[Peter Vaughn]

~As the picture comes up, we find ourselves in a older pick-up truck, driving forward over a few large bumps before we make the final turn off the main road and head up a 'drive-way', if that's what you want to call it. The truck passes by a large sign displayed above, declaring this the Harrison Ranch, one of the oldest ranches in Texas. The truck comes to a stop near the main building, as a couple of men walk out onto the front porch. They are ready to protect the homestead, as both of them are ready to draw their revolvers if needed. But the man gets out of the truck calmly, nodding to them, before stepping around and reaching into the back of his truck. He pulls out a large duffel bag, throwing it over one shoulder, before turning back. At the doorway, another man has appeared, pushing past the two guardians and walking forward with a slimy smile on his face.~

Judd Harrison: Well, howdy there young feller. I suppose you're our new hand, coming in to replace Jebidiah? I tell you what, it's a complete mystery as to what he was doing riding around on his horse past midnight, nor what caused the horse to throw him and break his leg. It's going to take him months to get himself back on his feet. But I'm rambling on. My name's Judd Harrison, and I'm the owner of the Harrison Ranch. It's good to meet you, uh...

~Judd hesitates, his mind temporarily blanking on the new recruit's name. But the man quickly puts him at ease, reaching out and shaking his hand.~

Cliff: It's Cliff. Cliff Sterling. Good to meet you, sir.

~Judd nods, his memory refreshed, as he concludes the handshake with the man. Cliff gives him a confident grin, keeping his duffel bag hoisted over one shoulder. Judd shakes his hand, as if feeling the sting.~

Judd Harrison: Quite a grip you've got there, son. Mitch, please show Cliff where he can store his bag there, and then we can start getting him settled in on how we do things around here.

~Mitch, still looking wary, nods, moving past Cliff, who follows behind him. For those who remember seeing Cliff recently, as a member of the PMV Ranch, all we can say is, explanations will come in time. For now, we'll cut away from this scene...~


~As the picture switches out, we now find ourselves as the Dallas County Courthouse. The camera walks through the halls, recording as it makes its way through the building. The camera stops at one open doorway, filming around the edge, as we see the legal process going on inside. On one side, we can see a stack of lawyers, all representing Michaels, Manning, & Associates. The big firms can never help bringing too many lawyers to any event, if only to show off their power. On the other side, we see Peter Vaughn sitting with his counsel, an older woman who is currently on her feet, talking with the male judge up ahead.~

Elisa Dartum: And as I said, Judge, there is absolutely no evidence for any of these claims against my client and his business. We've offered already into evidence the contracts that Mr. Vaughn here signed with Samuel Raymeth, transferring over the deed to the land where the PMV Ranch is currently stationed. It was all done fair and above board, as the paperwork shows. So any claim that the land is not legitimately Mr. Vaughn's is absolutely absurd, and this case should be thrown out with prejudice.

Judge Trebur: I understand you'd like to win this case today, Ms. Dartum, but this is just a preliminary hearing, as you well know. Let's keep the strong outbursts to a minimum, please.

~Dartum flushes, but holds her tongue, even as Vaughn just shakes his head. The judge turns to the other side, staring at them.~

Judge Trebur: Now, I do have to say, Mr. Michaels, the evidence that you have submitted to the court so far is very slim for this claim. I trust that you have more to show us in the coming weeks?

~The lawyer addressed gets to his feet, straightening his suit as he does so.~

Mr. Michaels: Yes, your honor. We just require the usual time for discovery that is normally granted to cases like this, so we can make sure all our ducks are in the row. But we are very confident that this case will show that Mr. Vaughn used trickery and deception to steal away that land, and that his deal should be voided immediately, with penalties given to the Raymeth family for his shocking deeds.

Judge Trebur: Just as I told Ms. Dartum, sir, there is no need for excited statements at this time. For now, I believe we will give you two more weeks to organize. You're a large firm, I'm sure that's more than enough time. We'll reconvene here on April 4th. Good day, gentlemen, miss.

~The judge ends the hearing, as the groups both get up, putting away their paperwork. Vaughn, with nothing to put together himself, gets up and turns, heading up the aisleway. He still looks lost in thought, but his face brightens when he sees the cameraman waiting for him. He heads out of the courtroom, waving for the cameraman to follow him. They head down the hall and to a set of stairs, going upwards until we find ourselves on the roof of the courthouse. There, Vaughn takes a few deep breaths of air before turning towards the now-winded cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: It's good to see you, friend. Glad you found us, and almost right on time, too. Very good.

Cameraman: So why... the roof? Why not... the parking lot?

Peter Vaughn: I needed some fresh air.

Cameraman: But... there's fresh air... in the parking lot... too...

Peter Vaughn: Eh, this air's fresher. Just take a few good gulps of air, you'll be okay.

~The cameraman does as he's told, managing to get his breathing under control after the climb up the stairs. Cameras aren't light, you know? After a few moments pass, Vaughn steps up with a foot on the edge, looking out across Dallas from this historic building.~

Peter Vaughn: Never thought I'd find myself here. Well, okay, that's not true. I assumed at some point I'd be either sued or jailed. That just seems to happen to wrestlers now and again, and hey, I've been arrested before, after all. But I can't say I ever thought they'd be trying to take my ranch away from me.

Cameraman: I still don't get it. You have all the paperwork. Why do they think they have a case against you?

Peter Vaughn: Let's just say that they've got a backer who wants them to succeed. A rival I've gone against before. With him in the game, well, anything's possible.

Cameraman: Are you talking about Judd Harrison?

~Vaughn winces, then does a shushing motion to the cameraman, unhappy to hear that name.~

Peter Vaughn: You're not supposed to know that. Can you edit that out?

Cameraman: Uh... sure... sure...

~The camera nods slightly along with the cameraman... even though he knows he has no intention of editing a word. He never has, and it's not like he's going to start now. But Vaughn still seems satisfied, turning back to the view.~

Peter Vaughn: I've worked so hard over the last year to build things up, and yet now here we are, with people trying to tear it all down. This lawsuit is going after my ranch, and Miles Kasey is going after my Sin City legacy. It's rather despicable, really, how hard they're coming after me.

Cameraman: Kasey is coming after you?

Peter Vaughn: Who else do you think it is, arranging for me to face Rodrigo Afonso again? I'm sure Miles would like nothing better than to have me softened up before our match at Blaze of Glory. He probably begged them to give me some competition, and who better than the "Golden Briefcase Boy"? I mean... okay, there are probably several guys who would have been better, admittedly, but Afonso at least has a bit of a name to himself now. That makes him a threat, at least, I think so...

~Vaughn thinks it over for a second, and then nods, agreeing with himself.~

Peter Vaughn: It just makes sense that Kasey is afraid of me. After all, I have the record for the longest reign as the Roulette Champion. I'm set to do the same for the Internet Championship. So Miles is arranging for every old nemesis of mine to get in my way. First it was Barnhart, who I handily wiped the floor with, and now it's Roddy, who I've fought twice before. But Miles' plan is going to fail. I'm going to keep leveling every wrestler put in my path, until I have that Internet Title in my grasp, becoming a Sin City Champion once again.

Cameraman: Do you feel like, uh, this legal issue you're dealing with is going to distract you any? I mean, this is a pretty big deal, having your property threatened like this.

Peter Vaughn: It won't be a problem, boyo. I keep my business and wrestling lives completely separate. When I'm inside the squared circle, I compartmentalize everything, so that I only focus on the opponent standing in front of me. So when I enter the ring and lock eyes with Rodrigo, I'll be 100% focused on kicking his ass.

~Vaughn's hands flex, as if visualizing getting his hands on his adversary. But then he lowers them again, shaking his head, before turning back to the camera.~

Peter Vaughn: You know better than most, my friend, how hard I've worked since coming to Sin City and making a name for myself. I won't let anyone take my gains away from me. Not Rodrigo. Not Miles. Not even Finn or Goth. I'm still on an upward trajectory, and I'm going to prove that by tearing right through Afonso and leaving that briefcase laying on the ground with a brand new dent in the side. I can guarantee it.

~Vaughn's phone gives a chime, catching his attention. He looks at the screen, reading the text message, and then nods, looking back at the cameraman.~

Peter Vaughn: Well, I'm going to need to get going, I'm afraid. I still have a few things to take care of today, to keep my plans moving forward.

Cameraman: Your plans? What do you mean, your plans?

Peter Vaughn: Sorry, but those are rather need-to-know, and, well, your viewers don't need to know, which means I can't tell you. But trust me... it's going to come together beautifully.

~With a slight smirk, Vaughn walks past the cameraman, heading back inside the courthouse. The cameraman watches him go, then lets out a long sigh.~

Cameraman: All those stairs just for that? Man... I hope there's an elevator on the top floor, I don't want to trudge all the way back down.

~The cameraman moves, heading for the doorway, as we fade out once more.~


~As the shot brightens up once again, we find a nervous-looking gentleman sitting in what appears to be a small restaurant, one that many would refer to as a "hole in the wall". Sometimes, though, that's where you can find the best-tasting food in town. The man doesn't seem to interested, though, as he anxiously glances over the menu, as if barely seeing anything on it. He finally turns to the bored-looking waitress with a sigh.~

Man: Look, just give me the club sandwich, okay? But make sure no tomatoes, please, I hate those.

~The waitress just rolls her eyes, but she takes down the order easily enough before walking off. The man takes a drink from the soda in front of him, his hand shaking slightly, but he gets it under control before putting the glass back down.~

Man: Calm down, Anthony. I'm sure this is all going to work out. There's nothing worth being nervous about...

Sadie Anderson: Mr. Jennings?

Man: Agghhh!!!

~The man nearly jumps out of his shoes before turning towards the startled woman standing nearby. Sadie looks him over, giving him a chance to breath before answering.~

Anthony Jennings: Umm... yes, I'm Mr. Jennings, I mean, I'm Anthony, yes. Ms. Anderson?

Sadie Anderson: Yes, that's me. Can I have a seat, Mr. Jennings?

Anthony Jennings: ... Sure.

~Sadie sits down on the other side of the table. She signals to the waitress, who annoyedly comes back over, expecting this to take a while. But Sadie is nothing if not succinct.~

Sadie Anderson: I'll have the Reuben with a fruit salad side, and a Diet Coke. Thank you.

~The waitress nods, impressed, before walking off. Sadie then turns towards the nervous man in front of her, trying to convey calmness with her smile. As the fiancé of Peter Vaughn, Sadie has learned to keep her cool over the last year, because you never know what's coming next.~

Anthony Jennings: So... you said this is about... my brother-in-law? Augustus Raymeth?

Sadie Anderson: That's right. Mr. Jennings. But it's also about you. I know you've been having some... financial issues due to your love of the WinStar Casino in Gainesville. You've been there many times lately, haven't you? With, unfortunately, very little to show for it other than your debts?

Anthony Jennings: If that's what this is all about, let me assure you, I fully plan to make good on all my debts. Trust me, I know it won't be easy, but there's no reason for any of this to escalate to anything... violent.

~Anthony takes a deep gulp from his drink, his hand beginning to shake more now. But Sadie just shakes her head, reaching across to take his hand.~

Sadie Anderson: You're misreading this situation completely, Mr. Jennings. Yes, it's true that our business has... acquired the debt you owe. But we're not a collection agency. In fact, we're giving you quite the opportunity, if I do say so myself. An opportunity to wipe the slate clean, without involving your wife in the matter. She... doesn't know anything about your gambling debts, does she? That's why we were meeting here, instead of at your apartment?

~After a moment, Anthony nods, looking disheartened.~

Anthony Jennings: It would break her heart.

Sadie Anderson: Well, there's no need for that to happen, Mr. Jennings. Can I call you Anthony?

Anthony Jennings: ... Yes.

Sadie Anderson: Anthony, it's very simple. You need to have your debts paid off. And we, well, we need someone who can get on the inside of Augustus' business affairs. I do believe we can truly help one another, which means there's no need for your life to face any changes. We just need your eyes and ears. Are you interested?

~Anthony picks up his glass once more, finishing its contents as he thinks it over. He then puts the glass down, hard.~

Anthony Jennings: I never liked Augustus anyway. If it will help me out of this mess... I'm yours. I'll even break into his safe if you need it. I know the combination, he foolishly opened it in front of me once.

Sadie Anderson: Yes, well... you never know. Maybe we can make sure of those skills of yours too.

~Slightly calmer now, Anthony signals for another drink, as Sadie sits back, getting out her phone and sending off a text. She looks a little uneasy with what she's having to do, but when it comes to the safety of the PMV Ranch, she's willing to do whatever it takes. The two continue to talk, as their food is brought over by the grumpy waitress.~


It's amazing sometimes, the hoops you have to jump through in order to plan accordingly.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love to put together strategies when it comes to obstacles in my life. I am not one to have one plan and improvise afterwards. Usually, improvisation only comes after Plan D or E, at least. There are always multiple ways to be successful, and you need to be willing to embrace all alternatives if you want to grab that brass ring.

Or that gold one. That's the ring I prefer.

So, Roddy, are you going to have a new plan when we face off again? Do you have an ultimate strategy in mind to survive The Mechanic, somehow taking me down this time when you've fallen to me twice now in SCW? Let's see, the first one was in September of last year, wasn't it? At Climax Control, fighting for my Roulette Championship? We had ourselves a classic bar brawl, and, well, it ended pretty poorly for you, didn't it? I mean, you probably weren't horribly scarred afterwards, but still, it was a tough loss for you, I bet.

So you got your rematch at High Stakes 13, your second chance to take my championship from me. I think we were both surprised when the roulette wheel came across onto a Submissions match. Honestly, I thought that left us pretty even, as I'm not known as a submissions specialist by any means. You had your chance to knock me unconscious and slap on a simple hold, and the ref would have given you the win.

Instead, I made you pass out to the triangle choke, and the ref threw in the towel for you.

You didn't tap out, which I have to give you credit for. I respect that you were unwilling to give up, refusing in spite of what was probably your best option to preserve brain cells. You fought so hard to escape that you probably kept fighting when you woke up from the smelling salts, assuming the contest was still going. But it was over, Roddy, and I had already gone off for my victory shake.

Protein shakes keep us going, don't they?

So this will be your third chance, Rods. Your third opportunity. Some would say, your third strike. Do you feel like the odds are against you now? Or do you feel stronger, knowing what the contest is going to be before we enter the building? Do you believe the same as Barnhart did that a straight-up match gives you better odds against me? Because I proved him wrong for sure, and I'll likely do the same for you if you come in with that attitude. It's never wise to underestimate a guy like me, no matter the style of match.

After all, as I told Bulldog, I've won most of my World Championships in regular singles contests.

I don't need gimmicks to win.

Still, you've got an idol to look up to, don't you, Roddy? You have Eddie Lyons, who lost to me repeatedly before finally managing to get the championship away from me in a Triple Threat match. Lyons found a way to continuously improve, and he showed that he's got a touch of greatness in him. The man's got a hell of a future ahead of him. But are you the same, Afonso? Does the fact that you're carrying around that briefcase mean that you might have a bright future ahead of you?

Or has it all been a case of miraculous luck and stumbling, dumbfounded foes that you faced off against?

I suppose I'll find out soon enough how much you've improved. In our first two contests, I ruled the ring and ended your hopes and dreams. This time? I'll put you through another examination, and see if you end up exactly the same as you have before. Will you give me a stronger test? Because, you know, that's actually what I want. I'm trying to improve myself too, you know. I want to be one of, if not THE best wrestler in Sin City, and the way to get there is to continue to rack up victories against everyone I face.

I want you to test me, Roddy. I want you to be improved from your former self.

And I want to still annihilate you, wiping your face into the mat and setting you up to take an ultimate Plunge.

Because you may hold that golden briefcase, but I'm the holder of my own destiny. There's nothing you can do to stop me from cashing in on it, and making my way to the top.

But don't worry. I'll leave you the case. And your life.

I can't promise anything else.


~We return to live action as Peter Vaughn is seen crossing the street, watching out for a passing police car before continuing forward. He heads inside the local police branch, walking up to the counter.~

Clerk: Can I help you, sir?

Peter Vaughn: Yes, I have an appointmen with Sargeant Powell?

Clerk: Down the hall and to the right, sir. Have a good afternoon.

Peter Vaughn: Thank you.

~Vaughn walks on, following the directions, and he quickly finds the office he's looking for, knocking on the door. The man behind the desk looks up, seeing Vaughn, and immediately a smile breaks out on his face.~

Sergeant Powell: Vaughny! As I live and breathe!

~The man jumps up, greeting Vaughn with a tight handshake, followed by a semi-forced hug. Vaughn isn't normally one to allow such displays of emotion, but he accepts it this time, nodding to his 'old friend' before moving back to his desk and taking a seat on the other side.~

Sergeant Powell: How long's it been?

Peter Vaughn: Not long enough...

~Powell looks up, but Vaughn's got a grin on his face, so Powell just laughs it off and accepts it as his weird sense of humor. Vaughn sounded sincere, though, but you never know with him.~

Sergeant Powell: So what can I do for you?

Peter Vaughn: Well, Sargeant...

Sergeant Powell: Oh, please, call me Darrell, man...

Peter Vaughn: Darrell... okay. Well, Darrell, I've heard that they've got you working on some loose files over here. Some involving... property disputes.

~The sergeant scowls for a moment, looking over at a stack of files sitting nearby, virtually untouched.~

Sergeant Powell: Yeah... ever since I got into that fight with that senator's kid, they keep putting me on deskwork. It's frustrating, but what can you do? The guy's got more power than I do, after all.

Peter Vaughn: So I hear. Of course, his son's a snot-nosed wimp, isn't he? I heard you beat him down easily.

Sergeant Powell: Yeah, he fell like a featherweight. In fact, he went down TOO easily, because that's what led him to say I ambushed him. He threw the first punch, but his friends were his witnesses, and my body camera footage got... lost. A computer glitch, they told me.

~Vaughn nods sympathetically, knowing that Powell's career has been pretty much trash since that day.~

Peter Vaughn: So what if the footage from that night was... restored? Do you think it would help you out?

Sergeant Powell: What are you talking about? I told you, it's gone. Kaput. Vanished. I'm sure it was completely wiped from existence.

Peter Vaughn: Oh, yes, I'm sure the body camera footage is no more. But did you ever think to check the nearby club where this happened? They happened to have a few cameras there... and one of them, from what I've seen, catches the fight.

~The sergeant's eyes widen, as he thinks over what Vaughn is saying.~

Sergeant Powell: You have this footage?

Peter Vaughn: I do.

Sergeant Powell: And... you'd give it to me?

Peter Vaughn: Of course. I mean, we're friends, right? And friends look out for each other?

~Slowly, Powell's head nods. But he knows something else is coming, if only judging from the smile on Vaughn's face. He knows the guy, after all.~

Sergeant Powell: I suppose friends are known for doing that...

~Vaughn then leans forward, checking the doorway for a second to make sure nobody's standing there.~

Peter Vaughn: And if, say, a 'friend' might be needing a few files regarding some ongoing investigations...

Sergeant Powell: ... Then I suppose a friend will get what he needs. After all, what are friends for?

~Vaughn grins, as Powell nods to him. Vaughn then pulls out a flash drive from his pocket, putting it in front of the man.~

Peter Vaughn: I wish you the best in taking that senator's family down. I didn't vote for him. He's a scumbag.

~Vaughn then gets up, leaving the way he came in, as Sergeant Powell picks up the drive. It could be his salvation... or he may have just made a deal with the devil. Time will tell.~


Sometimes preparation is the key.

I always gather as much information as I can in preparing for a wrestling contest. It doesn't matter if I've faced the man before numerous times, I always want to refresh my memory and make sure I'm ready for him. So I've reread your file, Roddy, researching about your X Games past and making sure I know what to expect as the competition comes my way.

I can't say anything stood out, really. You're many things, Rods, but forgettable is not one of them.

Still, I've got your skillset locked into my head now. I know our similar styles are going to make this a match to remember for the Climax Control crowd. You're going to try and break out that moonsault senton, the suicide dives, and anything else that you think is worth it in order to defeat me. I'm going to come at you with both technical and high-flying assaults, trying to keep you off-balance and enable me to sneak in with Revenged or the Keyholder, putting you down for the 1-2-3.

Or I'll just leap onto you for the Plunge, that works too.

And sure, the referee will be strictly watching us, making sure we follow the rules. You won't be able to use your skateboard. I most likely will not be able to use any Windex or wrenches... unless the referee happens to get distracted. I mean, you never know. There might be a pretty face in the front row. Or he might accidentally get nailed in the crossfire, leaving an opening.

Things happen.

But honestly, Roddy, I don't see it going that direction. I think I can defeat you straight up, with no trickery involved other than what the referee lets me get away with. When it comes down to it, in my mind, I'm just better than you. But I don't mean that derogatory towards you. Not at all. I just tend to think I'm better than everyone. It's the wrestler's mentality that has led to so many victories for me, and I don't see that stopping this week.

If you manage it, though? If you find a way to steal away the win, taking your first triumph over me in three attempts? I mean, props to you, my friend. I'll honor that victory, just like I gave the respect to Eddie. All you have to do, boyo, is keep my shoulders on the mat for 3 little seconds.

I'm betting you can't do it. But it's all up to you.

Get the win, or take the Plunge. The only two options available.

I'll see you there, Roddy. See you there.