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Peter Vaughn · (01-23-2022)

The Road So Far:

Old Connections, New Suspicions

Learning Who Is In Charge

Enjoy Every Moment As If It Was Your Last

Lord Of The Thrones

[Image: executive-summary.jpg]

In Peter Vaughn's quest to gain more power, he has pursued the attention of the head of the Custodial Coalition, The Master Cleaner. This individual, who can only be seen while in virtual reality, set a challenge for Vaughn in order for him to become worthy of the council: choose a story that could be his way to salvation, or his final demise. Unfortunately, Vaughn, unsure of the rules, chose multiple books, selecting The Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, and, as revealed at the end of our last story, Frankenstein.

Now Vaughn is trapped in a death game, a virtual reality where his character's death would mean the end of his journey. He was blamed for the poisoning death of Bilbo Baggins, fled the castle with Samwise Tarly, met up with Pippen Baratheon and Merry Greyjoy, and barely escaped a swarm of White Witch-Kings. After reaching a deal with Walden Frey, Vaughn has a fellowship around him, joined by Frey's son, Boromir; a mysterious killer named Arya Stark, aka Strider; and her ally, the dwarf Tyrion Gimli. This group has set out on the perilous journey for Casterly Rock, the Castle of the Fiery Eye, with the goal of delivering a scroll and the One Ring. But what is in the scroll? And who will they be delivering to? At this point, that almost seems secondary, as the party first has to make it across a very hostile landscape, where any wrong move could be their last.

~The picture comes up in the small, underground room where the Custodial Coalition technology is housed. We see Peter Vaughn off to the left, still unconscious in the position he was in the last time we saw his real body. A life support system has been set up, connected to Vaughn's arms and chest, allowing us to see that he is, at least, still alive. Nearby, the head custodian has pulled a chair over towards Vaughn's side. He's seated there, staring down at Vaughn, his eyes full of concern. There's a cough at the door and the head custodian turns, seeing another man standing there.~

Custodian #2: Sir, we have a bed set up for you. I really must insist that you get some rest. You've been here for hours.

Head Custodian: And I will stay here longer. At least until this is all played out.

~The man walks into the room, looking a little unsure. He glances over at Vaughn for a second before continuing.~

Custodian #2: Not to be indecent... but you told me yourself, sir: his death is almost a guarantee.

Head Custodian: And yet Mr. Vaughn has already lasted longer than the last two who tried to enter the system. His stamina is outstanding. I find myself... pulling for him to wake up.

Custodian #2: But... that would take a miracle...

Head Custodian: Couldn't the world really use a miracle about now, my friend?

~The other custodian has no answer for this. He shakes his head, not willing to believe. But the head custodian is starting to feel something he hasn't felt in a long while.... hope.~

Head Custodian: He looks so peaceful, doesn't he? All the stress and rage of his life now removed from his face.

Custodian #2: I suppose so, sir.

Head Custodian: I wonder... is he finding any peace in that other world? Or did he take his rage with him?

~There's no response. None is needed. The camera begins to zoom in on Vaughn's face, covered up halfway by the visor across his eyes. As the camera gets closer and closer, we briefly see the head custodian's reflection in the visor before we head straight into it. As we do so... we begin to hear something.~

~As the camera passes over a view of snowy mountains, we hear the beginning frantic notes of "Through The Fire And Flames". The camera flies over the mountains and heads for the wooded area, where we can see that a violent battle is underway. On one side, we see a fierce genetically-created race, the Uruk-Hai, shouting curses and threats in their own language as they charge forward. On the other side, we see a small group of warriors standing their ground. The camera begins to flip through the action, never cutting away:

We see Pippen Baratheon and Merry Greyjoy attacking a single foe, swinging their blades wildly to drive him back. The Uruk-Hai blocks one strike and comes forward, grinning, only to lose his head from a chop from behind. Boromir Frey runs past Pippen & Merry, going after the next foe, completely determined...

Arya Stark flies through the crowd, moving so fast she makes the wind blow her enemies' hair before she cuts them down. She is single-handedly dispatching foe after foe, as she fights past Tyrion Gimli, who has drawn his axe but is already struggling against the giant who has come after him...

Samwise Tarly battles on his own, trying to find a way to make it back to Mr. Frodo. He gets knocked down from behind, holding his head, as an Uruk-Hai laughs behind him. He raises up his club... and Samwise turns and thrusts his blade up, managing to pierce the bastard in his heart. The Uruk-Hai slides down the sword, glaring at Sam, who shoves him away...

And in the center of the fight, moving like a tornado is Mr. Frodo Snow, aka Peter Vaughn. Foe after foe charges him, only to be cut down by Vaughn's two-handed attack, as he's holding Sting in one hand and a Longclaw in the other. The two swords seem to compliment each other due to their different lengths, allowing Vaughn to strike mercilessly against his adversaries. The camera zooms in on Vaughn's face... showing a very large smile. He's enjoying himself, letting loose more than he has allowed himself for some time. Another face-painted monstrosity comes at him, with Vaughn not even hesitating slicing the Uruk-Hai's arm off with Longclaw, then stabbing him through the head with Sting. Vaughn rips the swords away, stepping back, completely overcome with warrior's madness.~

Peter Vaughn: WHO'S NEXT??? AH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!!

~Several of the orcs nearby, brought in to supplement the Uruk-Hai, back off in terror. Vaughn doesn't let them run, though, as he charges forward, ready for more mayhem.~

Sometimes the blood lust just takes you over. Ever have that, Jimmy? Of course you have, how silly of me.

It can't always be easy to control, I'll admit. But occasionally you find that there's no reason to fight it. You just channel it, allow it to bring you to your goal, and just hope that afterwards you'll be able to turn it off again. That's what I'm planning to use at Fire & Ice. I don't see any reason to worry about control.

But let's talk about you, Jimmy. You seem to think control is something you need. After all, why would you propose this addition to the match unless it was to try and control your fears? Your doubts? Your anxiety? I mean, here we sit, and I've told you that I'm going to defeat you all by myself, and you immediately come up with this asinine directive of having Mr. Lux, Mr. Miller, and Ms. Granger locked up in a damn cage hanging above "blue goo". Where do you get your technical terms, my man? So impressive.

I mean, honestly, I think anyone hearing about that demand for this match would read the same thing into it that I do: you're scared. You probably have been waking up from your nightly dreams... or your daily walking ones... terrified that the Exiles are going to be right around the corner. I mean, I can't blame you. We beat the ever-living shit out of you on the last Warfare. It's only natural that you're suffering from PTSD.

Of course, don't think I haven't noticed the other thing you're afraid of: me.

I can read you like a book, Jimmy-Boy. You're thinking that if you can get the Exiles locked up, that will allow your Apex boys to once again run in and save your ass when I start to break you. When you're about ready to tap out, to scream "Oh god, Peter, I'm sorry! You're the better man, I admit it!", you can wave desperately to the back for the Main Brothers to rush out and join Archyle in saving you. You're a deceitful son of a bitch, you know that, "champ"? Lock up my guys so you can cheat, just like Apex always does. If you were true to your word, you would have said to put Apex in a separate cage, but you're just not brave enough to do that, are you?

But you know what, Jimmy? It's not going to stop me. I've had that XWF Universal Title as my goal for way, WAY too long for me to allow you to cheat me out of it. If I have to, I will have the blood of four wimps on my hands by the end of the night, having torn all of you to shreds. I'll have Chris Page there, a legend in every sense of the word, and that's more than enough to handle everything you can throw at us.

Because I'm uncontrollable, Jimmy. And I'm coming straight for you. There's no escape.

~The battlefield is quieter now. There are still some groans and gasps from a few spots, but even those are beginning to fade. Peter Vaughn walks through the destruction, having wiped off his two blood-soaked blades and sheathed them. He walks over to the side, where Strider and Tyrion are sitting.~

Peter Vaughn: How many did you get?

Arya Stark: Twenty-seven.

Peter Vaughn: Hah! I got twenty-nine!

Tyrion Gimli: I... er... well, it's not really the count that matters.

Arya Stark: Really? I only saw you stab one guy...

Tyrion Gimli: He was a giant! That should count as at least 10!

Arya Stark: Everyone's a giant when it comes to you...

~Vaughn laughs and walks off to where the rest of the group is recovering. Pippen and Merry are both nursing wounds to their sides, looking tired but happy to be alive. Samwise is tending to their wounds, while Boromir is standing nearby. He turns at the approach of Vaughn.~

Boromir Frey: Frodo, I am in your debt. That bowman had me straight in his sights when you dispatched him.

Peter Vaughn: You blowing the horn of Gondor helped. Jogged my memory.

Boromir Frey: I don't understand.

Peter Vaughn: No, you wouldn't. Just remember, the scroll & ring are mine to hold, got it?

Boromir Frey: Of course... although if the burden gets too great...

Peter Vaughn: It won't. I've never felt better.

~Strider and Tyrion make their way over, joining the group. Amazingly, all survived this dramatic battle against all odds. Some of Tolkien's thoughts came through, apparently.~

Arya Stark: So they knew we were coming this way. Someone sent them our path.

Boromir Frey: Are you saying there's a traitor among us?

Samwise Tarly: After that battle, I trust everyone here.

Peter Vaughn: It could easily be someone who saw us departing from The Crossing. We can't turn on each other yet. This fellowship still has some miles ahead of it, no reason to break up now, is there?

Merry Greyjoy: I suppose not. We work together well, don't we, Snow? You a bastard, me taken hostage after the Iron Rebellion. What would Bilbo think of us now?

~Vaughn glances a little suspiciously at Merry, considering things for a moment. But he shrugs it off.~

Peter Vaughn: We can all be greater than destiny wanted us to be, Merry.

Merry Greyjoy: We can indeed.

Pippen Baratheon: So should we get going? I'm starving and could use a good inn.

Peter Vaughn: I doubt we'll find ourselves at an inn, Pippen. We'll be traveling the back roads to try and avoid another conflict if we can. Anyone have any good thoughts?

Boromir Frey: We need to avoid the Night's Watch borders, if we don't want to be enlisted in their cause.

Peter Vaughn: Oh yes, I have no plans of heading that way. That'd make this journey WAY too long.

Tyrion Gimli: We can head for my family's claims in Moria. I haven't heard from them in a while, but they would likely throw a party for our arrival.

Peter Vaughn: No offense meant, but I'd rather stay above ground if we can avoid it. I've... heard rumors about a balrog down there.

Tyrion Gimli: Ahhh, well, I'm keen on avoiding a balrog, that sounds like a smart decision to me.

Arya Stark: Then we should head to the Gates of the Moon. My aunt, Lysa Arryn, the Lady of the Eyrie, would be there now. It should provide sanctuary as we continue south.

Peter Vaughn: That sounds like a plan. Everyone load up and let's get moving.

Tyrion Gimli: Is it a long way? I'm not much of a sprinter.

Peter Vaughn: Don't we still have...

~Vaughn looks back, realizing that their horses have all been butchered in the battle. He shakes his head, not out of sadness but out of what this means.~

Peter Vaughn: We'll find transportation when we can, Tyrion. For now, get whatever supplies survived. We need to move before we're found again.

~The group breaks off, gathering what they can from all around them. It really was a war here, with so many dead or dying. We see one person break off from the group, cloaked in shadow. They release a raven, sending it off into the sky, presumably with a message to deliver. We then fade away.~

Jimmy really wanted to paint me as a complete liar, didn't he?

He pushed several elements forward, trying to make it seem like I was a bigger Pinocchio than anyone's ever seen in the XWF. He even brought up tweets I made over a month ago, going through them to point out everything he disagreed with. Y'know, Jimmy, I could do the same thing, but it appears you ran like a scalded dog from Twitter, so there's nothing left of you there. Too bad.

The problem is, Jimmy himself is the biggest liar. He doesn't fact check. He doesn't do any research. He just spits whatever nonsense he comes up with to throw out there, assuming it must be true because, well, he said it. Let's focus on one of the biggest misconceptions that Jimmy-Boy rambled about for quite some time: that I was booted out of Online Championship Wrestling along with everyone else. He seemed pretty proud to say that Marcus didn't see me as worthy even as the champ and kicked me out.

Hmmm, how to put this in a way that Jimmy can understand...

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I know it might be hard for you to accept the truth that every single person in the world knows but you, Jimmy, but I guess I might as well spell it out for you. I had become the most powerful wrestler in OCW at the end. I'd won the OCW Craze and World Heavyweight Titles. I was the king. Then the Purge took place. Lots of great talent got shown the door for no reason at all. Marcus basically lost his mind. But did he fire me? No, Jimmy. He badly wanted me to stay.

I was already signed to face Xavier Lux for the World Title at Death Match. The promotion was already ongoing. Marcus knew that I would sell tickets. But the problem was, tickets to what? A closed off federation that no longer had the exposure that I wanted? That I needed? My main goal in life is to become a legend, and there was no way in hell that was happening now in OCW. That path was ruined.

So I told the boss I was walking away. He wanted me to wrestle in one more title match, and I considered it, since the place was good to me. But when I officially signed to the XWF, that ended any possibility of going back. I'd become the enemy. I'd left on my own terms, undefeated as the World Champion there. I chose my own path, and I haven't regretted it once.

Except, of course, when loudmouths like you put on your best fake news anchor voice and try to change recent history. It truly makes you look pretty stupid, Jimmy, and I don't like to see you that way. I want you to be thought of as some wrestling genius, so that when I end your run at the top for all to see, they believe it was a glorious accomplishment.

I don't want them thinking I'm just putting down a mad dog. Where's the glory in that?

~The march is slow but steady. Despite his complaining, Tyrion is able to keep pace with the group as they head through the most beautiful countryside you've ever seen. Seriously, these are some epic views, with the camera taking time to show it from as many angles as possible. Eventually, though, even the hardiest member of the fellowship is willing to allow for a short break. A small fire is set up, with Pippen, Merry, & Sam all gathering around it to argue about the proper way to cook their potatoes. Boromir and Arya move to the side for their own private discussion, while Vaughn stays off to the side along with a weary Tyrion.~

Tyrion Gimli: This is not what I signed up for.

Peter Vaughn: I didn't think you'd signed up for anything. What made you align with Strider, anyway?

Tyrion Gimli: Let's just say I've made some bad choices in my life, and I'm looking for a little redemption.

Peter Vaughn: Aren't we all? I know I am. I was known as a ridiculous goof for so long, I'm still fighting to try and shed that image. Meanwhile, those who didn't know me as a joke simply think I'm an asshole now. First impressions are so damned difficult to shake.

Tyrion Gimli: Let me give you a piece of advice, bastard...

Peter Vaughn: Here we go with the "bastard" label again...

Tyrion Gimli: It is what you are: a true bastard. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.

Peter Vaughn: You're an intelligent son of a bitch, aren't you?

Tyrion Gimli: That's what I do. I drink and I know things.

~To prove his point, Tyrion gets out his flask once again, taking a drink. Vaughn smiles and stands up, but stops when he realizes he heard something. He listens intently.~

Tyrion Gimli: So how much farther to...

Peter Vaughn: Quiet! I think... someone's coming... or something...

~Vaughn draws his two swords, preparing himself, as Tyrion, startled, jumps backwards. Seeing Vaughn's movements, Boromir and Strider head his way. Strider's head twists, giving her ears a little more precision.~

Arya Stark: Those footsteps... so large...

Boromir Frey: Do you two hear an ogre coming? Or a frozen giant?

Peter Vaughn: A giant we would've seen by now... but something is definitely following us...

~All eyes look down the path. Even Sam, Merry, & Pippen have realized something's wrong. They leave their food behind, cautiously moving up closer to the true warriors in the group. Down the path, you can see birds fleeing from the trees. Rabbits, terrified, bound up the path, to escape whatever is coming.~

Tyrion Gimli: Should we perhaps be running right now?

~No one answers. Everyone is transfixed further down the trail. Suddenly, a figure appears. Slowly stomping up the trail. He appears to be at least seven feet tall, maybe more. His skin is a pale green, made from spending so much time underground. The muscles are bulging on his arms and legs as he moves forward, an unstoppable force that would crush anything in his path.~

Peter Vaughn: Wait a second... I thought maybe it was going to be Gollum, but... his hairline is stitched up....

Samwise Tarly: What does that mean?

Peter Vaughn: I guess... maybe I added another novel somehow, because that looks like Frankenstein's monster...

Merry Greyjoy: Who??

Peter Vaughn: A big, powerful brute. Not one you want to let get his hands on you. But at the same time, at least he's slow. We should be able to take care of this and move on...

~As Vaughn says these lines, the monster below slowly looks up. He focuses on the men and woman waiting ahead of him. His eyes narrow, as he begins moving faster towards them.~

Monster: My... precious...

Boromir Frey: Ummm, the monster... has sped up...

Peter Vaughn: But Frankenstein's monster can't run! Wait...

~Vaughn looks closer at the approaching powerhouse, the image of his face becoming clearer. It tugs at Vaughn's memory, making him wonder for a moment who it is he's actually seeing.~

Monster: Yous Have... My Precious!!!

Peter Vaughn: Oh my god.... it's not just the monster.... IT'S THE MOUNTAIN!!!!! RETREAT!!!!

~Vaughn backpedals quickly, with the rest trying to follow, as Gollum Gregor Clegane, known as The Mountain That Rides, charges into their midst. Strider tries to attack first, going for a straight stabbing of the throat. But The Mountain grabs her in mid-air, easily tossing her several feet overhead! She goes crashing to the ground, unable to get her feet completely under her, as Samwise starts to run forward. The Mountain clobbers him with a back swing, nearly taking Sam's head off as he collapses to the side.~

Samwise Tarly: Agghh!!

~Pippen and Merry, angry at Sam going down, jump in and each grab hold of one of the Mountain's legs. He looks at them with disdain before easily kicking Merry off, launching him backwards on top of Sam. He grabs a club from his back, preparing to use it on Merry, but Vaughn, sensing opportunity, flies in, stabbing the Mountain in the side!! But The Mountain just grabs Vaughn by the throat, lifting him up into the air!!~

Peter Vaughn: How... strong... are you???

The Mountain: Give me.... THE PRECIOUS!!!!!!

~The Mountain screams in Vaughn's face, making it clear that madness has overtaken him. Vaughn struggles, trying to pry off the giant's grip, but his fingers are like steel. They can't be broken. As Vaughn chokes, kicking desperately at the monster holding him, Boromir comes running in, slashing at The Mountain's arm. Shockingly, the blade only sinks in about half an inch before stopping, but it's enough to make The Mountain drop Vaughn. He turns back to Boromir, who straightens up, showing his pride.~

Boromir Frey: I am Boromir, son of Walden, a noble son of House Frey! Face a true challenge, demon!

~Boromir comes forward as The Mountain raises his club, swinging it at Boromir's head. He dodges it, diving to the side, and swings again, cutting into The Mountain's hardened flesh once again. The Mountain bellows in rage, turning and swinging at Boromir, who ducks underneath the huge arms. He gets in close, aiming the blade right at The Mountain's throat, sensing a weak point. But The Mountain manages to knock the sword away with his club, then grabs hold of Boromir with his free hand, yanking him in close for a headbutt. A second one leaves Boromir wobbling, dropping his sword. Before Boromir can recover, The Mountain lets go of his club and latches onto Boromir's head with both hands. He squeezes. The scream is unearthly, as Boromir Eddard Frey meets his end.~

Arya Stark: BOROMIR!!!!!

~A wounded Strider jumps in from behind, stabbing The Mountain in the back with a small dagger, an assassin's blade. The Mountain drops Boromir's carcass and turns, knocking Strider away from him once again. He ignores her, turning back to Vaughn, who is back on his feet.~

Peter Vaughn: Well.... shit....

The Mountain: Surrender... The Precious...

~It would seem like prudent advice. But Vaughn slowly shakes his head.~

Peter Vaughn: I never give in, and I never submit. If this is my final battle.... then let it be spoken of for generations!!

~Vaughn begins to rush forward, his blades at the ready. The Mountain grins, having retrieved his massive club. He steps forward, ready to demolish the man who holds what he seeks. But suddenly, another sword comes into view, blocking The Mountain's strike and sending him staggering. The Mountain turns, enraged when he sees the man who has surprisingly come from nowhere to stand before him.~

The Hound: Your fight has always been with me, monster! I'm the one who created you! And I will be the one who destroys you!!

~Sandor "The Hound" Clegane stands there, his blade at the ready. The Mountain growls, a guttural sound that reaches deep into everyone's subconscious as an evil sound.~

Peter Vaughn: The... The Hound??

The Hound: I am sorry I was too late for your friend. Heed me now. Leave here and do not look back! I will destroy this monster or die because of it!

~The Hound rushes forward, exchanging shots with The Mountain, who gladly returns them. The furious fight moves on down the trail, allowing Vaughn to regroup with his injured comrades. He looks back down at the ongoing battle, showing admiration for their moves.~

Peter Vaughn: I suppose it makes sense to make The Hound our Dr. Frankenstein... wow, look at them go...

Samwise Tarly: Mr. Frodo! We need to leave! Now!

Peter Vaughn: Awww, but this is one of the most epic fights in the series!!

Samwise Tarly: And if The Mountain wins??

Peter Vaughn: ... Good point. Goodbye, Boromir. I'm sorry, I tried, but there was just no way to keep you alive, I guess. Sorry, no time for a canoe ride over the falls...

~Vaughn nods to the fallen Boromir, then turns and starts running up the path with the rest of their group. Tyrion is doing his best to help Arya, who is limping badly. The group is definitely in bad shape, but somehow, they've made it out of the nightmare... for now.~

Every man knows that they can't always win every battle. It's what you do afterwards that matters the most.

You could say that I haven't had an impressive run as I would have liked in the XWF so far. I mean, you'd be denigrating Drew Archyle and Barney Green by saying that, two men that I crushed, but if that's what you want to say, I'll roll with it. I'm certainly not proud of the Gorilla fight. That was ridiculous. Mark Flynn, meanwhile, got the win on me thanks to a distraction from Apex causing the quick roll up. And I'm proud of Flynn being willing to take advantage of that. It shows he's a strong fighter, someone I'd love to face again someday.

That being said, 3-1 is nothing to scoff at , and after Fire & Ice, it's going to be 4-1 and me sitting at the top.

So let's talk about Jimmy's recent battles. Let's see. You won a boxing match against Schism, a guy who really didn't even show up to fight. You can't really claim that as a marvelous victory, can you? What else... hmm... you watched Arcana nearly get killed by Johnny, but I guess that doesn't count. So I guess we go back to the previous PPV? When you cheated to win in the tag match, got your ass handed to you by Bam and lost your title, and then pinned an unconscious man to become the Universal Champ?

Damn, Jimmy... my recent history is a HELL OF A LOT more impressive than yours!

I will guarantee this right now: I will be a defending champion once I win that belt. I will face off against the best that the XWF has to offer. I won't hide in a cave underground, praying that no one notices me. Hell, hiding away hasn't even helped you avoid beatdowns from all directions. It's shameful, really. Maybe we should open this up to other federation's matches, you've done better there, right? Oh, wait, then my TPW Universal Title Tournament run counts, and you can't really match that, can you? Probably best to just keep it here in XWF.

All-in-all, you just haven't been that impressive recently. You even had to vacate your side of the tag-team titles to little Ollie, because you knew you could never match against both Flynn & NK and myself. I will admit, this is a very, very good call on your part. I mean, it would have been smarter to stick to the tag division, but still, credit where credit is due. I'm sure Ollie won't at all get slaughtered by those two once a fair ref is involved. No sir.

It just feels like all the stars are aligned against you guys, really. I'm betting it's going to be a clean sweep for Apex... a sweeping away of all championships. A push towards obscurity for the once-famous group who bonded together to cheat the system. It could be the end of the road, and I'll be happy to see the story reach its conclusion. A lot of people will certainly be pleased, from what I've heard back in the locker room. But then, none of them matter, do they, Jimmy?

I suppose you should be thanking me, Jimmy-Boy. I'm actually getting your name mentioned again in the right way, as a competitor. As a fighter. As someone who's facing the challenge of a lifetime. The people are standing up and taking notice, knowing that this is going to be a clash that could be unmatched throughout 2022. I hope you appreciate me for that, Jimmy, because once I'm done, everyone will be talking about you once more.

They won't be able to forget you.

~The mood is more somber as the group has continued up the mountain. Everyone took some lumps in the confrontation with a true monster, and nobody can forget Boromir's final cry. Vaughn has worked to keep them moving, though, intent on reaching shelter for the night... just in case The Mountain comes out victorious. After all, in the book, Victor Frankenstein dies in the end. He looks up, seeing what appears to be a castle coming into view a ways up the hillside.~

Peter Vaughn: So that's the Gates of the Moon up ahead?

Arya Stark: That's it, yes. Behind it we will find the Eyrie. There we will find sanctuary. No one has ever managed to breach the towers of the Eyrie in all its time here.

~This brings Vaughn up short. He thinks for a moment, as Strider stares at him, confused.~

Peter Vaughn: I don't suppose another name for this castle is... Helms Deep?

Arya Stark: Yes, it's been called that in the past as well. It's a truly impregnable fortress...

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, see, now we need to hurry. An army is coming. A large one.

Arya Stark: Where? I have heard nothing...

Peter Vaughn: Just trust me, we need to get inside and make preparations as soon as possible.

~Vaughn begins to rally his people, making them move even faster. He takes a moment to step to the side, looking off into the far distance.... where he can see a large swath of black moving across the landscape. He nods, knowing exactly what that is.~

Peter Vaughn: Damn it, I was hoping at this point to be going through the swamps with Sam, not the Battle of Helms Deep... this is going to be brutal...

~He hurries to catch up with everyone, pushing them forward. There is no time to waste.~

~After a quick cut, we find ourselves inside the Eyrie. The camera zooms around, showing us the large, circular portal in the center of the room. It appears to lead to an incredibly far plunge below. Standing near the hole (but not too near) are Peter Vaughn and his wounded fellowship. Seated in front of them are two people. On the right is Lady Lysa Arryn, wearing her finest outfit. On the left, seated with his hands on his knees, is a smiling gentleman with long, shaggy hair. He greets them with a nod.~

Man: I welcome all of you to the Eyrie, ruling castle of the Vale. I am the current High Steward, Petyr Baelish.

Peter Vaughn: Littlefinger....

Tyrion Gimli: Wormtongue...

Peter Vaughn: What?

~Surprised, Vaughn takes a closer look at Baelish, who doesn't look too thrilled with the names he's just heard.~

Petyr Baelish: I would appreciate a little more respect from those who are seeking my aid.

Peter Vaughn: I... beg your pardon, sir. My companions and I are trying to travel further south to Casterly Rock. But on our way here, we noticed a rather large army headed this direction...

Petyr Baelish: Yes, my spies have already told me of their arrival. They also told me that they seek what you have in your possession. A certain... scroll?

~Not altogether surprised by this, Vaughn doesn't say a word, as he knows with people like Littlefinger, knowledge is power.~

Petyr Baelish: No one seems to know what's on this mysterious scroll, do they? Have you read it yourself, Lord Snow?

Peter Vaughn: No. No, I have not. It is sealed, currently.

Petyr Baelish: By the power of the One Ring? Another remarkable item...

~Again, Littlefinger's knowledge seems to be limitless.~

Peter Vaughn: I would assume reaching our destination will have some effect on the seal. But none of that is important at the moment. There is a fierce force of evil headed this direction...

Petyr Baelish: Yes. An army that may actually be able to overtake this fortress. It would be quite a battle. But one wonders if the better course would be just to give them what they want. That would make them leave, and allow my rule here to continue...

Arya Stark: You snake...

Peter Vaughn: Calm down, Arya. If Petyr here was going to do that, he would have acted already rather than letting us into this room. He's got something else in mind.

~Littlefinger nods, pleasantly surprised by Vaughn's reaction.~

Petyr Baelish: Very astute. Let's say that the brutes who are on their way here are not exactly the most intelligent of our enemy's forces. They would be happy to receive a sealed scroll and likely rush back home to lick their master's boots. Who's to say it's the correct scroll if none can open it? No one knows what it looks like other than the six of you.

Tyrion Gimli: It could work.

Merry Greyjoy: It's a rather smart plan.

Peter Vaughn: So who's the chump who has to take the fake scroll and ring down to them?

Petyr Baelish: Oh, it can't look like we're just giving them what they seek. They would be extremely suspicious. But if a few ne'er-do-wells try to flee down the mountain and accidentally run into the army, being slaughtered, and if they HAPPENED to have the scroll, it would seem a fortunate turn of events.

Pippen Baratheon: If it means not fighting, I like it.

Peter Vaughn: I trust these poor souls are people you'd need to get rid of? And, more importantly, not THESE people here?

Petyr Baelish: Of course not. You are my guests. Dinner will be served through there. Enjoy. I will take care of everything.

~The servers come in, directing the tired group towards the main doors. Vaughn doesn't go with them. He approaches closer to Littlefinger, studying him.~

Peter Vaughn: Maybe it's true what they say. Maybe all Peters really are bastards at heart.

~Littlefinger smiles, not at all offended by the comment.~

Petyr Baelish: Distrusting me is the smartest thing you've done since coming through the gates. In your position, I would trust no one.

Peter Vaughn: I don't. Good luck with your plot, Petyr. You'll need it in order to survive the night.

~Vaughn walks off, leaving Littlefinger behind to calculate his next move.~

The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Not necessarily.

I know you've got a lot of people hating on you right now, Jimmy. Guys who would love to see you lose the championship at Fire & Ice. Johnny, Charlie, TK, Graves, maybe more. All would probably love to interfere in our Sanitation Street Fight and take you out, leading me to an easy victory. Personally, I wouldn't be completely against it. But I always try to be truthful to myself, Jimmy. And if I look inside my heart, I don't really want to win that way.

I know that sounds strange. It does to me, at least. I mean, my ultimate goal is the Universal Title, so why should I care how I win it? Why should it matter what people think afterwards? But for some weird reason, it actually does matter to me. Because if I win it by pinning a man who just got knocked out by a bunch of other thugs, it wouldn't make me a true champion.

It'd make me you, Jimmy. And that's one step I'm not willing to take.

I want my title reign to be praised by all around, with people saying that I was so dominant that I tore through every opponent placed in my way. I can't do that if I start out mirroring you, because it obviously doesn't work for legacies. It'd be a black mark, not a golden one. I want it to be said that Jim Caedus gave everything he had to retain his championship. He stacked the deck as much as possible to put himself in position to win. And it wasn't enough.

Now, if you're attacked, will I refuse the pin? .... Probably not. I've gotten used to not having things exactly the way I want. I mean, I originally WANTED to win that way over Alias, only to have you steal it, so I can't exactly say I'm above it, can I? But I've learned from how badly your reputation suffered from it. So I'd personally avoid it, but if I can't, I can't. I'll just have to accept it, and immediately start defending the belt as soon as possible to make up for it. It's a step I may have to take, not gonna lie.

There's only so much I can do about everyone hating you, Jimmy. And you chose the Street Fight stipulation. Don't forget that.

You're the one who said "Let's have the rules so that I can't retain my title via disqualification. Let's remove my champion's advantage from the table." I didn't take that from you, Jimmy-Boy. You did.

So if the hatred shines forth and ends up costing you this match... don't blame me. Blame yourself.

~It is later in the day, when Vaughn and his compatriots make their way back into the Eyrie. Petyr Baelish is pacing near the window, looking rather concerned. Nearby, Lady Lysa Arryn is sitting with her head down, not looking at anyone. Vaughn nods to Strider, who moves to the left with Tyrion, while Sam, Merry, & Pippen slip to the right.~

Petyr Baelish: Hello, again. I'm afraid we've had a bit of a... complication.

~Guards move in behind Vaughn's group, their weapons drawn. Vaughn doesn't move at all, having mostly expected this.~

Petyr Baelish: It seems, among the enemy's army... is Jaime Lannister. I didn't know that the Kingslayer would be here.

Peter Vaughn: He also sleeps with his own sister.

~Everyone in the room turns to look at Vaughn, who shrugs.~

Peter Vaughn: True story, not lying...

Petyr Baelish: ... In any event, the Kingslayer immediately recognized our trickery and sent the men back to us... via catapult.

~There's a general wince among everyone in the room. Nobody thinks that would have been very pleasant, at least not the ending. The flight itself was probably a thrill ride.~

Petyr Baelish: I have been told, in no certain terms, that if I hand you over, there will be no more repercussions to the Vale. So as you can see, I have no choice...

~Littlefinger walks closer to Vaughn, leaning in towards him.~

Petyr Baelish: I did warn you not to trust me.

~He leans back, smirking, only to be mystified as Vaughn grins right back at him.~

Peter Vaughn: I didn't.

~He looks over at Lady Lysa, who lifts her head up, glaring forward.~

Lady Lysa Arryn: Guards! Seize Petyr Baelish!

~The guards all step forward, past the fellowship, and surround Littlefinger, who looks absolutely astonished. He turns towards Lysa.~

Petyr Baelish: Lysa my love? What is this?

Lady Lysa Arryn: You were going to kill me, Petyr? After all I gave you? And for Sansa???

~The blood drains from Littlefinger's face, revealing the truth of that statement, even as he begins to deny it.~

Petyr Baelish: That's... preposterous! You know... I have always been faithful to you! You are my one and only!

Lady Lysa Arryn: Your lies will avail you not, "Wormtongue". Be gone from my sight with your tricks and deceptions!

~Littlefinger, still protesting, is grabbed by the guards and hauled away. He fights for a moment, in order to stare at Vaughn, who is still smiling.~

Peter Vaughn: Knowledge is power.

~Sputtering, Littlefinger is dragged off, still trying to plead his innocence. The camera refocuses on Lady Lysa, who is now sitting up straight. It's almost like years of darkness are fading from her face, bringing her beauty back to the forefront. She takes a deep breath, then another, as Arya Stark steps forward, holding out a sword.~

Arya Stark: This will help you feel your strength again, Lady Lysa.

~She gives the sword to her aunt, who takes it and swings it back and forth a few times. She slowly smiles, regaining herself from the madness she's been in since the death of her husband. She turns towards the remaining guards.~

Lady Lysa Arryn: Prepare for a siege. Man the towers. We will give Jaime Lannister a fight he won't soon forget!

~The guards salute and run off, ready for battle. Lady Lysa turns towards Vaughn's group, her face flushed with color.~

Lady Lysa Arryn: All I ask is that you fight with me, as we look to see tomorrow.

Peter Vaughn: Of course, my lady.

Arya Stark: We are with you until the end.

~Vaughn walks over towards the window, peering out at the force currently making its way up the mountain. Clearly, they never expected Littlefinger to succeed. Vaughn lets out a deep sigh.~

Peter Vaughn: Let there be war.

~He turns away, marching off to get better armor, as we cut away.~

This is a war I've been wanting for months now, Jimmy. But I still wonder if I've got your full attention.

You spent a rather extensive amount of time last week talking about my stablemates, my new manager Chris Page, and others who have threatened you. You ranted and raved about Chris Page's body (someone call HR) and Betsy Granger's weight (again, HR, please), stumbling along until you felt like you got your point across. I'm afraid you missed the boat slightly there, friend, but it happens when you drink as much as you do. Might want to cut back a little, just some helpful advice. Take it or not, it's your call.

The point I'm trying to make, without getting all long-winded about it like some people, is that I want your entire focus on me. Maybe adding in the cage will help you with that, I don't know. And I know, you'll immediately try and turn it around and throw any mentions I've made of Drew, Robbie, or Ollie back in the mix. Sure, I haven't forgotten about them. But I'm not focused on them. At all.

I've got my vision tunneled on one thing right now, Jimmy, and that's you. I'm planning for this to be the greatest weekend of my wrestling life, and for that to happen, I will have to wipe you out. I will have to show you that my size is not a handicap, it's an advantage against someone like you. Because I'll be moving so fast with so many weapons, you won't know where they're all coming from until it's too late. The speed that you're going to have to deal with? It's going to blow your mind.

Maybe literally. Depends on what I hit you with.

While many get hung up on my appearance or my past, the smart opponents recognize that I'm a fast little motherfucker. I can run circles around you, especially with that beer gut you've been trying to hide under t-shirts in recent months. Maybe that's just a rumor. I guess we can find out at Fire & Ice. If you don't throw up all across the floor during our fight, you'll prove you're in better shape than you look.

By the way, just because I used to be a Janitor doesn't mean I'll be cleaning up your puke and blood. That'll be for you to take care of.

~We come back to a full-scale war taking place. Men, women, orcs, and Uruk-Hai are slaughtering each other all over the place. Wildlings, fighting for the dark one, try to set up huge ladders in order to make their way up the castle walls, only to meet fierce resistance from the soldiers in the castle. On another section, there is a battering ram slamming away at the gate, with the troops inside trying to reinforce it. A door opens on the opposite side of the dark forces trying to get in, with Peter Vaughn peeking out. He steps out slowly, along with Strider. They sneak near the fighting, peering out at what's happening. Vaughn looks back at Strider.~

Peter Vaughn: You're sure about this?

Arya Stark: What do we say to the God of Death?

Peter Vaughn: ... Not Today.

Arya Stark: Throw me.

~With a heave, Vaughn manages to send Strider flying into the midst of the enemy forces on the ramp. She immediately spins, slashing away at everyone around her. Bodies start flying in every direction. One swordsman manages to dodge the attack, then comes at Strider from behind. But he's quickly cut down, as Vaughn enters the skirmish as well. He begins chopping away, once again letting the blood lust run through his veins.~

Peter Vaughn: Not... Today.... NOT.... TODAY!!!!

~Vaughn's movements become even faster, almost defying logic as he flies through the numbers. Between him and Strider, the forces are pushed back, allowing them to secure the door from the damage it took. Even as rapid as the fighting is going, however, the good fortune can't last forever. A lucky arrow flies through the air, nailing Strider in the shoulder. She yells out and falls back, dropping to the ground. The forces move in, with Vaughn trying his best to keep them at bay by himself. But a mace swings through, catching Vaughn a glancing blow on the helmet. He spins, losing control of his grasp, his movement causing the scroll to inadvertently slip out of his side pocket. More importantly, the One Ring comes off, spinning upwards into the air. Vaughn reaches upwards towards it, trying to grab it, as the enemy closes it. But the ring falls perfectly... right onto his finger. Vaughn disappears from sight, shocking the soldiers enough that they retreat partially, rather than charging for the wounded Strider.~

~We switch to the viewpoint of Vaughn, who is staring through strange visuals at all the troops before them. Everyone is hazy and grey, with the sound almost seeming to shake in slow motion all around him. He looks down at the ring, realizing what happened. He picks up the released scroll from the ground, having no time to deal with it now. He pockets it, then turns to the force in front of him, who are starting to pull themselves back together. After a moment, Vaughn darkly grins.~

Peter Vaughn: Perfect.

~The camera switches again, showing Lady Lysa and Samwise Tarly watching from above in the tower. She looks extremely confused.~

Lady Lysa Arryn: Where did Lord Snow go? And what's.... what's happening to everyone??

~Enemy soldiers are dropping like mutilated flies around the gate, moving further down the path. Some are trying to run for it, but it's too crowded for them to get away. There's no sign of what's slicing them to ribbons.~

Samwise Tarly: Oh no... Mr. Frodo's wearing the ring...

Lady Lysa Arryn: I don't know what he's doing... but I think we're winning now. Sound the horns! Charge forward!! Follow Lord Snow, The Faceless Man!!!

~The horns sound, as Lady Lysa turns to head to the battlefield. Samwise keeps watching out the window, his face full of horror at what has happened.~

You'd think someone like you, Jimmy, would know not to call someone a fraud.

Maybe you think I'm all hype, no substance. I've heard that argument before. It's kind of wiped out by the fact that I've won four championships in the past year, including two titles that were the top of the federation. But if you want to keep believing that nonsense, that's on you. The fact remains that in every match I've been in throughout 2021 and 2022, I gave my all. I put everything I have into them. And I've come out successful far more times than I've lost.

Calling me a fraud is like saying Tom Brady is a fraud because he lost to a last-minute field goal to the Rams. Yep, he lost that time. But that doesn't change the history of what he's brought to the table in the past. A lot of people hate Brady too, and wanted to see him fail. Maybe that makes me more like Brady that I realize, which I'd be okay with. I'm still a Dallas Cowboy fan, though, as painful as that can be at times. But back to Brady. You think he's a fraud after one defeat? Do you think he's a fraud if the ref makes a wrong call and helps him win? Or if the opposing team makes stupid mistakes getting him to a victory?

Brady's many things, but he's no fraud. And neither am I.

Let's go all in here, Jimmy. You and I both know that both of us are professionals to a certain point. I can claim it, at least. But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and give you that title, too. We'll both give the fans something to scream about at the pay-per-view. They might cheer you, they might curse me, they might be in physical danger from both of us if we end up in the crowd. A street fight is extremely unpredictable, you know. Seriously, if you get too pumped up on road rage and knock out one or more of them, we might be in danger of getting sued. I hope they cover that in the ticket vouchers.

Plain and simple, it's going to be a hell of a fucking match, and I can't wait to see it develop. And when I've laid you out and you're sitting on the ground, your eyes glassy, your vision blurred, your tongue hanging out like a wet wipe out of its packaging, you're going to have to admit it, Jimmy-Boy. You're going to have to deal with that terrible truth that will be stuck in your mind the rest of your days. You're going to have to admit that I'm better than you.

And won't that sting worse than the loss?

~We find ourselves outside the virtual world once again, in the small confines of the special underground room under the Home Depot. We're focused on Vaughn's body, which seems to be shuddering. Two custodians are running back and forth, checking his diagnostics, with one giving him a shot of some unknown substance to try and help against the seizure. The head custodian is nearby, shaking his head.~

Custodian #2: We're in danger of losing him, sir! What's changed?

Head Custodian: I think... he's made a decision that could very well destroy him...

Custodian #2: But he was doing so well!

Head Custodian: Sometimes the path to victory isn't as clear as we would think, young friend. Try your best to keep him stable. It's his best chance now.

Custodian #2: Of course, sir. We need some ice packs, he's overheating! Bring them as fast as you can!

~The third custodian nods and rushes off, knowing exactly where to go to find ice. As the work continues, the head custodian steps over towards the computer, possibly considering trying to contact the Master Cleaner again. However, he steps away, refusing to go to that step.~

Head Custodian: No. Peter Vaughn has made his gamble. It is now up to him to survive it.

~The head custodian watches on as the rest try to comfortably secure Peter Vaughn, who now seems closer to death than ever before.~

~We cut away to a scene of a forest that has been ravaged by numerous sword shots. There are slash marks everywhere, with many fallen trees. In the center of this destruction, we see one man slowly rising up. He hauls the unconscious or dead body of his foe above his head, showing that his power is still at astonishing levels. He throws the downed man away, into the forest, before turning back towards the path he had been journeying. He tenses, as if sensing something that's happened. His lips pull back, revealing sharpened teeth.~

The Mountain: MY.... PRECIOUS!!!!

~The Mountain ignores his many wounds and begins stomping up the path, his goal still locked onto one goal: obtaining the One Ring from Frodo Snow... aka Peter Vaughn. We slowly fade out on this ominous note.~

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode A Clash of The Two Towers
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