Sin City. When you've been defeated and I move forward, I know I'll earn the targets of the other two men competing for the gold. But then, I want them to see me coming.

You're the first among them to fall, Mal. In some ways that's an honor. In others, it's a shame.

You're going to have to live with the fact that you couldn't beat Goth. You can't beat me. And you won't be winning the Roulette Championship. Maybe you should go back to competing in the tag division. Hey, I admire you for getting wins there. I never work well with others, which is why I've always been a star singles competitor. You should always go with your strengths, and have someone to tag out to when you've had the holy hell beaten out of you.

Unfortunately, I doubt Bulldog will let you tag him. So your options are pretty limited.

It's going to be fun, Mal. For me, at least. I'll see you on the battlefield, on the road to Into The Void XII. Don't get too lost, now, after you've taken the Plunge.


34
Climax Control Archives / A Blast From The Past - Literally
« on: March 24, 2023, 11:57:16 PM »
~As the camera comes on, we're once again inside the warehouse of one Peter Vaughn. We've never gotten any indication of where this warehouse is located, but the obvious thought would be it's somewhere in Texas. Then again, trying to predict anything that Vaughn's involved with is always a risky proposition. The camera turns to the right, showing Vaughn standing there, wearing a large white wig and a suit. Yep, unpredictable. He slowly turns towards the camera, smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: Hello, Sin City. And what a fabulous day it is, isn't it? Why, it's almost patriotic. I earn my first victory at an SCW Pay-Per-View, and wouldn't you know it, it's by beating a man named Washington. Does that mean Adams is next? Is there a Lincoln in the house that needs to get assassinated? Is there a dirty crook like Nixon? Actually, I'd like to meet that guy.

~Vaughn nods to himself, before shaking his head. He reaches up, pulling off the wig and staring at it, as if holding a human head.~

Peter Vaughn: Alas, poor Jack, I knew him... well, really, I didn't know him at all, other than he's the second former champion that I've taken down. So far, I think I've proven my worth to the SCW big-wigs, pun unintended...

~Vaughn tosses the wig behind him, as if discarding a useless piece of history.~

Peter Vaughn: And now, I've been given my opportunity in the Blast From The Past Tournament. And what an opportunity it is... for my fellow Saviors. Somehow, they managed to stick together for the most part in their random draws, while I'm here with Seleana, a lady that I have to admit I know little about. I heard she's a zookeeper. A worthy profession, locking up dangerous animals behind steel cages. No wonder she ended up in wrestling.

~With a flourish, Vaughn sheds the rest of his suit, revealing a Zoolander t-shirt underneath. We get what he was going for, even if he's kind of missed the mark. But Vaughn has never been one for watching movies, so he probably has no idea what Blue Steel is.~

Peter Vaughn: So I'm with the Zoo Princess... and I have to fight a God in the first round. Well, I didn't come to Sin City to avoid the tough contests, now, did I? Looks like I've got my hands full... and looks like my partner and I will have to work out a few strong strategies to survive.

~Vaughn nods, turning away from the camera, before looking back at it again with a distinctive pose. Maybe he DOES know Blue Steel.~

Peter Vaughn: And maybe Ken and I will have to get together beforehand and discuss a few strategies of our own.

~With a shrug, Vaughn walks away, departing the camera's view, as the picture slowly cuts away from the warehouse.~


~As the picture returns, we find ourselves outside a small office building in downtown Dallas. Peter Vaughn is seen, stepping out of the car, wearing what appears to be a polo t-shirt and slacks. It doesn't look that great on him, probably because he continues to fidget with the outfit. Clearly, he misses his coveralls. Behind him, his half-brother, Thomas Hill, steps into view, dressed similarly. You'd think these two boys were going to church, but they're actually looking towards a higher power.~

Peter Vaughn: So this is where we're supposed to meet the investor?

Thomas Hill: Yeah, this is the place, alright. It says to just go in and meet with the receptionist, and we'll be directed to his office.

Peter Vaughn: What do we know about this guy again? This feels a little shady for me.

Thomas Hill: Look, Karl Withers is one of the wealthiest land owners in Dallas. This man can buy or sell you twenty times over.

Peter Vaughn: Nobody can buy me. I'm unbuyable.

Thomas Hill: Okay, fine, not you, but anyone else. And we need investors if we're going to continue to build up your ranch. Sure, you've sunk a lot of your wrestling winnings into it, but that's unsustainable long-term. We need a steady income to really boost us up, and to get there, we need seed money.

Peter Vaughn: It's a lot easier just to go out and win tournaments. But fine. We'll make this work, if only for you, brother.

~Vaughn has recently made a pledge to try and not treat his half-brother like a complete piece of crap. In some ways, that probably does show he cares about the guy, in his own way. Thomas nods, pleased, as they walk into the building. The receptionist looks up at them as they approach, giving her best business-winning smile.~

Receptionist: Hello! How can I help you?

Thomas Hill: We're here to meet with Karl Withers. I believe we have an appointment.

Receptionist: You certainly do! Please go down the hall to Room 122. I'll have Mr. Withers contact you shortly.

~Thomas nods in appreciation and starts to walk away, but Vaughn stops him. He's looking at the receptionist with suspicion.~[/i

Peter Vaughn: Excuse me, but you didn't even ask our names. How do you know WE'RE the ones with an appointment?

Receptionist: Oh... well, you're highly recognizable, Mr. Vaughn. I knew it was you as soon as you came in.

Thomas Hill: See, Peter? You're famous!

~Vaughn doesn't look like he buys that, as he's used to being ignored, despite his epic runs in the world of wrestling. But the receptionist keeps that plastered-on smile going, so Vaughn has no choice but to shrug and walk off with Thomas. As the two depart, the receptionist suddenly stands, pressing a button on her desk.~

Receptionist: He's here... and I'm out.

~The receptionist stands up and heads for the door, hurrying out of the building, as we cut away.~


You can never take anything at face value at life. Things are never 100 percent trustworthy.

Just look at me. I sign with the Saviors, I come in and win my first two matches, and now I need to fight one of the legends of the Saviors, "Godly" Ken Davison. Who saw that coming? And I'm supposed to believe this was a "random" draw, when it immediately means that one of us isn't getting out of the first round?

I'm smelling some trickery afoot.

But hey, I came to SCW to fight the best of the best, and I'd certainly say that Davison qualifies. He'll be the third straight former champion I've fought since I've got here, which makes me think that there are just a ton of former champs just sitting around here. The gold really travels, huh? Guess I'll have to make my way to a championship sooner rather than later, so I can join the pack.

So Godly, I've gotta say, I'm looking forward to this. But really, I wish it was a one-on-one contest. You see, I've never been much of a team player. I barely know anything about Seleana, and I certainly don't know Courtney Pierce, other than that she's had some luck in the Blast From The Past before. These two ladies likely hold our fate in their hands, because while I think I'm close to God-Like status myself, the imbalance may be in our partnerships.

Maybe Seleana is going to prove herself a fearsome warrior, breaking out against Courtney and stealing the pin while I'm occupied being a God-slayer. Or maybe Courtney remembers what she did 5 whole years ago and comes out swinging, knowing when to hit and run when she's got the opportunity. Really, I don't know what those ladies are going to do.

And I don't care.

For me, Godzo? I'm going to pretend they're not even in the match, because this is the chance for you and I to tear up the arena from entrance to exit, from pillar to post, from the concessions to the horrible t-shirts they're selling of guys like Milo. Now, am I going to try for some broken ribs or multiple contusions to the back of your head with a chair?

I mean, I'm not going to promise I won't, but I don't plan to. I didn't join the Saviors just to piss you all off a month in. Of course, Mac knows that I'll do pretty much anything to win a match, so... let's just say I'll try not to put you on the shelf, Kenny, if you agree to the same with me.

It's going to be a war, and maybe the ladies WILL be the ones who decide it. But I'm still going to have a blast, Kenny... there's no doubt about it.

You can trust me on that... just not 100 percent.


~The picture comes back to Vaughn and his half-brother, Thomas, as they enter into Room 122. The door begins to close, but Vaughn reaches out, catching it, keeping it open. He starts to study the door. Thomas, confused, turns towards him.~

Thomas Hill: What's with the sudden interest in doorknobs, Peter? I know you probably could put them in a pillowcase and made a hell of a weapon for a match someday, but I'd probably not recommend taking those.

Peter Vaughn: Hah. I've actually used doorknobs in a match before. It got pretty bloody. But no, that's not what caught my eye.

Thomas Hill: What is it, then? The shine? The paint job? What?

Peter Vaughn: The fact that this door is set up to lock from the outside, as soon as it closes.

~Surprised, Thomas steps forward, checking the lock. As Vaughn said, it's actually got the door settings on the outside, a unique design.~

Thomas Hill: So, what? We would have been locked in? Why would Karl Withers do that to us? It's probably just a crazy investor strategy or something, not letting us leave.

Peter Vaughn: Do you smell... gas?

Thomas Hill: I swear, it wasn't me this time.

Peter Vaughn: Not that kind of... look, nevermind. Just run. Now!

~Vaughn shoves Hill back out of the room, basically dragging the puzzled brother along with him as they go back down the hall. They get to the receptionist room.~

Thomas Hill: Where'd the cute girl go?

Peter Vaughn: Damn it. We need to...

~There's a sudden eruption down the hall, causing both men to spin around. We see a wall of flame suddenly roaring down the hallway, having erupted out of the room the two men were just in. Vaughn, reacting on instinct, shoves Thomas bodily down behind the desk, dropping with him. The flames pass overhead, thanks to the gas' natural reaction. As the fire subsides, Vaughn pulls himself up, looking around. The sprinklers have come on, putting out any residual flames. Thomas, struggling to get up, puts a hand on the desk.~

Thomas Hill: I think you dislocated my shoulder.

Peter Vaughn: I'll put it back in later. We need to get out of here.

Thomas Hill: What the hell just happened, Peter??

Peter Vaughn: He's back... I thought he'd given up.

Thomas Hill: ... WHO?

Peter Vaughn: One of my former trainers... and one of the most vile men I've ever met. Andrew Logan.

~Vaughn turns and heads for the doors, shoving them open and stepping into the light. Behind him, Thomas weakly follows, his arm clearly bothering him. We slowly fade out.~


35
Supercard Archives / Taking Care Of (Ranch) Business P2
« on: March 10, 2023, 10:42:20 PM »
~As the picture focuses, we see what appears to be a partially dismantled stage, sitting in the middle of Peter Vaughn's warehouse. There's the sound of an electronic torque wrench running behind the stage, so the camera moves around it, showing us Peter Vaughn sitting there, doing the work. He slips a couple of bolts into the bottom of his coveralls, before looking back at the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey there. Just taking care of some business here. I know I put on a big celebration the last time you saw me here, but I've got to get ready for the future, so the stage needs to go. Luckily, it's fairly easy to dismantle.

~Vaughn shows off his tool, zapping it a few times to get it to run. He smiles.~

Peter Vaughn: You've always got to have the right tool for the right job, am I right? I've prided myself on that for most of my career, even in the... before days.

~Vaughn seems to be disgusted even thinking about his 'happy' days before last year. He shakes it off, going back to work.~

Peter Vaughn: As you can tell, I'm not going to be using this stage for my next celebration. You know why? Because that celebration is going to happen on camera, after I've put down a certain former two-time champion and really woken up the Sin City faithful on how damn good I really am.

~Another bolt comes lose, and part of the stage sags to the side. Vaughn deftly maneuvers it, removing another leg from the assembly.~

Peter Vaughn: And if SCW doesn't think my victory is worth celebrating this time? Well, then, I'll have to channel my own energy into it once again. But feel this, Sin City: you're going to learn to respect me. Because the Mechanic's going a long way. We're just getting started.

~Vaughn steps to the side, still smiling, as the stage suddenly collapses, due to the strategic removal of bolts. Vaughn looks back over his shoulder at it, pleased.~

Peter Vaughn: Perfection.

~Vaughn nods to the camera, then walks over to the side, getting another set of tools for the next step of deconstruction. He appears to be enjoying himself, but then, he's always liked taking something apart piece of piece. The same goes for his wrestling opponents. We slowly cut away to the next shot.~


~After a moment, the camera comes back up, showing us a distance-view of the PMV Ranch, the land that Peter Vaughn purchased after winning the PW Valor Roth Invitational Tournament. It's undergone a number of changes since then, adding on several structures, including the main homestead, the bunkhouse for the crew, and the various pens and storage areas for the animals that Vaughn has been able to raise so far. From this view, you would almost be able to see everything... as long as you look quickly between lightning bolts flashing down. It appears that a spring storm is making its way into the area, making everything darker this evening. It's perfect for the man who steps into view, glaring towards the ranch.~

Jacobs: This... this is all your fault, Vaughn... you brought this on... yourself...

~Jacobs, the man that Vaughn basically tricked into losing his job with rancher Judd Harrison last week, stumbles forward, dragging what appears to be a large sledgehammer behind him. He heads towards the ranch, staggering as he goes, as if he's been imbibing the liquor a little heavily this evening. As he moves off, the camera pans upwards, showing the stormy skies above. The lightning flashes once again, with a loud of crash of thunder following behind it. We cut away.~


I've never been very good at making friends. But I do have a skill at making enemies rather quickly.

Take my opponent at Blaze of Glory XI, Jack Washington. He doesn't even know who I am, and he's still immediately an adversary for me... because he doesn't know who I am. I mean, I get it, I suppose. If you keep your head stuck in the ground of one federation, perhaps you would never look out to see what's going on in the rest of the world. I've known several wrestlers like that, who think that the sun rises and sets on one location only on the entire planet. Guys like Sir Scrubbington here, who can't even remember my name right.

I introduced myself to you already, but hey, Peter Vaughn here. Nice to not meet you.

It's really not that hard to do some research, Washboard. I went to all the trouble of finding out all about you from the records archives and watching some tapes. I won't say I was fully impressed, but you did have some nice victories here in Sin City, and they gave me a good feeling about the man I was going to be fighting. You'd think my opponent could show the same due diligence and realize that I'm not just "some wide-eyed new guy". I'm the man who's taken the wrestling world by storm, one federation at a time.

I have five World Title wins to your two, and sure, I haven't done it in Sin City... yet... but I'm certainly planning on making that journey to the top. I'm the man who won the World Series of Wrestling, defeating dozens of the best in the business for that honor. I'm the wrestler who currently is standing on the throat of two wrestling companies, having decimated their competition in short order to await their opposition at the top of the mountain. What else can I tell you to make you consider me a threat to you? Actually, probably nothing, right, my man? Because I doubt I could ever get through that inflated ego so that you could hear me.

As I said, Jackie, I'm not discounting you. You're certainly a more dangerous threat than ol' Milo was. But it seems pretty clear where the difference is going to lie. I'm taking you seriously, coming in with Plans A, B, & C to rip through you and send you Plunging to the bottom of the title opportunity list. You're coming in expecting a complete walk in the park, more furious at the people who 'tragically' gave you this contest than the person who's going to obliterate you in it. Maybe you can yell at them some more once you've eaten the 1-2-3, because they screwed you over worse than you could ever imagine.

Yep, it feels like by the end of the night, I'll have another enemy cursing my family's lineage and swearing revenge for their defeat at my hands.

It makes me feel right at home, Sin City. It truly does.


~We cut to inside the large ranch house that Vaughn had built to be his dream house. Sitting inside the main living room, we can see Thomas Hill, Vaughn's half-brother, looking out the window by lifting up the curtain to take a peek.~

Thomas Hill: Looks like quite a storm brewing out there. Going to be a rough night.

Sadie Anderson: Uh huh. I feel like you're stalling there, Mr. Hill. You want to get back to the game now?

~Thomas glances back with a guilty grin at Sadie, one of the top hands here at the PMV Ranch. She looks relaxed, sitting in front of a large table. Sitting on the table, connected together in haphazard positions, are a series of Triomino's. For those unfamiliar, it's a game like Domino's, but all of the pieces have three sides, making for a more complicated challenge, as you have to take other edges into account when you place your pieces. Thomas comes back over, sighing, as he looks over the current field of Triomino's for anything that will fit the pieces he currently has. He shrugs.~

Thomas Hill: Yeah, you've got me. I've got no moves.

Sadie Anderson: Then draw until you do. You know the rules.

~Thomas starts drawing, but it looks like his luck is staying in the low digits tonight, as he keeps drawing. Sadie smiles, knowing that Thomas is about out of this one, before checking out what's sitting in front of the other competitor. Her smile fades, as she realizes that Vaughn's only got one Triomino left on his bracket.~

Sadie Anderson: Darn it. You're about to win again, aren't you, boss?

~Vaughn looks up, having been studying something on his cell phone. He doesn't look too invested in the game, but that's not too surprising, as it doesn't have that much violence in it. Still, he always seems to find a way to be competitive, no matter what kind of challenge it is, and Triomino's has been no exception.~

Peter Vaughn: Anything's possible. I might still have to draw... if Thomas leaves me anything in the bag, that is...

~Thomas has started a second group of pieces now, looking frustrated.~

Thomas Hill: If you guys would stop playing so many of the same number on the corners, maybe I could... oh, here we go!

~Relieved, Thomas puts down a Triomino, which connects on two sides: a three and a five, with a two hanging off the outside edge. Sadie, never one to waste much time, immediately plays a piece on the opposite side, removing a large double-six/five piece from her pile.~

Thomas Hill: You've been waiting to play that since last turn, haven't you?

Sadie Anderson: Always good to get rid of the higher numbers, especially when Mr. Vaughn almost has us. Mr. Vaughn? It's your turn.

~Vaughn's back on his phone, scrolling around and staring intently at it. Thomas can't help but laugh.~

Thomas Hill: Studying your press clippings or something, Peter? I swear, no matter what Denzel Porter is saying about you, you can read it later.

~Vaughn doesn't respond. Instead, he reaches over with his right hand, quickly placing his final piece right where Thomas had added his last one. It locks in perfectly, with Thomas sighing dramatically.~

Thomas Hill: Damn it. Seriously, how are you so lucky?

Peter Vaughn: I'd say genetics, but clearly that's been disproven.

Thomas Hill: ... Ouch.

~It's still not completely clear how Vaughn feels about his half-brother. On the one hand, he's accepted him into his family, along with his half-sister, Sammy. He even gave Thomas a job on his ranch. On the other hand, he usually has some biting comments about the man, showing that he may still have some anger management issues dealing with their mother having started another family after abandoning Vaughn and his dad. Or it could just be that he can be a rude son of a bitch. Sadie, sensing a slight increase in tension, clears her throat.~

Sadie Anderson: So, should we get set up for another game?

Peter Vaughn: Actually, I think I've got to take care of something. But it's been... fun.

Thomas Hill: Of course it's been fun for you. You won every game!

Peter Vaughn: Sometimes that's just the way things go... brother.

~ Vaughn gets up from the table, again checking out the view on his phone. For the first time, we can catch what he's looking at: a camera view from another part of the ranch, which appears to show an intruder moving slowly across the view. Vaughn steps away, heading out the door, as Thomas turns to Sadie, giving her a hopeful smile.~

Thomas Hill: So, uh, want to play one-on-one? I'll let you go first, of course.

Sadie Anderson: I don't know, Mr. Hill, it's getting late.

Thomas Hill: Would you... PLEASE... call me Thomas? I can't get used to "Mr. Hill".

Sadie Anderson: Sorry... Thomas. It's just a habit. I work for your family, after all.

Thomas Hill: We both do, which makes us both co-workers, right?

Sadie Anderson: I suppose so.

~Suddenly, there's a loud crash of thunder, hitting close enough to shake the house slightly. Both of them turn to look at the window.~

Thomas Hill: Damn. Maybe I SHOULD be going, although I don't think I can beat this storm.

~Nonchalantly, Sadie starts putting away the Triomino pieces, as she glances his direction.~

Sadie Anderson: Well, if that's a problem... I mean, you could always stay the night.

Thomas Hill: I... I could?

~Thomas' face flushes slightly, as Sadie fights not to let the grin slip onto her face.~

Sadie Anderson: Of course. There's a guest room right upstairs, isn't there? Good night, Mr. Hill, er, Thomas.

~Sadie walks off with the Triominos set, presumably to put them away, as Thomas looks after her, a slight bit of disappointment on his face. He shakes it off, though, before looking outside once again, as the rain starts to fall from the heavens. He shrugs, then heads for the guest room, having no interest in trying to navigate the highway in this kind of storm. The camera view, meanwhile, heads for the window, miraculously going through it as it heads out into the rain. It comes around, focusing on the animal stables, where the different critters are buckling down, hiding out in their respective pens and coops. Standing nearby, already soaked to the bone, is Jacobs. He hefts the sledgehammer in both hands, studying the fence line around the pen.~

Jacobs: We'll see... we'll see how smug you are, when you have to find all these guys after the storm... you won't be able to track them... you'd need someone like me... and I won't help you, loser... I won't help...

~Still grumbling under his breath, Jacobs raises up the sledgehammer, intent on taking down the line with a couple of blows. In his current inebriated state, it may take several. But he doesn't even manage one, as the sledgehammer is suddenly yanked out of his hands from behind.~

Jacobs: What tha hell??

~Jacobs stumbles around to look back, but the only thing he sees is the fist headed straight at his face. Soon after, everything goes completely black.~


It's funny how many people never learned the essential skill of how to duck.

Sure, they can try to all be tough guys, men who say "I can take your best shot" and walk right into it. If it helps your ego, I mean, go for it. But I always thought the smarter decision was just not to let your opponent land the blow. I can duck under it, grab the wrist, and do a quick toss into an armbar submission. I can land a severe chop right under the armpit, which does more damage than most people give it credit for. Or I can just keep dodging until I've rope-a-doped my competition, exhausting them.

You seem like the type that would just keep swinging in utter frustration, Washable. I bet you'd tire out really fast.

Then again, maybe I'm doing you a disservice, even though your planning skills still seem pretty weak to me. You couldn't have gotten to where you are today, a former champion who can't earn title shots, without having been at the top before. So maybe you wouldn't keep swinging. Maybe you'd be able to control that temper and ego of yours and would back off, resetting and not losing yourself in the moment.

Or maybe you'd keep swinging until your arms came off. It's hard to judge.

But, you see, that's what I'm getting at, Jackalyn. To be one of the top tier, best of the best, all-stars in this sport, you've got to have a strategy for all situations. You can't just be offense, offense, and more offense, because that only works until you get slugged in the nose. You have to have a gameplan in case I surprise you with something you never expected... which I guarantee is going to happen, considering you don't know that much about me.

Do you have a Plan B? And no, I'm not talking about later in the night when you try to drown your sorrows with the local groupies... if you do that sort of thing. To each his own on that front, right?

But are you prepared to change your strategy if and when I'm getting the best of you? Because I've got several tricks up my coverall sleeves that will be ready if things start to not go my way. I've studied your finishers, for instance, and I'm going to be ready for any attempt at you going for some Brotherly Love.

Wow, that sounded bad.

What I mean is, your Crossface submission? I know three different ways of countering it into my own holds, and one way of making it a sure-fire pinning combination. The same goes for your Fisherman's Buster. Both of these moves I've seen many times, and you can bet I'll be seeing them again in the future once I'm done with you. I've made it my mission to learn counters to all of them, and so I'll be ready for you. Can you say the same?

Have you seen any videos of my Keyholder, knocking a man unconscious? Have you watched as I slayed a giant with Revenged, or dropped from the sky onto a #1 contender with the Plunge? Do you have any ammunition in your guns that will help you avoid these moves, or are you coming into this one thinking, "I'm just going to wing it"? Because that's absolutely the wrong attitude, and honestly, that might be why you're having some struggles as of late. Hell, who knows? Maybe I'm going to help you out in the long run.

It could be that after you face a warrior like me, you finally force yourself to learn how to duck. One can only hope so, for your future's sake.


~As the man's eyes slowly open, he looks around in confusion, trying to figure out where he is. Everything appears to be pretty dark, other than the single light shining down from above him. Jacobs shakes his head, trying to clear it, before he attempts to get up. That's when he realizes that his arms have been zip-tied to the chair he's sitting on. Jacobs looks down at them, at first puzzled, before the hint of fear starts to show on his face. He strains against the ties, but they're industrial strength, built to handle extreme loads. They don't give at all.~

Jacobs: What's going on? What the hell is this? Lemme outta here! Get these damn things off of me!!

~Jacobs starts struggling harder, trying to find a way to either break the ties or the chair arm underneath it. But neither seems to be showing any signs of letting loose. He bounces himself up and down in the chair, noting that it's not moving with him. He looks down, realizing that the chair is bolted to the floor. That fact spurs Jacobs to try even harder, fighting against his restraints.~

Jacobs: You son of a bitch... LET ME GO!!! SON OF A BITCH!!!

~After a few more seconds of struggle, Jacobs, panting, finally stops yanking at the ties, leaning back on the chair in order to catch his breath. He closes his eyes, closer to sobriety now thanks to the adrenaline burst.~

Voice: You about ready to settle down now, boyo?

~Hearing the voice from the darkness, Jacobs immediately sits back up, squinting in that direction. Slowly, out of the shadows, Peter Vaughn walks partially into the light. Unlike Jacobs, he doesn't appear to be soaked to the bone, so he must have been wearing a poncho outside in the storm. He leans over, staring at Jacobs, who squirms in the chair.~

Jacobs: You... you got no right to hold me here. Let me outta this, Vaughn!

Peter Vaughn: No right? Really? You were trespassing on my land, threatening to do damage to my property. You were even armed.

~Vaughn gestures over to the side, where we can barely see a sledgehammer leaning against the wall.~

Peter Vaughn: It sure sounds like a case of self-defense to me, and you know us Texans... we love defending ourselves.

~Jacobs shudders, realizing the predicament he's gotten himself into. He looks around again, studying the room for the first time.~

Jacobs: Where... where have you taken me? Is that... soundproofing?

Peter Vaughn: Huh. Good eyes. I wouldn't think you'd recognize paneling like that. That's right, Jacobs. This whole room? I had it built specifically to be sound-proof.

~Vaughn nods, looking around with a sense of pride at the room. Jacobs swallows deeply.~

Jacobs: You..... you built this? What... what are you going to do with me?

~The fright is clear in Jacobs' voice. Vaughn takes note, staring down at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh, don't get the wrong impression, Jacobs... hey, you know, I never learned if that was your first or last name. I guess if it was your first, it'd just be Jacob, right? What's your first name again?

Jacobs: ... Edgar. Edgar Jacobs.

Peter Vaughn: Eddie, cool. I like it. Yes, I had this room built, but don't let your imagination run off with you. It's not some murder room or anything. It's more like... a sanctuary. You know, there are times when you just want to get away from the world for a while. You don't want to have to deal with the sounds of the busy world. So, yeah, it's soundproofed, but not to keep things in... it's to keep them out.

~Vaughn then leans down, pulling out what appears to be a hunter's knife from his side pocket. Jacobs' eyes find a way to go even wider, as he looks at the glint of the steel in the small sphere of light.~

Peter Vaughn: You've really watched too many movies, Eddie.

~With that, Vaughn swipes down with the knife... using it to cut one of the zip ties from Jacobs' arm. He quickly moves to the other side, moving with precision, taking the other restraint off as well. Jacobs rubs at both arms, feeling some circulation come back into him. As Vaughn backs off, Jacobs pushes to his feet, still a little unsteady.~

Jacobs: ... I don't understand...

Peter Vaughn: Look, Edds, it's like this. Sure, I could have just restrained you and called the cops, and they would have gotten here eventually. Maybe tomorrow, if the storm is as bad as it looked out there. I could have also dealt with you... myself. I mean, it's my land, right? No court would convict me.

~Vaughn still has the hunter's knife out, which still has Jacobs' full attention. He doesn't feel like he's out of the woods yet. But Vaughn keeps it pointed down, as he continues.~

Peter Vaughn: But let's face it, man. I probably owe you something, considering I got you to give up your employment at that jackass Judd's ranch. You know you weren't actually the target, right? I just needed to get one over on ol' Juddhead. Really, you were just a casualty of war.

Jacobs: ... But you tricked me...

Peter Vaughn: I did, Ed, and you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. The look on your face!

~Vaughn gives a mirthless chuckle, before getting back to business.~

Peter Vaughn: You could have just tucked your tail and ran away. You could have gone to apply at some other ranch, there are plenty of others out there looking for people. But you came onto my land, looking for revenge. You came up with a plan and set it into motion. And you know what? I can respect that.

Jacobs: You... you can?

Peter Vaughn: Of course! I want all my employees to show some initiative every so often. So here's what I'll do, Eddie. I'm going to offer you a job, a real one this time. No lame-ass contract, I'll pay you every week, and we'll see how things go. You'll find I'm very reasonable to the better ranch hands. Just ask Sadie and Leon.

~Jacobs' mind appears to have been blown, as he is completely at a loss for words. The night has gone from drunken revenge to a horror movie, to now an apparent opportunity at a second chance.~

Peter Vaughn: Going to need an answer from you right away, Eds. I've got other things to take care of tonight.

~Vaughn extends his left hand for a handshake, even as his right hand still holds the knife. It's a strange juxtaposition. After a moment, with nothing to lose, Jacobs meets the handshake, apparently agreeing to the terms. Vaughn nods in satisfaction.~

Peter Vaughn: You'll enjoy working here, Edds. You'll have to learn how to operate the machinery, but I've made it pretty user-friendly. Good to have you.

~Jacobs nods weakly, and tries to release his grip. But Vaughn pulls him in closer.~

Peter Vaughn: And if you ever think about damaging my ranch again... just remember this room.

~Jacobs has no response, gulping down a bit more terror. Vaughn, the message sent, lets go and steps back, putting away the knife. He gestures to the side.~

Peter Vaughn: The door's right here. Let's go get you a bunk.

~Vaughn heads out, as Jacobs shakes his head, wondering what the hell he just got himself into. He follows, as we fade out.~


People have told me before that I'm painfully unpredictable. I've always taken it as a compliment.

So I guess we're about ready, aren't we, Jacko? We're about twenty-four hours out from the match that just might steal the show at Blaze of Glory XI. You know those powers that be at the top, who you felt insulted by? Well, we're going to make them regret setting us so low on the bar, because once we're through beating the holy hell out of each other, the crowd isn't going to see any of the other matches the same way. Hell, we're practically ruining the PPV for them.

I'm sure Mac's gonna deliver a strong main event, but still, the rest of the show? Probably screwed.

Again, for all my harsh words here, Washables, you know I still think you're a damn good fighter. I just feel like you're just... not as good as me. I've fought the giants of this industry. I defeated James Raven at CCPE vs. The World, then won the main event for my team. I've taken down some of the biggest legends in the business, including multiple people wrestling at the PPV tomorrow. I'm really headed straight towards my prime, which makes it just a god-awful time for someone like you, a fading star, to have to try to block my path.

I'm planning to blast straight through you, Jack. I'm going to launch my Sin City career to the stratosphere and beyond, and you're going to be a hell of a springboard.

I'm bringing every single weapon in my arsenal to this contest, including likely a few that normally aren't used in a wrestling ring. I'm going to hit you from so many sides, you're going to assume I have clones. I'm going to batter you from pillar to post, both inside and outside the squared circle. I'll be ready to counter every sloppy move you try to stop me with, and lash out with every strike I can generate to take your head off.

And in the end, when you're laying there on the mat, stunned, groggy, completely wiped out, you're going to have a moment or two to think about the mistakes you've made in your life lately. You'll be able to curse out everyone in charge one more time, even as I come flying in from above, bringing all my weight down upon you.

You're going to take the Plunge, Wash. And you're going down the drain.

Expect the unexpected, boyo.


36
Supercard Archives / Taking Care Of (Ranch) Business P1
« on: March 04, 2023, 11:43:05 PM »
~The camera shot once again comes up on the warehouse that we saw last time. Instead of featuring shadowy cut-outs, however, this time it seems to be built slightly differently, with a large stage constructed in the middle of the room. Coming up the stairs onto it is Peter Vaughn, dressed in his usual coveralls, as he stops in position near the center of the stage. He looks around at the apparently empty warehouse, then looks forward again at the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Hello again, Sin City.

~Vaughn gives the camera a small smirk, before straightening back up and clasping his hands in front of him.~

Peter Vaughn: Recently, I made my debut in your fine company, making an impact in your last Pay-Per-View's main event. I've got to say, I don't feel like it really made the impact I expected it would. But it did lead me to be booked against Miles Kasey for my first contest. It went exactly as I thought it would, as I floored that poor guy and got my first victory here. And yet, once again... I didn't feel like there was an expression of excitement from the fans. I felt like nobody was celebrating my victory. So... I suppose I'll just have to do it myself, eh?

~With that, Vaughn raises his fingers, snapping them in the air. All of the sudden, from loud speakers, we hear the beginning of "This Time It's Different", blaring out from the sides of the warehouse. Pyro, hidden until now, starts to erupt around the stage. Confetti cannon explode in front of it, showering everything with its colorful pieces of paper. A dancing squad, likely hired from one of the dance academies in Dallas, begins moving in front of the stage, doing high kicks as Vaughn stands, seemingly enjoying every minute. Crowd noise is even pumped in, with cheers for The Mechanic. It's an absolutely crazy scene, one that almost feels like it came out of nowhere. After a few more seconds of enjoyment, Vaughn slices his hand across his throat, and the music and crowd noise immediately stops. The dancers walk off, the pyro stops, the confetti settles on the ground. It's all quiet once again.~

Peter Vaughn: There, that was enjoyable, wasn't it?

~Vaughn nods, as if agreeing with himself, although it's always impossible to tell if he's enjoying something or not. There's always something in the eyes that doesn't look quite right. Those eyes glance left and right, staring at all the confetti strewn across the warehouse.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, it IS quite messy to do it yourself, isn't it? Good thing I still have connections within... 'the business'.

~For a second time, Vaughn snaps his fingers. This time, we see around a dozen custodians come out of the darkness on either side, pushing brooms in front of them. They work extremely professionally, making sure not to miss a corner as they begin to work on removing all of the confetti and other bits of trash added to the mix.~

Peter Vaughn: They'll take care of everything, don't worry about it. So, celebration over. Milo is now in the past. It's time to concentrate on the future, which is one Mr. Jack Washington. I got to see him in person that night when I made my debut. Too bad he wasn't in position to take advantage of my actions, huh? Well, we'll see if Mr. Washington is, in fact, a bigger name, one that will resonate more with the Sin City fans if and when I walk out with another victory at the Pay-Per-View.

~The custodians are doing an amazing job, really, considering what they've got to take care of in such a limited amount of time. Already, most of the confetti has been swept away, with the workers converging on the small amount that's left. Vaughn looks out at them with a definite sense of pride, knowing he hired the right men & women for the job tonight.~

Peter Vaughn: And if beating Washington doesn't get the crowd riled up? I can always have another self-high-five celebration right here next month... or I can start getting more serious about forcing them to take me seriously with title shots in the future. We'll see, won't we?

~With that, Vaughn turns and walks back off the empty stage. There is no confetti left. There is no sign of the dancers from earlier. Even the custodians have disappeared somehow. The lights go out, and the shot fades away.~


~After a short break, we return with a shot of the Texas landscape. It is a beautiful sight, with the sun rising in the east, showering the scene with light. The camera moves, showing it's a drone, as it follows what appears to be a person riding their horse across the prairie. The drone closes in, as we view the rider expertly leading the horse forward in its gallops, taking it towards a large ranch house set up in the middle of a large plantation. As the drone readjusts to the side, we can see a rather stunning beauty getting off the horse and quickly tying it to the post outside. She takes off her hat for a moment, wiping the sweat from her brow, before heading to the front door, which appears to have been left open.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello? Mr. Vaughn? Mr. Hill?

~She walks inside, setting her hat to the side since she's of the old-school belief that you don't wear your cowboy hats indoors. Hearing the sound of digital music, Sadie heads to the side, walking through a narrow passage to get to the kitchen. Sitting at the table, his back facing away from us, is Peter Vaughn's half-brother, Thomas Hill. He has his laptop open in front of him, and appears to be playing some sort of retro spaceship simulator. He's intent on landing the shots on the enemies flittering around his target screen, so he doesn't notice Sadie's entrance.~

Thomas Hill: C'mon, you squirrelly son of a...

Sadie Anderson: Mr. Hill?

~Thomas jumps, shocked at the sudden voice nearby. He quickly hits a side button, which switches the screen from a simulator to an Excel spreadsheet. Thomas then turns around, trying to compose himself as he sees Sadie standing behind him, fighting to hide a laugh.~

Thomas Hill: Oh, Sadie! Hi! I'm sorry, I was busy with the quarterly figures of the ranch, and I, uh, didn't hear you come in...

Sadie Anderson: Uh huh. So did you get the high score yet?

Thomas Hill: ... Not yet. Some kid in Tulsa has set the benchmark pretty damn high.

Sadie Anderson: Too bad. I guess, keep trying, as long as your brother doesn't catch you. He's paying you now, right?

Thomas Hill: Yes, well... you can't, y'know, do business ALL of the time, right? He'd understand that... right?

~Sadie doesn't say anything, even as Thomas shakes his head, answering his own question.~

Thomas Hill: Just don't tell him, okay?

Sadie Anderson: No reason I would. Is he here this morning? I've got some news I need to pass onto him.

Thomas Hill: Last I saw him, he was in the gym downstairs.

Sadie Anderson: *Sigh* Alright, thanks.

~Sadie pats Thomas on the shoulder, getting a grin from him, as he's always had a bit of a crush on her. Sadly, it's never been reciprocated. Sadie heads down the hall, as Thomas presses the button, getting back to his game. Unfortunately, the pause was at the worst moment, as the ship headed straight towards him opens fire...~

Thomas Hill: Awww, damn it...

~Thomas restarts, as we head down the hall with Sadie. She moves to a closet doorway, opening it up... to reveal a ladder that appears to go both up and down. Sadie shakes her head again.~

Sadie Anderson: Strangest ranch house I've ever seen.

~She starts down the ladder, heading into the basement structure underneath. While the house looks fairly normal on the outside, Sadie knows that many special access points have been built into the home, at Vaughn's specific instructions. Nobody knows exactly what he was thinking, putting together such a special job, but with the money he had at the time, there was no questioning him. After reaching the bottom of the ladder, Sadie moves through another doorway, this one looking almost like a shelf, before coming out into the high-tech gym that Vaughn had built for his wrestling training. There's a small ring set up in the distance, while all around, there are some of the best equipment currently available on the market to strengthen oneself. Strangely, though, there doesn't appear to be a Peter Vaughn, as the large room is seemingly empty. Sadie walks forward, looking around in confusion.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello? Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn? Are you here?

~Sadie, puzzled, rubs at her hair before turning to leave. That's when Vaughn lowers down from the ceiling, upside-down, suspended in front of her.~

Peter Vaughn: I've told you before, Sadie, it's Pet...

~With a quick scream, Sadie immediately goes into fight-or-flight mode, and with her, it usually lands on "Fight". She swings, slamming a shot right into Vaughn's upper chest, knocking him backwards. His legs come off from the high bars he was hanging on, but Vaughn corrects on the way down, landing on his feet before dropping to a knee, rubbing his chest.~

Peter Vaughn: *cough cough* Wow... nice one.

Sadie Anderson: Oh my god! I'm so sorry! What were you DOING up there??

~Vaughn gets to his feet, as Sadie comes next to him, mortified. Vaughn, though, doesn't seem bothered.~

Peter Vaughn: Just doing some gravity sit-ups. I didn't mean to startle you. I have to say, that was a great right hand. Maybe we ought to start talking about training you up for the wrestling business?

Sadie Anderson: Oh, no, that's not for me. Give me riding a horse to riding a turnbuckle any day of the week.

Peter Vaughn: You don't know what you're missing. So what brings you down here? I miss another meeting?

~Vaughn steps to the side, grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from his forehead and chest. While Vaughn is not a muscle-bound stud like many wrestlers, he does have a surprising physique that he keeps hidden under his coveralls. He'd have to, to be order to pull off the moves he can in the squared circle. Sadie seems to be admiring him for a moment from behind, before shaking it off. After all, Vaughn has never shown any interest in anyone romantically, at least not in her time around him. She clears her throat, looking away.~

Sadie Anderson: Yes sir, I wanted to tell you about an... incident this morning. Unfortunately, we lost two ranch hands from our roster. Duke and Mitch both turned in their resignations to me, asking me to deliver them to you.

~Sadie pulls out some paper from her pocket, unfolding it, but Vaughn makes no motion to reach for it.~

Peter Vaughn: Both of them, huh? That makes four in the last week. Did they say where they're going?

Sadie Anderson: Unfortunately... they got offered larger work contracts... with Judd Harrison.

~Vaughn's eyes narrow, recognizing the name. He remembers Harrison all right. He's the man who has taken control of the local ranching consortium around these parts. He's also the main reason that Vaughn has been unable to add cattle to his ranch, blocking him at every turn. Now, apparently, his activities have moved more towards taking talent away from the PMV Ranch, showing that he would still like to see them go under. Vaughn comes out of his thoughts, shaking his head, before grabbing a shirt and flipping it on.~

Peter Vaughn: First things first: what were Duke and Mitch supposed to work on today?

Sadie Anderson: Duke was on food production for the livestock. Mitch was set to go out and repair a fence that got blown over last week.

Peter Vaughn: Okay, then. No problem, we can take care of that easily. Let's go.

~Vaughn turns and leaves the gym, with Sadie quickly following behind as we cut away.~


Sometimes it does seem that the only way you can take care of business is by doing it yourself.

I did that at Climate Control by crushing poor Milo's hope and dreams of using me as a springboard back to the top. But now, I find myself facing someone in a similar vein. Poor Jack Washington, a two-time former SCW Heavyweight Champion during the Pandemic years. It's got to hurt, winning that gold twice, and then spending the next year struggling at every turn to be able to reclaim it. This last time, you fell again, with Mac Bane claiming the championship. Even worse, it was Mac's fourth time to become champ, doubling what you've been able to do.

Hey, by the way, did I mention that I beat Mac Bane for a championship last year?

Now, of course, Jackie, you'd be ready to point out that you DID become a champion in 2022, claiming that oh-so-prestigious Internet Championship from Ken Davison. Hey, props to you, you took down a Savior to get that gold. Most impressive. Unfortunately, you then stumbled badly to Goth, losing the title and basically getting your ass whopped, didn't you?

By the way, did I mention I beat Goth in a tournament recently?

But, hey, Jackolyn, you've stuck around and kept fighting, and I can appreciate that. You haven't walked away from the business that was starting to get away from you. You kept demanding match after match, and now you've pretty much been randomly placed against me in an epic contest at Blaze of Glory XI. I'm sure every faithful SCW fan out there is already expecting you to walk out with the victory, due to your history of success here.

I mean, I'm sure they were thinking the same thing for Milo, but I could be mistaken.

Really, Jack, this could be a make-or-break confrontation for you. Can you step up your game for a one-on-one contest with one of the best wrestlers in the world right now? Can you motivate yourself past all your recent missteps and find a way to bring the A game that made you a champion against The Mechanic on Pay-Per-View? Or are you going to come in weak, picturing an easy victory versus a former 'janitor' who hasn't managed to impress you yet?

Nah, I'm sure you'll take me as seriously as you can. Even if that's not full power. But, y'know, anything less than max output is probably going to lead to certain failure. Because I'm coming for you, Jackie Walla-Walla-Washington. I'm coming full steam ahead, because rattling your brain and cracking your skull appears to be the best way to make SCW management take me more seriously.

And I do aim to make a big impression.


~The shot comes back with a view of a pig's snout, right near the camera. It snorts loudly, before the pig moves away, as the camera raises up to show us the pig pen in front. While it was never in Vaughn's mind to raise pigs on his ranch, it became a necessity to get something going when he was blocked from the cattle trade. Money has to come in somehow. Bring him the bacon, as they say. The camera moves past the pigs to the nearby trough, where we see a large mechanism positioned above it. The camera follows it back to what appears to be a modified ice machine. Vaughn walks up to it, popping open the door and pouring a few ingredients inside. He then shuts the door and pushes a few buttons, and the mechanism begins to rumble. The pigs, having heard it before, move closer to the troughs, as Sadie catches up.~

Sadie Anderson: This is still one of the craziest things I've ever seen, Mr. Va... I mean, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: What's so crazy about it? Somebody left this beautiful machine at a junk yard. I couldn't let it just sit there, unused, when it could be retooled for another purpose. Just look at how well the washing mechanics I added stirs up the food... and then delivers it...

~After a few more seconds of rumbling, the sound of the machine changes, as the newly-condensed 'slop' makes its way down the chute and pours into the troughs. The pigs immediately begin shoving each other aside to get at the food, unknowingly fattening themselves up ever greater every day. Only the lucky ones will get to breed. Vaughn nods at the contraption, patting it on the side, before heading over to the chicken coop, where another machine is sitting there.~

Sadie Anderson: And this thing... wouldn't it just be easier to step into the fence and sprinkle out the seed for them? I know that's what Duke usually did...

Peter Vaughn: Easier? I suppose. But why not do it with flair?

~Vaughn picks up a container of seed and pours it into the top of the machine, which we can now see is a modified tennis ball shooter. Within seconds, seed begins flying out of the nozzle, spraying all around the chicken coop. Chickens who get hit by the seed squawk and cluck in the machine's direction, before turning and beginning to eat. Vaughn, meanwhile, turns back to Sadie, shrugging his shoulders.~

Peter Vaughn: Why did we need Duke again, anyway? Seems like I've made it so easy, anyone could do it.

Sadie Anderson: Well, let's just say that your.... untraditional methods have affected some of our workers. Many of us are old-school, after all, wanting to do things the way our fathers and grandfathers did them. There's tradition there, you know?

Peter Vaughn: I mean... I understand respecting tradition and how it was done in the past... but at the same time, they used to drive horse-drawn buggies and could only listen to the radio. Things change... you can only rely on history for so long.

~With that, Vaughn turns and kicks on a nozzle from a newly-created plumbing drainage system. Within a few seconds, water begins pouring out for both the chickens and pigs, using the construction that Vaughn helped put in at the beginning of the year. He smiles, shutting off the nozzle once the bins are filled, before turning and walking off again, with Sadie right behind.~

Peter Vaughn: I've got a new toy I've been wanting to play with that should mend that fence back together in no time. Once that's done... how about we pay the Four H ranch a visit?

Sadie Anderson: ... Wait, what?

~Vaughn keeps walking, so Sadie hurries to catch up, suddenly concerned for her boss' decision-making process. After all, it has already turned a little towards violence in the past...~


I know that those who ignore history are likely doomed to repeat it.

I can't avoid the fact that you've had a lot of success here, Jack-o. Some people just find themselves more comfortable when they're sitting in their home territory, determined to make it big there. Sure, nobody knows the name Jack Washington outside of Sin City, but you've made it pretty famous right here, and you should be proud.

Hell, maybe people know you outside of Sin City, I don't know. The only time I heard about you was when the Saviors were smacking you around.

The difference here, of course, is that I'm more willing to put myself out there wherever I go. I like to jump around and test the waters, taking on the top competition wherever I go. And you know what, Jacques? I tend to come out on the winning side more often than not. I went to the XWF and won the Universal & Supercontinental Titles there. I went to Pro Wrestling Valor and took down their biggest tournament, the Roth Invitational, to win their World Title. I've squashed everyone in Thunder Pro and I've dominated the WGWF since it came back.

Everywhere I go, I make an impact. Do you really think it's going to be any differently against you?

You call yourself an all-around athlete, but can you pull off the high-flying moves that I can nail you with? Can you avoid the crippling constrictions I can perform with submission holds? Can you dodge in time when I'm coming at you full-speed with a kick to the jaw?

I mean, you might be better at power maneuvers, I'll give you that. They've never been my forte. But everywhere else, I think I've got the advantage.

History may say that you're a hell of a big-time performer when it comes to the big matches. Using that history, I won't be underestimating you. But at the same time, boyo, you make sure and take note of MY history, and all that I'm bringing to the table.

Or else you might be doomed to take the same path that Milo did, and wouldn't that just be embarrassing for you, repeating his mistakes?


~We rejoin Vaughn and Sadie as they're on their way down the road in Vaughn's treasured truck, Gabriela, recently repaired and running smoother than ever. As we always say, don't ask us why it's called Gabriela: nobody but Vaughn knows. The truck makes a right turn, leaving the highway, and pulling into what appears to be the entrance to the Four H ranch, one of the bigger ranches in Northeast Texas. As the truck gets closer to the main homestead, Sadie turns to Vaughn, apparently continuing an argument that's been going on for miles.~

Sadie Anderson: I just don't want you to do anything rash, that's all, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, c'mon, when have I ever done anything rash?

Sadie Anderson: Do you want the list in alphabetical order or in terms of biggest effects?

~Vaughn can't help but laugh for a second, before shaking his head. They're almost to the house now, where a 'welcoming party' appears to have been alerted about them.~

Peter Vaughn: You don't need to worry, Sadie. I'm not planning on murdering the guy.

Sadie Anderson: That's good to know.

Peter Vaughn: It's broad daylight, after all...

~Sadie immediately glances over at Vaughn, trying to discern if he's joking or not. He keeps his face expressionless.~

Peter Vaughn: Besides... I've got a plan.

Sadie Anderson: Oh, God...

~The truck comes to a stop, with Vaughn hopping out almost immediately. He walks over, with Sadie staying behind him, as Judd Harrison and his crew step closer. A couple, knowing Vaughn's reputation, are standing in the back with shotguns, but Judd is all smiles as he reaches out, giving Vaughn a large Texas handshake.~

Judd Harrison: As I live and breathe, Peter Vaughn, back here for a visit. To what do I owe this surprise, Vaughn?

Peter Vaughn: Good to see you, Judd. I see that diet you've been working on hasn't quite taken effect yet.

~One of the hands tenses up, but Judd just laughs, patting his ample belly.~

Judd Harrison: It's tough, keeping yourself away from steaks when you're a cattleman! Oh, I'm sorry, you don't know that feeling, do you?

Peter Vaughn: Not yet. But I'll get there eventually. So, shall we get down to business?

Judd Harrison: Why, I'm all ears, Vaughn. You here about Duke & Mitch? I was as surprised as you were that they wanted to come work for me, but what am I supposed to do, say no to them? They deserve a good salary, same as every cowboy out there. Ah'm sorry if that's left you short-handed... literally as well as figuratively.

~There are some chuckles behind Harrison, but both men ignore them. Vaughn even puts on a 'pleasant' smile of a sort.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh, yes, they certainly do, Harrison. But no, I'm not here about them. I'm here to take away your best man, actually. Jacobs, isn't it?

~Vaughn points behind Harrison at a well-built younger man, who starts, seemingly surprised that Vaughn knows his name. Harrison looks back at him, confused, then laughs.~

Judd Harrison: You think Jacobs there is going to come work for you? After all I've given him? I've heard you were a little off your rocker, but son, that's breaking the whole chair at that point...

~Vaughn, ignoring Harrison, steps around him, pulling out what appears to be a contract from his back pocket. He waves it in front of Jacobs, still smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: So, Jacobs, I'll make this simple enough. You sign this contract and agree to leave the Four H ranch now and forevermore, I'll pay you 500... K...

~A few gasps come out from the gathered crowd at that announcement, with Jacobs' eyes going wide. He reaches out, taking the contract, stunned, as almost everyone there thinks about what they could do with that kind of money. Harrison, sensing the shift in tone, immediately steps towards Jacobs.~

Judd Harrison: Now, wait a minute here, Jacobs. You know I gave you everything to be here. You should be loyal to me, damn it!

Jacobs: I... I know, sir... but... with $500,000... I could finally open my own ranch...

Judd Harrison: What do you need a ranch for? You're working here, at the best one! It's all a hassle being in charge, believe you me. Besides, Vaughn here probably doesn't have that kind of money to throw away, anyways. I don't care HOW well he's done in wrasslin'!

~Both men look over at Vaughn, who shrugs.~

Peter Vaughn: You sign the contract, and it's official.

~Jacobs looks between Vaughn and Harrison several times, licking his lips. He then reaches out towards Harrison with one arm... and pulls a pen from inside Harrison's suit. Harrison glares as Jacobs signs the contract, watching him hand it back to Vaughn.~

Judd Harrison: You turncoat traitor! I'll see that you never work in this business again!

Jacobs: I don't need your support now, Mr. Harrison. I don't have to put up with your laziness or temper tantrums about 'your' ranch anymore, either. I'm rich!

Peter Vaughn: Well, I mean... in some people's eyes, you will be, I suppose. But a deal's a deal...

~Vaughn has pulled out his wallet, shifting through it. Everyone turns and looks at him as he pulls out one hundred dollar bill after another, before handing the stack to Jacobs. He takes it, extremely confused.~

Jacobs: What's this? A down payment?

Peter Vaughn: You know, one lesson I always tell people in my business is to always read the contract before you sign it. See, you heard what you wanted to hear. The thing is... what I said was, if you agree to leave, I'll pay you $500... okay?

~Jacobs' mouth gapes open for some time before finally closing, as he brings up the contract, checking to see that it, indeed, says $500, not $500,000. There is one or two laughs from behind, but nobody makes eye contact with either Jacobs or Harrison, who is still fuming. Jacobs, getting over the shock, turns and flings the money into Vaughn's face, scattering it around.~

Jacobs: Keep your damn money, you tricky bastard!

Peter Vaughn: Hey, if that's the way you want it...

*Vaughn leans over, quickly picking the money up and pocketing it once again.~

Peter Vaughn: I guess that means the contract is breached already, huh? Of course, maybe not, as Juddy there doesn't seem too pleased with the disloyalty he's just seen, does he?

~After a moment, Jacobs turns to Harrison, realizing the mistake he's just made.~

Jacobs: Umm... look... Mr. Harrison... I didn't mean...

Judd Harrison: Duke! Mitch! Make yourselves useful and get this deadbeat off of my property!

Jacobs: No, wait! Mr. Harrison!

~Jacob's arms go out, but Duke & Mitch are there, pulling him towards the parking lot. Both look over at Vaughn, who gives them a wave.~

Peter Vaughn: Hi, boys. Having fun yet over here?

~The two men have the graciousness to look ashamed before moving off, working to get an increasing irate Jacobs back to his truck. Harrison angrily shakes his head, before turning back to the still-smiling Vaughn.~

Judd Harrison: I take it you're happy with this?

Peter Vaughn: Let's see. I did what I said I was going to do, so... yes. Yes, I'm pretty happy with it. I'll see you around... Judd.

~Vaughn turns, going back to Gabriela. Harrison spits on the ground, in their direction, before turning and storming off. Sadie, shaking her head in wonder at Vaughn's ability to make enemies, gets into the truck with them, and they take off. As the vehicle drives away, we see Jacobs watching them go, fuming, as he stands next to his own vehicle.~

Jacobs: You son of a bitch... I'll get you for this... I'll get you!!

~Jacobs angrily lashes out, smashing his fist into his driver's side window and cracking it. He stares at the cracks, breathing heavily, as we slowly fade out.~


What can I say? I have a history of getting my way.

Sometimes it involves wrestling my opponent into the ground, until he or she can't take it anymore and they're forced to give up. Sometimes it involves using whatever rules they put in my way, bending them just right so they work for me, instead of against me. Sometimes it ends up being a steel chair to the face of my opponent.

Whatever works, right?

I don't really see that happening with us, Jackie boy, since I don't really hate you or anything. Maybe that'll change the closer we get to the match. Maybe I'll find a way to have some animosity with you. Right now, though? I really just see you as a means to an end, and nothing more.

Don't get me wrong. I'm looking forward to beating the hell out of you, because that, too, works towards the end result I'm looking for. I mean, you DO have a name in Sin City that'll make you a decent addition to my List of the Vanquished. But as for righteous fury or indignation? Well, I'm not there... yet.

Guess we'll see what happens, right, boyo? In the end, though, whether I hate your bloody guts or not, it's not going to make a difference. You're going to feel the taste of vengeance, and you're going to take the Plunge... and I'll be moving my way past you, taking your slot on the way towards the top titles of this company.

See you there.


37
Climax Control Archives / Start of a New Adventure...
« on: February 17, 2023, 11:51:30 PM »
~The picture slowly opens up on what appears to be some sort of warehouse. We can see a few dark figures in the distance, not moving, as the camera slowly turns around to show the garage door in the back. It begins to raise, bringing some light into the equation. Standing behind the door, revealed, is a man wearing grey coveralls and a dark grin. He's a man well-known in some circles, still a mystery in others. He is "The Mechanic" Peter Vaughn.~

Peter Vaughn: Good evening, Sin City.

~Vaughn steps forward, entering the warehouse, and walks directly towards the camera. He acknowledges it with a nod, showing that he's talking straight to the viewers watching at home. This doesn't happen very often, so you can tell Vaughn is doing things slightly different in his debut here tonight.~

Peter Vaughn: I've heard a lot about you, SCW. There's been a great deal of talk about how great the competition is here, from men and women I trust to not lie to me. But I don't know how much you've heard about me, Sin City. So how about we have a refresher course before we really start going?

~As the garage door begins to shut again, Vaughn walks forward towards where a first spotlight has come on, highlighting one of the figures. Surprisingly, it appears to be a smiling cut-out of Vaughn himself, from his younger days.~

Peter Vaughn: Let's start with this piece of work: Peter "The Janitor" Vaughn. This is the man I was known as for years, the happy-go-lucky custodian who always lost his matches and rarely put up much against any of his competition. I was a goofball who didn't care about the sport. I was a man with no fighting spirit. I was a complete, irredeemable loser.

~Vaughn sighs, disgusted by the sight of that smile on The Janitor's face. He reaches behind the cut-out, picking up a tool off the ground. On first glance, it appears to be a grinder with a chainsaw attachment added onto it, a unique tool, to be sure. Vaughn turns back to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: That man? He's no more.

~The grinder chainsaw comes to life, roaring in the echo-filled space of the warehouse. Vaughn expertly uses it to cut off the head of the cut-out, then adds more and more shreds as he passes through it again and again. Soon, there's very little left of the cut-out, as Vaughn turns the improvised tool back off and sets it down. He begins walking again.~

Peter Vaughn: Things changed in late 2021. I fell under the... tutelage of a man I once worked for, Jonathan Barrows. He had some... unique ideas on how to change my trajectory in the business. These methods... tore the Janitor apart. For a while, I don't know exactly who I was, other than someone who was a danger to anyone and everyone around him. There were a few... incidents... that are best not repeated. Suffice to say... I went a little mad.

~Vaughn stops in front of a newly-spotlighted cutout, this one showing a much more deranged-looking Peter Vaughn. There's something about the look on the cutout's face that's quite frankly unsettling. The real-life Vaughn stares at this version of him for a few extra seconds, contemplating how far he's come, before reaching down and picking up a butane torch. It again appears to be custom-designed to fit what Vaughn is looking for, as he's able to spark it on with one motion, bringing the flame up towards his face.~

Peter Vaughn: But then, we all go a little mad sometimes, don't we?

~With one motion, Vaughn sets the cutout ablaze. There must have been some added accelerant added, because it goes up fairly quickly. Vaughn steps away, putting down the torch, as the insane version disappears into smoke and ash. Vaughn then walks on, headed to the third cutout.~

Peter Vaughn: It took me a little time to pull myself back together. Some would say I'm still working on it. But I'm a lot less crazed than I once was. I found the balance between those two selves, positioning myself as a new man: The Mechanic. With him, I've gone on to win five World Championships in five different feds. I've been to the top almost everywhere I've gone in the last year.

~Vaughn steps up to the final cutout, which is a shot of a smiling Mechanic holding three world titles at the same time. This Vaughn looks posed and confident, with no signs of the insecurity or insanity of the previous two. The real Vaughn seems to smile at this likeness, enjoying the look of the championships in view. After a few seconds, though, Vaughn's smile falters. He turns, reaching behind the cutout, and pulls out a heavily-modified sledgehammer, complete with nails embedded in it. Vaughn considers it, before looking at the 'best' version of himself.~

Peter Vaughn: But here and now, this one is moving into ancient history.

~Vaughn rears back, smashing the cutout directly in the center of the chest. It basically explodes from the impact, sending scraps flying everywhere. Vaughn throws in a few more shots for good measure, making sure everything's destroyed, before turning back to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: You see, my coming into SCW means that I'm starting from scratch once again. I'm not going to get handed respect here, even if I do have allies here. I'm going to have to earn it. And that means... I'm going to need to destroy every single person that's sent against me. The climb to the top? It starts again... today. Thus endeth the lesson.

~Vaughn drops the sledgehammer, which makes a loud crashing noise on the ground. He walks away, as the camera pans back and forth, taking in all of the destruction contained in this warehouse. We slowly cut away.~


~After a few seconds, the camera comes back on, showing a clear blue sky. Something seems different about it, though, as the camerawork seems pretty shaky. After a few seconds, we understand why, as the view changes, showing that we appear to be falling out of this clear blue sky, towards the earth below. The shot moves, getting closer to a group of individuals who are taking the same plunge. The camera is able to get below, shooting up, and showing that at least one of these falling angels appears to be Peter Vaughn. He is falling in tandem with another man, strapped in behind him. The man makes a motion, and Vaughn reacts immediately, pulling his rip cord. The parachute opens, with Vaughn quickly disappearing upwards.~

~After a few seconds, we cut to a different shot, showing us Vaughn having landed inside a small clearing, already working to get himself detached. The man behind him pats him on the shoulder, pleased with how things went.~

Man: That was a brilliant display for your first time, Mr. Vaughn. Some people have panic attacks on their way down, but you clearly weren't affected at all.

Peter Vaughn: I'm kind of used to falling out of the sky, Phil. I'm just not used to the parachute being there.

~Phil laughs, turning away, although Vaughn doesn't look like he was joking. He shrugs, looking around and seeing the other two chutes making their way in. The first tandem lands nearby, tumbling to the ground upon landing. Vaughn, surprised, hurries over, clearing away the chute as the two people try to pull themselves up.~

Peter Vaughn: You okay, Thomas?

Thomas Hill: Oh, God, that was terrifying!!

~Vaughn worked to disconnect his half-brother from his guide, unclipping him. Vaughn found out about Thomas last year, learning that his mother had started a new life after leaving his father, creating a new family. That made Thomas one of the few family members Vaughn had left.~

Thomas Hill: Seriously, I thought we were going to be pancakes! I didn't think Bobby was going to open the chute in time!

Bobby: I signaled YOU to do it! I had to pull my reserve chute, you froze up there!

Thomas Hill: I did not! I just... was enjoying myself too much. Yeah, that's it...

~Bemused, Vaughn turns and looks at the final duo coming down. This one is made up of two ladies, and they land effortlessly in the center of the clearing. Vaughn walks over to them, with a limping Thomas following behind.~

Peter Vaughn: Enjoy the ride, Samantha?

Sammy Mitchell: I told you already, Peter, it's Sammy, not Samantha. And yes, I enjoyed the hell out of that! We never get to do anything like that back in Clarksville!

~Vaughn nods, glad that she's enjoying herself. In a strange twist of fate, Vaughn learned about Sammy's existence from a DNA test that Thomas had taken, showing familiar connections. Sammy turned out to be a half-sister for Vaughn, on his father's side, thanks to his dad needing to do anything to keep up being a sole parent in a tough economy. Namely, he sold himself to a sperm bank. Vaughn's still learning to connect with his new relative at this point, which led to today's impromptu adventure.~

Sammy Mitchell: So is this where we're camping for the night, Kennedy?

~The other guide turns to look at them, smiling.~

Kennedy: No, we'll need to hike a little bit to get up a little higher. But we're not far. So everyone grab your bags and get your gear together!

~She moves off, talking with the other guides, while Vaughn and Sammy head over to where Thomas has taken a seat.~

Sammy Mitchell: You survive the fall, Tommy?

Thomas Hill: It's not the fall that concerned me. It was the landing.

Peter Vaughn: Well, you survived it, and I didn't even have to kick you out of the plane, so be proud.

Thomas Hill: I still don't get this trip. If we wanted to 'bond' as family, couldn't we have gone to Las Vegas or something?

Sammy Mitchell: Where's the fun in that?

Peter Vaughn: You heard her. Now get up, let's get moving. Who knows how much daylight we have left.

Thomas Hill: Ahhh, man...

~Thomas reluctantly gets up, sighing, as they all start getting their stuff together for the next portion of the adventure. As they do so, none of them notice two eyes glinting at them from the darkness of the trees nearby, seemingly watching them.~


I'm always up for a new adventure.

Seems like I'm going to get one here in Sin City. The funny thing is, my original plan was just to watch my occasional friend Mac Bane win the championship. But then I saw Matthew Knox, and some old rage that I had kept bottled up managed to escape, and well, you saw the result. I figured Knoxsey would want a piece of me after that, and I was ready for it... but then he left. A true bummer.

I found myself needing to make a choice: did I interfere in a PPV just to leave without fighting anyone? Hell no. That's not my style. There are plenty of people here I've never fought, and I would hate to miss that opportunity when it's been presented to me.

Of course, that brings me to you, Miles. The first offering placed before me.

It's intriguing. Usually, when you first enter a federation, you're fed some of their worst wrestlers. When I went into the XWF, they made me fight a Literal Gorilla. I kid you not. But for some reason, I put my name on the dotted line for SCW, and they set me up to fight a former Roulette Champion. A man who was near the top of his game just a few months ago. A guy who should be in 'protected' status, and yet here we are, scheduled for my SCW debut.

I could look at that as an insult, but honestly, I see it as a show of respect. I suppose my notoriety is beginning to spread, as they knew that pitting me against a weakling would be a waste of effort. They want to see what I can really do. Hey, I can respect that. I'm all for facing a stiff challenge right out of the gate.

I have to wonder, though, Miles: are you still the challenge you seem?

I watched some video clips of your match against the Internet Champion, Alexander Raven. I saw how that ended, with you passing out in the Conspiracy. It was a pretty rough loss. Is that the reason you're curtain jerking against me? Has your confidence taken a hit, as you couldn't win another championship? Damn, I hope that's not the case. It would suck to get in there, expecting a massive battle, and having you turn into a wet noodle and give me nothing to work with.

You're supposed to be a cocky bastard. I'm hoping to see that at the show.

I know, you're hurting. The man you beat for the Roulette Title cleanly knocked your ass out to keep his Internet Title. It's a painful fall, to be sure. But you've got to shake it off, Miles. You've got to get back on your feet and give me the match I'm craving. I want the wrestling world to be in awe as we immediately blow things up to start the show. I want the fans drooling, chanting for more. I want the rest of the show ruined, because there's no way any of them can follow something like us.

But can you deliver on that, Miles? Do you have it in you? Can you at least go out there and pretend that you give a damn about fighting someone like me? Because if you're so cocky, you're probably going to be one of those that immediately just decides "He's a janitor, he'll be easy pickings". You know how many people's ribs I've fractured because they didn't take me seriously? That they didn't respect the Plunge, coming down on them?

Boyo, again, heed my warning: shake off that awful defeat you had and come at me with your best. Bring the fire, and don't let your ego shift you off track either way. Take me seriously, and give me whatever you've got left in your tank, and this could be epic.

Come at me half-assed, and your ass will pay the price. I'm just saying.


~We rejoin the hikers as they're making their way up the mountain. Vaughn looks to be perfectly fine, enjoying the workout, if nothing else. Sammy's holding up pretty well for a non-hiker, but then, she's in decent shape herself. It's Thomas, of course, who's struggling, working his way forward step by painful step. Vaughn slowly works his way back, stopping next to his half-brother.~

Peter Vaughn: You going to survive this, Thomas? Or should we find a nice burial site for you? Under that tree looks pretty nice...

Thomas Hill: Hah hah. How much... further do you think it is?

Peter Vaughn: I asked ahead. They said another 2-3 miles.

Thomas Hill: You're... you're kidding...

Peter Vaughn: I'm sure you'll make it without dying. Just think one step at a time. Left, right, left, right...

~Thomas groans, almost tripping, but Vaughn catches his arm, keeping him upright. They continue to move forward, around the next bend... where the three guides are already starting to set things up in the campsite.~

Thomas Hill: What? But... but you said...

Peter Vaughn: I know. But it feels good now, doesn't it, to get here so much quicker than you thought? You're welcome.

~Vaughn smirks and smacks his half-brother on his backpack, before turning and walking away. Seeing this, Sammy comes over, checking on him.~

Sammy Mitchell: You good, Tommy Boy?

Thomas Hill: ... I love Peter like a brother, but sometimes...

Sammy Mitchell: You wish you could hit him?

Thomas Hill: Yeah.

Sammy Mitchell: And then you remember he could kick your ass?

Thomas Hill: ... Yeah.

~Sammy chuckles for a moment, then helps Thomas get out of his pack.~

Sammy Mitchell: Look, from what I've seen, Petey, for all his bluster, must actually feel something for you. He wouldn't have brought you along if he didn't. The guy is... cut off, isn't he? He doesn't show that much emotion from what I've seen. So all you can do is go with the tiny clues he leaves you. Got it?

Thomas Hill: Yeah... yeah, I know...

Sammy Mitchell: And, of course, don't forget the other thing...

Thomas Hill: What?

Sammy Mitchell: That I can probably kick your ass, too.

~Sammy laughs, lifting her fists for a second, before turning and heading off to collect some firewood. Thomas watches her leave, shaking his head.~

Thomas Hill: She's definitely got some Vaughn in her...

~Thomas sighs, then goes to see what he can do to help, as we cut away again.~


I've been told I can be a bit of an asshole at times. I fully own that.

But that's what has made me a winner over the past year. It took me from mopping the backstage area before & after the events to being the headliner in the main event. So I make no apologies for my attitude.

I've heard tell that you and I might have that in common, Miles. From what Mac and Kat have said, you do have a pretty sharp tongue in that mouth of yours. It probably gets you into trouble sometimes, huh? You say the wrong thing, and suddenly the world is out to get you? Been there, done that. Never got the t-shirt, though.

For me, I've never been that subtle about the truth as I see it. I'll tell you exactly what I believe, and I won't shy away from that belief at all. For some, it's hard to take the truth thrown in your face, but I don't see the point in avoiding the hard facts. It ticks me off, really, when people tell me half-truths or lie via omission. I tend to ditch or KO people like that.

That being said, the hard fact is that you're going to get rocked at Climax Control. I'm probably going to knock you unconscious, if I get the opportunity. You're going to be forced awake via smelling salts from the referee or the backstage doctor, and you'll have questions about what happened, and you should know, it's not your fault. I'm just going to be that damn good.

Of course, that doesn't mean that if I have a chance to win via a small package or a crucifix pin, I'll ignore it. After all, the main goal is a victory, right? I won't let those opportunities pass me by. But it would certainly make a better first impression for the SCW faithful if I leave you unconscious in the center of the ring. So if I catch you in a victory roll, try to kick out, will you? Because I won't be able to help myself.

I'm just too invested in starting my SCW career at 1-0.

What are your numbers, Miles? Have you managed to cobble together a winning record in your time in SCW? I admit, I'm just a little too lazy to go check the archives, but I'm willing to bet you've got some quality wins under your belt. You wouldn't keep getting title shots if this wasn't the truth. I'm guessing you think of yourself as a winner, even after Raven played with you and threw you away like a cat's toy.

It may just not be your year, Miles. First Raven, and now Vaughn, and your record is slowly going the wrong direction. Is that a jerk move, pointing that out? Sorry. Like I said, I can't help but point out the truth, like how you're in freefall starting at #355.

It's going to be an extremely steep Plunge, boyo.


~The tents have been raised. The food has been eaten. All that's left now is drinking some cool beer around the campfire, even as the darkness overtakes the rest of the area. Some, like Sammy and Thomas, have already headed to their sleeping bags. Others, like Phil and Kennedy, have headed out into the forest, supposedly to 'check for supplies'. Most likely, something else is going on, but they're all adults here. That leaves Vaughn and Bobby as the last two around the fire.~

Bobby: So, Mr. Vaughn, you feel like your group is getting its money's worth on this adventure?

Peter Vaughn: I suppose so. Thomas may be complaining a lot, but I think he's getting some enjoyment out of it. It's harder to tell with Samantha, I mean, Sammy...

Bobby: Don't be trying too hard.

Peter Vaughn: Huh?

Bobby: Look, I've seen many groups take on this challenge, and there's usually a reason behind it. Yours is pretty clear. You want to connect with these members of your family that you didn't grow up with. It'll happen. Eventually. You just can't push it too hard.

~Vaughn takes a contemplative slug of his Yellow Rose, thinking things over before responding.~

Peter Vaughn: I'm not saying you're right... but I will admit, I'm still figuring out this "half-brother" and "half-sister" nonsense. I grew up an only child, most of it with only my father. So having actual family now... it's tough to know how to react.

Bobby: It'll come naturally, Mr. Vaughn. Journeys like this one will help. But nothing is guaranteed. You know that, right?

Peter Vaughn: Of course. Nothing's 100 percent. All you can do is stack the odds as high in your favor as you can.

Bobby: That's... one way of looking at it, I suppose.

~Vaughn gets up, finishing his beer and making sure to secure the bottle inside a trash bag. Despite his insistence at having moved on from being a janitor, Vaughn still can't stand leaving behind a mess of any kind. He turns to Bobby, pointing at the fire.~

Peter Vaughn: I guess it's about time for lights out, huh?

Bobby: If you're ready, sure. Good night, Mr. Vaughn.

Peter Vaughn: Night, Bobby.

~Vaughn turns and walks away towards his tent, as Bobby picks up a foldable bucket that they brought with them. He pours out what water he has there on the fire, causing it to hiss and smoke as the light goes out, leaving us in darkness.~


Thomas Hill: Peter...

Peter Vaughn: *grumble under breath*

Thomas Hill: Peter, c'mon, man, wake up...

Peter Vaughn: whaisit? whoisit? Huh?

~After a second, Vaughn finally pulls himself up, rubbing at his eyes. He looks around in the darkness, barely able to see his half-brother sitting up next to him. The two were forced to share a tent, since neither one was staying with their sister, obviously. Vaughn starts to reach for the flashlight, but Thomas stops him, trembling.~

Peter Vaughn: You have a nightmare or something? What's going on?

Thomas Hill: Keep your voice down! I think... something's out there...

Peter Vaughn: ... Something?

~Vaughn, shaking his head, again grabs the flashlight, this time pulling it away despite Thomas' objections. Before Vaughn turns the light on, though, there's the sound of a cracking branch from somewhere nearby. Vaughn freezes, thinking it over, as Thomas gulps audibly.~

Peter Vaughn: Could be the guides.

Thomas Hill: At 3 in the morning??

Peter Vaughn: Hell, sometimes sleep can be hard to come by. It happens to me all the time. I'll go check.

~Vaughn gets up, popping on his shoes with practiced ease. He then heads for the tent, reaching for the zipper.~

Thomas Hill: Hold on, but what if it's not them? What if... it's a grizzly bear?

~Vaughn looks back, holding onto the zipper as he stares at Thomas.~

Peter Vaughn: That's not a problem.

Thomas Hill: It's not?

Peter Vaughn: Nope. Because I know that I can at least out-run you, and one is all I need.

~With that, Vaughn unzips the tent and moves out, making as little noise as possible.~

Thomas Hill: You're... you're joking, right? Peter? Damn it...

~Whether it's to back his half-brother up or to get a head start, Thomas gets himself up and out of the tent as well. He looks around, seeing no sign of him. Nervous, Thomas steps around the tent, glancing in every direction. He starts to whisper.~

Thomas Hill: Peter? Peter??

~Thomas steps lightly, trying to avoid making any noise, as he moves around the camp. The other two tents seem undisturbed. Quietly, Thomas steps near the remains of the campfire, trying to figure out his next move. He waits, confused, as a shadowy figure suddenly appears behind him, raising something towards him... and then it stumbles back, arms flying into the air, as Vaughn grabs it from behind. Thomas leaps in terror, a mighty pounce that would have cleared the campfire if it was still lit. He spins around, even as we hear the other tents unzipping.~

Phil: What the hell's going on out there?

Bobby: Is it a bear? Damn bears, I've got my spray ready!

~The two guides pull themselves up, shining their flashlights towards the commotion. We see Thomas standing to the side, still not doing anything, while Vaughn appears to have a rather old-looking man trapped in a full nelson, keeping his arms in the air. An old shotgun can be seen, laying on the ground nearby.~

Prospector: Get yer damn fool hands offa me!!

Peter Vaughn: Not until you calm your ass down, gramps. Don't make me clench it in any tighter, I might dislocate your shoulder.

~Gasping, the older man finally stops fighting, as Vaughn continues to hold him in place. Bobby and Phil come over, with Bobby's eyes lighting up.~

Bobby: You're that crazy old prospector who lives out here, aren't you? What are you doing here?

Prospector: I... I ain't letting you take what I earned, fair and square! It ain't right!

Phil: ... What?

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, you lost me, old man. You talking about that old shotgun over there? It looks like it'd explode if you ever tried to fire it.

Prospector: You... you're not here for my claim?

Peter Vaughn: We're here as camping tourists. We certainly didn't come for anything of yours.

Prospector: I don't believe you! I saw your packs! I saw your shovels!

Phil: You mean... the shovels we used to dig the latrine area?

Peter Vaughn: Trust me, you're not finding gold over there, so don't dig it up.

~The final tent unzips, with Sammy and Kennedy peeking their heads out.~

Sammy Mitchell: You guys aren't doing some weird backwoods initiation out here or something, right?

Peter Vaughn: We just had ourselves an intruder, Sammy. Nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep.

Sammy Mitchell: Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen.

~The ladies go back inside, as Vaughn carefully releases the old prospector from his hold.~

Peter Vaughn: You calmed down yet? I swear to you, we're not here for any gold or silver you've found up here.

Prospector: Gold? Who digs for gold anymore? No, I'm up here with my copper mine! Great money in copper these days! But you can't have any of it!

~Bobby, with nothing better to do, starts to reignite the fire, since everyone's awake, anyways. Phil heads off into the darkness, probably to get some more wood. In the meantime, Vaughn shoots a shrewd eye at the aging prospector.~

Peter Vaughn: So you've dug up a stockpile of copper, huh? You have a good collection of it?

Prospector: ... I ain't saying.

Peter Vaughn: And I suppose you can easily get it to town, right? So that you can start to cash in on it?

Prospector: ... I'm still workin' on that part of it, but I'll figure it out, you'll see!

Peter Vaughn: Interesting. It sounds like you might actually need a few mules to help you get supplies down the mountain, huh? So why don't we talk about it? Maybe we could... help each other. I've got a ranch, you see, and you'd be surprised how much copper comes up as a need...

~Putting on his best fake smile, Vaughn pulls the prospector over to the side, starting to debate his lack of ability to produce any profit on his copper mine. As they talk, Thomas moves to the side, shaking his head in wonder.~

Thomas Hill: I almost wish it WAS a grizzly bear now...

~From the side, we suddenly hear a dull growl, causing Thomas to jump and turn that direction. He gasps, running in the opposite direction, right past Vaughn and the prospector. Clearly, Thomas knows he needs to stay ahead of them. Vaughn glances back in the other direction, where Phil steps out of the darkness with a grin.~

Peter Vaughn: That wasn't much of a bear impersonation.

Phil: It worked, didn't it?

~Phil laughs, while the old prospector still looks confused and wary. Vaughn goes back to his sales pitch, trying to work out a deal between the two men, as we slowly fade out.~


I suppose that about wraps it up for us, Miles.

There's nothing more to say, really, other than I'm looking forward to giving you a beating at Climax Control. I'll be showing off all my best moves, I'm sure. The Insult To Injury. The Keyholder. Revenged. Really, whatever it takes to deliver as much punishment as possible. After all, you only get one chance to make a good first impression.

I'm looking forward to seeing what you gentlemen have here at Sin City. I'm betting it's going to be all I dream of and more, as I prepare myself for another great tournament showing and a tremendous brawl at my first show. You may not be Matthew Knox, of course, but I'll definitely take what I can get.

Boy, is this going to be a blast...

All I can say is, prepare yourself, Miles. Prepare yourself to feel some aches and pains for a while afterwards. Prepare yourself for possibly losing consciousness.

And prepare yourself for taking that Plunge. See you then.


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