~As the picture slowly fades in, the drone floats over the streets and buildings of Dallas, Texas, showing off the majesty of this great city. The drone slowly makes it way down one boulevard, twisting around and suddenly cutting across a large, green area. Astute viewers of the Peter Vaughn Channel will know that this is the Garden of Betrayal Vaughn had built soon after coming to Sin City Wrestling, a creation that still prospers today. Of course, the locals don't call it the "Garden of Betrayal". It's too beautiful a spot for that name. Most simply call it their little Eden, an oasis in the middle of the city.~
~The drone drifts over the still-thriving park before heading over to the four-story building next door. This one should also be recognizable to true fans, as Vaughn purchased this building after the completion of the garden and began to have it restored. We can see the roof from this height, with no signs of the hole that Vaughn had once plunged through early in the reconstruction. The drone drifts downwards, dropping story by story, heading for the small parking area out in front of the building. There we can see a customized van parked, with our faithful cameraman getting out of the driver's seat, controller in hand. He directs the drone right into his arms, catching it easily.~
Cameraman: Can't believe how green that garden still is. I mean, it's February, what kind of plant-growth science-style BS did Vaughn give them to still survive like this? Or... are they actually all fake plants? I mean, I never really looked too closely when I was over there. Hmmm, I wonder...
Peter Vaughn: You wound me, friend.
~The cameraman nearly jumps out of his shoes at the sound of Peter Vaughn right behind him. He spins around, although we're still on the drone shot, so we still only see his face.~
Cameraman: Mr. Vaughn! Uh, didn't see you there.
Peter Vaughn: Obviously.
Cameraman: One second...
~The cameraman quickly opens the door to the van, replacing the drone with a more handheld style of camera. He directs it towards Vaughn, as we shift to that recording. Vaughn is dressed in typical fashion, wearing his coveralls and a Texas Rangers baseball cap. He shakes his head.~
Cameraman: About what you heard, I, uh, hah hah, I was just quoting some stuff I saw online...
Peter Vaughn: Never believe what's on the Internet. No, the Garden is not sullied with artificial plants. That would negate its whole purpose. No, sir, those are all living organisms, and it hasn't been easy to keep them surviving in the elements, let me tell you, even though they've been bred to thrive in all environments.
Cameraman: You really didn't spare any expense, did you?
Peter Vaughn: Trust me, the Garden will be there long after I am gone. And believe it, it's already been paying dividends. The Garden is a legacy, of a sort... as is this building. Care to step in?
~Vaughn gestures to his building, with the cameraman seemingly reluctant to go in there.~
Cameraman: I don't know, last time it didn't go so well in there. That construction is dangerous, isn't it?
Peter Vaughn: It can be. But construction is completed, at least on the ground level. We're actually starting to get closer to opening, if you can believe it.
~Vaughn gestures again, and with a sigh, the cameraman hesitantly moves forward. He goes through the doors, with Vaughn right behind him, taking in the view... of a completely restored lobby. The walls are covered in a wood-style paneling, with a nicely-patterned carpet leading on the way in. A desk has been set up on the far side, likely where visitors will be able to contact whoever it is they're looking for. It's really a professional setting, eliciting a whistle from the cameraman.~
Cameraman: This is fairly amazing, Mr. Vaughn. I didn't know it was so far along. And you're going to rent out the space?
Peter Vaughn: As I said before, I'm keeping some of these offices for myself, for work I've got to do in the area. But yes, some of the upper floors will handle someone else's business. You have to pay the building expenses somehow, right?
~They move off to the side, where a couple of waiting couches are positioned. There's also a large picture to the side, showing Peter Vaughn from one of his World Championship reigns, raising the gold high into the air. It certainly stands out compared to the rest of the lobby.~
Cameraman: So... this portrait...
Peter Vaughn: Pretty fabulous, isn't it? It gives an air of class as you come in.
Cameraman: I'm... not sure others will see it that way.
Peter Vaughn: I can't say I'm too concerned with others' opinions. It's my building, I get to have a few perks in it.
Cameraman: I suppose that's true.
Peter Vaughn: Besides, sometimes I need a reminder... of where I've been.
~Vaughn turns to the portrait, smiling at it, remembering that moment. He then lets out a small sigh, before turning and moving to the side, leaning against the wall. The cameraman repositions himself for the best shot, knowing the signs of a Vaughn soliloquy.~
Peter Vaughn: It's been 391 days since I first made my presence known in Sin City. Over a year. Everywhere else I've gone, I've been a force to be reckoned with. I went into the XWF and won their Universal Championship within 6 months. I became the first TPW International Champion a short time after it opened, and I won the West Coast Rumble to become the WGWF World Champion soon after its return. Hell, I won my first tournament with PW Valor and became World Champion that night. But in SCW... things have really been on slow-play, haven't they?
~Vaughn glances up again at his portrait, shaking his head.~
Peter Vaughn: I wonder if that guy there would have been okay with that, or if he would have broken some heads sooner. I don't know. I guessed I've changed a lot over the last few years. And it's not like I've done nothing in Sin City. By the time My Bloody Valentine V gets here, I'll have been Roulette Champion for a record-breaking 288 days. I've dominated that division like no other. I've made it a glorious warzone that everyone wants to compete in. But... no matter what I've done, the respect just doesn't seem to be there. Something's going to have to change.
~With that, Vaughn pushes himself off the wall and steps forward, straightening himself up as he looks towards the camera.~
Peter Vaughn: That's why I issued the challenge the way I did. That's why I told Eddie Lyons and Justin Smith to meet me at My Bloody Valentine, to see if one of them is strong enough to become the new Roulette Champion... or if they're both disposable, worthy only of being discarded. It's time for there to be a change, so that I can continue my journey to the top of the SCW mountain. But only... if that person earns it.
~Vaughn raises one finger to the camera, shaking it back and forth for a moment.~
Peter Vaughn: I will defend this championship 50 more times if that's what it takes to find someone worthy. I will battle against three wrestlers, four, half a dozen, whatever it takes to find the one. Will it be Eddie, who's tried multiple times before? Will it be Justin, who just got his ass beat by Eddie on the last Climax Control? Or will it be someone else, further down the line, with both of these bozos blowing their opportunity? We'll just have to see. The Roulette Title has been... precious to me. It will continue on in successful hands... be it theirs... or mine.
~With that, Vaughn dusts off his own hands, before turning and looking down the hallway beyond the main desk.~
Peter Vaughn: You want a tour of the rest of the building, see how it's coming?
Cameraman: Sure!
~The cameraman follows behind Vaughn as they head towards the back area, before Vaughn suddenly stops, raising up a hand to the camera lens.~
Peter Vaughn: Actually, there are a few things back here that, uh, probably shouldn't be broadcast. Do you mind?
Cameraman: Er... is it something illegal?
~Vaughn gives a kind of wishy-washy hand gesture, as if the line is vague. The cameraman gulps.~
Cameraman: Okay, I suppose I've got enough footage...
~The camera shuts off, taking us out of the scene.~
~The video comes back with a shot of the PMV Ranch, Vaughn's pride and joy. He sunk a good deal of his winnings from a $3 million dollar tournament into this ranch, taking the gamble that he could be more than just an ex-janitor wrestler, and it's paid off. The aerial view shows that the ranch is thriving, with cattle roaming the fenced-in grounds to the north and other farm animals being cultivated closer by. The camera zooms down to one of these areas, the chicken coops, where we can see Peter Vaughn working with his tools on one side, adjusting something. He considers what he's looking at, and then reaches for his bag, trying to get a different-sized screwdriver, only to find the bag out of reach. He turns, confused, then relaxes when he sees his fiance, Sadie Anderson, standing there with a smile, holding onto the bag.~
Sadie Anderson: Still working on that contraption of yours?
Peter Vaughn: It's a fine piece of technical engineering, thank you very much. And yes, I'm still trying to work out a few kinks...
Sadie Anderson: You mean it doesn't work.
Peter Vaughn: It works! It just needs some... adjusting...
~Sadie gets Vaughn a raised eyebrow, before handing the bag back over to him. He reaches inside, finding the screwdriver he was needing, and makes a few turns here and there, tightening things up.~
Sadie Anderson: You know there are non-tech ways of doing this, right?
Peter Vaughn: Yeah, but if I can get this working, it'll save us so much time. You know how long it takes Trevor to get in here and farm all of these eggs every day? Even with the ramps set up, it can be so much faster a way to collect if this works. I just have to...
~Suddenly, an egg comes firing out of the nearby chute. It misses the collection bucket entirely, as well as the soft padding therein, instead rocketing past Sadie and splattering the egg against the next chicken coop wall. Several impacts have apparently already hit there. Sadie looks back at the wall, then turns to Vaughn again, speechless. He shrugs.~
Peter Vaughn: Okay. Yes. Velocity is a problem. But I'm going to fix it, you'll see.
Sadie Anderson: Well, just don't forget that we have the dinner party at the mayor's house tonight. We'll need to be well-dressed for that affair. Is your tuxedo ready?
Peter Vaughn: Ugh. I hate that thing.
Sadie Anderson: I know you do. Is it ready?
Peter Vaughn: ... Yep. It's good to go. I'll be cleaned up and dressed for tonight, Sadie. I promise it.
~Sadie steps forward, giving Vaughn a quick kiss on the lips. The two hold each other for a moment, staring into each other's eyes... until there's another rattle from behind them. Vaughn quickly spins them to the side, as another egg goes flying by. They look over at the splattered remains, then Vaughn shakes his head.~
Peter Vaughn: I just need to remove some of the elasticity of the cables. It'll be fine.
Sadie Anderson: Sure it will. Just don't forget your promise. I know how you like to tinker.
Peter Vaughn: I won't.
~Sadie heads off, as Vaughn goes back over to his device, looking annoyed that it's still not working as expected. He reaches in, continuing to readjust, as we slowly fade out.~
So here we are, boys. Time for a little blood, sweat, and Valentine's Day tears.
Let's talk about the man I'm most familiar with. Hey, Edds. How have you been? I bet you were overjoyed when you saw that you were going to have to fight me again. You probably didn't feel any of that tremendous anxiety that comes from battling a man who's busted your head with a sledgehammer and later won a First Blood match over you by making you internally bleed. I mean, damn, why would you be worried at all about getting into the ring with a man who's nearly killed you TWICE?
Okay, fine... if anyone should be nervous about fighting me, it's probably you.
Really, Eddie, there hasn't been anyone in my battles that has taken more damage than you have. Barnhart got to just be duct-taped to a stretcher. Washington got away mostly unscathed thanks to the "Briefcase Bonzana" stipulation. The only one who comes close to you is ol' Rodrigo, but I'd still put you beyond his damage levels from the Bar Brawl any day.
I mean, I suppose I should be first, because I went through ALL of those conflicts, and took my own damage along the way. But I still walked away, didn't I?
So I'm sure you're wondering, why, after the two horrendous beatings I've given you, would I pick you as one of the men to fight me for the Roulette Title at My Bloody Valentine? Well, I see it as being pretty simple. You got your head smashed in. You got your ribs cracked and your guts all turned around.
And you got up.
I have to respect that, Eddie. You could have said enough is enough, and it's time for a change. You could have gone off and gotten a different job in the business, maybe as ticket-handler or merchant vendor. Maybe you could have transferred to commentary, allowing you to at least watch the matches. But you didn't. You stuck it out. You came back for more. I mean, that is honorable as hell, Eds. And after watching you knock out Justin with the Lions Roar, how could I deny you this opportunity?
Besides... who knows what weapons I'll get to use on you this time? They say the third time's the charm.
I can't help it, Eddie. I want to push you. I want to take you to your limits and see if you can surpass them. I've always thought there was potential there for you to be one of the great ones in this business. Maybe you need me to give you that extra nudge forward, to really get things going for you. Or maybe you need me to knock you unconscious once again. I mean, I don't think it's doing your brain cells too much good, but I'll do what I can.
I'm always willing to go the extra mile.
Now, let's discuss this man they call... Justin. Just. In. You know, I've already heard from people about you. People saying "Why the hell does he get a title shot instead of *blank*?" Or "He lost to Lyons, he shouldn't be in the match with Lyons." And also "Who the hell is that? Never heard of him."
I think that last one comes from how simple your name is, friend.
I mean, Smith is about as generic as you can get here in the States. It's like being a Müller in Germany, or a Tanaka or Sato in Japan. Now, believe me, I'm not one to talk. "Peter Vaughn" isn't some glorious name or anything, I'll freely admit that. But it's heads and tails above "Smith. You're a young guy, right? 23, about to turn 24 in March? You still have time to make a change and wrestle with a different moniker. What about... Justin Surmountable? Wait, no, if they call you by your last name, the impact is reversed. Ummm... Justin Humanity?
You know? Like "Oh, the inhumanity!!"?? It would fit you being this hardcore extremist like you say you are.
And that's just a little bit of the help I'm planning to give you, Justin... because at your core, I DO see someone that can become a dangerous individual in the wrestling world. You just need a few nudges in the right direction. Well, maybe not nudges, maybe a few barbed-wire broomstick shots to the back, but it'll have the same effect. At the same time, though, you need to be prepared for something... different.
Yes, a lot of my Roulette defenses have been extremely hardcore, as Edds there can attest. But that's not always the case. What if it's a three-way submission match? Will you have any way to win when you can't use your weaponry? What about a three-way pie-eating contest? Okay, that one's less likely, but after the Briefcase Bonanza, I know that anything is possible. You really have to be ready for anything, just like I am. You can't be so specialized.
After all, I've been known to spray Windex into eyes and tear people's foreheads open with industrial-strength sandpaper. But I'm also able to fly higher than any wrestler going against me, and I can break out the technical acumen at any time I want. About the only area I haven't fully levelled up is pure power, because, let's face it, those muscle-bound guys can never move fast enough to keep up with me, so why would I want to remove that advantage? So you need to come into this match, Justin, ready to adapt for whatever's coming your way.
Will you be able to do it on the first try? Take me down and move forward? I mean, Lyons is on his third try now, so that seems unlikely... but maybe you can do it. Maybe the Roulette wheel will favor you, and you'll get your speciality. Or maybe I'll manage to knock some of your teeth out with a well-placed steel-boot dropkick. Do you have a good dental plan?
Oh, what am I saying, you work for Sin City, of course you do.
Really, boyos, I'm pulling for both of you to give me the battle that's necessary, to move yourself into a major place in this federation. I want to see you channel your inner Mechanic and roar forward, fighting all the way through, and manage to prove yourselves to me. But I'm not going to be patient. I'm going to slug the first person in my way, even if it's the referee, and bring you both to the edge of your wrestling talents. I will test you in every way possible, with every maneuver and assault possible. And in the end, if one of you is still standing, I'll shake your hand.
And if neither of you are upright... I'll break your hands and move on.
~As the picture returns, we now see Peter Vaughn adjusting his tuxedo bow-tie, looking disgruntled at how it feels, as Sadie Anderson stands beside him. She takes his arm, smiling at him, and the two head away from the parking garage where Gabriella is now located for safety's sake.~
Sadie Anderson: You look amazing, Peter.
Peter Vaughn: How do announcers wear stuff like this every single week? I just don't get it.
Sadie Anderson: They wear it because it makes them look good, just like it does you.
Peter Vaughn: I don't think even I could manage a superkick in this gear.
~Vaughn stops, as if to give it an attempt, but Sadie quickly stops him.~
Sadie Anderson: I really don't want you to rip your bottoms, Peter. We haven't even gotten inside yet.
~Vaughn stops, shrugging his shoulders before looking back at Sadie.~
Peter Vaughn: Would that get me out of this?
Sadie Anderson: Not a chance. You'd have to go in with your boxers showing to all the world.
Peter Vaughn: Boxers, huh? You think that's what I'm wearing?
Sadie Anderson: ... It's not a thong, right?
Peter Vaughn: Hah! No, no thongs here. Those never looked practical even for the people who are supposed to wear them.
Sadie Anderson: Then what... wait, I don't think I want to know this.
Peter Vaughn: That's up to you.
Sadie Anderson: Look, we're moving forward in line. Do you have the passes?
Peter Vaughn: Sure.
~Vaughn pulls the two passes out of his tuxedo jacket pocket, displaying them to Sadie. She seems comforted by this, half-expecting Vaughn to lose them so that they couldn't go in and he could return to the ranch. The two move forward, listening to the conversation ahead of them.~
Fancy Woman: I tell you, that was the last time we let Sigfried on our yacht!
~The man next to her laughs, as does the security guard checking their pass, although his laugh sounds a lot more fake. He waves them through, and Sadie and Vaughn step forward.~
Security: Passes please.
Peter Vaughn: Yes sir. You know, we never had any problems on my cruise ship, the, uh, Titanic...
~Sadie gives Vaughn a playful nudge with her elbow, getting him to shut up. The security guard runs the passes through his scanner... and then runs them again. After the third time, Vaughn looks a little more annoyed.~
Peter Vaughn: Technology, am I right? Never works like it's supposed to.
Security: Actually, it IS working, sir. But I'm afraid I'm getting a negative message on these passes.
Peter Vaughn: Negative message?
Security: It seems your invite... has been denied.
~Vaughn's eyebrows go up, as Sadie brings a hand to her mouth in shock. The security guard seems to be a little torn himself, as he hands the passes back.~
Security: I'm sorry, Mr. Vaughn. If it's any consolation, I loved your Ultimate X match for the Roulette Championship last year, it was my favorite contest of the year.
Peter Vaughn: I appreciate that... now who do I talk to about these passes? The mayor?
Security: I'm afraid the mayor is already inside, and you, unfortunately, are not to be allowed in. Please don't make me call more security and ruin that beautiful suit of yours.
~Seeing this as a challenge, Vaughn steps forward, but Sadie quickly grabs his arm, shaking her head. They turn and walk back down the steps, with Vaughn rubbing at his head, deeply confused.~
Peter Vaughn: Why would it be denied? I don't remember talking about Eric Johnson in any of my promos recently. Why would they invite us, and then block us?
Sadie Anderson: I can make a couple of calls, see what I can find out. I've got connections there. But before I do that... you didn't set this up, right, Peter? To keep us out?
Peter Vaughn: Of course not!! ... I would have done something that made more sense than this.
Sadie Anderson: Okay, then, let me talk to some people. We'll find out what's going on.
~Sadie moves off, her phone at the ready, as she goes into the political battlefield. Vaughn, meanwhile, looks back towards the security guard, seeing him check in another couple for the event. He takes note of the other guards nearby, weighing up the odds.~
Peter Vaughn: We'll get in there. I guarantee it.
~Vaughn clenches his fists, knowing that whether he wanted in there or not, Sadie DID, and that's all that matters. He heads off back to his truck to get some tools as we slowly fade out.~