~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.~