~As the picture comes up, we see a train motoring its way along the countryside. It pumps out an unhealthy amount of smoke as it rounds a curve, heading across a large, wooden bridge. As it tracks along the bridge joints, we see a large set of eyes, leaning in and staring at it as it passes. The face seems to nod, taking up a lot of sky above the train, as the figure tilts backwards. The camera shifts, giving us a better view of the Sin City cameraman as he looks down onto the model train running on an elaborate miniature layout that seems to continue for some ways. The cameraman steps back, marveling at the detail.~
Cameraman: They do some amazing work here. I just wish the place wasn't so... big.
~The cameraman shakes his head, walking off to the right, still on the lookout for his usual target. He pulls up his phone, checking to see if he'd missed any messages. But so far, the only messages there are from him.~
"Hello, Mr. Vaughn. Are we still good to meet at 11am at the Colorado Model Railroad Museum? Let me know, thank you."
"I'm at the Museum, and bought my ticket to get inside. Do you think you can sign off on my reimbursement form? Where will we be meeting? Thanks."
"Mr. Vaughn? I know you like me to seek you out, but I have walked all over this place in the last hour. Can you message me back?"
"Hello??"
~Putting the phone back into his pocket, the cameraman continues on his search, moving into another large section of tracks. This one appears to be a complete model of the Eastern Railroad. Again, it's extremely impressive, but it's not what the man is looking for. He has a job to do, and he knows from previous experience that the front office doesn't care to hear about excuses. It just wants him to get the interviews like always. He walks past another model, glancing over at it, and avoiding a small group of kids, likely there from one of the elementary schools. As they all pass, the cameraman suddenly realizes that his phone is finally ringing.~
Cameraman: About da... darn time...
~He pulls out the phone, moving to a quieter side of the museum. He looks at the number, expecting to see Vaughn's name, but instead it's a local number. Confused, but with nothing to lose, he answers it.~
Cameraman: Hello?
Peter Vaughn: Ahh, good, I had the right number. I wasn't completely sure. So used to quick-dial, you know?
Cameraman: Mr. Vaughn?
Peter Vaughn: Listen, I need you to do a favor for me, okay? I need you to pick up something from my hotel room and bring it to me.
Cameraman: Me? Why not Ms. Anderson? Aren't the two of you staying together?
Peter Vaughn: It'd be... better if Sadie doesn't know about this. But I think she's out shopping at the moment, so you should be safe to go by there. It's a small red bag, the one I always bring with me on the road. Don't worry, I'll call the DoubleTree hotel and make sure someone will let you in.
Cameraman: ... Okay, I guess I can do this. But where do I take it?
Peter Vaughn: Yeah, that's sort of the catch to this...
~Confused, the cameraman moves for the door, his time with the model railways over with for now. He goes through the swinging door...~
~And we find ourselves coming out a different door, this one labeled with the logo of the Greeley Police Department. The cameraman steps out, still looking stunned, as Peter Vaughn comes out behind him. He's now carrying the red bag, sporting what appears to be a split lip and a bruise on his forehead. His right hand is also bandaged. Still, all-in-all, he seems to be in good spirits, taking a breath of the cold outside air and puffing it out.~
Peter Vaughn: Good to be out of there. I was starting to think I might miss my tournament match, and I never want to miss a promised obligation.
~Vaughn unzips the red bag, checking inside for a moment, and pulls a couple of extra bills from his coveralls pocket, tucking them away inside. He zips it back up, as the cameraman moves closer, his camera now filming.~
Cameraman: So, Mr. Vaughn, what's happening? Why are we here?
Peter Vaughn: What, did they not brief you, boyo? We're here in Greeley because I've gotten to the semi-finals of the Heavyweight Title Tournament, and I'm getting myself prepared to take down another champion and move into the finals at My Bloody Valentine V! It's going to be a hell of a fight, I know, but after taking down the Internet Champion, I'm confident that I can also handle a Mixed Tag-Team Champion as well...
Cameraman: That's... not what I'm talking about. I mean... what happened today?
Peter Vaughn: Today? Today's not important. What matters is this Sunday, when I move forward to take on either Austin or Goth for the biggest prize in Sin City! I know, I know, I've made the Roulette Title a pretty large prize as well, but getting my hands on the Heavyweight Championship, well, that's always been the goal, hasn't it? And it's within my reach, yes sir...
Cameraman: Mr. Vaughn? Really?
~Vaughn sighs, holding the red bag under one arm as he turns back to the cameraman.~
Peter Vaughn: You're not going to let this go, are you?
Cameraman: Probably not.
Peter Vaughn: Alright, c'mon. It's not a short story, so let's take a seat in this cafe, and I'll lay it all out for you.
Cameraman: Oh, no, we really can't wait...
~But Vaughn doesn't listen. He walks quickly over to the cafe, stepping through the gate and taking a seat outside. It's near freezing, but Vaughn doesn't seem to be bothered in the least. The same can't be said for the waitress, who looks outside and shakes her head, refusing to come out. The cameraman, looking back at where he parked the van, anxiously steps back and forth, before coming over.~
Cameraman: Look, Mr. Vaughn, I want to know what happened, but also I need to...
Peter Vaughn: Don't worry, they're easy about double parking here.
Cameraman: That's not...
Peter Vaughn: You want to know what happened today? Well... it all started by talking about what makes a good deed...
~Vaughn settles back, looking to the side, as he thinks back to this morning...~
Peter Vaughn: I just don't understand...
~As the shot comes up, we see Vaughn rubbing at his head, looking a little frustrated. He is standing in what appears to be the DoubleTree hotel lobby, having come down from dropping off their bags in their room. Standing near him, shaking her head, is Vaughn's fiancé, Sadie Anderson. She looks over at the desk clerk, who is pretending not to be listening.~
Sadie Anderson: Keep your voice down, please.
~Vaughn doesn't seem to care that much, but he still steps in closer to Sadie.~
Peter Vaughn: Why are you still upset? It's been a week now, after all...
Sadie Anderson: Yes... a week since you pulled me out of the way of an avalanche, while leaving a 10-year-old child to be buried!
Peter Vaughn: ... But he was fine. They found him easily thanks to the trackers he had, remember? Everything worked out.
Sadie Anderson: But you didn't know that would happen at the time, did you? For all you knew, that kid wasn't going to be seen again. A million things could have gone wrong.
Peter Vaughn: Maybe. But I still the logical choice, and I stand by it.
~Sadie rolls her eyes, as she's already tired of hearing about "the logical choice". Seeing this, Vaughn sighs.~
Peter Vaughn: Would you really rather I left you there instead?
Sadie Anderson: That's not the point. It's not about who you chose, it's about how you made your decision. Sometimes, Peter, you need to realize that it's not about the smartest choice or the 'logical' choice... it's about doing the right thing.
Peter Vaughn: But... the choice WAS right. Look at how it ended!
Sadie Anderson: Peter... I love you. But until you're able to understand what I'm talking about, I don't think this is getting resolved anytime soon. It's not about how it ended... it's about how it was decided. Look, I'm going to go buy some new clothes for Sunday night. Just... think about it, okay? We'll talk later.
~Sadie gives Vaughn a kiss on the cheek, then walks off. Vaughn watches her go, biting his lip. He looks over at the desk clerk, whose smirk fades away as he immediately pretends to type on his computer.~
Peter Vaughn: That just cost you a portion of your tip.
~Vaughn glares at the man before walking off himself, heading towards the parking garage. He heads inside, finding his beloved truck, Gabriella, parked safely away from other vehicles. With one motion, Vaughn gets inside, cranking up the radio as he pulls out and heads out for a drive. He's found in the past that the best way to clear your head is to hit the road. He pulls out from the hotel and heads down the block, driving aimlessly as he thinks things over.~
Peter Vaughn: The 'right thing'. I've heard about that all my life. Do the right thing, Peter. But it's never that simple, is it? Because a lot of time, the right thing is what makes you a loser. For years now, I've ignored the boundaries of right and wrong, and it's made me a multi-time World Champion. It's gotten me through 257 days as the Roulette Champion. It's gotten me to the final four of the SCW Heavyweight Title Tournament, ready to massacre a Finn and move on. Everything's working out. So why do I have to worry about this now? Why does Sadie see this as such a big deal? Why is... HOLY...
~Suddenly, Vaughn's truck is fishtailing, as he twists the steering wheel desperately while the tires fight for traction on the cold road. We see the flash of fur going by, barely being missed, with Vaughn fighting for control... and winning, managing to bring Gabriella to a stop. He takes a few deep breaths, knowing how close that came, before looking in his rear view mirror.~
Peter Vaughn: What in the world?
~We can see, through the mirror, a dog making her way painfully across towards the other side of the road. The dog, a German Shepard, is limping slightly as she hops up on the curb, looking back at the still-running truck.~
Peter Vaughn: Stupid dog. I almost pancaked you... and the dent that would have made in Gabriella...
~Vaughn keeps staring at the mirror, as the dog seems to stop, on-guard, still looking in his direction. For a second, Vaughn can almost hear Sadie's voice in his head...~
Peter Vaughn: Damn it... alright, Sadie... a good deed it is, and maybe you'll forgive me...
~With that, Vaughn pops out the door, moving around the truck, just as the dog begins to move away from him. He starts running after her, full-out.~
The chase has begun.
Last week, I moved myself forward with a triumphant victory over the Internet Champion, Milo. This week, there's no rest for the weary, as we're being thrown right into the fire again, aren't we, Finnigan? But that's okay. I'm used to wrestling an intense schedule. I've been doing it since 2021. I don't know if you can say the same. After all, you'd probably love to tag in your partner right about now.
Sadly, that option isn't available. You still have to do everything on your own. You can't have Kayla fight your battles for you.
So how's that feel, anyway? Relying on someone else, hoping they don't screw anything up? I have plans in 2024 to branch out into the tag-team ranks, but I do have a bit of an issue with trust. But you must be okay with Kayla in that regard. How's she feel, knowing that you want to break up the team by becoming the Heavyweight Champion? A little bit of team strife there? Well, don't worry. It won't be a factor. I have no intentions of allowing you to emerge victorious.
I'm no Oliver Zahn, after all, a pushover you can plow right through for a title.
I'm the record-setting Roulette Champion, the most dominant force in the company at the moment. I'm the future of Sin City, the man who is going to show everyone what a proper Heavyweight Champion should be. You, Finley? I'm afraid you're closer to the past. That's why you're in the tag division now, right? It's safer there. It's more stable. Hell, I envy you for that, in some ways.
You already had your little run at the top, didn't you, thanks to a fluke win over Ken Davison in 2022? I mean, there you were, shocking the world and sitting as the Heavyweight Champion of SCW... and it lasted barely a month before Davison kicked your ass in the rematch, sending you back into the mid-card in brutal fashion. Still, you can claim that you defeated a Savior, and that's a feather in your cap, for sure. I don't know if you can brag much about such a short reign, but I've seen worse.
Dmitri didn't even make it a month. Hell, Drake Green lost his once on the same day. Course, he had several other reigns, so he's still a hell of a lot better than yours in the record books.
The point I'm trying to make, though, is that you've been there already, Finnland. You had the title in your hands. Even if it was a short time, you don't have the same hunger that you once had for the top spot in Sin City. You've had that urge satisfied, which is why you were content to return as a tag-team competitor when J2H was running rampant. You probably were too scared to be embarrassed by him.
I wasn't. I took the fight right to him, and even if he got the best of me once, I was more than prepared to take him on again... before he dropped the belt like a discarded Happy Meal in the trash can.
So you may have gotten this shot, Finn, and maybe you even see it as an opportunity, thanks to you getting the easy draw of Helluva Bottom Carter, the least accomplished of the 8 competitors. You should have dominated. Instead, you got through via another complete fluke. The referee didn't see Carter's foot on the ropes, and so you slipped through to the next round, slithering like a snake instead of roaring like a lion. But that's par for the course with you nowadays, isn't it, Finner? It's clear you still don't want the belt badly enough. Your demeanor and actions make that obvious. You just aren't hungry enough, my man.
And I'm still starving.
I've spent a year here, dominating the lower rankings, while adding some big names to my List of the Vanquished. Matthew Knox. Jack Washington. Eddie Lyons. Alexander Raven. Miles Kasey. And now, you, Finnward. You'll be another cherished name for me to look back on, a man who made it to the top who came tumbling down in flames, all thanks to yours truly. Because I'm here to win. I'm now determined to stop lurking in the shadows, watching as others ride the limelight at the top.
2024 is now my time, Finn. And I'm going to prove that by becoming the SCW World Heavyweight Champion, leaving every single challenger in my wake.
And you, I'm afraid, will be seeing your chase come to an end... as you're kicked back out of the singles ranks and back to that beautiful tag-team partner of yours. And then you'll just have to take in the fact that your time at the top has already come to a close... now and forevermore.
Cameraman: So... you rescued a puppy?
Peter Vaughn: Eh, I wouldn't say she was that young.
~Vaughn shrugs, still sitting at the cafe. Neither has gotten any drinks. Neither expects any to come.~
Cameraman: But... how did picking up a dog off the street lead to... this?
Peter Vaughn: If you let me finish, I'll explain...
~He sits forward, rubbing at his bandaged hand. We then cut back to Vaughn's truck, Gabriella, driving along. The dog is now sitting warily in the passenger seat, a blanket wrapped around its lower half. She is looking over at the driver, as Vaughn concentrates on keeping the wheel straight as he wraps a bandage around his right hand, which is bleeding. It isn't easy to do so without getting any blood on the truck, but Vaughn is doing his best to make sure that doesn't happen. He looks over at the dog, sighing.~
Peter Vaughn: No good deed goes unpunished, huh?
~The German Shepard, predictably, does not respond. She's no longer in fight-or-flight mode, and so her fatigue is showing through now. She slowly lowers her head, resting, as Vaughn makes another turn, following the GPS in the truck.~
Peter Vaughn: You know, I could have left you out there, in the snow. Nobody would have known. But I made this choice, and I need you to respect it, if nothing else.
~The dog whimpers slightly, as it rests. Vaughn glances over, his eyes softening.~
Peter Vaughn: Alright, fine. I won't hold it against you. I've been known to bite first myself in a fight.
~It's been known for a while that while Vaughn can be dangerous to his fellow human beings, he's got a soft spot for many animals. He reaches over, patting the dog on the head, only for her to growl at him. He takes the hand back, not wanting another wound.~
Peter Vaughn: You and I will have to come to an understanding, girl. It's all about what's best for you. Ahhh, here it is. We'll soon get to the bottom of this, okay? Assuming your owner isn't a complete prick...
~Vaughn pulls into the Greeley Veterinary Clinic, parking near the door. He gets out, going around to the other side and opening the door. The German Shepard looks up at him, still favoring her paw.~
Peter Vaughn: This is for your own good, girl. Just trust me.
~Strangely, the dog seems to do so, allowing Vaughn to pick her up and carry her inside to the main desk.~
Receptionist: Hello. What can we do for you two?
Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I need to see if this dog has a microchip. I found her wandering out in the snow. Figured I'd find out who to return her to.
~The receptionist gets up, scanning the dog with her tracker. Her eyes, meanwhile, widen slightly as she takes the dog's features in. She checks the results, doing a double-take, before lowering the scanner. Vaughn doesn't notice her reaction, too intent on making sure the dog isn't going to snap at him and make a run for it.~
Receptionist: I'll... give the owners a call. I'm sure they'll be here soon.
Peter Vaughn: Great. I've got other things to do.
~With that, Vaughn goes and sits down with the dog on the bench. The dog stares at the receptionist, then back at him.~
Peter Vaughn: Yeah, I know. But you won't have to worry about me much longer. And I'll be able to tell Sadie that I helped a damsel in distress. Maybe that'll get me out of the doghouse, er, so to speak.
~Vaughn smirks to himself at the unintended pun.~
Peter Vaughn: I don't know if this'll help, though. She really sees me in a new light lately. But it doesn't change the fact that I do think I still love her, as much as I can love anyone. If I can fix this, in any way possible, I'm going to do it. If I have to do 100 good deeds, that's what I'll do. Besides, you're cute when you're not sinking your jaws into me.
~Vaughn pets the dog on the head again. Maybe it's because of the vet office, but the dog seems calmer now, and allows it. Vaughn smiles, then turns to the door... as three police officers walk in. Immediately, the receptionist points over to him, and they head over.~
Peter Vaughn: Oh, boy, what's this about? Er, good morning, officers, what can I...
Officer: Stand up. You need to come with us. Get up, now!
~The officers grab at Vaughn's arms. He could probably fight them off if he wanted, but he's too stunned at this turn of events. He looks back down at the dog, who gives out a startled bark.~
Peter Vaughn: What have you gotten me into now?
~The officers pull Vaughn away, as the third man collects the dog. We cut away.~
Things can escalate quickly, can't they, Finnie?
Of course, I'm always a fan of that when I'm in the squared circle. I want the momentum of the contest to build quickly, as I fly around the ring, landing every devastating shot I can. I know you feel the same way in that regard, relying heavily on your aggressive agility in there. It's funny, how my path to the World Title has been built with similar wrestling styles.
It didn't help Milo, and it certainly won't help you. But it does mean that it's going to be another contest to my liking. Fast, furious, and likely with a sudden ending as the final stop.
You see, Finns, I've made my living putting on the highest flying contests the world has ever seen. I'll take any risk if I think it'll pay off in my favor, launching myself at my opponent from every direction. You may think you're pretty agile in there, but I can guarantee to you that you're going to be in second place in that regard. If you try to come at me with your usual style, you're going to be put down hard.
But then, you're not known for your improvisational skills, are you?
I mean, let's face it, that Irish temper of yours will probably keep you from being able to adjust to my constant assaults. You're going to get more and more pissed that you can't lay a hand on me. More enraged that I keep countering all of your best moves. And when that fury hits its boiling point, as it always does, you're going to give me that one opening that I'm looking for.
And then you're going to take the Plunge.
It won't be pleasant. It likely won't be anything that you're able to remember later, even after watching back the recordings. But it'll be definitive, unlike your previous victory. I'll be standing tall, set to make my way towards the other finalist, ready to annihilate another former Heavyweight Champion. It is my destiny to bring Sin City back to glory with a champion at the top of the mountain that everyone can believe in.
It hurts to say, Finn, but most people would see you as a poor substitute at the top. Austin was a Heavyweight Champion for five months. Goth has held nearly a dozen titles here, including two Heavyweight Title reigns. I'm the greatest Roulette Champion in Sin City history, soon to start setting records in the Heavyweight Division. But you, Finn? With that one fluke win? No, I can't see anyone out there believing that you're deserving of another World Heavyweight Title run. It's just the way the cookie crumbles, my friend.
You'll still have Kayla to believe in you, at least.
Hold that to your heart. Continue to be a Mixed Tag Champ. Show the world that you're still worth a lot in the grand scheme of things, leaning on Kayla to keep you on top. And know that someday, you'll be able to look back and say that you were part of the climb of one of the greatest wrestlers to ever appear in Sin City Wrestling. You can tell your grandkids that Peter Vaughn knocked you out.
It'll mean something. I'm sure of it.
~We find ourselves back in the cafe, as the cameraman has continued to record Vaughn's story, sounding shocked.~
Cameraman: They arrested you, then? For what??
Peter Vaughn: Well, turns out there was a home invasion that morning. Y'know, stuff that happens all the time... except this one was, uh, the mayor's house.
Cameraman: THE MAYOR??
Peter Vaughn: Yeah. That was his dog. I guess she escaped in the chaos.
Cameraman: And they thought you were responsible??
Peter Vaughn: Well, they took me to interrogation...
~As Vaughn talks, we see the image change, taking us to the interrogation room. The detective stands over a seated Vaughn, pounding on the desk in front of him.~
Detective: Talk to us, Vaughn! Who were your accomplices??
Peter Vaughn: There was no one else... I mean, I wasn't there!
Detective: You were nabbed with the stolen property, you're busted! Now tell us the truth, and we might go leniently on you!
Peter Vaughn: So you're saying that I stole the mayor's dog... and then I went to a vet to try and find our who her owner was? How does that make sense??
~Vaughn straightens up, as if to stand, but the detective grabs him by the head, banging him into the table! Vaughn, a bruise forming, comes right back up, glaring at the man. Somehow, he controls himself.~
Detective: Don't act so smug. I know who you are. I'm sure you think you can get away with murder, by selling the mayor's dog back to him as a "concerned citizen". But you were involved. We know it. We have your fingerprints.
Peter Vaughn: Hah! No, you don't.
Detective: Because you wore gloves?
Peter Vaughn: Because I wasn't there!
~The detective openly laughs, mocking Vaughn.~
Detective: It's a hell of a cover. Raiding houses along the path of your wrestling group, then leaving town, avoiding scrutiny. I bet I'll find similar home invasions in Loveland, Denver, and probably plenty in Las Vegas, won't I?
Peter Vaughn: You are stretching this AWFULLY thin, Detective. Have you been wounded in action lately or something, because I feel like you're missing some marbles.
~As the detective angrily steps towards Vaughn again, the door suddenly opens, and a portly, suited man comes in. The detective immediately straightens up.~
Detective: Mayor Gates! What are you doing here?
Mayor: You can let this man go, Detective. He wasn't there.
Detective: What?? Are you sure?
Mayor: I can very well identify the thug who was in my house, thank you very much! Or do you think I'm senile??
Detective: No, not at all, sir!
~The detective quickly backs off, as Vaughn nods to the mayor.~
Peter Vaughn: Thank you, sir. It's good to see that this city is in good hands.
Mayor: I'm sorry for the trouble, Mr. Vaughn. Good luck on Sunday night. My money's on you to remove that Finn Whelan from the competition. Oh, and thank you so much for returning my beloved FiFi to me!
Peter Vaughn: ... Fifi?
~The mayor shakes Vaughn's hand, before nodding to the detective and walking off to collect his dog. The detective looks shell-shocked as Vaughn shrugs at him.~
Peter Vaughn: I told you so.
~The detective sputters for a moment. The shot cuts back to the cafe, where the camera shakes back and forth.~
Cameraman: You were let go? Wait, so why did I have to get your bag for you, then?
Peter Vaughn: Well....
~We return to the interrogation room as Vaughn gets up, a free man. The detective can't help himself.~
Detective: I should have known you weren't involved, being a wrestler and all. You wouldn't be able to pull off something like this, since it wasn't fake.
Peter Vaughn: Excuse me?
Detective: You'd probably be too high on drugs, anyway, to get out of there safely. After all, from what I've heard, you're all los...
~The detective grabs at Vaughn's arm, yanking him up... and Vaughn pulls away, immediately jumping into a...~
Cameraman: A SUPERKICK??? You SUPERKICKED the detective?? How are you even out now??
~Vaughn, getting up from the cafe chair, just shrugs.~
Peter Vaughn: Thankfully, another officer saw him put his hands on an innocent citizen, so I was technically within my rights. But to avoid any difficulties, it seemed right to, uh, cover his medical bills and let the whole thing slide. The mayor also helped out... following a donation to his campaign.
Cameraman: Uh huh... crazy...
Peter Vaughn: So, anyway, here we are. I'm free, I saved a dog, I fought corruption, and I'm ready to tell the story to Sadie about my good deed. It was good to practice it with you, though, friend.
Cameraman: Yeah, uh... about that... that's what I wanted to talk about before we sat down...
Peter Vaughn: What's that?
~As Vaughn takes a step towards the nearby van, he suddenly realizes that the engine is still running. Sitting in the passenger seat, he can see a woman impatiently waiting for him.~
Peter Vaughn: ... Oh.
Cameraman: I guess her shopping ended early, because she was waiting in the room, and, well, I HAD to tell her something...
Peter Vaughn: ... ... ... Oh.
~Slowly, Vaughn walks towards the van, seeing the steely glint of the eyes looking his direction.~
Peter Vaughn: ... No good deed indeed....
~Vaughn, never one to back down, heads towards his fiancé, as she starts to get out of the heated van. She doesn't look happy. The picture slowly fades out.~
