[Peter Vaughn]

~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.~