Post by Peter Vaughn on May 20, 2023 20:19:36 GMT -5
Lately, reality hasn't had as firm a grasp on Peter Vaughn as the champion would like.
In the last month, Vaughn has seen some people who weren't actually there... or were they? He's still not sure. He had a brawl with himself, fighting off a younger, more benevolent version of himself in order to survive... only for it to turn out to be an attack from a crazed mugger. At least, that's what the police believed. Vaughn still wasn't sure. He's also found himself at war with an evil rancher... but that could just be his imagination. And he's been sent back in time to 1989, competing in a time before he was born.
That last one, strangely enough, has the most evidence to have actually happened.
But even though Vaughn keeps finding a way to win, moving forward as the WGWF World Heavyweight Champion, he still has doubts. He still has concerns. He knows he's assembled one of the greatest War Games teams to ever exist... at least, most of one, so far. But will the cost turn out to be too great in the long run? After all, he's still waiting for the next person on the street to assault him, bearing his own face. His paranoia has grown to an amazing degree, as well as the frequency of nosebleeds. What's a guy to do when events like that are happening?
May 19th, 2023
~As the camera shot comes up, we see Peter Vaughn lying flat on his back, his arms at his sides, almost looking like he's been put to rest. The fact that it appears he's in a giant, metal coffin only amplifies the look. But Vaughn's voice ends that theory, as he begins talking, even with his eyes closed.~
Peter Vaughn: I never thought I'd end up in a situation like this, wondering what the future holds.
~Vaughn looks up at where the camera is, apparently seeing it in spite of the darkness of the coffin. He stares at it, considering its existence before continuing.~
Peter Vaughn: I have brought glory and pride to the WGWF World Heavyweight Title. I earned this championship in the best way possible, tossing out 29 other competitors to be crowned champ. I have eliminated contender after contender, making it to 138 days so far. I plan to hold it for the entire year. But now... maybe a few concerns are starting to creep in...
~There's a slight change to the vibration of the coffin, but Vaughn appears not to notice. He's lost in his own thoughts.~
Peter Vaughn: I don't know where things are going to take me, but I guarantee that until I'm officially in the ground, I'm going to still be giving it my all inside the wrestling ring. That means that Fred Debonair is going to face the full fury of the Mechanic. Y'know, it's too bad, because I actually kind of like the guy. He was my first alternate for my War Games team, and because of that, I fully expected him on my squad. Never in a million years did I think that Jimmy would fail to pick ANYONE from the WGWF. Guess he still felt like an outsider here, so he brought in some of his own. It worked out in my favor, but not in Freddie's. He's probably not pleased with me about it, but hey, that's the way the draft cookie crumbles, I suppose.
~Vaughn's still remaining remarkably still, which has his face looking more gaunt than ever. The blood flow is still there, but it's... subdued. Vaughn takes no notice, continuing to talk to himself.~
Peter Vaughn: I hope he doesn't take it too personally when I beat him down and leave him laid out on Brawl, crushing some more of his War Games dreams. But it needs to be done. I have to keep taking down opponent after opponent. Otherwise, my... weaknesses recently will come to light. My struggles. My... uncertainties. So, no. I need to be victorious on Monday, which means doing whatever I can to KO Debonair. I just need to get there in one piece. Does that make sense?
~There's another change in the sound of the coffin, even as a couple of lights come on from either side. We suddenly hear a voice coming from the speakers.~
Voice: Okay, Mr. Vaughn, we're almost done here. I'm sorry, I had the speakers muted for a few minutes. I hope you weren't too concerned with the silence. Bet you wished you had accepted the music headphones, huh? Hah hah...
~There's a click, and Vaughn begins to slide backwards, his form still relatively still. As he moves out of the "coffin", we can now tell that it was actually an MRI machine, set up to give a detailed scan of inside of Vaughn's body. The technician outside moves to bring Vaughn further out, smiling at him.~
Technician: That wasn't too bad, though, right?
Peter Vaughn: No, it wasn't. I was able to use the time to talk some things out. It was rather liberating, to be honest.
Technician: Hold on, were you talking that whole time?
Peter Vaughn: Uh, a good portion of it. Why, is that bad?
~The technician goes and checks the screen, peering at the images that are displayed there. He shakes his head.~
Technician: Well, the problem is that talking can degrade the results of the scan, causing artifacts to appear. I'm sorry, I thought I had mentioned it to you.
Peter Vaughn: Afraid I missed that part if you told me. I was, uh... thinking of other things. So do we need to go again?
Technician: Uh... I mean, we do have another hour's worth of window if we wanted to do it, owing to the next person having passed away before they could use their time...
Peter Vaughn: Wow, that's really great to hear, Trevor...
Technician: Sorry, sorry. But, we COULD do another scan... if you can handle it. Most people don't like the enclosed space for very long.
Peter Vaughn: I'm not most people. Send me back in, Trevor. I'll just keep all my thoughts internal this time...
Technician: Alrighty then, we'll get you in there. Lower your head back down.
~Vaughn does so, and the technician eases him back into the MRI. He restarts one of the sequences, wanting to get a better picture of things before anything else is said. Inside, Vaughn slides back into the same position, staring upwards at the camera. He winks, but again, he has to wonder if the camera is actually there, or if it's another illusion. He'd probably be relieved to know we can all see him, even though the fact that we can is probably a violation of HIPAA rights. He sits quietly, becoming still as death once more, as the scan begins again.~
Hey, Freddie. How's it going?
No, seriously, I really want to know. I feel like you've been going through something here in 2023, and I feel like you need someone to talk to. Yes, I know, I've had my own shit to deal with, but I've been handling it. I'm not entirely sure that you have been, though. Let's work through it, shall we?
At one point, Freddie, I'd say you were the hottest commodity in the WGWF. I mean, look at how you started when you got here! First you beat up on Samantha Voxx, okay, not a huge mark or anything, but still a victory, but then you win that Fatal Fourway over Mac Bane, John Cable, and Joe Montuori! You humiliated J-Mont, which is certainly worth applauding, and every name you took down there was a huge one. You seemed like you were setting yourself up to be the #1 guy in the WGWF. You even had the smarts to ally up with a few other powerhouses, including, y'know, myself. Everything seemed to be going your way. You even won the opportunity to pick your entry into the West Coast Rumble, the most important match of the year! And you did it by beating, well, a bunch of guys who are no longer here... but don't let that take away from your pride, son!
So is that when it happened, Freddie? Is that the moment that everything started to fall apart? I mean, you did the smart thing. You made yourself the 30th entrant. You should have had all the momentum in the world. But it didn't work out that way, did it? You got your ass tossed over the top rope, and I ended up winning the WGWF World Heavyweight Championship. In a way, you could say that I usurped your place at the top of the WGWF. But, c'mon, let's face it, everyone should have KNOWN I was going to end up there. That didn't mean that you couldn't be the second best.
Of course, then Mark Cross got the title shot against me instead of you, so I guess... third? Or do we count the other title holders higher than that? Because despite being here since the beginning of the return, you haven't actually held gold in your hands, have you?
And after that loss in the West Coast Rumble, well, it's sort of gone downhill for you, hasn't it? You and Flynn got your asses handed to you from Bane & Slater. You got to watch as I did all the work at CCPE Vs. The World, sealing our victory and proving myself better than you once again. I mean, you even started to avoid fights after that. You attacked Cable before your match with him, because, I guess, you doubted that you could beat him anymore? You failed to even compete at WrestleWars, which is just sad, especially since Bacchus took it to you. You even found yourself wrestling Coding Rhodes one night.
Coding RHODES!!
I mean, if there's anything that signifies a downfall, it's being in matches with guys like that.
And then, you're given another opportunity, a chance to compete in the Captain's Battle Royal. But it's deja vu all over again, isn't it, Freddie? You had to watch from the outside as I, once again, took the victory. How many times have you been there to watch me win our matches, Freddie? Is it getting a little old? I betcha it is. Too bad it's going to happen one more time at Brawl.
I can't take it easy on you, Freddie. I've got to assert my dominance once again, so I'm going to have to come in and smash you in the skull with all my might. I'm going to have to lay you out with everything I've got in me.
But after that, Freddie? Let's talk. I want to start working some things out with you, because I feel like you're going to need a helping hand after Brawl. I'm not lying when I say that I genuinely do like you as a competitor. You should be getting the title shots, not Kim Pain or The Show Stealerz. You should be the next one in line to take the fight to my friend Cholo, challenging for his Intercontinental Title.
Maybe you can use this opportunity, even in a defeat, to prove that you belong back in the upper tier of the WGWF. I'm pulling for you, Freddie.
After Monday, of course.
~We come back to the hospital MRI room, where Vaughn is busy collecting together the items he brought there, none of which could go into the MRI. He pockets his keys as the technician comes in from around the corner.~
Technician: Okay, Mr. Vaughn, you're all set. I'll get these results worked out and sent to your primary care physician. He'll look through them and give you a call.
Peter Vaughn: Okay, that sounds good, Trevor.
~The technician nods, then seems to hesitate. After a moment, he decides to follow through with the question on his mind.~
Technician: I do need to ask, Mr. Vaughn. I was looking at your medical record, and I didn't see anything to indicate why you were getting an MRI. From the look of your doctor's notes, you actually requested it. Can I ask... is there a reason why?
~Vaughn is quiet at first, looking away, before glancing back at the man and putting a smile on his face.~
Peter Vaughn: It's all routine, really. You know I'm a professional wrestler, right? Well, the people at the WGWF really like to take care of their athletes, so they require us to get checked over once a year or so. This just happened to be my time to get it done.
Technician: Oh, okay. I guess that does make sense. You guys do take a lot of hits to the head and back, don't you?
Peter Vaughn: More than I'd care to remember.
Technician: Well, I'm sure the results will come out flawlessly, Mr. Vaughn. You definitely seem to be the picture of perfect health!
Peter Vaughn: Yeah... yeah, sure...
Technician: It was nice to meet you. Hopefully, I won't be seeing you again until sometime next year!
~The technician laughs and walks off, with Vaughn managing a small chuckle at his departure. Vaughn then rubs the back of his head before heading towards the door, stepping out of the office. He heads down the hall, trying not to look too hard at the people walking past him. He steps into the sunlight outside, glancing around as he walks over to his truck.~
Jonathan Barrows: You sure you should be driving, killer? The way you feel?
~Starting at the voice of his former manager/torturer, Vaughn spins around, looking in all directions. There's nobody close by. He shakes his head, before unlocking the truck and getting in.~
Peter Vaughn: I really have to start getting it together. I'm better than this.
Jonathan Barrows: Oh, you most definitely are. And where's my thank you for that?
~Vaughn looks in the rearview mirror, and we can see Jonathan Barrows sitting there, smirking at him. Vaughn twists back, but there's no one there. He glances forward again... and Barrows is still in the mirror, nodding.~
Peter Vaughn: I'll be damned...
Jonathan Barrows: It sure feels that way sometimes, doesn't it?
~As Vaughn continues to stare at the nonexistent Barrows, the man smiles, which is a grim look. We cut away.~
You got anything from your past that haunts you, Freddie? Other than your various losses, I mean?
I know there are probably moments that you wish you could change. Times when you could have stepped left rather than right. Times when you stood too long in the ring, allowing yourself to get ambushed. Times when you said you wanted to wrestle, only to find out it would be against The Mechanic on Brawl... in a non-title match, of all things?
I mean, I agree, you've done enough to earn a shot, at least from back in 2022, but I guess Page and Raven have other plans for you, hmmm?
Really, Freddie, what's it going to take to get you past your struggles and demons and get you to the gold you deserve here in the WGWF? Will an ass-kicking from me help propel you in the right direction? I mean, that's rhetorical, although it IS funny to think about my boots smashing you forward without any control. I may have to make sure and incorporate a hit like that into our match, just so I can brag about it later.
But in all seriousness, what's it going to take, Freddie? Do we need to team up? I mean, yes, I didn't pick you for the War Games squad because of my ties with Bane, Flynn, Cholo, & a dead guy, but I'd still consider you partnership material. Hell, one of my biggest regrets right now is that I've never been able to win the tag-team titles with anyone, wherever I've gone. I've yet to find that partner who will actually blend well with me, taking us to the top of the duos division, tagging in and out and collectively stomping mudholes in people. Maybe that's where it's all been going wrong for you. Maybe you just need a strong partner to take you to the next level!
Or maybe you'd be yet another mark on my tag resume where things don't come through. I don't know. At some point, you have to start wondering if some of the blame lies with yourself. I haven't reached that decision yet, mind you, but I'm getting closer to it. I'd hate for you to be the reason I continue to take tag-team losses. But then again, maybe we'd click! Maybe we'd be sensational!
Course, you'd have to get over taking the Revenged on Brawl and getting pinned for the 1-2-3. Would you be able to forget all that in the future?
I suppose we can talk about it once you wake up.
Just don't be putting too much weight on your ability to land the God Complex or your Enigma Divide. I've scouted all your favorite moves, and I'm certainly ready to counter them right in front of you. Honestly, when you're fighting someone like me, you need to have a few new moves in your repertoire that I won't be expecting. Are you able to do that, Freddie? Or are you stubbornly going to stick with "what's worked in the past"? Because I can almost guarantee that it won't work against me this time.
I say almost, because, I mean, I've taken a loss or two before to guys who should have never beaten me. Miracles do happen. And hey, if you manage it, the fluke pinfall out of nowhere, and I have to give you credit, I'll be sure to do that, Freddie. Maybe that'll be the turnaround you need. The odds are in the millions of that happening, but it's not zero, either.
Still, even if things go exactly as I expect them to go, I don't want you to be too depressed, Freddie. I mean, you'll be joining the ranks of Mark Cross. James Raven. Calypso. Ace Sky. Goth. Raion Kido. Jack Washington. Malachi. Bill Barnhart. Jimmy Caedus. And Terry Marshall. That's a hell of a list, and that's just some of the people I've beaten in 2023 so far. So take heart! There's no shame in losing to Peter Vaughn.
Just don't let taking the Plunge haunt your dreams in the months to come.
~Vaughn stares straight into the rearview mirror, taking in the appearance of the man who shaped his dreams... or turned them into nightmares. After all, it was Barrows who took the "good-natured" Vaughn under his wing, only to use controversial methods to subvert his nature, making Vaughn into the giant-killer he's become. Without Barrows, it's unlikely that Vaughn would have ever become a five-time World Champion. But without Barrows, he can't help but wonder if his life would have been... happier. Barrows, as if sensing his thoughts, gives another laugh, before pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.~
Peter Vaughn: You can't smoke in my Gabriella, Barrows. Put it out.
Jonathan Barrows: My dear Peter, how are you going to stop me? Besides, this smoke is all in your mind, isn't it? It's not like the smoke is going to linger in the seats, right?
~Barrows puffs a few more time, chuckling to himself, as Vaughn's hands wrap around the steering wheel, putting enough pressure on it to cause his knuckles to turn white.~
Peter Vaughn: You're not really there.
Jonathan Barrows: If you say so.
Peter Vaughn: You're a figment of my screwed-up imagination.
Jonathan Barrows: That DOES fit at least some of the facts, doesn't it?
Peter Vaughn: I'm going to close my eyes, and you're going to be gone.
~Vaughn squeezes his eyes shut, making sure to count to 3... and then makes it 5, just for good measure. He then opens his eyes... and Barrows is still sitting there in the mirror, grinning.~
Jonathan Barrows: Maybe if you click your heels together and say "There's no place like home"?
Peter Vaughn: Damn it. I don't have time for this. I'm a World Champion. I have to be at the top of my game! I can't have assholes like you showing up wherever I go!
~This wipes the smile from Barrows' face, as he shakes his head.~
Jonathan Barrows: Oh, Peter, so crass, so vulgar towards the man you owe all your success to. You know where you'd be if I didn't turn you into the wrestler you are today? You'd probably be getting your ass handed to you on that Dark show from that Debonair fellow. He DID like popping up there and facing unknowns, didn't he?
Peter Vaughn: I... I would have made it, without you. I was on my way in OCW.
Jonathan Barrows: You didn't make your way to the top there until after you came under my... tutelage.
Peter Vaughn: No. I refuse to give you any credit. I'm a World Champion because I'M the one who won it, not you.
Jonathan Barrows: Fair enough, Peter, and I'm sure you'd like to think that way. But let's face it. That goody-two-shoes you once were, the one you fought so hard against a few weeks ago? The one you won't let take control again? He'd never be able to do what you've done, and you know it. You're the prime specimen, Peter... and I'm proud of you.
~Angrily, Peter lashes out, smashing the rearview mirror with one shot. He then shakes out his hand, realizing what he's done. Inside the mirror, we can only see a fractured version of Jonathan Barrows now, but he appears to be nodding.~
Jonathan Barrows: Poor Gabriella. But that's the way to go, Peter. Keep letting the rage carry you, and no one will ever be able to stand against you. Not Debonair, not Caedus, not any of them. Keep it up... champ.
~The chaotic image disappears, leaving only a slanted view of Vaughn's back seat. Just to be sure, Vaughn peers over his shoulder, before sitting forward again. He reaches down and gets a handkerchief from the glove box, wrapping it around his knuckles to keep any blood from spilling out onto the seats. He then reaches forward, patting the wheel of the truck.~
Peter Vaughn: I'm sorry, Gabriella. I don't know what came over me. I'll get you a much nicer mirror right away, I promise. And I'll throw in an oil change as well.
~With one more glance at the broken mirror, Vaughn starts the truck and pulls away... not noticing the small amount of blood now seen underneath his nose once again. We fade out.~