Somewhere in Reno, Nevada.
“You'll all have to forgive me if my concentration hasn't been entirely focused on SCW this past week. While apparently everyone has been up in arms over absolutely nothing, I've been off since Violent Conduct, at home again, but instead of sitting doing nothing I've been getting ready for one of those bigger picture kind of moments. When fate steps in and drops a golden opportunity in your lap, then going through the paces kind of takes back seat.”
It's later in the evening and elsewhere neon lights shine through the dark Nevada night, but here there's only a few lights, mostly neglected but still burning away at their jobs in a more overlooked area of the city.
“But onto business at hand. Vaughan Andrews. What kind of name is that anyway? Vaughan... Dutch?”
The SCW mainstay Blade Alexander, dressed in faded jeans and a plain dark grey shirt under a navy blue hoodie leans with one arm outstretched on the fence.
“I looked into his bio, seeing as he's pretty much AWOL from anything else in SCW. Seems he was a part of something called Masters of Apocalypse. It doesn't mean a thing to SCW, sure, but I have to talk about something right?”
“So interesting factoid Vaughan... My dad was part of something called Masters of Apocalypse: The Federation. He signed on with this fed at one point and they didn't use him, didn't use him, didn't use him then as he tells it, had pretty much forgotten about the fed being busy in other places and got a phone call one day saying they needed him to come in for a title match right before a pay per view. Big mistake with my dad. One match in and he was their world champion.”
He smirks.
“I'm sure it had nothing to do with you or that legend/mentor/special friend of yours.”
“What's it with SCW lately throwing me in against these guys who are second generation or supposed to be some sort of prodigies who have to have someone hold them by the hand and tell them what to do every step of the way? For that matter, why did Ric Rude ever need a manager?”
He takes a moment took actually look like he's thinking about his own question, before he shrugs it off.
“So Vaughan, Posterboy? That's supposed to be your nickname? You know it's supposed to be two words right? And who gave you that name, that guy who you apparently can't function without? What's the deal anyway... Anytime he's not around you drink yourself more stupid than you already are, you spend any cash you have of the cheapest of Nevada's hookers and going back to the stupid point... You brag about getting busted for drunk driving in what you think is a really expensive car but is actually a Honda Civic. You know it says the make of the car on the ticket right? Ignoramus.”
“Posterboy... That's a good one. No one's ever going to buy a poster of some curtain jerking loser. Maybe that coach of yours should have told you that you're actually supposed to achieve some level of success before you have the complete breakdown and substance abuse problems. All things considered though, if I had your future to look forward to I'd drink myself into an early grave too.”
“With quality opponents like this it's no wonder my attention has been elsewhere lately. I came back to SCW just a few weeks ago full of rage and intentions and what happens? Everyone who knows better has either gotten well out of the way or plain ran scared. Maybe I'm wrong though and it's just the people who do the deeds that have gotten cold feet or don't want to find out what I'd do to those people they so lovingly clutch onto like safety blankets.”
“Reckoning. It's coming, but... not yet.”
He smirks again.
“First it's just more empty-handed disappointment for one Posterboy. Then I've got bigger things coming. Bigger things in the form of the World's Heavyweight Championship.”
“Do you... Does anyone really think that this company would ever actually consent to giving me their precious shot at the World Champion? Of course not. Not when they can happily string me along with the empty promises of being next in line for the SCW Title. Last time around I believed. I bought in to what they were selling. I sat around like a good little child waiting for my turn that I was sure would be just around the corner. How could it not be just around the corner right? After all they promised it was coming and they wouldn't lie right?”
“Not this time. This time I didn't wait, I sought out opportunity. I'm not going to pass it up or wait for something that's never going to come. I'm going back home, all the way to my real home and coming out NWA World Champion. I'm going to supersede Nick Jones as the best SCW has to offer and I'll finally be able to be free of getting matched up against these pretty-boy glad handers who just come looking to use wrestling for some stepping stone only to get drown in their own mediocrity.”
“Vaughan Andrews, facing people as bad as you so persistently is starting to drag me down.”
He pushes himself off the fence.
“If I don't do something about it soon I'm going to get pulled into being one of you. That's a fate I can't accept. Blood needs to be spilled. Hearts need to beat again and a price needs to be paid. What happened to the days when we fought for every inch in prowrestling and killed to keep it? Sad.”
Fade.
