[Christian Underwood]

Post your roleplays here by deadline. Good luck and have fun!

[Peter Vaughn]

~The camera shot once again comes up on the warehouse that we saw last time. Instead of featuring shadowy cut-outs, however, this time it seems to be built slightly differently, with a large stage constructed in the middle of the room. Coming up the stairs onto it is Peter Vaughn, dressed in his usual coveralls, as he stops in position near the center of the stage. He looks around at the apparently empty warehouse, then looks forward again at the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Hello again, Sin City.

~Vaughn gives the camera a small smirk, before straightening back up and clasping his hands in front of him.~

Peter Vaughn: Recently, I made my debut in your fine company, making an impact in your last Pay-Per-View's main event. I've got to say, I don't feel like it really made the impact I expected it would. But it did lead me to be booked against Miles Kasey for my first contest. It went exactly as I thought it would, as I floored that poor guy and got my first victory here. And yet, once again... I didn't feel like there was an expression of excitement from the fans. I felt like nobody was celebrating my victory. So... I suppose I'll just have to do it myself, eh?

~With that, Vaughn raises his fingers, snapping them in the air. All of the sudden, from loud speakers, we hear the beginning of "This Time It's Different", blaring out from the sides of the warehouse. Pyro, hidden until now, starts to erupt around the stage. Confetti cannon explode in front of it, showering everything with its colorful pieces of paper. A dancing squad, likely hired from one of the dance academies in Dallas, begins moving in front of the stage, doing high kicks as Vaughn stands, seemingly enjoying every minute. Crowd noise is even pumped in, with cheers for The Mechanic. It's an absolutely crazy scene, one that almost feels like it came out of nowhere. After a few more seconds of enjoyment, Vaughn slices his hand across his throat, and the music and crowd noise immediately stops. The dancers walk off, the pyro stops, the confetti settles on the ground. It's all quiet once again.~

Peter Vaughn: There, that was enjoyable, wasn't it?

~Vaughn nods, as if agreeing with himself, although it's always impossible to tell if he's enjoying something or not. There's always something in the eyes that doesn't look quite right. Those eyes glance left and right, staring at all the confetti strewn across the warehouse.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, it IS quite messy to do it yourself, isn't it? Good thing I still have connections within... 'the business'.

~For a second time, Vaughn snaps his fingers. This time, we see around a dozen custodians come out of the darkness on either side, pushing brooms in front of them. They work extremely professionally, making sure not to miss a corner as they begin to work on removing all of the confetti and other bits of trash added to the mix.~

Peter Vaughn: They'll take care of everything, don't worry about it. So, celebration over. Milo is now in the past. It's time to concentrate on the future, which is one Mr. Jack Washington. I got to see him in person that night when I made my debut. Too bad he wasn't in position to take advantage of my actions, huh? Well, we'll see if Mr. Washington is, in fact, a bigger name, one that will resonate more with the Sin City fans if and when I walk out with another victory at the Pay-Per-View.

~The custodians are doing an amazing job, really, considering what they've got to take care of in such a limited amount of time. Already, most of the confetti has been swept away, with the workers converging on the small amount that's left. Vaughn looks out at them with a definite sense of pride, knowing he hired the right men & women for the job tonight.~

Peter Vaughn: And if beating Washington doesn't get the crowd riled up? I can always have another self-high-five celebration right here next month... or I can start getting more serious about forcing them to take me seriously with title shots in the future. We'll see, won't we?

~With that, Vaughn turns and walks back off the empty stage. There is no confetti left. There is no sign of the dancers from earlier. Even the custodians have disappeared somehow. The lights go out, and the shot fades away.~


~After a short break, we return with a shot of the Texas landscape. It is a beautiful sight, with the sun rising in the east, showering the scene with light. The camera moves, showing it's a drone, as it follows what appears to be a person riding their horse across the prairie. The drone closes in, as we view the rider expertly leading the horse forward in its gallops, taking it towards a large ranch house set up in the middle of a large plantation. As the drone readjusts to the side, we can see a rather stunning beauty getting off the horse and quickly tying it to the post outside. She takes off her hat for a moment, wiping the sweat from her brow, before heading to the front door, which appears to have been left open.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello? Mr. Vaughn? Mr. Hill?

~She walks inside, setting her hat to the side since she's of the old-school belief that you don't wear your cowboy hats indoors. Hearing the sound of digital music, Sadie heads to the side, walking through a narrow passage to get to the kitchen. Sitting at the table, his back facing away from us, is Peter Vaughn's half-brother, Thomas Hill. He has his laptop open in front of him, and appears to be playing some sort of retro spaceship simulator. He's intent on landing the shots on the enemies flittering around his target screen, so he doesn't notice Sadie's entrance.~

Thomas Hill: C'mon, you squirrelly son of a...

Sadie Anderson: Mr. Hill?

~Thomas jumps, shocked at the sudden voice nearby. He quickly hits a side button, which switches the screen from a simulator to an Excel spreadsheet. Thomas then turns around, trying to compose himself as he sees Sadie standing behind him, fighting to hide a laugh.~

Thomas Hill: Oh, Sadie! Hi! I'm sorry, I was busy with the quarterly figures of the ranch, and I, uh, didn't hear you come in...

Sadie Anderson: Uh huh. So did you get the high score yet?

Thomas Hill: ... Not yet. Some kid in Tulsa has set the benchmark pretty damn high.

Sadie Anderson: Too bad. I guess, keep trying, as long as your brother doesn't catch you. He's paying you now, right?

Thomas Hill: Yes, well... you can't, y'know, do business ALL of the time, right? He'd understand that... right?

~Sadie doesn't say anything, even as Thomas shakes his head, answering his own question.~

Thomas Hill: Just don't tell him, okay?

Sadie Anderson: No reason I would. Is he here this morning? I've got some news I need to pass onto him.

Thomas Hill: Last I saw him, he was in the gym downstairs.

Sadie Anderson: *Sigh* Alright, thanks.

~Sadie pats Thomas on the shoulder, getting a grin from him, as he's always had a bit of a crush on her. Sadly, it's never been reciprocated. Sadie heads down the hall, as Thomas presses the button, getting back to his game. Unfortunately, the pause was at the worst moment, as the ship headed straight towards him opens fire...~

Thomas Hill: Awww, damn it...

~Thomas restarts, as we head down the hall with Sadie. She moves to a closet doorway, opening it up... to reveal a ladder that appears to go both up and down. Sadie shakes her head again.~

Sadie Anderson: Strangest ranch house I've ever seen.

~She starts down the ladder, heading into the basement structure underneath. While the house looks fairly normal on the outside, Sadie knows that many special access points have been built into the home, at Vaughn's specific instructions. Nobody knows exactly what he was thinking, putting together such a special job, but with the money he had at the time, there was no questioning him. After reaching the bottom of the ladder, Sadie moves through another doorway, this one looking almost like a shelf, before coming out into the high-tech gym that Vaughn had built for his wrestling training. There's a small ring set up in the distance, while all around, there are some of the best equipment currently available on the market to strengthen oneself. Strangely, though, there doesn't appear to be a Peter Vaughn, as the large room is seemingly empty. Sadie walks forward, looking around in confusion.~

Sadie Anderson: Hello? Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn? Are you here?

~Sadie, puzzled, rubs at her hair before turning to leave. That's when Vaughn lowers down from the ceiling, upside-down, suspended in front of her.~

Peter Vaughn: I've told you before, Sadie, it's Pet...

~With a quick scream, Sadie immediately goes into fight-or-flight mode, and with her, it usually lands on "Fight". She swings, slamming a shot right into Vaughn's upper chest, knocking him backwards. His legs come off from the high bars he was hanging on, but Vaughn corrects on the way down, landing on his feet before dropping to a knee, rubbing his chest.~

Peter Vaughn: *cough cough* Wow... nice one.

Sadie Anderson: Oh my god! I'm so sorry! What were you DOING up there??

~Vaughn gets to his feet, as Sadie comes next to him, mortified. Vaughn, though, doesn't seem bothered.~

Peter Vaughn: Just doing some gravity sit-ups. I didn't mean to startle you. I have to say, that was a great right hand. Maybe we ought to start talking about training you up for the wrestling business?

Sadie Anderson: Oh, no, that's not for me. Give me riding a horse to riding a turnbuckle any day of the week.

Peter Vaughn: You don't know what you're missing. So what brings you down here? I miss another meeting?

~Vaughn steps to the side, grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from his forehead and chest. While Vaughn is not a muscle-bound stud like many wrestlers, he does have a surprising physique that he keeps hidden under his coveralls. He'd have to, to be order to pull off the moves he can in the squared circle. Sadie seems to be admiring him for a moment from behind, before shaking it off. After all, Vaughn has never shown any interest in anyone romantically, at least not in her time around him. She clears her throat, looking away.~

Sadie Anderson: Yes sir, I wanted to tell you about an... incident this morning. Unfortunately, we lost two ranch hands from our roster. Duke and Mitch both turned in their resignations to me, asking me to deliver them to you.

~Sadie pulls out some paper from her pocket, unfolding it, but Vaughn makes no motion to reach for it.~

Peter Vaughn: Both of them, huh? That makes four in the last week. Did they say where they're going?

Sadie Anderson: Unfortunately... they got offered larger work contracts... with Judd Harrison.

~Vaughn's eyes narrow, recognizing the name. He remembers Harrison all right. He's the man who has taken control of the local ranching consortium around these parts. He's also the main reason that Vaughn has been unable to add cattle to his ranch, blocking him at every turn. Now, apparently, his activities have moved more towards taking talent away from the PMV Ranch, showing that he would still like to see them go under. Vaughn comes out of his thoughts, shaking his head, before grabbing a shirt and flipping it on.~

Peter Vaughn: First things first: what were Duke and Mitch supposed to work on today?

Sadie Anderson: Duke was on food production for the livestock. Mitch was set to go out and repair a fence that got blown over last week.

Peter Vaughn: Okay, then. No problem, we can take care of that easily. Let's go.

~Vaughn turns and leaves the gym, with Sadie quickly following behind as we cut away.~


Sometimes it does seem that the only way you can take care of business is by doing it yourself.

I did that at Climate Control by crushing poor Milo's hope and dreams of using me as a springboard back to the top. But now, I find myself facing someone in a similar vein. Poor Jack Washington, a two-time former SCW Heavyweight Champion during the Pandemic years. It's got to hurt, winning that gold twice, and then spending the next year struggling at every turn to be able to reclaim it. This last time, you fell again, with Mac Bane claiming the championship. Even worse, it was Mac's fourth time to become champ, doubling what you've been able to do.

Hey, by the way, did I mention that I beat Mac Bane for a championship last year?

Now, of course, Jackie, you'd be ready to point out that you DID become a champion in 2022, claiming that oh-so-prestigious Internet Championship from Ken Davison. Hey, props to you, you took down a Savior to get that gold. Most impressive. Unfortunately, you then stumbled badly to Goth, losing the title and basically getting your ass whopped, didn't you?

By the way, did I mention I beat Goth in a tournament recently?

But, hey, Jackolyn, you've stuck around and kept fighting, and I can appreciate that. You haven't walked away from the business that was starting to get away from you. You kept demanding match after match, and now you've pretty much been randomly placed against me in an epic contest at Blaze of Glory XI. I'm sure every faithful SCW fan out there is already expecting you to walk out with the victory, due to your history of success here.

I mean, I'm sure they were thinking the same thing for Milo, but I could be mistaken.

Really, Jack, this could be a make-or-break confrontation for you. Can you step up your game for a one-on-one contest with one of the best wrestlers in the world right now? Can you motivate yourself past all your recent missteps and find a way to bring the A game that made you a champion against The Mechanic on Pay-Per-View? Or are you going to come in weak, picturing an easy victory versus a former 'janitor' who hasn't managed to impress you yet?

Nah, I'm sure you'll take me as seriously as you can. Even if that's not full power. But, y'know, anything less than max output is probably going to lead to certain failure. Because I'm coming for you, Jackie Walla-Walla-Washington. I'm coming full steam ahead, because rattling your brain and cracking your skull appears to be the best way to make SCW management take me more seriously.

And I do aim to make a big impression.


~The shot comes back with a view of a pig's snout, right near the camera. It snorts loudly, before the pig moves away, as the camera raises up to show us the pig pen in front. While it was never in Vaughn's mind to raise pigs on his ranch, it became a necessity to get something going when he was blocked from the cattle trade. Money has to come in somehow. Bring him the bacon, as they say. The camera moves past the pigs to the nearby trough, where we see a large mechanism positioned above it. The camera follows it back to what appears to be a modified ice machine. Vaughn walks up to it, popping open the door and pouring a few ingredients inside. He then shuts the door and pushes a few buttons, and the mechanism begins to rumble. The pigs, having heard it before, move closer to the troughs, as Sadie catches up.~

Sadie Anderson: This is still one of the craziest things I've ever seen, Mr. Va... I mean, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: What's so crazy about it? Somebody left this beautiful machine at a junk yard. I couldn't let it just sit there, unused, when it could be retooled for another purpose. Just look at how well the washing mechanics I added stirs up the food... and then delivers it...

~After a few more seconds of rumbling, the sound of the machine changes, as the newly-condensed 'slop' makes its way down the chute and pours into the troughs. The pigs immediately begin shoving each other aside to get at the food, unknowingly fattening themselves up ever greater every day. Only the lucky ones will get to breed. Vaughn nods at the contraption, patting it on the side, before heading over to the chicken coop, where another machine is sitting there.~

Sadie Anderson: And this thing... wouldn't it just be easier to step into the fence and sprinkle out the seed for them? I know that's what Duke usually did...

Peter Vaughn: Easier? I suppose. But why not do it with flair?

~Vaughn picks up a container of seed and pours it into the top of the machine, which we can now see is a modified tennis ball shooter. Within seconds, seed begins flying out of the nozzle, spraying all around the chicken coop. Chickens who get hit by the seed squawk and cluck in the machine's direction, before turning and beginning to eat. Vaughn, meanwhile, turns back to Sadie, shrugging his shoulders.~

Peter Vaughn: Why did we need Duke again, anyway? Seems like I've made it so easy, anyone could do it.

Sadie Anderson: Well, let's just say that your.... untraditional methods have affected some of our workers. Many of us are old-school, after all, wanting to do things the way our fathers and grandfathers did them. There's tradition there, you know?

Peter Vaughn: I mean... I understand respecting tradition and how it was done in the past... but at the same time, they used to drive horse-drawn buggies and could only listen to the radio. Things change... you can only rely on history for so long.

~With that, Vaughn turns and kicks on a nozzle from a newly-created plumbing drainage system. Within a few seconds, water begins pouring out for both the chickens and pigs, using the construction that Vaughn helped put in at the beginning of the year. He smiles, shutting off the nozzle once the bins are filled, before turning and walking off again, with Sadie right behind.~

Peter Vaughn: I've got a new toy I've been wanting to play with that should mend that fence back together in no time. Once that's done... how about we pay the Four H ranch a visit?

Sadie Anderson: ... Wait, what?

~Vaughn keeps walking, so Sadie hurries to catch up, suddenly concerned for her boss' decision-making process. After all, it has already turned a little towards violence in the past...~


I know that those who ignore history are likely doomed to repeat it.

I can't avoid the fact that you've had a lot of success here, Jack-o. Some people just find themselves more comfortable when they're sitting in their home territory, determined to make it big there. Sure, nobody knows the name Jack Washington outside of Sin City, but you've made it pretty famous right here, and you should be proud.

Hell, maybe people know you outside of Sin City, I don't know. The only time I heard about you was when the Saviors were smacking you around.

The difference here, of course, is that I'm more willing to put myself out there wherever I go. I like to jump around and test the waters, taking on the top competition wherever I go. And you know what, Jacques? I tend to come out on the winning side more often than not. I went to the XWF and won the Universal & Supercontinental Titles there. I went to Pro Wrestling Valor and took down their biggest tournament, the Roth Invitational, to win their World Title. I've squashed everyone in Thunder Pro and I've dominated the WGWF since it came back.

Everywhere I go, I make an impact. Do you really think it's going to be any differently against you?

You call yourself an all-around athlete, but can you pull off the high-flying moves that I can nail you with? Can you avoid the crippling constrictions I can perform with submission holds? Can you dodge in time when I'm coming at you full-speed with a kick to the jaw?

I mean, you might be better at power maneuvers, I'll give you that. They've never been my forte. But everywhere else, I think I've got the advantage.

History may say that you're a hell of a big-time performer when it comes to the big matches. Using that history, I won't be underestimating you. But at the same time, boyo, you make sure and take note of MY history, and all that I'm bringing to the table.

Or else you might be doomed to take the same path that Milo did, and wouldn't that just be embarrassing for you, repeating his mistakes?


~We rejoin Vaughn and Sadie as they're on their way down the road in Vaughn's treasured truck, Gabriela, recently repaired and running smoother than ever. As we always say, don't ask us why it's called Gabriela: nobody but Vaughn knows. The truck makes a right turn, leaving the highway, and pulling into what appears to be the entrance to the Four H ranch, one of the bigger ranches in Northeast Texas. As the truck gets closer to the main homestead, Sadie turns to Vaughn, apparently continuing an argument that's been going on for miles.~

Sadie Anderson: I just don't want you to do anything rash, that's all, Peter.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, c'mon, when have I ever done anything rash?

Sadie Anderson: Do you want the list in alphabetical order or in terms of biggest effects?

~Vaughn can't help but laugh for a second, before shaking his head. They're almost to the house now, where a 'welcoming party' appears to have been alerted about them.~

Peter Vaughn: You don't need to worry, Sadie. I'm not planning on murdering the guy.

Sadie Anderson: That's good to know.

Peter Vaughn: It's broad daylight, after all...

~Sadie immediately glances over at Vaughn, trying to discern if he's joking or not. He keeps his face expressionless.~

Peter Vaughn: Besides... I've got a plan.

Sadie Anderson: Oh, God...

~The truck comes to a stop, with Vaughn hopping out almost immediately. He walks over, with Sadie staying behind him, as Judd Harrison and his crew step closer. A couple, knowing Vaughn's reputation, are standing in the back with shotguns, but Judd is all smiles as he reaches out, giving Vaughn a large Texas handshake.~

Judd Harrison: As I live and breathe, Peter Vaughn, back here for a visit. To what do I owe this surprise, Vaughn?

Peter Vaughn: Good to see you, Judd. I see that diet you've been working on hasn't quite taken effect yet.

~One of the hands tenses up, but Judd just laughs, patting his ample belly.~

Judd Harrison: It's tough, keeping yourself away from steaks when you're a cattleman! Oh, I'm sorry, you don't know that feeling, do you?

Peter Vaughn: Not yet. But I'll get there eventually. So, shall we get down to business?

Judd Harrison: Why, I'm all ears, Vaughn. You here about Duke & Mitch? I was as surprised as you were that they wanted to come work for me, but what am I supposed to do, say no to them? They deserve a good salary, same as every cowboy out there. Ah'm sorry if that's left you short-handed... literally as well as figuratively.

~There are some chuckles behind Harrison, but both men ignore them. Vaughn even puts on a 'pleasant' smile of a sort.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh, yes, they certainly do, Harrison. But no, I'm not here about them. I'm here to take away your best man, actually. Jacobs, isn't it?

~Vaughn points behind Harrison at a well-built younger man, who starts, seemingly surprised that Vaughn knows his name. Harrison looks back at him, confused, then laughs.~

Judd Harrison: You think Jacobs there is going to come work for you? After all I've given him? I've heard you were a little off your rocker, but son, that's breaking the whole chair at that point...

~Vaughn, ignoring Harrison, steps around him, pulling out what appears to be a contract from his back pocket. He waves it in front of Jacobs, still smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: So, Jacobs, I'll make this simple enough. You sign this contract and agree to leave the Four H ranch now and forevermore, I'll pay you 500... K...

~A few gasps come out from the gathered crowd at that announcement, with Jacobs' eyes going wide. He reaches out, taking the contract, stunned, as almost everyone there thinks about what they could do with that kind of money. Harrison, sensing the shift in tone, immediately steps towards Jacobs.~

Judd Harrison: Now, wait a minute here, Jacobs. You know I gave you everything to be here. You should be loyal to me, damn it!

Jacobs: I... I know, sir... but... with $500,000... I could finally open my own ranch...

Judd Harrison: What do you need a ranch for? You're working here, at the best one! It's all a hassle being in charge, believe you me. Besides, Vaughn here probably doesn't have that kind of money to throw away, anyways. I don't care HOW well he's done in wrasslin'!

~Both men look over at Vaughn, who shrugs.~

Peter Vaughn: You sign the contract, and it's official.

~Jacobs looks between Vaughn and Harrison several times, licking his lips. He then reaches out towards Harrison with one arm... and pulls a pen from inside Harrison's suit. Harrison glares as Jacobs signs the contract, watching him hand it back to Vaughn.~

Judd Harrison: You turncoat traitor! I'll see that you never work in this business again!

Jacobs: I don't need your support now, Mr. Harrison. I don't have to put up with your laziness or temper tantrums about 'your' ranch anymore, either. I'm rich!

Peter Vaughn: Well, I mean... in some people's eyes, you will be, I suppose. But a deal's a deal...

~Vaughn has pulled out his wallet, shifting through it. Everyone turns and looks at him as he pulls out one hundred dollar bill after another, before handing the stack to Jacobs. He takes it, extremely confused.~

Jacobs: What's this? A down payment?

Peter Vaughn: You know, one lesson I always tell people in my business is to always read the contract before you sign it. See, you heard what you wanted to hear. The thing is... what I said was, if you agree to leave, I'll pay you $500... okay?

~Jacobs' mouth gapes open for some time before finally closing, as he brings up the contract, checking to see that it, indeed, says $500, not $500,000. There is one or two laughs from behind, but nobody makes eye contact with either Jacobs or Harrison, who is still fuming. Jacobs, getting over the shock, turns and flings the money into Vaughn's face, scattering it around.~

Jacobs: Keep your damn money, you tricky bastard!

Peter Vaughn: Hey, if that's the way you want it...

*Vaughn leans over, quickly picking the money up and pocketing it once again.~

Peter Vaughn: I guess that means the contract is breached already, huh? Of course, maybe not, as Juddy there doesn't seem too pleased with the disloyalty he's just seen, does he?

~After a moment, Jacobs turns to Harrison, realizing the mistake he's just made.~

Jacobs: Umm... look... Mr. Harrison... I didn't mean...

Judd Harrison: Duke! Mitch! Make yourselves useful and get this deadbeat off of my property!

Jacobs: No, wait! Mr. Harrison!

~Jacob's arms go out, but Duke & Mitch are there, pulling him towards the parking lot. Both look over at Vaughn, who gives them a wave.~

Peter Vaughn: Hi, boys. Having fun yet over here?

~The two men have the graciousness to look ashamed before moving off, working to get an increasing irate Jacobs back to his truck. Harrison angrily shakes his head, before turning back to the still-smiling Vaughn.~

Judd Harrison: I take it you're happy with this?

Peter Vaughn: Let's see. I did what I said I was going to do, so... yes. Yes, I'm pretty happy with it. I'll see you around... Judd.

~Vaughn turns, going back to Gabriela. Harrison spits on the ground, in their direction, before turning and storming off. Sadie, shaking her head in wonder at Vaughn's ability to make enemies, gets into the truck with them, and they take off. As the vehicle drives away, we see Jacobs watching them go, fuming, as he stands next to his own vehicle.~

Jacobs: You son of a bitch... I'll get you for this... I'll get you!!

~Jacobs angrily lashes out, smashing his fist into his driver's side window and cracking it. He stares at the cracks, breathing heavily, as we slowly fade out.~


What can I say? I have a history of getting my way.

Sometimes it involves wrestling my opponent into the ground, until he or she can't take it anymore and they're forced to give up. Sometimes it involves using whatever rules they put in my way, bending them just right so they work for me, instead of against me. Sometimes it ends up being a steel chair to the face of my opponent.

Whatever works, right?

I don't really see that happening with us, Jackie boy, since I don't really hate you or anything. Maybe that'll change the closer we get to the match. Maybe I'll find a way to have some animosity with you. Right now, though? I really just see you as a means to an end, and nothing more.

Don't get me wrong. I'm looking forward to beating the hell out of you, because that, too, works towards the end result I'm looking for. I mean, you DO have a name in Sin City that'll make you a decent addition to my List of the Vanquished. But as for righteous fury or indignation? Well, I'm not there... yet.

Guess we'll see what happens, right, boyo? In the end, though, whether I hate your bloody guts or not, it's not going to make a difference. You're going to feel the taste of vengeance, and you're going to take the Plunge... and I'll be moving my way past you, taking your slot on the way towards the top titles of this company.

See you there.

[Jack Washington]

Prologue:

Jack was again successful in his last outing, defeating Calvin Harris in a match that many had Harris picked to win. Jack of course expected an instant reward for this victory and wasn’t exactly given anything he wanted. Instead, he, almost against his better judgement, signed up for the Blast From the Past. Jack is notoriously a “me-first” wrestler, and has regretted doing this before, but perhaps he sees this as his only chance. Now Jack must move forward, given a match he did not really want at Blaze Of Glory against newcomer Peter Vaughn.

 

Outside the ring, Jack finally got everything off his chest, venting his frustration, but it was his brother Jason of all people, who isn’t the most mentally stable person in the world, who really helped his through it. Jack was appreciative of Jason’s efforts, but Jason also let it slip that there were buyers interested in the Golden Flamingo. Jack rebuffed the offer, but now one has to wonder who exactly these buyers are, and why they would want to buy the casino in the first place. The Washington family certainly has their enemies, and very few allies, but that what they have been for a long, long time. Against the world.

 

--

Grand Flamingo Casino,

Las Vegas, NV

 

Jack and Brian are inside the manager’s office, just watching the floor, as on most days, the Casino had many people inside and Jack of course now had pretty much a full security staff and a special team for handling anything out of the ordinary. What started as a small time outfit, had grown into a full-fledged major operation. Because that’s what it took to run a casino. Jack, Jason and Brian watched everything, except for one room, the count room where all the money was counted. But so long as everybody was happy, it didn’t need to be seen or discussed. 

Jack took a drink of whiskey and kept an eye on the cameras. Brian was just looking through paperwork, but he knew enough to turn a blind eye to a lot of the shady under dealings with the city, and state officials. Again, so long as everybody was happy, and getting money, nobody really cared. 

 

Jack: It all looks right, doesn’t it?

 

Brian barely looked up and Jack didn’t bother to turn around. 

 

Brian: Of course not. It looks how it should.

 

Jack just nodded.

 

Jack: Yeah.

 

The buzzer from the intercom from the secretary broke up the minor conversation and Jack pressed down on the buzzer.

 

Jack: Yes Rose?

 

Rose: Mr. Washington, you have a visitor. He says he’s a family friend?

 

Jack and Brian stopped and looked confused by the sentence. Jack motions for Brian to be ready as Jack answers back after a longer than normal pause.

 

Jack: Who? 

 

Rose: He says his name is Anthony. Says he’s known your family for years.

 

Jack again paused and walked over to the managers desk and ensured his pistol was inside. He looked at Brian and nodded and took a deep breath before walking back over to the intercom.

 

Jack: Send him in.

 

Brian stood up and moved out of sight of the door. Whoever Anthony actually was, Jack was going to be ready. He stood, hands behind his back as the door opened and Anthony walked in. He wores a sports coat and jeans. The coat was open, but Jack didn’t acknowledge him at all. Anthony had a big smile on his face as he approached Jack.

 

Anthony: Hey! There he is! 

 

Jack put a hand up and instantly stopped him.

 

Jack: What do you want, Anthony?

 

Anthony put his hands up in mock surrender and backed up a few steps.

 

Anthony: Whoa, easy there, J-man! I’m just here to look at how you’re doing. 

 

Jack: Now you’ve seen it. So unless there’s something else you need, I think you’ve seen enough.

 

Anthony: Okay, J-man! So hostile. Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. I came right up to you, no sneaking around or anything. If I was coming for you, don’t you think I would have tried to do something like that?

 

Jack: Getting stabbed in the front is just as painful as being stabbed in the back. 

 

Anthony: Fair enough, but you see what I’m working with here. Your boys searched me before I even got on the elevator to come up here.

 

Jack: You still haven’t answered my question.

 

Anthony: Listen J-man, I come in peace. I just wanted to observe the operation. I mean, it’s been a long time since all that stuff went down. You think I’m still part of it?

 

Jack: 100%.

 

Anthony: That hurts J-Man.

 

Jack: Enough. You’re stalling and trying to make nice. What happened was a long time ago and it’s because of that, that I’m here. You and everybody else kicked my family out of Philly. And you know, out of respect for what happened, I stayed away. Moved out on my own, and I built this. You all got what you wanted, and I got what I wanted. So, it doesn’t make a lot of sense, why you are here, when I haven’t been there.

 

Anthony stopped and smiled again backing up slightly.

 

Anthony: Okay, J-Man, I got you on that. It was a long time ago and I’m not here to...make amends or anything. I’m here to see how things were, and then I’m outta here. Okay, I can see that you still feel some type of way about it and - 

 

The click of a hammer being pulled back on a pistol stopped Anthony. Brian was behind him now, having slipped behind during the conversation. 

 

Brian: You know we never did things like that before.

 

Anthony put his hands up with a pistol jammed in his back. Brian marched him forward.

 

Anthony: Oh, Bad Brian! Okay, you do got some family, J-Man! I didn’t know that.

 

Jack: Now you do.

 

Brian: So, unless you want to die right here, you can answer the question.

 

Anthony: Aye, alright. Couple of weeks ago my partners came through here. Talking about the buyout.

 

Jack: You sent them?

 

Anthony: People we both know did. Okay? They obviously had a rough experience and they sent me. 

 

Jack: Who?

 

Anthony: They’ll kill me if I tell them.

 

Brian: And I’ll kill you if you don’t.

 

Anthony: Come on now, this is family. There’s no harm done.

 

The door behind everyone pushed open and Jason walked in. Jason looked confused for a moment, but shrugged.

 

Jason: At least I didn’t miss the party.

 

Anthony: Holy shit! Jason? Jason Army man! 

 

Jason: Who... is this guy?

 

Anthony: Aw... don’t tell me you don’t recognize your old pal Anthony?!

 

Jason: Can’t say as I do. Who is this?

 

Jack: A pest.

 

Brian: We can just get rid of him. In fact... 

 

Jason: No. 

 

Jack: What do you mean “no?”

 

Jason: Listen bro, you kill this dude now, and it’ll bring a lot of bad stuff here. We’re good here. 

 

Jack stared for a few seconds. He pondered and was acutally a little taken aback by how this was thought through.

 

Jack: Let him go.

 

Brian grabbed the collar of Anthony’s shirt and picked him up, pressing him against the wall.

 

Brian: Don’t come back here.

 

Brian released Anthony but kept the pistol drawn on him. Anthony adjusted his clothes, smiling and backing out.

 

Anthony: Okay, you guys are a little hostile. Thanks Army man, you saved my life. J-man.... Look at you, all grown up. It was good to see you. I’m out, okay, you don’t want to do business, I get the message.

 

Anthony walked past Jason and patted him on the shoulder. He entered the elevator and the door shut with him inside. Jack pushed another button on his desk.

 

Jack: Ed, the guy in the suit jacket and jeans, make sure he leaves.

 

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and sat down at the desk. Jason was still very confused.

 

Jason: So... who was that guy actually?

 

Brian: Anthony. Your dad had a lot of business partners. He made Anthony a rich man, but he also sent Anthony to prison. 

 

Jack: You think he really meant to buy us out?

 

Brian: Not him. But somebody else.

 

Jack: Who’s in charge back home?

 

Brian: That’s a good question. Guess we may find out soon.

 

Jack: … It’s us against the world again...

 

--

 

 

On Camera:

 

Click.

 

Jack wears his usual scowl, but for once it turns into almost a smile, and chuckle almost immediately. It’s the look that simply says “I’m not surprised by any of this.” A look of knowing something is bad or insane, but you can’t help but just shrugs and accept it. Jack appears to be seemingly at his wits end.

 

Jack: I’m beginning to think that I just need to start juggling at this point. Maybe I should ride a unicycle or something. It’s obvious at this point that SCW brass see me as nothing but a dancing bear or some shit because I do everything that is asked of me, and I still get passed over for the rest of the clowns in the division and not get my respect. I go where they tell me to go, I do what they hope I fail at, and still, I get nothing. If someone could explain to me how Michael Harris is getting a world title match, I’d love to hear the bullshit. I’m almost used to it at this point. Getting nothing but the run around as I continue to do everything I’m supposed to do. 

What else is there for me to do? How do I get passed up for Michael Harris? How, sway? I must be missing something here. It’s a god damn travesty that this guy is getting a shot and I’m not. I beat everybody I’m supposed to beat, I don’t take the loss at the Inception and then I'm left hanging with my ass blowing in the wind while other undeserving assholes get what I’ve earned.

You wanted me to beat Calvin Harris, right? And then I fucking did. And not only that, I sign up for the stupid Blast From the Past knowing full well whoever my partner is, is going to fail and cost me at the end of the day. Whoever she is, it’s a waste of my time. Unless it was Amber Ryan, and even then, I have my doubts. The past two years I’ve been in this stupid thing, my partner has failed. But the brass wants to make it sound like it’s my only option. Like nobody else is going to get a world title match while I’m in the tournament, or while the damn thing is still going on. 

I was born at night, but not last night. I’m not stupid. Bill Barnhart who hasn’t won a match in 30 years just got a title match. What do I get? Fucking nothing. I’ve beaten everybody there is to beat and still they want me to prove myself. ME! It’s fucking unreal.

Trust me, they thought I was going to lose to Calvin Harris. They thought this guy was big time, and then beating me was going to propel him to probably getting a title match. I assume he’s going to anyway despite me beating him. That’s just how it works. I jump through every single hoop, and people I beat along the way get rewarded. 

Calvin Harris was just another notch on my belt, as I said he would be, and how am I rewarded for it? I get some random match at Blaze of Glory against... uh... Pete? Something like that. Peter? Whatever his name is. A guy who has had a grand total of one match, and now all of a sudden he’s on MY level? The disrespect is unbelievable around here.  I am the FACE OF THIS FRANCHISE and you people see it. I get crumbs while others get every opportunity in the book. How many times are they going to say “former 2-time SCW world champion” before that just loses all meaning? 

 

Again, you people see it. You know I’m telling the truth. You may hate my guts because of the things that come out of my mouth, but none of them are lies. Now they stick me against Peter Gabriel or whatever in the vain hope that he will somehow rise the occasion and beat me. Wait, no, not Gabriel... what the fuck is his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue... Vance? Vice? Vaugh... Vaugh. Peter Vaughn. I knew it could come to be eventually.

 

Jack snaps his fingers upon getting the name right, he’s seems pleased with himself.

 

Jack: So, look Peter, I was once in your position. The wide-eyed new person who is filled with all this potential and gets hyped up after one little thing they do. You won a match, good job. They are now throwing roses at your feet and acting like you are the best thing since sliced bread. They want you to succeed. They want you to show what you’ve got and fight the good fight and all that. They are literally trying to hand you everything. 

Okay, so it’s not anywhere close to what I did. I came into this company and took it by the throat and dragged it kicking and screaming to the best time they’ve ever had and now they’re just in denial. 

The point is, you made a good first impression and they love you. Oh yeah, they love you and they want you to be at the top. They’re going to hand you all kinds of things, make all kinds of promises. Trust me, I’ve been through it. See, as long as you don’t rock the boat, you’ll get along great here. 

But the one time you fail, like you will at Blaze Of Glory, you will forever be, just another face in the crowd. 

See, I would tell you that you gotta do something to stand out. I would tell you you have to do something to grab attention. But what the hell good has that done me, Pete? I’ve been talking trash, whooping people’s asses left and right, and I won the damn world title for this company fucking TWICE, but I still can’t get respect. I still have shitheads like you trying to swoop in and steal my spotlight.

So I’m gonna tell you now that shit ain’t happening. Oh no, you’re new, you will get plenty of chances down the road, probably more than I have, but I will be DAMNED if you try and get one over on me. You will not use me like I’m some kind of springboard. No, you, much like Mac Bane, much like Calvin Harris, and like every other person who has stood in my way, I’m going to use your sorry ass to make sure they get fucking SICK of me.

If you’re offended because I don’t know you, trust me, I don’t have to know anybody to hate them. I'm not one out here giving people a chance, because I've learned over my life that people will always let you down. They will fail and the only person you can rely on is yourself. You can be offended or whatever the case may be, I don’t really give a shit. Just understand what I’m telling you is the truth, and that’s why it hurts so much to hear.

I just call it like I see it, my guy. And I’m gonna be honest here and say you don’t look like much. Beating Miles Casey was just impressive enough for this to be a minor inconvenience for me. That’s about it. Am I supposed to be impressed you beat Miles Casey? Oh no, watch out, we’ve got a bad ass over here! He won one match and now everybody is supposed to just let you pass? Get the fuck outta here with that bullshit. 

And you see, the thing is Pete, because you have won one match, you have to manufacture pressure on yourself to maintain an unbeaten record. That’s really all you have going for you. You won once, and you’d like to win again. But judging by the look of you, and how you call yourself a former 5-time world champion, you understand that nobody is unbeatable. And so, really what’s happening here, is I’m going to do you a favor.  I’m going to relieve you of the burden of a winning streak. Because if you think that because you won one match that I’m in any way intimidated or nervous about this match, you have another thing coming, my guy. 

I don’t sweat you, Pete. I don’t sweat anybody walking the face of this earth. I know how good I am, and once the brass stops trying to make me jump through hoops, and go and wrestle people like you who are a waste of my time and effort, and give me the proper respect I deserve, matches like this one, will not be taking place, pretty much ever. Oh no, I will be at the top, where I belong, and you will be at the bottom, where you belong. Then you can take my place and be the dancing monkey. You can wrestle the Bill Barnharts and the Miles’s and the Ken Davisons of the company. You can have that role, I don’t want it, I don’t need it, I shouldn’t be in this position at all anyway.

I deserve better.

 

Jack makes sure he emphasizes the “better” part as he finishes this up.

 

Jack: So, look Pete, this is just how this is going to go. You show up at Blaze Of Glory, I beat your ass, and win, and then we never have to speak of this stupid shit ever again. Hell, we don’t have to speak, I don’t have to look at you, or know you exist. This is  basically a business transaction. I’m coming to the show, to win, you are coming to lose, and then we’re done. You can make this very easy on yourself, but I know, the wide-eyed new guy wants to make a good impression. Trust me, they’ll tell you they care, they’ll say all the right things, and make you feel special. And then once you fade back into the pack, you’ll become just another guy. And you will settle for it, won’t you?

You better. Don’t try and act like you’re me, and you deserve anything than this. This match here, is going to be your one chance to actually see what the true spotlight of SCW looks like. And then you will fail, and you will be just another face in the crowd. Until they hand you something else.

Trust me Pete, I am not the one to try and get one over on. You better be doing your research and ask about me. 

You will find out I am everything I say am. Whether you admit it before, or after I beat your ass at Blaze of Glory.

 

Jack shoos the camera away as we fade to black.

 

Click.

 

FACE. OF. THE. FRANCHISE.

[Peter Vaughn]

~As the picture focuses, we see what appears to be a partially dismantled stage, sitting in the middle of Peter Vaughn's warehouse. There's the sound of an electronic torque wrench running behind the stage, so the camera moves around it, showing us Peter Vaughn sitting there, doing the work. He slips a couple of bolts into the bottom of his coveralls, before looking back at the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: Hey there. Just taking care of some business here. I know I put on a big celebration the last time you saw me here, but I've got to get ready for the future, so the stage needs to go. Luckily, it's fairly easy to dismantle.

~Vaughn shows off his tool, zapping it a few times to get it to run. He smiles.~

Peter Vaughn: You've always got to have the right tool for the right job, am I right? I've prided myself on that for most of my career, even in the... before days.

~Vaughn seems to be disgusted even thinking about his 'happy' days before last year. He shakes it off, going back to work.~

Peter Vaughn: As you can tell, I'm not going to be using this stage for my next celebration. You know why? Because that celebration is going to happen on camera, after I've put down a certain former two-time champion and really woken up the Sin City faithful on how damn good I really am.

~Another bolt comes lose, and part of the stage sags to the side. Vaughn deftly maneuvers it, removing another leg from the assembly.~

Peter Vaughn: And if SCW doesn't think my victory is worth celebrating this time? Well, then, I'll have to channel my own energy into it once again. But feel this, Sin City: you're going to learn to respect me. Because the Mechanic's going a long way. We're just getting started.

~Vaughn steps to the side, still smiling, as the stage suddenly collapses, due to the strategic removal of bolts. Vaughn looks back over his shoulder at it, pleased.~

Peter Vaughn: Perfection.

~Vaughn nods to the camera, then walks over to the side, getting another set of tools for the next step of deconstruction. He appears to be enjoying himself, but then, he's always liked taking something apart piece of piece. The same goes for his wrestling opponents. We slowly cut away to the next shot.~


~After a moment, the camera comes back up, showing us a distance-view of the PMV Ranch, the land that Peter Vaughn purchased after winning the PW Valor Roth Invitational Tournament. It's undergone a number of changes since then, adding on several structures, including the main homestead, the bunkhouse for the crew, and the various pens and storage areas for the animals that Vaughn has been able to raise so far. From this view, you would almost be able to see everything... as long as you look quickly between lightning bolts flashing down. It appears that a spring storm is making its way into the area, making everything darker this evening. It's perfect for the man who steps into view, glaring towards the ranch.~

Jacobs: This... this is all your fault, Vaughn... you brought this on... yourself...

~Jacobs, the man that Vaughn basically tricked into losing his job with rancher Judd Harrison last week, stumbles forward, dragging what appears to be a large sledgehammer behind him. He heads towards the ranch, staggering as he goes, as if he's been imbibing the liquor a little heavily this evening. As he moves off, the camera pans upwards, showing the stormy skies above. The lightning flashes once again, with a loud of crash of thunder following behind it. We cut away.~


I've never been very good at making friends. But I do have a skill at making enemies rather quickly.

Take my opponent at Blaze of Glory XI, Jack Washington. He doesn't even know who I am, and he's still immediately an adversary for me... because he doesn't know who I am. I mean, I get it, I suppose. If you keep your head stuck in the ground of one federation, perhaps you would never look out to see what's going on in the rest of the world. I've known several wrestlers like that, who think that the sun rises and sets on one location only on the entire planet. Guys like Sir Scrubbington here, who can't even remember my name right.

I introduced myself to you already, but hey, Peter Vaughn here. Nice to not meet you.

It's really not that hard to do some research, Washboard. I went to all the trouble of finding out all about you from the records archives and watching some tapes. I won't say I was fully impressed, but you did have some nice victories here in Sin City, and they gave me a good feeling about the man I was going to be fighting. You'd think my opponent could show the same due diligence and realize that I'm not just "some wide-eyed new guy". I'm the man who's taken the wrestling world by storm, one federation at a time.

I have five World Title wins to your two, and sure, I haven't done it in Sin City... yet... but I'm certainly planning on making that journey to the top. I'm the man who won the World Series of Wrestling, defeating dozens of the best in the business for that honor. I'm the wrestler who currently is standing on the throat of two wrestling companies, having decimated their competition in short order to await their opposition at the top of the mountain. What else can I tell you to make you consider me a threat to you? Actually, probably nothing, right, my man? Because I doubt I could ever get through that inflated ego so that you could hear me.

As I said, Jackie, I'm not discounting you. You're certainly a more dangerous threat than ol' Milo was. But it seems pretty clear where the difference is going to lie. I'm taking you seriously, coming in with Plans A, B, & C to rip through you and send you Plunging to the bottom of the title opportunity list. You're coming in expecting a complete walk in the park, more furious at the people who 'tragically' gave you this contest than the person who's going to obliterate you in it. Maybe you can yell at them some more once you've eaten the 1-2-3, because they screwed you over worse than you could ever imagine.

Yep, it feels like by the end of the night, I'll have another enemy cursing my family's lineage and swearing revenge for their defeat at my hands.

It makes me feel right at home, Sin City. It truly does.


~We cut to inside the large ranch house that Vaughn had built to be his dream house. Sitting inside the main living room, we can see Thomas Hill, Vaughn's half-brother, looking out the window by lifting up the curtain to take a peek.~

Thomas Hill: Looks like quite a storm brewing out there. Going to be a rough night.

Sadie Anderson: Uh huh. I feel like you're stalling there, Mr. Hill. You want to get back to the game now?

~Thomas glances back with a guilty grin at Sadie, one of the top hands here at the PMV Ranch. She looks relaxed, sitting in front of a large table. Sitting on the table, connected together in haphazard positions, are a series of Triomino's. For those unfamiliar, it's a game like Domino's, but all of the pieces have three sides, making for a more complicated challenge, as you have to take other edges into account when you place your pieces. Thomas comes back over, sighing, as he looks over the current field of Triomino's for anything that will fit the pieces he currently has. He shrugs.~

Thomas Hill: Yeah, you've got me. I've got no moves.

Sadie Anderson: Then draw until you do. You know the rules.

~Thomas starts drawing, but it looks like his luck is staying in the low digits tonight, as he keeps drawing. Sadie smiles, knowing that Thomas is about out of this one, before checking out what's sitting in front of the other competitor. Her smile fades, as she realizes that Vaughn's only got one Triomino left on his bracket.~

Sadie Anderson: Darn it. You're about to win again, aren't you, boss?

~Vaughn looks up, having been studying something on his cell phone. He doesn't look too invested in the game, but that's not too surprising, as it doesn't have that much violence in it. Still, he always seems to find a way to be competitive, no matter what kind of challenge it is, and Triomino's has been no exception.~

Peter Vaughn: Anything's possible. I might still have to draw... if Thomas leaves me anything in the bag, that is...

~Thomas has started a second group of pieces now, looking frustrated.~

Thomas Hill: If you guys would stop playing so many of the same number on the corners, maybe I could... oh, here we go!

~Relieved, Thomas puts down a Triomino, which connects on two sides: a three and a five, with a two hanging off the outside edge. Sadie, never one to waste much time, immediately plays a piece on the opposite side, removing a large double-six/five piece from her pile.~

Thomas Hill: You've been waiting to play that since last turn, haven't you?

Sadie Anderson: Always good to get rid of the higher numbers, especially when Mr. Vaughn almost has us. Mr. Vaughn? It's your turn.

~Vaughn's back on his phone, scrolling around and staring intently at it. Thomas can't help but laugh.~

Thomas Hill: Studying your press clippings or something, Peter? I swear, no matter what Denzel Porter is saying about you, you can read it later.

~Vaughn doesn't respond. Instead, he reaches over with his right hand, quickly placing his final piece right where Thomas had added his last one. It locks in perfectly, with Thomas sighing dramatically.~

Thomas Hill: Damn it. Seriously, how are you so lucky?

Peter Vaughn: I'd say genetics, but clearly that's been disproven.

Thomas Hill: ... Ouch.

~It's still not completely clear how Vaughn feels about his half-brother. On the one hand, he's accepted him into his family, along with his half-sister, Sammy. He even gave Thomas a job on his ranch. On the other hand, he usually has some biting comments about the man, showing that he may still have some anger management issues dealing with their mother having started another family after abandoning Vaughn and his dad. Or it could just be that he can be a rude son of a bitch. Sadie, sensing a slight increase in tension, clears her throat.~

Sadie Anderson: So, should we get set up for another game?

Peter Vaughn: Actually, I think I've got to take care of something. But it's been... fun.

Thomas Hill: Of course it's been fun for you. You won every game!

Peter Vaughn: Sometimes that's just the way things go... brother.

~ Vaughn gets up from the table, again checking out the view on his phone. For the first time, we can catch what he's looking at: a camera view from another part of the ranch, which appears to show an intruder moving slowly across the view. Vaughn steps away, heading out the door, as Thomas turns to Sadie, giving her a hopeful smile.~

Thomas Hill: So, uh, want to play one-on-one? I'll let you go first, of course.

Sadie Anderson: I don't know, Mr. Hill, it's getting late.

Thomas Hill: Would you... PLEASE... call me Thomas? I can't get used to "Mr. Hill".

Sadie Anderson: Sorry... Thomas. It's just a habit. I work for your family, after all.

Thomas Hill: We both do, which makes us both co-workers, right?

Sadie Anderson: I suppose so.

~Suddenly, there's a loud crash of thunder, hitting close enough to shake the house slightly. Both of them turn to look at the window.~

Thomas Hill: Damn. Maybe I SHOULD be going, although I don't think I can beat this storm.

~Nonchalantly, Sadie starts putting away the Triomino pieces, as she glances his direction.~

Sadie Anderson: Well, if that's a problem... I mean, you could always stay the night.

Thomas Hill: I... I could?

~Thomas' face flushes slightly, as Sadie fights not to let the grin slip onto her face.~

Sadie Anderson: Of course. There's a guest room right upstairs, isn't there? Good night, Mr. Hill, er, Thomas.

~Sadie walks off with the Triominos set, presumably to put them away, as Thomas looks after her, a slight bit of disappointment on his face. He shakes it off, though, before looking outside once again, as the rain starts to fall from the heavens. He shrugs, then heads for the guest room, having no interest in trying to navigate the highway in this kind of storm. The camera view, meanwhile, heads for the window, miraculously going through it as it heads out into the rain. It comes around, focusing on the animal stables, where the different critters are buckling down, hiding out in their respective pens and coops. Standing nearby, already soaked to the bone, is Jacobs. He hefts the sledgehammer in both hands, studying the fence line around the pen.~

Jacobs: We'll see... we'll see how smug you are, when you have to find all these guys after the storm... you won't be able to track them... you'd need someone like me... and I won't help you, loser... I won't help...

~Still grumbling under his breath, Jacobs raises up the sledgehammer, intent on taking down the line with a couple of blows. In his current inebriated state, it may take several. But he doesn't even manage one, as the sledgehammer is suddenly yanked out of his hands from behind.~

Jacobs: What tha hell??

~Jacobs stumbles around to look back, but the only thing he sees is the fist headed straight at his face. Soon after, everything goes completely black.~


It's funny how many people never learned the essential skill of how to duck.

Sure, they can try to all be tough guys, men who say "I can take your best shot" and walk right into it. If it helps your ego, I mean, go for it. But I always thought the smarter decision was just not to let your opponent land the blow. I can duck under it, grab the wrist, and do a quick toss into an armbar submission. I can land a severe chop right under the armpit, which does more damage than most people give it credit for. Or I can just keep dodging until I've rope-a-doped my competition, exhausting them.

You seem like the type that would just keep swinging in utter frustration, Washable. I bet you'd tire out really fast.

Then again, maybe I'm doing you a disservice, even though your planning skills still seem pretty weak to me. You couldn't have gotten to where you are today, a former champion who can't earn title shots, without having been at the top before. So maybe you wouldn't keep swinging. Maybe you'd be able to control that temper and ego of yours and would back off, resetting and not losing yourself in the moment.

Or maybe you'd keep swinging until your arms came off. It's hard to judge.

But, you see, that's what I'm getting at, Jackalyn. To be one of the top tier, best of the best, all-stars in this sport, you've got to have a strategy for all situations. You can't just be offense, offense, and more offense, because that only works until you get slugged in the nose. You have to have a gameplan in case I surprise you with something you never expected... which I guarantee is going to happen, considering you don't know that much about me.

Do you have a Plan B? And no, I'm not talking about later in the night when you try to drown your sorrows with the local groupies... if you do that sort of thing. To each his own on that front, right?

But are you prepared to change your strategy if and when I'm getting the best of you? Because I've got several tricks up my coverall sleeves that will be ready if things start to not go my way. I've studied your finishers, for instance, and I'm going to be ready for any attempt at you going for some Brotherly Love.

Wow, that sounded bad.

What I mean is, your Crossface submission? I know three different ways of countering it into my own holds, and one way of making it a sure-fire pinning combination. The same goes for your Fisherman's Buster. Both of these moves I've seen many times, and you can bet I'll be seeing them again in the future once I'm done with you. I've made it my mission to learn counters to all of them, and so I'll be ready for you. Can you say the same?

Have you seen any videos of my Keyholder, knocking a man unconscious? Have you watched as I slayed a giant with Revenged, or dropped from the sky onto a #1 contender with the Plunge? Do you have any ammunition in your guns that will help you avoid these moves, or are you coming into this one thinking, "I'm just going to wing it"? Because that's absolutely the wrong attitude, and honestly, that might be why you're having some struggles as of late. Hell, who knows? Maybe I'm going to help you out in the long run.

It could be that after you face a warrior like me, you finally force yourself to learn how to duck. One can only hope so, for your future's sake.


~As the man's eyes slowly open, he looks around in confusion, trying to figure out where he is. Everything appears to be pretty dark, other than the single light shining down from above him. Jacobs shakes his head, trying to clear it, before he attempts to get up. That's when he realizes that his arms have been zip-tied to the chair he's sitting on. Jacobs looks down at them, at first puzzled, before the hint of fear starts to show on his face. He strains against the ties, but they're industrial strength, built to handle extreme loads. They don't give at all.~

Jacobs: What's going on? What the hell is this? Lemme outta here! Get these damn things off of me!!

~Jacobs starts struggling harder, trying to find a way to either break the ties or the chair arm underneath it. But neither seems to be showing any signs of letting loose. He bounces himself up and down in the chair, noting that it's not moving with him. He looks down, realizing that the chair is bolted to the floor. That fact spurs Jacobs to try even harder, fighting against his restraints.~

Jacobs: You son of a bitch... LET ME GO!!! SON OF A BITCH!!!

~After a few more seconds of struggle, Jacobs, panting, finally stops yanking at the ties, leaning back on the chair in order to catch his breath. He closes his eyes, closer to sobriety now thanks to the adrenaline burst.~

Voice: You about ready to settle down now, boyo?

~Hearing the voice from the darkness, Jacobs immediately sits back up, squinting in that direction. Slowly, out of the shadows, Peter Vaughn walks partially into the light. Unlike Jacobs, he doesn't appear to be soaked to the bone, so he must have been wearing a poncho outside in the storm. He leans over, staring at Jacobs, who squirms in the chair.~

Jacobs: You... you got no right to hold me here. Let me outta this, Vaughn!

Peter Vaughn: No right? Really? You were trespassing on my land, threatening to do damage to my property. You were even armed.

~Vaughn gestures over to the side, where we can barely see a sledgehammer leaning against the wall.~

Peter Vaughn: It sure sounds like a case of self-defense to me, and you know us Texans... we love defending ourselves.

~Jacobs shudders, realizing the predicament he's gotten himself into. He looks around again, studying the room for the first time.~

Jacobs: Where... where have you taken me? Is that... soundproofing?

Peter Vaughn: Huh. Good eyes. I wouldn't think you'd recognize paneling like that. That's right, Jacobs. This whole room? I had it built specifically to be sound-proof.

~Vaughn nods, looking around with a sense of pride at the room. Jacobs swallows deeply.~

Jacobs: You..... you built this? What... what are you going to do with me?

~The fright is clear in Jacobs' voice. Vaughn takes note, staring down at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh, don't get the wrong impression, Jacobs... hey, you know, I never learned if that was your first or last name. I guess if it was your first, it'd just be Jacob, right? What's your first name again?

Jacobs: ... Edgar. Edgar Jacobs.

Peter Vaughn: Eddie, cool. I like it. Yes, I had this room built, but don't let your imagination run off with you. It's not some murder room or anything. It's more like... a sanctuary. You know, there are times when you just want to get away from the world for a while. You don't want to have to deal with the sounds of the busy world. So, yeah, it's soundproofed, but not to keep things in... it's to keep them out.

~Vaughn then leans down, pulling out what appears to be a hunter's knife from his side pocket. Jacobs' eyes find a way to go even wider, as he looks at the glint of the steel in the small sphere of light.~

Peter Vaughn: You've really watched too many movies, Eddie.

~With that, Vaughn swipes down with the knife... using it to cut one of the zip ties from Jacobs' arm. He quickly moves to the other side, moving with precision, taking the other restraint off as well. Jacobs rubs at both arms, feeling some circulation come back into him. As Vaughn backs off, Jacobs pushes to his feet, still a little unsteady.~

Jacobs: ... I don't understand...

Peter Vaughn: Look, Edds, it's like this. Sure, I could have just restrained you and called the cops, and they would have gotten here eventually. Maybe tomorrow, if the storm is as bad as it looked out there. I could have also dealt with you... myself. I mean, it's my land, right? No court would convict me.

~Vaughn still has the hunter's knife out, which still has Jacobs' full attention. He doesn't feel like he's out of the woods yet. But Vaughn keeps it pointed down, as he continues.~

Peter Vaughn: But let's face it, man. I probably owe you something, considering I got you to give up your employment at that jackass Judd's ranch. You know you weren't actually the target, right? I just needed to get one over on ol' Juddhead. Really, you were just a casualty of war.

Jacobs: ... But you tricked me...

Peter Vaughn: I did, Ed, and you fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. The look on your face!

~Vaughn gives a mirthless chuckle, before getting back to business.~

Peter Vaughn: You could have just tucked your tail and ran away. You could have gone to apply at some other ranch, there are plenty of others out there looking for people. But you came onto my land, looking for revenge. You came up with a plan and set it into motion. And you know what? I can respect that.

Jacobs: You... you can?

Peter Vaughn: Of course! I want all my employees to show some initiative every so often. So here's what I'll do, Eddie. I'm going to offer you a job, a real one this time. No lame-ass contract, I'll pay you every week, and we'll see how things go. You'll find I'm very reasonable to the better ranch hands. Just ask Sadie and Leon.

~Jacobs' mind appears to have been blown, as he is completely at a loss for words. The night has gone from drunken revenge to a horror movie, to now an apparent opportunity at a second chance.~

Peter Vaughn: Going to need an answer from you right away, Eds. I've got other things to take care of tonight.

~Vaughn extends his left hand for a handshake, even as his right hand still holds the knife. It's a strange juxtaposition. After a moment, with nothing to lose, Jacobs meets the handshake, apparently agreeing to the terms. Vaughn nods in satisfaction.~

Peter Vaughn: You'll enjoy working here, Edds. You'll have to learn how to operate the machinery, but I've made it pretty user-friendly. Good to have you.

~Jacobs nods weakly, and tries to release his grip. But Vaughn pulls him in closer.~

Peter Vaughn: And if you ever think about damaging my ranch again... just remember this room.

~Jacobs has no response, gulping down a bit more terror. Vaughn, the message sent, lets go and steps back, putting away the knife. He gestures to the side.~

Peter Vaughn: The door's right here. Let's go get you a bunk.

~Vaughn heads out, as Jacobs shakes his head, wondering what the hell he just got himself into. He follows, as we fade out.~


People have told me before that I'm painfully unpredictable. I've always taken it as a compliment.

So I guess we're about ready, aren't we, Jacko? We're about twenty-four hours out from the match that just might steal the show at Blaze of Glory XI. You know those powers that be at the top, who you felt insulted by? Well, we're going to make them regret setting us so low on the bar, because once we're through beating the holy hell out of each other, the crowd isn't going to see any of the other matches the same way. Hell, we're practically ruining the PPV for them.

I'm sure Mac's gonna deliver a strong main event, but still, the rest of the show? Probably screwed.

Again, for all my harsh words here, Washables, you know I still think you're a damn good fighter. I just feel like you're just... not as good as me. I've fought the giants of this industry. I defeated James Raven at CCPE vs. The World, then won the main event for my team. I've taken down some of the biggest legends in the business, including multiple people wrestling at the PPV tomorrow. I'm really headed straight towards my prime, which makes it just a god-awful time for someone like you, a fading star, to have to try to block my path.

I'm planning to blast straight through you, Jack. I'm going to launch my Sin City career to the stratosphere and beyond, and you're going to be a hell of a springboard.

I'm bringing every single weapon in my arsenal to this contest, including likely a few that normally aren't used in a wrestling ring. I'm going to hit you from so many sides, you're going to assume I have clones. I'm going to batter you from pillar to post, both inside and outside the squared circle. I'll be ready to counter every sloppy move you try to stop me with, and lash out with every strike I can generate to take your head off.

And in the end, when you're laying there on the mat, stunned, groggy, completely wiped out, you're going to have a moment or two to think about the mistakes you've made in your life lately. You'll be able to curse out everyone in charge one more time, even as I come flying in from above, bringing all my weight down upon you.

You're going to take the Plunge, Wash. And you're going down the drain.

Expect the unexpected, boyo.

[Jack Washington]

Prologue:

Jack continues to train hard for Peter Vaughan at Blaze of Glory, and seems to be picking up on things after doing a bit of research into Peter’s past. Jack isn’t shy about letting loose, so one has to wonder where exactly he’s willing to go with what he has learned.

 

Outside the ring, Jack, Brian, and Jason met a familiar face from their past in Anthony, who claimed to represent potential buyers of the Golden Flamingo Casino from Jack, and they are based out of Philadelphia. Based on Jack’s past, those are bad people, but who is really behind the operation remains a mystery. It has put Jack on edge as he continues to run the casino, but now is fully aware of people looking to remove him from power. Perhaps... permanently.

 

--

Mothership Coffee Roasters,

Las Vegas, NV.

 

Jack was seated. He wore a heat to lower his visibility to others. He was one side of a table, just waiting. He checked his watch and absent-mindedly went through his phone just to pass the time. He did have a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking it. At least, not yet. Finally, after a reasonable amount of time, the door to the coffee shop swung open and in walked Detective Jessica De La Fuente.  Jack simply raises his hand and Jessica walks towards him, she stops a few feet away as he stands up for her, but there is no embrace, handshake or even a “hello.” They both sit down as the waitress come over to the table.

 

Waitress: Can I get you anything?

 

Jessica: Just a small coffee.

 

Waitress: How do you take it?

 

Jessica: Cream and sugar, please.

 

Waitress: Sure thing.

 

One she leaves, there is once again silence as Jack sips his coffee now that it’s a little cooler. Jack sighs and  leans back in the chair.

 

Jack: Jessica.

 

Jessica: John.

 

Jack: How are you? You look great.

 

Jessica: Let’s not do the small talk thing, John. You were never good at it anyway. I know you didn’t just invite me all the way out here for coffee.

 

Jack: The coffee is really good.

 

The waitress comes back with a hot coffee for Jessica. She smiles and accepts it before the waitress turns and walks back. Jessica takes a sip and nods.

 

Jessica: It is, but cut the shit. You want to explain this to me, or are you just continue to continue to waste my time? I can’t just run out here whenever you call. I have a job to do.

 

Jack: I know, and I’m very appreciative of you coming all the way out here. I’ll pay for you to go back.

 

Jessica: I don’t need you to pay for anything. I need you to tell me why I’m here.

 

Jack takes another sip of his coffee and gives a refreshed “mmm” as he swallows it.

 

Jack: Anthony Carbone came out to see me last week.

 

Jessica stops her first train of thought and takes it in.

 

Jessica: Anthony, why?

 

Jack: There have been two different times where people have come to the Casino and tried to talk to me, about buying it. Actually, I take that back, three times. Anthony was just the latest. There were two other guys I never saw before.

 

Jessica: So is Anthony trying to buy it?

 

Jack: No. Anthony, and those other two seemed to represent someone else. Someone from back home.

 

Jessica: Okay...

 

Jack: I thought I left all that behind me, Jess. I really did. I guess you just can’t escape your past, can you?  Fuck I mean, I left there because they were going to kill me. And I walked away and left them behind. I started over.  And now they’re still coming for me?

 

Jessica: I don’t know why they would still be after you.

 

Jack: Well, somebody is, Jess. I need you to find out who.

 

Jessica: John, I just can’t drop what I’m doing to always help you.

 

Jack: I’m not asking you to drop everything Jess. I’m asking you to find out some information for me. It doesn’t have to be right this second. But, this is kind of important.

 

Jessica: What exactly do you expect me to do? You know the moment I ask about anything regarding you they’re going to know you’re onto them.

 

Jack: They already know that I know. They wouldn’t have sent Anthony if they didn’t want me to know. I know how this works, and so do you.

 

Jessica: John, you know I care about you. You know I will do what I can to help you if it’s within my means but you’re putting a lot of people at risk for this.

 

Jack: That’s how the game is played Jess. You think I want this? It’s how this seems to work for me now. I can’t run from this, I’ve been running for a long time.

 

Jessica: John, don’t throw all that you have away. 

 

Jack: I’m not, I will be ready for this. I just need you to help me, so I’m ready.

 

Jessica stares at Jack in silence for a few seconds, she begins to drink her coffee without much being displayed. She takes more and more frequent drinks of the coffee before just gulping the last swig down. She looked up at Jack and there were almost tears in her eyes.

 

Jessica: And then what?

 

Jack: What “and then”? Either A, this was a scare tactic and they are just testing me, or they’re coming for a war.  I thought they were going to leave me alone, but they aren’t. I’m a public figure now. They can see me, and they’ve been waiting to do something, and now, it looks like they are.

 

Jessica: And if I help you?

 

Jack: Then your job is done, Jess. It’s as  simple as that. You get me the name of the person in charge, Anthony’s boss, and then, we’re good. I won’t ask you to do anything else. 

 

Jessica: Maybe not ever again.

 

Jack: I can’t say that’s not true.

 

Jessica: I’m not gonna let you throw your life away. I made a promise to your father.

 

Jack: Yeah, everybody who made that promise did what they had to do to help me. I’m only asking for this one last thing, Jess. After that, you can forget I exist. I won’t be your problem for you, and you can walk away with a clean slate. You did your job. I won’t hold it against you.

 

Jessica: John...

 

Jack takes a sip of his coffe and finishes off the rest.

 

Jack: This is good coffee. 

 

Jack stands up, adjusting his hat. He pulled some bills out of his wallet and slapped them on the table.

 

Jack: It was good to see you, Jessica. Take care of yourself.

 

Jack began to leave, exiting the coffee shop and getting into his car, as soon as he started up his car, Jessica ran out.

 

Jessica: John!

 

Jack sighed, turned his car off and got out.

 

Jack: It’s all I’m asking Jessica.

 

Jessica looked more manic than usual, and she actually embraced him. 

 

Jessica: I... I’ll help you. 

 

Jack: Thanks.

 

It was rare, but for those he really cared about, Jack could be caring and loving. He embraced Jessica back and the two hugged for what seemed like minutes, but was really only a few seconds. They broke it off, both of them staring into each other’s eyes, before Jack got back in his car and started it up again. He took one last look at Jessica before he drove away.

 

--

Lake Mead

Las Vegas, NV

 

Jack and the family were out of the boat, attempting to de-stress from the whole situation. All three has lures in the water, trying to enjoy the weather at the very least.

 

Jason: Nice day. This is where it’s at.

 

Brian: Between this and the car, I think this is a good way to get away from things. Good call, Stick.

 

Jack: I thought it was time to get out of the house. I think we’ve had enough excitement for a while. 

 

Brian: I was fine. I got the car.

 

Jack: You should be outside, it’s a nice day, we’re out on the water. What more do you really want to ask for?

 

Brian: Couple of broads be nice.

 

Jack: Of course you’d say that.

 

Jason: For real though bro, this is a pretty sweet.

 

Jack: Yeah.

 

There is a long period of silence as the men fish. Jason is the first to get bored of silence and rubs the back of his neck, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the next question, but he’s going to.

 

Jason: So, what’d she say?

 

Jack: I thought we were de-stressing?

 

Jason: Just curious is all.

 

Jack: She said she’d help.

 

Jason: And you think she is?

 

Jack: Yeah, she wouldn’t lie to me.

 

Brian: But do you think she can really get the truth out of anybody back there?

 

Jack: You too?

 

Brian: I’m just saying...

 

Jack: It’s the first step in the plan. 

 

Jason: There’s a plan?

 

Jack: There’s always a plan. But using Jessica is more...diplomatic than anything else. If we get names, then we can move forward.

 

Brian: Stick, you know you can’t have a war here, you got way too much going on out here to start again. 

Jack: That’s very true. I don’t plan on having the fight here if I can help it.

 

Brian: …

 

Jason: What do you mean?

 

Brian: Stick, that’s suicide!

 

Brian knows what’s happening, and actually gets a bite, and has to struggle with the lure.

 

Jack: I’m not saying it has to happen that way. There doesn’t have to be a fight at all to be honest. But considering they sent Anthony here, and those other two, it’s only an escalation. It’s only a matter of time before more and more people show up. I assume they already are.

 

Jason: Wait... what’s suicide, Brian? 

 

Brian fumbles and eventually loses the fish, he swears under his breath and slams the lure down, before standing up and marching towards Jack.

 

Brian: Your brother is thinking about doing something stupid.

 

Jack: As a last resort.

 

Brian: Don’t you even think about it. It ain’t worth it.

 

Jack: You just said the fight can’t be here. It’s either here... or it’s there.

 

Jason finally gets it.

 

Jason: You mean... go back home?

 

Jack: I do.

 

Jason: Yeah bro, I gotta agree with Brian. All that’s happened, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

 

Jack: Never said it was good plan. I’m not running from my past anymore. 

 

Another small period of silence happens.

 

Jack: Let’s just enjoy the weather and locale, yeah? I’ve got a show to do on Sunday, and when it’s over, I’ll come back and we’ll see where we are. For now... this is the focus.

 

Brian: … You’d better think this shit through.

 

Jack: Oh, I am.

 

Jason stands up, and pats Jack on the shoulder.

 

Jason: Bro, I know you don’t want to do this, but if it comes down to it... I got your back.

 

Jack: Thanks Jay.

--

 

On Camera:

 

Click

Jack is actually smirking more these days, this is almost a full on grin. He looks ready to dive in.

Jack: It always makes me laugh when I find another pretender. A person who has become something else in order to get where they want to go. People who have to a fucking chameleon and have to try and blend into a crowd, all the while, trying to stand out. To have change their entire persona is just amusing to me. That’s you, Peter. In case you didn’t know. I mean you should, but in case you didn’t. 

While all these pricks at the top kiss your ass and pretend you’re something special, the truth of the matter is, this isn’t the real you. This is what you adopted. This is what you changed into. And really, all you are is a trash version of me. You are just making me look bad with how you’re going about this. 

You’re a phony, Pete. You’re not this angry guy who makes smart ass comments because that’s who you are, you’re an angry guy who makes smart ass comments because you HAVE to be. Any other way you have gone about it has only netted you a reasonable amount of success, and you’re tired of being just a guy. But that’s all you’re ever going to be. You don’t know how to be THE guy. You’re calling me “Boyo” like you’re fucking Irish. Did that just appear too? Irish guy from Texas? Does that shit make any sense? Sure, whatever Pete, we’ll go with that, you’re Irish now.

Oh, you’ve won world titles? Oh my gosh! How many of them were doing this shtick, Pete? How many of them were when you were the friendly neighborhood garbage man? Or sanitation engineer, whatever you want to call it. Wait, no, I’m sorry... Janitor. The point is, you changed. You had to because you knew just being that guy wasn’t going to last forever. You are a pretender, Pete. 

You want to act like you’re me. My guy, I was born pissed off, I was raised to be pissed off, you are pissed off because you were a fucking janitor. And now you want to act like a bad ass? Holy shit where’s that meme?! Stop the fucking presses, Peter Vaughan is big mad now! I must be in trouble! 

Or not. Because you’re just an actor. 

You think people can just teach you to have a killer instinct? You think anybody believes this brainwashing shit?

Maybe you’re a really good actor. Maybe you’ve got this whole thing figured out and down to a fucking science. You have found a way to manufacture some anger and some prick behavior. My guy, I wrote the fucking book on prick behavior. You are learning from me. You are just biting my style and doing it poorly. You are an imitator, and not an innovator.

Because you know what I want to see, Pete? You know what I need to see, that I haven’t yet? You actually say something with your whole chest. Because I can do that shit all day. I think you are garbage and I’m not afraid to say it. Why? Because that’s the shit I do. I told you last time you better ask about me. You better read the internet or ask the fucking Saviors about me. I’ve already handled their whole crew. If you think beating Mac Bane impresses me, been there, done that. Twice. Ken Davison, took his title and left him still having put up fucking pictures on his twitter account and during his interviews because he thinks this is a fucking 2001 and anything he does is interesting. But you know what, at least the fucking cowboy and the preacher man stay true to who they are. You can’t say the same, can you? Nah, I didn’t think so.

 Jack shakes his head and shrugs.

Jack: See, SCW just wants you around to be the kid friendly version of me, Pete. One day, you can go back to being the janitor. You can switch back and forth like a pendulum. One week you’re this, the other week, you are that. I can’t, and I won’t do that. I’m always gonna be me. And what I am, is the best in the company. I’ve done disrespected every legend and big time person who came into this company. You’re not special, you can get this work just the same. Because that’s who I am. It has never mattered who or what they think they are. I have a skill for seeing into real people. I see through bullshit, my guy. And you are fucking full of it. 

You want to in, you want to be cool, you just don’t want to be you.

I know, it’s tough to get your ass roasted like this. I know you’re hearing my voice, just like you did before and you’re wondering and you’re probably shouting it out loud 

“Who does this guy think he is.”

That’s just it, Pete, I don’t THINK I’m anybody. I KNOW I’m the fucking man. I know I’m the face of this franchise, and I know you have had one match and you act like you did something. Now, after to lose, and trust me, you will lose, one way or another, what happens then, huh? You gonna go back to the trash man thing? You gonna double down on being a poser and keep thinking you are in my league. You gonna be all grumpy and shit and tell me “It was one match and I’ll beat your ass next time!” And all that? You gonna do that? You have plenty of options I guess, right? You have plenty of things you could try to be, but being like Jack Washington ain’t it, chief.

Me, doesn’t matter, I don’t change my stripes, Pete. I don’t try to be anything I’m not. This is 100% me. You are just trying to be a bad ass, and everybody can see it, I’m not the only one. But really, I’m the good guy in this scenario. I’m trying to save you the embarrassment of acting like a clown instead of being real. Because the fake ass people you obviously run with, aren’t real enough to tell you what I’m telling you now. They watch you and they laugh behind your back. They pat you on the back, and they might as well be putting a fucking “kick me” sign on your back.

I could sit here all day and run you down for being a phony, a fake and a fraud. I’ve done it to many other people who are still salty and are among many people hoping and pray that you do get the job done. They want you to knock me down a peg. They hate me so much they are beside themselves. They want me to fail so bad. They line up man after man after man and still, I’m here, and I haven’t changed my tune. Can you really say the same, Pete? No. They want you, to be the new me. But, you will find out, just like they have, no matter how many clowns get out of the car, they will not stop me from getting back to the top of the mountain. I did it faster than anybody else in this company. I took this company by the throat and led it, kicking and screaming to where it is now. And they have trotted out man after man to try and replace me. You’re just another name, just another face, that will try. 

And you will fail.

I’ve already proven myself time and time again, Pete. I’m untouchable in this company. They didn’t think I could do it, and yet, I took down Alex Jones, I took down Jay... whatever his name was. I beat giants, legends, and people they had such high hopes for being champion. And I did it with ease. Now, you know where we are? They finally got somebody who got lucky and beat me, and they’ve been throwing roadblock after roadblock at me, in the hopes that I will fail. 

They tried to relegate me to the Internet title. I put my mark on that title, and I had it a title that people wanted to go after. I made it a hot commodity. I made it worth working for. And now look at it. Who is even the champion? Does anybody care? No. And now that I’ve made it known I’m coming for the World title again, You can see how DESPERATE people are to keep me away from it. I should be wrestling for that championship this Sunday, but instead, I get you, you damn poser mother fucker.

Every attempt they have made to stifle me has been a failure. You’re going to be no different. 

 
Jack makes a check mark with his hand.

Jack: I told you this is about me, it’s not about you. You don’t even know who you are, my guy. Sunday, you are simply going to be another person I beat, and I put in my rear view mirror. You can be very smart about this, take this ass whooping, and this L, like a man, and move on with your career and the upper reached of mediocrity. Or, you can try and come back at me, you can add your name, and your voice to the list of haters who keep me at the top. You’re not going to change me, I will be as real as it gets.

It’s why I told you to ask about me. Because while you have to muster the anger and manufacture the rage, I breathe it, my guy. And I will not hesitate to end your career in SCW before the shit even gets off the ground. Please believe it. I have taken people apart both physically and mentally. I’ve already done the physical part, Pete. All it took was you trying to be like me and do what I do. You only WISH you could. 

Let me just leave you with this, Pete. In like, you can fool a lot of people. You can trick people all the time. You can lie all you want, but there’s two people you can’t lie to. One of them is me. I see through all your bullshit and have since this match was announced. You know it, and I know it.

The other person who you can’t lie to? The man who stares at you in the mirror. You think that guy knows who he’s looking at? You think he’s fooled? Because the guy in the mirror has seen all your shit, good and bad. He knows you, Pete. He knows who you really are. You think he’s okay with you? The answer should obviously be “no” Because at the end, he’s gonna be there, and he’ll know if you cheated him.

 You’re cheating him, Pete. And you know it.

Now, be the real you, and clean your shit up. It’s what you were best at.

 

Jack shoos away the camera and we fade out. 

Click.

FACE. OF. THE. FRANCHISE.