[Christian Underwood]

Please post all roleplays here! Have fun and good luck!

[Peter Vaughn]

~We open the shot to a scene of devastation. The destruction appears to be fully completed. There are concrete pieces laying all around, the leftover remains of Peter Vaughn's warehouse. At least, at this point, we HOPE it was Peter Vaughn's warehouse, because there's really nothing left after Vaughn and his partner, Kim Pain, began the deconstruction of the building. We can see, in the distance, a few different bulldozers and cranes working their way through the rubble, collecting what they can and dumping the remains into various dump trucks scattered around the area. The cameraman zooms over the destroyed wasteland before turning to his right, where we can see Peter Vaughn proudly standing across two large pieces of cracked walls. He looks more relaxed than usual, probably because of the release of some pressure thanks to the tear down. After a few moments, he turns to look over at the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: How are you feeling, friend? Still pissed at me?

~There's no response from the cameraman, who professionally keeps the lens pointed at Vaughn. Of course, that doesn't stop him from bringing a hand in front of the camera, shooting the bird towards the Roulette Champion. For those who missed it, when the demolition event started, the cameraman was inside, having been given bad directions from Vaughn. Thankfully, he made it out in one piece, even if he does appear to still hold a grudge. As for Vaughn, he simple smirks, before looking around again.~

Peter Vaughn: We truly did a lot of damage, didn't we? Thank goodness I have some contacts in the local government, getting us a crew to cart away the remains. Otherwise, well, this would have taken me a while.

~With uncanny balance, Vaughn jumps off the one piece of crumbling wall and lands on another piece, which rocks dangerously for a moment before settling. Vaughn doesn't seem concerned at all. He reaches down, pulling out what appears to be a chunk of wall with a light switch on it. He detaches the wires from the back, allowing him to hang onto the piece.~

Peter Vaughn: Always good to have a memento of your past, right? You want one? Something to signify you're still living life? The bathroom area should be over there to the east, we could probably find a toilet seat or a piece of sink.

~The camera just shakes negatively, so Vaughn shrugs, tucking the debris away in one of his large coverall pockets.~

Peter Vaughn: Looking at this now... yep, I believe this was the right choice. Tearing down the past and moving forward, heading into a new, bright future. If only I wasn't facing an opponent from the past... an opponent I've been locked against more times than anyone else in Sin City. Good ol' Milo. Of course, they added the Troll to this, because of course they did. You'd think, maybe, there's someone in the front offices who would like to see me lose the Roulette Championship. They even made a big deal out of it being an Ultimate X match, as if that was a danger to me.

~Vaughn laughs to himself, even as he hops to another piece of debris, then another. Somehow, despite the chaotic pattern of destruction, Vaughn's having no problems navigating the area. The cameraman, meanwhile, is being extremely careful in where he puts his feet down. A lot is covered in an SCW Cameraman's insurance, but a demolished building might be pushing things.~

Peter Vaughn: For some reason, I thought they knew me better than that. I mean, I won the Roulette Championship by winning a Ladder match. I love high-flying and risk-taking. I enjoy any match where the rules are... relaxed. A match like this? Where I just need to dunk a couple of fools into the water in order to get a free path back to my title? Where balance and agility is of utmost importance? Where it's a Pay-Per-View, which means I'll be at my absolute best, rising up for the big time? Yeah... this one's going to be glorious.

~Vaughn jumps over onto a piece of rebar, which doesn't look like it's going to hold his weight. But Vaughn doesn't even hesitate, continuing to flip over to another piece of debris, staying upright. We can see now that Vaughn has gotten near the edge of the destruction zone in a half dozen hops. The cameraman, meanwhile, is much further back, as he starts to carefully move to his left.~

Peter Vaughn: It truly is a beautiful sight, isn't it? And it's only the beginning. Wait until you guys see what I get built here. It's going to take some time, but this place? It's going to be memorable.

~Vaughn grins to himself, then turns to go, towards the parking lot where we can see his beloved truck, Gabriella, sitting. After a moment, though, Vaughn looks back, taking in the fact that the cameraman is struggling to get around the pieces of concrete safely. With a sigh, Vaughn shakes his head before coming back his direction.~

Peter Vaughn: I suppose I already almost killed you once today. That should probably be my limit. Let's get you out of there.

~The wrestler moves to the side, picking up what appear to be a series of long planks, which look like they used to be part of the roof of the warehouse. Vaughn slides them out, one by one, forming a bridge across the debris field. Gratefully, the cameraman makes his way that direction, managing to get onto the first one. He struggles across, finally landing on the other side, with Vaughn staying close by. When the cameraman gets his balance back, Vaughn steps in front of the lens once more, smiling hopefully. He has another decent-sized piece of concrete in one hand.~

Peter Vaughn: So we're all good now? No reason to escalate anything to a higher office or anything?

~Vaughn tosses the concrete piece up and down a few times, while never letting his eyes leave the cameraman. He gets the message, nodding the camera, basically saying that things will stay as they are. Vaughn's grin gets larger.~

Peter Vaughn: Good. I've become a fan of yours, after all. And you're going to love what comes next.

~Vaughn throws the piece of concrete away and starts walking towards the truck. The cameraman takes one last look at the fallen building, before finally fading out, taking us away from here.~


~The video shifts, this time taking us to a shot of the outdoors. At least, that's what we see along the side of the road. The shot is moving, though, showing that we're seeing from the perspective of someone inside a car or truck. The vehicle makes a turn to the right, making its way into a specific destination, and we quickly catch a shot of the sign outside.~



~The vehicle continues on, heading to the parking area near the large red barn on the property. Leaning against the barn, clearly visible, is Peter Vaughn, with one foot up against the barn wall as he waits patiently. The engine shuts off, and after a moment, the camera turns to the side... showing us Wyatt Bailey, a prominent cattle distributor in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. He's also had a few confrontations with Vaughn over his PMV Ranch, swearing that Vaughn will never get cattle from him. Bailey pulls the keys from the ignition, staring out at Vaughn, who is calmly waiting for him.~

Wyatt Bailey: Smug son of a bitch.

~The older man pulls himself out of the car, walking over to where Vaughn is straightening up, preparing for him.~

Wyatt Bailey: So any reason you had me drive all the way out here, other than just for you to talk my ear off again and for me to turn you down?

~Vaughn shrugs his shoulders before speaking.~

Peter Vaughn: I figured we could meet on neutral ground to talk things out.

Wyatt Bailey: Really? That's why we're here, instead of at a restaurant back in town? Because I'd rather have a steak, medium rare.

Peter Vaughn: What can I say? I'm a fan of blueberries. I know a lot of people out there would rather have apples, oranges, maybe some strawberries. Some of them eat bananas just because they think they're healthy for them. But blueberries, they're the underutilized crop. Despite all their benefits, people still tend to push blueberries to the side. I suppose... I can relate, in some ways.

~For once, Mr. Bailey seems a bit speechless, as he's likely never heard someone compare themselves to a blueberry before. Vaughn shrugs again, looking off into the distance.~

Peter Vaughn: Suffice to say, Mr. Bailey, I think you're someone who could make good use of a crop of blueberries... if you could remove your own preconceived notions of them. C'mon, let's go pick a few. I'll feel a little better away from the main entrance, anyway.

Wyatt Bailey: ... You're a strange, strange fella, Vaughn. Gotta say, it feels like there's something... different about you. Hmmm. Did you get a haircut?

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, something like that.

~Vaughn instinctively runs a hand across his chest, wincing slightly, before walking away. Mr. Bailey moves after the wrestler, heading into the blueberry grove, still on his guard. As they depart, we see another vehicle slowly pull into the parking lot, finding a space further down the lot. We cut away.~


Milo, Milo, Milo...

How is it that we keep finding ourselves in each other's orbit?

I don't think there's a single wrestler I've faced more than you, Millo, here in Sin City. We've had some fun times, haven't we? I mean, I defeat you, you almost defeat me, it's a wild ride. So does that last time we fought still burn you? Because I won't sugarcoat it: you definitely had me on the ropes. Some would even say that there was no way for me to escape... except that the time ran out, didn't it? A draw. In other words...

You. Still. Haven't. Beat. Me.

I'm betting that result has stayed in that Milo-tic brain of yours, rattling around and never finding a way out. That thought of you hitting the move that I may or may not have kicked out of, only for it to be useless. Pretty crazy. Probably depressing. For you, that is.

And then look how things have gone since then? I went on to win the SCW Roulette Championship at Blaze of Glory, while you went and got yourself another unsatisfying ending. A double pin draw, ugh, hate when that happens. I guess you should have tried to get a shoulder up, huh? After that, despite your inability to get away from draws, you were given a World Title opportunity, which, hey, I was pulling for you back there. I really was.

So you can guess how disappointed you made me when you took the pin from Harris.

I mean, how did you not see that coming? Harris, cheating? The guy's pretty well known for it at this point. But you didn't duck, you didn't dodge, and you didn't stay conscious. Another bummer for Milo. I swear, if I hadn't put a bet on Harris to win exactly that way, I would have been furious. You dropped the ball, Milo. Again.

And yet, here we are... once again being booked against each other. Once again, you're getting a title opportunity, even though you blew your chance to face me twice. You should have been there for the Mixed Tag Titles two, but, once again, you failed to stop a cheater. Man, that's gotta start feeling painful, boyo. At least you got some revenge on the kid, but still...

It's becoming like a broken record with you.

That being said, I DO have good news for you, Millie. See, since this is booked as an Ultimate X match, it technically ISN'T possible to cheat. There are no rules, other than get to that championship and don't fall in the pool. So you can feel free to bring yourself some weapons if you want, because they're legal. I bet the Troll brings some, because there's no way in hell that guy is climbing up those ropes. He'll probably bring an extender grappler, that'd be his best bet. And I know I'll be... prepared, with any items I need to have on me.

So how far are you willing to take things, Milo? Are you going to finally shake off your fan-friendly persona and live up to the name of Summer XXXTreme? Are you going to turn this match up to 11, and have the two of us carry off one of the greatest opening matches in SCW PPV history? Or are you going to show up wearing a life preserver, knowing exactly where you're going to end up at the finish?

I'm not going to let this one end in a draw, Miles. I'm continuing what will be a historic run with the Roulette Championship.

And for once, I won't be joining you on the way down as you take the Plunge.


~We rejoin Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey as they move through the blueberry patch. Vaughn has actually collected a nice amount of them in his small basket. Maybe he really DOES like blueberries. Mr. Bailey seems less inclined, as he's starting to look impatient.~

Wyatt Bailey: You know, you may be some kind of famous wrestler who doesn't have to worry about wasting his time, but some of us DO have a business to run! Are we going to get to the point of this little meeting?

Peter Vaughn: What's your rush, Wyatt? Don't you want to enjoy this beautiful Texas day, out here in nature?

Wyatt Bailey: Don't try to con me, son. You're stalling. And I'm getting awfully tired of...

~There's a sudden, single beep from Vaughn's cell phone. He pulls it out and takes a look, nodding, before putting it back away and turning towards Mr. Bailey, who looks ready to start hiking back out of there, blueberries be damned.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, Wyatt, let's talk.

Wyatt Bailey: By all means, "Peter"...

Peter Vaughn: So how much do you know about your guy Butch?

~Bailey's face reveals his surprise, as he was prepared for many conversation starters, but Butch wasn't on the table.~

Wyatt Bailey: Butch? He's been working for me for years. He's probably my best cattleman, reminds me some of myself at his age. Why? You trying to poach him from me? Good luck to you. He's basically next in line to run my business when I retire.

Peter Vaughn: So he is. And when exactly do you think you'll be retiring, just to ask?

Wyatt Bailey: Hah! Not anytime soon, I'll tell you that! I'd be too bored in retirement!

~Vaughn nods, agreeing with the older man. Retirement does, indeed, sound... boring.~

Peter Vaughn: So, then, the only way Butch will be taking over... is over your dead body?

~This gets Mr. Bailey's attention, as he glares over at Vaughn. Like any self-respecting Texan, he's packing, as his hand involuntarily goes towards his side.~

Wyatt Bailey: You threatening me, son?

Peter Vaughn: Nope. Just warning you. That Butch? He's not fond of waiting.

Wyatt Bailey: What? I don't see what you're getting at...

Peter Vaughn: Had any car troubles lately?

~This gets the older man's attention. After all, how could Vaughn know about the mysterious failure of his prized Cadillac's engine?~

Wyatt Bailey: How do you know about that?

Peter Vaughn: Sources. The same ones that have told me that ol' Butch and a few other cowboys are looking to remove you from the equation. They want to retire you permanently, Wyatt.

~Mr. Bailey's eyebrows climb high on his forehead... before settling back down as he laughs, slapping his knee just like an old-timer.~

Wyatt Bailey: You're a funny one, Vaughn. You really expect me to just take your word that some of my best boys are coming after me? Just because of some engine failures?

Peter Vaughn: Anything else go wrong recently?

Wyatt Bailey: I... well, there WAS a problem when one of the bulls got loose. Nobody could tell me how he got out of his pen... but that was just an accident!

Peter Vaughn: Uh huh...

Wyatt Bailey: Now listen here, son! I trust my boys, I always have! You've got to give me more than "sources" and "coincidences" if you want me to believe you.

~Vaughn hesitates, and it's for good reason. He remembers seeing the video feed that showed Butch and another cowboy, identified later as Shilo, talking about causing Mr. Bailey's death via an automobile accident. Of course, Vaughn's illegal feed into Mr. Bailey's surveillance cameras meant that he couldn't come right out and reveal where he heard it. He also couldn't confess to breaking into Mr. Bailey's garage and sabotaging his ride, in order to keep the old man from dying after a major accident, because that wouldn't exactly be celebrated, either, would it?~

Peter Vaughn: I don't have anything other than what I know, Wyatt. And what I know is that your life is in danger, and maybe the lives of your family.

Wyatt Bailey: Hah! That's not a concern for me. My wife passed a few years ago, and my daughters have all married up and are living their own lives out there. Hell, Butch is the closest thing I've ever had to a son, and you say he's trying to kill me??

Peter Vaughn: Yes. Yes, I do. And I think, somewhere in there, you suspect a little, too. Otherwise, you would have stormed off long before now.

~There's a silence between the two men, a silence that's broken up as a few kids come by, unstoppable in picking some more blueberries for themselves. They swarm over a nearby bush, taking several, before running off, giggling to each other. Both Vaughn and Mr. Bailey watch this, before Vaughn looks back at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Believe me or not, I figure it'd be good for you to get out of town for a little while. So here's what I'm going to do.

~Vaughn reaches into his pocket, causing Mr. Bailey to once again consider his pistol. But Vaughn just pulls out an envelope, handing it over to him.~

Wyatt Bailey: Alright, I'll bite. What's this?

Peter Vaughn: It's tickets. Specifically, it's tickets to fly you out and get you onto the cruise I'm going to be on, Sin City Wrestling's Summer XXXTreme XI.

Wyatt Bailey: A... a cruise?

Peter Vaughn: Yes, sir. I figure you've worked hard enough, you could use a break away from your guys, especially in light of the fact that they're trying to kill you.

Wyatt Bailey: Allegedly.

Peter Vaughn: Whether you believe me or not, that's a great opportunity there, Wyatt. It's a chance for you to stretch your legs and enjoy some time off. Why not take it?

Wyatt Bailey: It's, what, a bribe? You trying to buy me, son?

Peter Vaughn: You're not someone who can be bought. But if it puts me on your good side... why not? Now, the ship leaves from the Port of Los Angeles on the Princess Cruise. It's going to be an amazing event. It's up to you, really, whether or not you take advantage of it.

~Mr. Bailey sits quietly for a moment, considering his options. The thought of tearing up the tickets right in front of Vaughn has to enter his mind. But there's also the thought of... a cruise... fully paid for... and with some interesting clientele likely expected.~

Wyatt Bailey: I suppose... there will be a lot of ladies in bikinis?

Peter Vaughn: I would definitely expect to see more ladies in bikinis than gentlemen.

Wyatt Bailey: I guess there's no hard in... getting away for a little bit.

~Vaughn smiles, as Mr. Bailey carefully tucks the tickets away in his pocket.~

Wyatt Bailey: I'm not saying this changes anything between us, though, Vaughn. You're still an outsider in our cattle game.

Peter Vaughn: So I've been told before.

Wyatt Bailey: But I'll do the gentlemanly thing and say... thank you.

~Mr. Bailey tips his hat towards Vaughn, then turns, walking away. Vaughn watches him go, still smiling. He turns and goes in the opposite direction. At the same time, the camera shifts away from them, slowly circling around the bushes to show where two men are currently bent over, having been listening to the majority of the conversation.~

Butch: So you heard all of that?

Shiloh: I heard every word. Damn fools, allowing us to follow like that. Acting like this was some sort of secret meeting!

Butch: The question is, how does that guy know about our plans? You been talking while drinking, Shiloh?

Shiloh: Of course not! I don't know how he knows! But we need to do something.

Butch: You think so? Didn't sound like the old man believed a word of it. Still... this could be the perfect opportunity.

~Butch lets an evil grin cross his lips, as he thinks through the possibilities.~

Butch: After all... isn't it kind of common on cruises like this to have someone 'accidentally' fall overboard? Why, it'd simply be a tragedy if one or both of them simply... disappeared.

Shiloh: ... It would definitely be tragic.

Butch: Let's go see if we can book passage for ourselves. I'm sure the place is sold out at this date, but you know there are always some bootleg tickets for sale.

Shiloh: I better pack my Dramamine.

~Both men laugh as they move off, evil thoughts in their minds as we cut away.~


Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of men?

Hell if I know. It's definitely not the Troll, because from what I've heard, he's usually wrong when he's broadcasting from his mom's basement.

So, Troll... yeah, I can't call you that. I mean, I like doing nicknames, but that's just pathetic. So, Gabe... you've been placed into a match where you are required to have upper body strength and a great deal of agility. And I have to ask... when you heard it was an Ultimate X match... why did you sign the contract?

Seriously, Gabe, you're putting your life on the line in this one, and I know it hasn't exactly been the greatest of lives, but it's still what you've got. Why didn't you turn tail and run? That'd be the smart play.

Is it because Mac once invited you to the Saviors? Because you know what? I don't really see that in the same light that you do. After all, soon after that invitation, everything seemed to fall apart for the Saviors. Mac left, Goth fell, Ken got hurt, we let a bitch into the group before quickly kicking them out, I mean, the whole stable nearly collapsed. But you know who was there to fix it?

Me.

I'm the man who's kept the good name of the Saviors going, even when it looked like it'd be better for me to take a walk from the group as well. But I didn't. I stayed. I brought in the Roulette Championship. I'm bringing in the Mixed Tag-Team Titles. We're bringing this group back to life, one piece at a time. And you know what, Gabe?

I'm not sure that you're one of the pieces we need.

The only time I remember seeing you lately, Gabe, was when you got the holy hell beat out of you by Austin James Mercer. Have you won a match in Sin City? Are you even a competitor here? I mean, I'm sure I could look back in the logs and find out for myself, but... it's rather boring, looking into your career.

So here's the truth, Gabe. You really don't stand a chance of winning this match. Miles and I, we'll be flying around, doing some gravity-defying stunts as we work to get to the championship. It's going to be damn impressive, I'm sure. But you, Gabe? You're built differently. This is quite possibly the worst possible match type for you. But you can still succeed in one way, Gabe.

You could always tackle Milo into the water when his attention is diverted by me.

Sure, it would eliminate both of you, but it'd be a strike for the Saviors, wouldn't it? It'd ensure that I keep the Roulette Championship safely in the organization. Do you think you could do that, Gabe? Or do you think it'd be better if you just stay in your room in third class, keeping it a one-on-one battle? It's really your decision, after all.

That being said, Gabe, if you show up and decide that you WANT to fight for the championship, well, then I'll show you the respect I think you deserve. I'll fight you head-on, with everything I've got, and, well, I quite frankly don't think things will turn out well for you.

You make your choice, Gabe. You do what you think you have to do.

You find a way to make Mac proud of you.



~As the two sinister cattle herders move off, still laughing to themselves, the camera slowly zooms in on a nearby blueberry bush. Strangely, it appears to be at least partially artificial, judging by the camouflage net that hangs on it. Inside the bush, we suddenly hear another loud beep, followed by a voice coming out of a speaker.~

Peter Vaughn: I see them taking off. You good there, bro?

~After another moment or two, the net slowly pulls to the side, as a man pokes his head out. He looks around in both directions, making sure the coast is clear.~

Thomas Hill: Yeah, Peter, they're gone. I still can't believe you made me do this.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, c'mon, you know you enjoyed it. Those kids really seemed to like your blueberries.

Thomas Hill: Shut up. That was humiliating. I thought for sure they saw me.

~Thomas shakes his head, even as he struggles to dislodge himself from the hole in the blueberry grove. It isn't easy.~

Thomas Hill: Those guys were idiots, thinking that they're the only ones who could follow someone.

Peter Vaughn: So did they react like we thought they would?

Thomas Hill: Yeah. They're going to try and get on the cruise. This is getting dangerous, Peter. Don't you think we should let the authorities know?

Peter Vaughn: We still have no real proof.

Thomas Hill: Are you kidding? I just recorded them!

Peter Vaughn: And I'm sure they kept it a little vague, right? They didn't outright say what they're going to do.

Thomas Hill: ... I guess not.

~Thomas sighs, as he lifts a leg towards the ground. The other foot, though, gets stuck in the tree, causing Thomas to topple over with a thud.~

Peter Vaughn: I didn't catch that last part.

Thomas Hill: Ow. Uh, look, I just don't want anything to go wrong on the cruise. You've got too much riding on it.

~The camera angle suddenly switches, showing Vaughn standing in the loft of the large red barn. He has binoculars up to his eyes, as he watches Butch and Shiloh sneaking back into their car. Mr. Bailey left long ago, while Vaughn hid his truck behind the barn, out of sight.~

Peter Vaughn: I know it, Thomas. It's going to take a lot for me to come back from this event with two championships around my waist, with more to come. But I've factored everything into account. My plan is going to go perfectly.

Thomas Hill: Nothing ever goes perfectly, Peter. You know it and I know it.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, it's GOING to be perfect, Thomas. No matter what it takes... it's going to be perfect.

~With that, Vaughn lowers the binoculars, glaring down at the departing vehicle below. Vaughn is set on a career high at SCW: two championship matches, with all the eyes of the world on him. Numerous individuals who stand in his way. All of them will fall... no matter what it takes. He disappears into the darkness of the loft, out of sight from the camera, as we fade out.~

[MiloKasey]

A Night of Revelry

Back in the familiar streets of Las Vegas, Miles and Carter found themselves embracing the vibrant energy of the city that they call home. As the week unfolded, they relished in the comfort of their own space, finding solace in the routines that brought them a sense of stability, even with Ms. Thang and her never ending insanity as she chased shadows throughout their entire condo, amidst the tumultuous world of wrestling.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Carter's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Let's shake things up tonight, Miles. How about we head to somewhere fun, like a nightclub? I want us to let loose, dance like nobody's watching, and well...I think celebrating that win you had this past week is definitely called for."

Miles grinned, thrilled by the prospect of a night out with Carter. "Sounds like a plan, love. If you are up for it, so am I. Let's paint the town."

They arrived at the lively bar, pulsating with a vibrant atmosphere. Rainbow flags adorned the walls, casting a colorful glow on the dance floor where bodies moved with an infectious rhythm. Carter didn’t need much convincing on his part to pull Miles out onto the floor, joining the throngs of people, surrendering to the music that reverberated through their souls.

As the night progressed, Miles found himself at the bar, ordering a round of drinks for himself and Carter. As he waited for the bartender to prepare their beverages, a figure sidled up next to him. The man, oozing confidence almost disgustingly so, attempted to engage Miles in conversation.

Miles' instinctive response was polite but clear, "Thank you, but I'm here with my boyfriend. Now, if you’ll pardon me."

Undeterred, the stranger persisted, undeterred. "Come on, don't you want to have some fun? I’ve been watching you all night and I gotta wonder what a beautiful individual like you is doing with that thing you have been dancing with all night."

Miles' resolve hardened, first the guy wouldn’t get the clue that he was obviously with someone but to insult Carter was enough that he almost bounced this guy’s face off the bar. He glanced discreetly toward where Carter stood, knowing that his boyfriend's attention was fixed on the situation. Carter's blue eyes twinkled with a blend of amusement and protective affection and even a small hint of worry for a brief moment.

Taking a deep breath, Miles maintained his composure, his voice firm. "Look bruv, as much as I appreciate the offer, I’m going to be absolutely abrupt and abrasive now. That beautiful man that you’ve seen me with all night? Well let’s just say that he has more than just my body. Why would I fuck that up for someone that has worked his way down the bar being automatically turned without even uttering a word and absolutely reeks of desperation? Even then, I would never, and I mean NEVER hurt him. I love him far too much." Miles went silent for a moment as the bartender arrived, giving him that knowing and appreciative look of dealing with this guy that won’t buy a hint. Miles took a moment to take a quick sip of his beverage and the guy went to try again as Miles just holds up his hand to stop him, look behind him for a moment and with a smirk, “And if I wasn’t clear enough...I wouldn’t even give you a toss, even with a stolen dick.”

The stranger, knocked back by those final words and sensing the unwavering determination in Miles' eyes, backed off with his hands up, finally getting the point. Miles returned to Carter, their eyes meeting in silent reassurance. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” he asked.

Miles had to laugh, “He made an offer that had a worse chance than a snowball’s chance in hell and politely told him to fuck off.”

Carter’s face turned even brighter with a smile, “You certainly have a way with words you know that?”

“One of my many charms, I’m told.” Miles said finishing his drink down in one shot, “That and a terrific ass.”

“Not one single lie told.” Carter said with admiration, “Maybe that's why we are seemingly the center of attention here.”

Miles glances around and does see a dozen or so eyes on the couple, and that’s enough to make him only wrap his free arm around Carter and pull him close, “Well ignore them, we’re having fun and that is all that matters.”

They continued to revel in the joyful atmosphere of the club, dancing with abandon, their bond growing stronger with each shared moment.

Carter, though careful not to make it obvious, admired Miles' unwavering loyalty. He was grateful for every single moment they shared and the trust that allowed them to navigate such encounters gracefully. He squeezed Miles' hand, a silent gesture of affirmation and gratitude.

As the night came to an end, Miles and Carter left the bar, their hearts full and a renewed appreciation for their unwavering connection. They walked hand in hand through the glittering streets of Las Vegas, the city's vibrant lights mirroring the joy and resilience that radiated from their spirits...if not a little from the alcohol they consumed.

Their jovial moods had them laughing as they walked along the desert night air, and occasionally Miles couldn’t help but do something goofy to bring laughter from his boyfriend. In that moment, Miles realized that his journey toward redemption wasn't solely about wrestling victories. It was also about staying true to himself, upholding the love he had found in Carter, and remaining steadfast in the face of distractions.


Ultimate Test

Miles paced back and forth in the living room of his condo, the weight of the upcoming Ultimate X match for the Roulette Championship bearing down on him. He gathered his gear, carefully selecting his attire and inspecting the specialized gear designed to withstand the splash in the pool below.

Miles, visibly frustrated, slams it down into his bag that has been designated specifically for his wrestling gear, "I've been here before, facing this damn Ultimate X match for the Roulette Championship. It feels like it's become a recurring nightmare at Summer Xxxtreme."

He glanced at the tree outside, a familiar sight that marked the approach of the event.

"That tree, it's a constant reminder of the challenges that lie ahead." Miles shook his head, recalling his previous encounters and the frustration of coming up short each time. "This time will be different. I've grown, I've changed. I won't let history repeat itself."

As he packed his gear, Miles couldn't help but express his disbelief and confusion regarding Gabriel's involvement in the match. "BUT with that I have to focus upon the men that will join me in this match. And first, I gotta get this out...Gabriel, WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU EVEN DOING IN THIS MATCH?!?! The only thing I have ever seen you hold on for dear life to is a snack cake and one of those jumbo sized cups of Mtn. Dew. No offense mate but you can barely pull yourself up out of bed, let alone hang over a pool, pull yourself across to get to that Roulette Title."

With a mix of concern and amusement, Miles envisioned the potential chaos that Gabriel's participation might bring.

"Well, at least we'll get to see his mom again. She deserves all the respect. But Gabriel? I don't know how he made it into this match. Not gonna lie, mate. I’m scared for you because you could seriously get hurt but my God...imagine the splash in that pool? They’re gonna have to have an emergency refill on stand-by whenever Peter finally falls, just so he doesn’t get seriously hurt or potentially die."

Miles shifted his focus to his greatest rival in the match, Peter Vaughn. He reflected on their previous encounters, the defeats he had endured, and the burning desire for redemption.

"Yeah Peter, you heard me right. When YOU fall. Bruv, we have been back and forth and not one single time have I been able to find a moment of victory over you and it can be absolutely maddening to a normal bloke. Luckily for you, I’m not remotely normal and I’m fairly certain I’m already a little off my rocker. And you are finding yourself quite stretched don’t ya? Got yourself in a little pickle. Not only do you have to deal with myself...and Gabriel, I guess...but you have to put a whole lot of focus into the rebirth of the mixed tag titles."

“You’re not going to put the whole thing on Kim getting you through that madness but how does one prepare mentally for what could be the longest night of hell in your life? I do hope that you have yourself a backup set of gear because I’m going to be the one to knock you off of that pedestal.”

He zipped up his bag, his expression a mix of determination and confidence.

“I need you to focus, Peter. I need you to understand that this isn’t like the other times you and I faced off and you knocked me down. You see, last year, my head was anywhere but on that ship. Last year, I was at my absolute lowest and I didn’t care. I deserved that pain. That whole 3 weeks before we even boarded that ship, I was so close to saying ‘fuck it all’ and just give up. Now, I’m out for redemption, I’m out for blood and I’m out to get back what is rightfully mine.”

“That’s right, I’m a different type of thirsty now. I’m about to become a 2-time Roulette Champion, and I’m sorry Kim but you may very well be working with a broken partner when he comes back, broken and titleless.”

As he took a deep breath, Miles knew the challenges ahead would test him both physically and mentally. But he found solace in his unwavering determination and the support of those who believed in him.

The condo was quiet, sans Ms. Thang’s small meow and purring as she laid stretched out on the bed, a sanctuary for Miles as he mentally prepared himself before they departed for the trip to the Princess Cruise, leaving behind any doubts or fears that might hinder his path to redemption.

[Peter Vaughn]

~The picture slowly comes up on a great deal of flashing lights and loud noises. Hopefully, no one is triggered by this, as we forgot to put a warning right before the video began. Sorry, our bad. So, be careful. The camera pans around, showing us that we're actually inside the casino area of the Princess Cruise, a place where the liner can make a lot of extra money on the poor bums who are having such a good time, they don't even notice their wallets emptying. The cameraman moves among the people at the different machines, many of them who probably aren't even wrestling fans. They were here for the thrill of gambling, nothing else. As the cameraman goes around another corner, he finds a special machine added just for this cruise: an Sin City Wrestling slot machine. Standing in front of it is Peter Vaughn, nicely dressed for once, as part of his deal with Kim Pain.~

Peter Vaughn: What's up, boyo? Care to test your odds?

~Vaughn taps at the side of the machine, where we can see the rules and odds of winning listed. He reaches down, using the special club card to activate the machine. He then pulls the handle, sending the icons spinning across.~

Peter Vaughn: Let's face it, this machine is perfect for SCW. Every match always appears to be a lucky twist of fate... or unlucky, depending on who it is. Why, look at this match-up?

~The dials finish twirling, showing us that we've gotten two Austin Ramseys and an Alexander Raven. Predictably, no money is added to the card for this pairing, as those two rarely sell.~

Peter Vaughn: Bad luck means that you get something that doesn't work. Good luck means that maybe you find a way to win.

~Vaughn reaches down and snaps back the handle again, starting the spin once more. The machine is keeping track, deducting the cost from Vaughn's card. It continues to twirl, as Vaughn suddenly picks up his phone from beside the machine. We can see that a wired connection has been made between the phone and the slots, although Vaughn is doing his best to keep this concealed from anyone else's view.~

Peter Vaughn: Of course, when you're as good as I am, you don't have to rely on luck, do you?

~With a couple of button presses, the slot seems to make a change of its own, with the spinners finally ending up on one Troll... two Trolls... three Trolls! The machine lights up... but there is only a quick ding from the cash mark-up, as nothing is added to the card other than the value that had already been put into it. Vaughn nods, expecting this result.~

Peter Vaughn: That makes perfect sense. Why would any combination of Trolls add up to being a winner? Clearly, I should have just lost everything I had on the card, if it was true to life. Betting on the Troll should probably bankrupt me. But, thankfully, the makers of this machine weren't that cruel. Honestly, they probably could have left the Troll off of this one and it would have been fine. I guess they wanted everyone on the card included? Still... not much to work with, there.

~Vaughn once again grabs the handle, but then hesitates. He looks back at the cameraman for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: Seriously, do you want to spin it? It's kind of addictive.

~After a short hesitation, the cameraman steps forward, going ahead and cranking on the machine's handle. The spinning begins again, with the shot taking a step back once more. Vaughn pats the slots on the side, even while he's once again manipulating the phone.~

Peter Vaughn: So let's see, will our cameraman be a winner?

~Thanks, surely, to Vaughn's hack into the system, the spinners all end up on Miles Kasey. It's not the greatest picture of him, to be honest. Maybe the programmers didn't have access to a good photo of him, which honestly is strange, because he's certainly not terrible looking. Either way, this time the money recorder lights up, and $100 is deposited onto Vaughn's playing card. Vaughn nods in approval.~

Peter Vaughn: Nice job, boyo. Three Milos equals $100. I suppose I can see that. After all, Milo's been in the main event before for Sin City. He's shown the world that he can fight at the top level... even if he has trouble pulling off the victory once he's there. But Milo's a good star for Sin City, and extremely competitive. I really am looking forward to beating him once again, this time in a race across the wires. Still... I think we can do better.

~Vaughn reaches over with his arm, grabbing hold of the handle... at the same time the cameraman's hand lands on another part. The two look at each other, with Vaughn laughing.~

Peter Vaughn: I warned you it was addictive.

~Vaughn then voluntarily lets go, stepping away, as the cameraman gives it another shot. The spinners fly, as Vaughn makes some selections on his phone. Slowly, the spinners come into place, with one Vaughn... two Vaughns... three Vaughns. The machine starts letting out a loud, celebratory blast, even as a large dollar figure starts to be added to the card. People all around look over, always interested in the big winners. Of course, Vaughn quickly has removed the cable from below, tucking it away in his pocket, knowing that the attention would be a problem. When the machine stops beeping, we can see that $1,000 has been added to Vaughn's card.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. You would think that you'd get more for three Vaughn's. That's a winning hand, right there, no matter how you look at it.

~Vaughn shrugs, reaching down and plucking his card out of the machine. He pockets it, walking away, even as a few people move in, now interested in some slots that might actually be paying off. Unfortunately, they'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. The cameraman, meanwhile, follows Vaughn over to where a roulette table is set up. The woman there nods to Vaughn without saying anything, even as Vaughn pulls out a small handful of chips. He looks back at the cameraman for a moment.~

Peter Vaughn: What's your lucky number?

~The cameraman doesn't really have a verbal answer, as he just raises his hand up. But Vaughn nods, immediately putting the chips on 5. He steps back, smiling, as the worker nods and starts spinning the roulette wheel.~

Peter Vaughn: You know, it's rather sad that the roulette wheel won't be in play for my defense this time. But then, I guess there's no harm in knowing what the competition's going to be before we get there. It makes it rather an even playing field, doesn't it? Other than the fact that I'm so far ahead of both of them. Still, I'm going to miss the randomness of it. Maybe I can make a few surprise changes, depending on what I bring with me to the match. I guess we'll see if it can raise the unpredictability, when the ending is so, so clear.

~Vaughn points down at the wheel, which is quickly slowing down... with the small marble now sitting in the 22 position. The worker quickly sweeps away the chips, with Vaughn turning to the cameraman and shrugging his shoulders, still smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: Okay, but that would have been so cool if it just landed on your lucky number, right? Guess I needed you to be an Emmitt Smith fan. But that's alright. I already made my profit here, and I'm going to make my profit here in a few days at the Ultimate X match. It's going to be a hell of a ride.

~Still grinning, Vaughn walks away, leaving the cameraman behind. He watches Vaughn depart... and then turns back to where the Sin City slots machine is still sitting, with one person just finishing a roll. The cameraman starts to head back over there, as we start to fade out. I guess Vaughn was right: that slots machine IS addicting.~


~As the picture comes back up, we see a long, green carpet in front of us. It's actually artificial turf, set up on the back of the cruise liner, as part of their benefit packages. The camera zooms out a little to show Peter Vaughn standing there, golf club in hand, as he prepares to take a swing off the 'driving range'.~

Peter Vaughn: Gotta say, this feels pretty unique. The few times I've played golf, I always knew to try and avoid the water hazards. It looks pretty impossible here, though.

~There's a short laugh next to him, as the camera pans over, showing Wyatt Bailey standing there, leaning on his own golf club. He doesn't seem nearly as thrilled with what they're doing, but he's doing his best to make it appear better than it is.~

Wyatt Bailey: I know golf is a patient game, but I've got other things to do than to sit here and wait for you to swing. C'mon, Vaughn!

Peter Vaughn: Just waiting for the perfect wave surge. And... there.

~The cruise ship does seem to rise slightly, as if hitting a bit of wake. Vaughn immediately swings, driving the decomposable golf ball deep into the distance. There's no real way to measure it from the cruise ship, but it's still a beautiful shot. Mr. Bailey shakes his head in annoyance, as Vaughn turns to him with a smile.~

Peter Vaughn: Something tells me I'm getting that drink paid for.

~Grumbling, Mr. Bailey steps forward, determined to hit a better drive. He tries to wait for the perfect lift as well, but his timing's off, causing him to rush... and he slices the shot over to the right. After a few curses, Mr. Bailey comes back over to Vaughn, ignoring the urge to send the golf club flying.~

Peter Vaughn: Sure you don't want to up the stakes? We could start betting on cattle prices.

Wyatt Bailey: Not happening, Vaughn. You already got me on this dang cruise ship. I'm still waiting for the women you promised me!

Peter Vaughn: What are you talking about? They're all over the place, aren't they?

Wyatt Bailey: But you're not introducing them to me! I thought you were a ladies man!

Peter Vaughn: Oh, you couldn't be further from the truth. You've got a much better shot approaching them yourself, believe me. Now, let's go again. How about this time... we bet on dinner?

Wyatt Bailey: ... You're really annoying, son, you know that?

Peter Vaughn: So I hear.

Wyatt Bailey: But you're on. Let me just get my better driver. Bobby?

~A man steps out, handing a custom-made club to Mr. Bailey. Vaughn's eyes widen slightly, as the thought that he may have just been hustled crosses his mind. Still, he goes with it, getting things set up, as the camera slowly pans over to the other side... where we see two men peeking around the edge of the wall.~

Shiloh: How long are we gonna wait, Butch?

Butch: Keep your voice down! I don't want the old man to hear us!

Shiloh: But isn't this the perfect moment? They're both near the railing. With one push...

Butch: It's still daylight, and there are people all around. That would be stupid to try now. Just wait, we'll get them on their way to dinner, don't you worry about it. And then Bailey's cattle will be all mine.

~Butch gives a quiet laugh, making sure to stifle it so that no one can hear him. They back away, disappearing from sight, as Vaughn and Mr. Bailey prepare for the next round in their driving range duel.~


It seems to be a trait amongst wrestlers that we tend to thrive the most when we put ourselves in hazardous situations.

Of course, some get burned in those situations, but that's all part of the risk.

So let's talk about Milo & The Troll. Man, doesn't that sound like a Disney movie in the works? Kids would probably go flock to see that show... and then have traumatic nightmares afterwards. It might be like that Brave Little Toaster movie. Still have flashbacks to that whenever an appliance of mine dies. So, Milo & The Troll... are you guys feeling any sort of confidence yet?

I almost feel like leaving Gabe off of this one, really, because everyone knows he stands no chance. I'm curious at this point to see if he even shows up for the contest. Does he get paid if he doesn't wrestle? Probably not, right? Look, Gabe, neither Milo nor I actually want to see you get hurt, so let's just say you go to Alfredo's and eat some pizza, okay? Let us handle this.

Milo, now, there's a man that's supposedly brimming with confidence. So I'm facing you when you're at your peak, huh, Miles? You probably don't believe this, but that's EXACTLY when I want to be fighting you. I'm so tired of taking someone down, squashing them into the mat and getting the 1-2-3, and then they complain afterwards that it wasn't a true win. I cheated them in some way, maybe, or they weren't feeling the best at the time.

You'd be surprised how many 101 degree fevers are announced after the fact.

But you, Milo, you're not going to use that excuse, are you? Because I'm facing you at your best, in a match that you seemingly have more experience in. That'd make you the odds-on favorite, right? So then, once I take you down, sending you crashing into the water, and reclaim my Roulette Championship, there will be no excuses, right? I'll be the better man, from now and into the future? Or will you come up with something after the fact? Like, maybe you shouldn't have eaten those oysters or something?

Nah. Nothing's going to change on that, Milo. This is the definitive finish. Once I've taken you down a second time, it's all set in the rulebooks. I'm just flat out going to be the better champion. The one that people remember. The historic start to a magnificent Sin City career.

Now, I know you brought up how I'm fighting in two matches at once, just like all of my tag-team competition did. It's really thoughtful that all of you are concerned about the effort I'm going to be putting into both of my matches at the PPV. That said, the tag-teams at least have a step in the right, logical direction. Their match comes later in the night. But we're opening this one, Milo. It's not like I'm going to be trying to 'throttle' back my energy or anything. That just isn't me. I'm going to be giving 110 percent like always. And as I told them, I'm built for multiple matches, boyo. Once I knock you looping into the pool, I'll still have plenty of fuel to burn on the next contest.

And once we reach the end of the night, when Kim and I take hold of the Mixed Tag-Team Titles as well, maybe we could give Team Go another shot, since they're one of the ones who cried about me being a cheater. I'd love to take them down again as well. And who knows, Milo? Maybe you can find yourself a mixed partner as well, and we could go one more time. I mean, you'd have to find someone twice as good as Kim, so good luck with that, but you never know.

Still, that's in the far future, when you're reevaluating how you're out for blood and all. Quite simply, Milo, you just don't stand a chance against me in a match like this. You'd be better off letting the Roulette Wheel make a random call, maybe putting me in a submissions match or something, where I'll admit, I'm not a complete dominator. Facing me in something high-flying and suicidal? That's just my walk in the park, my friend.

Unless you can manage a bounce off of Gabriel's stomach that propels you straight at the gold, you really don't have a shot in this one. It's going to be another cruise where you again wonder, what's it going to take to win? And I don't know what to tell you, Milo. I'll pull for you after this, I swear I will.

But I'm certainly not pulling any punches in this one. If I have to ko both of you guys as a prerequisite to regaining the gold, then that's what I'll do. I'm not losing this belt. Not here, not now, and not to guys like you. Especially not to Gabe.

I don't think I could show my face afterwards if that happened.

Fortunately, it won't be a problem. Because I'm ready to thrive and survive, and you're ready to getting pounded down and get drowned.

Bring it on, boyos, and prepare to take the Plunge.


~The camera follows Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey as they head down to another level on the cruise ship. Vaughn is leading the way, with Mr. Bailey right behind him. We can hear them talking as they get closer.~

Peter Vaughn: I still think it was a fluke. A trick of the fading light, maybe.

Wyatt Bailey: You're not getting out of this one, son. My last shot clearly went much further than yours. This dinner better be something exceptional!

~Vaughn sighs for a second, although he seems to be trying to hide a grin. After all, one of the main reasons here is to butter up Mr. Bailey and get him to open up his cattle business for Vaughn's ranch. It wouldn't exactly pay to beat him in a competition, would it? They reach a specific doorway, which has the name "Vaughn" on a sign out front. Vaughn nods to it, stopping them.~

Peter Vaughn: Here we go, this is what I told you about.

Wyatt Bailey: So they'll really have a private chef come and cook for just us, with an exclusive meal?

Peter Vaughn: That's right. They don't offer it to any random guest, but I certainly have the connections to pull it off.

Wyatt Bailey: You think the chef's already in there cooking?

Peter Vaughn: Uh, probably not. We still have 30 minutes to go. But we can go in and wait for him.

Wyatt Bailey: ... Couldn't we go and invite a few ladies to join us? What about your tag-team partner?

Peter Vaughn: Not a chance in hell... sir.

~Mr. Bailey grouses about it for a moment, then shrugs.~

Wyatt Bailey: Oh, well, I'll enjoy the free meal then! Is there at least a TV or something in there?

Peter Vaughn: I honestly don't know. Let's find out.

~The two men head inside, shutting the door behind them. The camera, though, stays out, as it veers to the left, showing, once again, the other two men who have been following them. They step out, not worried about being overheard this time.~

Butch: I don't see how we'll ever get a better chance than this, Shiloh.

Shiloh: Yeah... seems that way...

~With the prospect of things actually happening, Shiloh suddenly looks uncertain, a fact that Butch picks up on very quickly. He grabs Shiloh by the shirt, pulling him closer.~

Butch: You're already too deep in this, Shiloh. You don't get to back out now. We take care of this, and we're on easy street for the rest of our lives. Now let's get this done before that chef shows up. You got your weapon?

~Butch produces a small club in one hand. Shiloh reluctantly reaches into his back pocket, pulling out what appears to be the thicker edge of a pool cue that he probably got from one of the establishments in the cruise. The two men take positions at the door, preparing themselves.~

Butch: Remember, move fast, before that Vaughn can react. Got it?

~Shiloh nods. Butch grabs the doorknob, counting to three, and they charge in, each raising their arms... and stopping in shock, as they see Peter Vaughn and Wyatt Bailey standing on the opposite side of the room, arms raised, waiting for them.~

Peter Vaughn: It's about time. I was starting to wonder how blatant I had to be to get you guys to move in. But they finally did it, didn't they, Wyatt?

Wyatt Bailey: Damn straight they did, and I've never been more disappointed in my life. Both of you are fired, of course.

~Butch looks between Vaughn and Mr. Bailey, trying to figure out what's happened. It doesn't take long to come to the obvious conclusion.~

Butch: This was all a trap?

Peter Vaughn: Now he gets it. You really were proud of yourselves, weren't you, being able to follow Wyatt here to that blueberry patch in the middle of nowhere? You never stopped to consider that, maybe, we had already talked?

~Butch's face is almost carved out of stone, but Shiloh's shock is extremely evident.~

Shiloh: You... you knew we followed him?

Peter Vaughn: We planned on it.


~There's a sudden wavering in what we're seeing, as we're being drawn into a flashback. Instead of blueberries, though, we find ourselves inside Wyatt Bailey's house, as he goes about getting himself put together for the next day. He goes into his closet and turns on the light... and gives a short yell, as he sees Peter Vaughn standing there, waiting for him.~

Peter Vaughn: We need to talk. Privately.

~Before Mr. Bailey can do anything, Vaughn yanks him into the closet, slamming the door behind him. There's the sound of a scuffle, likely Vaughn subduing the old man long enough to tell him the truth about Butch and his boys. We don't know, as the flashback is already ending.~


~Mr. Bailey can be seen, shaking his head in annoyance at remembering what happened that night.~

Wyatt Bailey: I almost shot this guy, and I would have, too, if I could have reached my gun. But he eventually convinced me to work with him. All along I said, that's not the Butch I work with. I defended you, son. And look at you now. And you, Shiloh... no one else would give you a chance, but I did!

Shiloh: Yes, sir... at the minimum rate you could buy me for. You never gave me more, what I deserved!

Wyatt Bailey: But I would have. If you would have talked to me, I would have.

~Shiloh at least has the grace to look slightly ashamed, but Butch just nudges him, telling him nonverbally to stay strong.~

Butch: So you set us up with the cruise. You made sure we heard you, and you basically planted the idea in our brains, huh?

Peter Vaughn: That about covers it.

Butch: But your plan has a major loophole, doesn't it? You've brought us here to this empty room, where it's still two-on-two, and quite frankly, I like our chances. Your massive ego put you in this situation, Vaughn, and you're going to pay for it by swimming with the fishes. So we gonna do this or what?

~Butch raises up his club menacingly. ready to come in hard at the first sign of movement. All he gets, though, is Vaughn giving up a long sigh.~

Peter Vaughn: First off, swimming with the fishes? Of all the ocean puns you could make, that's what you decided to go with? Now, secondly, yes, I have a pretty substantial ego, in line with all the success I've had. But did you really think we went to all this trouble just to have a brawl at the end? A knock-down, drag-out fistfight that may or may not go our way? No, Butch. Unlike you, we're smarter than that.

~Suddenly, the door opens again behind Butch and Shiloh. They turn, as several officers charge in, grabbing hold of the two men. Although Butch tries to fight back, he and Shiloh inevitably end up on the ground, getting their wrists cuffed.~

Butch: Get off of me!!

Coast Guard Officer: You have the right to remain silent...

~Despite their struggles, the two cowhands are quickly dragged away, with Butch only managing one more glare at a smiling Vaughn. They disappear, likely to be put in the brig for the rest of the cruise. Vaughn dusts off his hands, apparently pleased with the result.~

Peter Vaughn: So you've got the proof you needed?

Wyatt Bailey: I can't say I like it that much, but yeah, I've seen it. I'll have to figure out who else was working with Butch. There's going to be changes in my organization.

Peter Vaughn: Understandable. So... would some of those changes 'happen' to be possibly working with a newer ranch?

~Mr. Bailey laughs to himself, unable to contain it in the moment.~

Wyatt Bailey: You're a stubborn cuss, Vaughn, but it's starting to grow on me. Alright, let's discuss a future together... over that dinner you're supposed to buy for me.

Peter Vaughn: Wait, but that was all part of the subterfuge, right? It wasn't a real bet.

Wyatt Bailey: Son, you don't seem the type to ever throw anything in your life. You lost that driving contest, and I definitely aim to collect. I buy the drinks, you buy the dinner. That's the deal.

~Vaughn can't help but smirk, admiring the audacity being displayed. Again, he feels like he has a little too much in common with this man, a guy whose mannerisms remind him so much of his father.~

Peter Vaughn: You win. Let's head to Sabatini's. I feel like Italian.

Wyatt Bailey: You're on.

~The two men move off, leaving behind the empty room that worked so well for their plans. The camera zooms into the corner, showing that a camera was stationed there, to add more evidence against Butch and Shiloh. We focus on the camera, an interesting double look between lenses, before we fade out.~

[MiloKasey]

How Far Have You Come?

Last Year
Miles Kasey had found himself at a loss as he mindlessly strolled through the Sun Princess. Through all the stress of his sister Brianna giving birth two weeks early, rushing back to home to be at her side when she had complications and legit every other fucking thing that was going wrong in his life.

At least it felt that way at that particular moment.

He was dealing with his heart and his mind being played with for almost an entire two months and quite frankly he was over it at this point. He was numb, he was drunk and despite some trying to tell him to call peace, go to the cause of his issues, he just wanted to clear his head and let his own thoughts make it even worse.

He was in a battle with himself.

Miles vs. Milo

Milo wanted nothing more than to go to the cause of the majority of his problems, try and work it out and continue to take it on the chin, feeling like he was the reason for all their problems. Some would have called it a fear of being alone, and honestly at that time, they would’ve been right.

Miles though wanted to just wash his hands of the entire fucking situation. The jealousy, the gaslighting and making him feel less than was more than enough for him to just be absolutely done with the whole situation and lesser people would have walked away even way before now.

As Miles found a secluded spot on the deck of the Sun Princess, the cool ocean breeze brushed against his face, offering a momentary respite from the chaos consuming his mind. The ship sailed through the night, the gentle rocking motion mirroring the turmoil within him.

But there was something else, a gnawing ache deep within him that he couldn't ignore. One who yearned for resolution, for reconciliation, for the chance to mend what was broken. And the part of him that had grown tired of the toxicity and manipulation, craving freedom from the chains that bound him. Each memory stung, reminding him of the pain he had endured.

As he sat there, the emptiness of his own thoughts echoed around him. It was in that quiet solitude that he knew a decision had to be made. He couldn't continue down this path of uncertainty and self-doubt. He deserved better. And deep down, he knew it.

“Miles?” he heard a voice call out to him, a familiar and friendly voice that came from Bella Madison. He knew she would mean well seeking him out but now was not the time. She was a name on the list of his fuck-ups that he has made.

All Miles could do was look up at her through his somewhat drunken haze and if there was a textbook picture for the way one would look when they pitied someone, that would be the current look Bella was giving him, “Hey, people are getting really worried about you.”

“So they sent you to find me?” Miles laughed, “This has to be the wildest form of ‘This is Your Life and how you fucked it up.’ Is Ness right around the corner?”

“You really think she wouldn’t have been thrown overboard by now if she was?” she said as she sat down next to him, nudging him a little bit, “They figured I would be the safest one to talk you down off the proverbial ledge. K would just pour more liquor down your throat, Mal has all the subtlety of a sherman tank and Lach is too busy trying to impregnate Si.”

They sit in silence for a moment before Miles just takes a deep sigh, “Have you seen her?”

“Becca? No, I haven’t but I saw the tweets. Miles, I can almost hear your brain right now and I can tell you that not dealing with it is only making it worse.” Bella reaches over and makes Miles look at her, “If you want to get through the rest of the cruise in any form of peace then you need to take the initiative and figure out what you really want.”

Miles shakes his head and almost looks completely freaked out for a moment, a rare sign of weakness in a man that is usually strong, but when you get berated for so long, “I just don’t know if I have it in me to...”

“You have all the strength in the world, Milo. What you lack is the understanding that there are several people on this boat that are genuinely caring about you and worried. This whole thing has done nothing but distract you and turned you into a miserable bastard since you found out.” Bella said sitting back, “You deserve to be happy and I can tell right now that you are not happy. I want you to be able to come back here next year, with whomever you are with and truly be 100% happy.”

Miles peaks over at her, “So you’re saying I should end it?”

Bella just sits there with her hands folded in front of her and you can tell she’s fighting what is at the tip of her tongue, “We’re friends, so while I want to tell you what you should do, I will not do that. All of this that you are going through, the Miles I know would never accept something like this. Lay it out with her, beyond the twitter battle. If it feels right then try, but I miss the cocky adorable Miles that I’ve seen shining through with your interactions with Zoey and Carter.”

Miles sits up a little straighter before sighing and slumping back in his chair, “But it’s that guy that caused this.”

Bella growls and stands up, putting her hands on her hips and glares at him, “And if she doesn’t accept you for what you really are, then is it even meant to be? Through all my flaws, through all of Malachi’s Oscar like demeanor, we accept and love each other unconditionally. Maybe your happiness isn’t with Becca and who knows, maybe that very person, whomever they may be is right here on this boat just as fucking miserable as you are.”

Miles laughs, “I highly doubt that.”

“Just...” Bella grabs his stubbled stubborn face, “Don’t let the fear of being alone dictate how happy you should really be.” With that she gave him a kiss on the top of his head, “And get a shower, you smell exactly like that jet fuel that K’s been giving you.”

She goes to step away and he keeps a hold of her hand to catch her attention and he gives it an appreciative kiss, “Thanks Bells.”

And with that she lets him be. Miles just sat there for a moment before he pushed himself up to a wobbly vertical stance and he grips the railing and closes his eyes trying to balance himself. As he opened his eyes, the stars twinkled above, and he looked up.

“Let me get the next one right, wontcha?”

Almost a Year Later
This past Tuesday

Practically in the same spot Miles and Carter enjoyed their time watching the sunset. Almost a whole year had passed and since January the duo was proudly together and happy. They loved to spoil each other, goofing around, there was plenty of laughter and love in the home they shared, even if Carter kept saying that it was Miles’ place and he just lived there ‘for now’.

Carter kept Miles on his toes while Miles kept Carter grounded.

What made it better is while Miles barely remembered the significance of the spot, his heart felt a whole lot fuller especially with the words that just came out of Carter’s mouth. There was no judgement from either one of them, no gaslighting and full on complete understanding.

And actual love.

He wasn’t going to push it any more than what he had heard tonight. For now, it was enough and definitely a sign of how far he had really come.


Bitch, Let’s Get Personal

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the deserted deck of the majestic cruise ship, where Miles Kasey found himself standing alone. The silence surrounding him offered solace and a momentary respite from the chaos that awaited him. He took a deep breath, allowing the salty breeze to invigorate his spirit as he gathered his thoughts.

"Peter Vaughn," Miles spoke softly, the determination in his voice resonating through the night. "It seems you just can't resist the opportunity to run your mouth, can you? Always trying to get under my skin, to belittle my accomplishments and remind me of past encounters. But let me remind you of something, Peter: sometimes history repeats itself, and this time, the outcome will be different."

A flicker of confidence danced in Miles' eyes as he recalled their previous battles, the draws and close calls that had defined their rivalry. He refused to let those stalemates overshadow his determination to emerge victorious this time.

"While you boast about our previous battles," Miles continued, his voice growing stronger, "The draws and close calls, let me remind you that the last time we faced each other, you didn't defeat me either. So don't get too comfortable with those hollow W's."

His voice carried a hint of defiance, fueled by the setbacks and disappointments he had experienced. Every stumble along the way had only ignited a fire within him, a relentless drive to succeed.

"Yes, I've had my setbacks, my disappointments," Miles acknowledged, his voice unwavering. "And there isn't a single asshole who won't constantly remind me of that... BUT each one has only fueled my determination to succeed."

The thought of Peter Vaughn's Roulette Championship victory lingered in his mind, but Miles was resolute in his belief that it didn't make his opponent invincible. He knew his true strength lay in his talent, perseverance, and the unwavering support of his fans.

"And as for your remarks about cheating," Miles stated firmly, "It's ironic coming from someone who associates himself with a troll. But let me assure you, Peter, I don't need weapons or underhanded tactics to win. I rely on my skill, my determination, and the unbreakable bond I share with my fans."

Miles' gaze shifted to the open expanse of the pool, the ultimate battleground for their forthcoming Ultimate X match. The very thought of it, the freedom it provided, stirred a fire within him that burned brighter than ever.

"You talk about Ultimate X and the freedom it provides," Miles declared, his voice brimming with confidence. "But let me tell you something, Peter: it's not about the weapons or the stunts; it's about the heart, the determination, and the will to overcome any obstacle. And in that regard, I am unstoppable."

A wry smile played on Miles' lips as he allowed himself a moment of levity amidst the intensity of their impending clash.

"Oh, and Gabriel," he interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Do us all a favor, bruv? Please, for the sake of everyone's sanity, do NOT wear a Speedo. No one has the money for that kind of therapy."

He chuckled to himself, briefly relishing the lightheartedness of the remark, before refocusing his thoughts on the grand spectacle that awaited them.

"But let me make it clear," Miles proclaimed, his voice resolute once more. "I am Summer XXXTreme personified. I will push myself to the absolute limit, shatter boundaries, and show the world what I'm truly capable of. This Ultimate X match will be a spectacle, a showcase of athleticism and passion that will leave the SCW universe in awe, just like I always do."

Miles looked out over the pool, envisioning the X hanging high above, symbolizing the ultimate prize. He knew that when the dust settled, it would be his hand grasping that championship, and Peter Vaughn would find himself crashing down, defeated and perhaps a little bit humbled.

"So prepare yourself, Peter," Miles concluded, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "The time for talking is over. It's time to step up, beat the unholy hell out of each other, and let our actions speak for themselves. And when the proverbial dust settles, when the X hangs high above that pool, it will be my hand clutching that championship, and your crash down— or in this case, SPLASH down— in defeat will be etched in SCW history."

With a final deep breath, Miles turned away from the railing, leaving behind the solitary serenity of the deck. He walked purposefully, ready to face the challenges that awaited him in the Ultimate X match, armed with an unyielding determination to regain something that he knew rightfully belonged to him, that 10 pounds of gold known as the SCW Roulette Championship.