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Peter Vaughn · (03-15-2022)

The Road So Far:

Lord Of The Thrones

A Clash Of The Two Towers

The Return Of The Storm Of Swords

A Secret War Is Brewing, P1

A Secret War Is Brewing, P2

A Secret War Is Brewing, P3[

[Image: executive-summary.jpg]

Peter Vaughn's life has been anything but ordinary in 2022.

He has ventured down the rabbit hole by joining the Custodial Coalition, a large group of custodians who have banded together to form a powerful underground force, presumably for good. He's utilized their extensive technological advances, most likely gained by them having access to so many laboratories around the world. One of those was a virtual reality that is far beyond what anyone would expect to currently be available. This augmented VR nearly led to Vaughn's death inside a merged war involving Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones characters.

Vaughn has also gone on missions for the Coalition, with his last one involving the infiltration of another secret organization, the Maintenance Mafia. Vaughn was able to capture one of their higher-ranked individuals and bring him in for questioning, rescuing several kidnapped janitors in the process. But during this engagement, Vaughn was made an offer by the Mafia to join up with them and be a double-agent, in order to help them gain access to the coveted VR technology. Vaughn, with no remorse, now appears to be working both sides against each other. But no one knows what Vaughn's end game will be.

Oh, and Vaughn's half-brother Thomas appeared, with Vaughn saving his life only to have Thomas having his own dark side comparable to Vaughn himself. He may or may not be evil.

You heard me say that Vaughn's life has been anything but ordinary, right?

~The picture opens up on a small dining establishment in Dallas, Texas. Inside, we see two individuals sitting there near the window, talking like they’re old friends. There is some laughter, some ribbing, all the things you’d expect to see from two guys just hanging out. But if you look closely, there’s certainly something off about their interactions. The slightest hand motions, the glinting of the eyes, a slight sneer appearing on one face for a moment… it’s subtle, but it’s there. As the two men continue to finish their meal, we hear Peter Vaughn’s voice coming across in a voice-over.~

Peter Vaughn: It’s extremely strange to be sitting here with my brother. Well, my half-brother. Son of my mother, birthed to a completely different family… yet still there’s something about him that’s familiar… and sinister.

~We see the camera focus on Vaughn as he’s sitting there, reaching across and grabbing another chip from the appetizer plate in front of them. The camera moves to Thomas, who does nothing to stop Vaughn, although he seems to tense up at Vaughn’s reach towards him. Vaughn takes the chip and munches on it, quietly listening to whatever story Thomas is telling. Unfortunately, all we can hear are Vaughn’s current thoughts.~

Peter Vaughn: I used to dream about having the perfect family. Of course, it was never meant to be. My father has passed away. My mother? Missing. And now my younger half-brother steps into my life, and I still can’t decide whether I want to hug him or throttle him… or both. I never thought about the darkness being genetic. I always thought it was just circumstances. But now I have to wonder… does it run in the family? Or am I just seeing things?

~The waitress wanders by, smiling at both men. It’s a false smile, put into place in order to help increase the potential tip at the end of the meal, but it’s better than the alternative. She places the bill in the center of the table, leaving to let the two brothers fight it out. They both glance at the black book sitting there, considering it.~

Peter Vaughn: Still, either way you look at it, his blood is my blood. That’s got to mean something, right? Deep inside? It’s not like I feel a familial bond or anything. I barely feel much of anything nowadays. But maybe, somewhere in there, I want to have a brother I can trust… while another part of me sees him as a threat to all that I’ve built up this year, maybe? I suppose it’s something I’ll find out about soon enough, either way. For now? I’m the older brother. I have some responsibilities.

~Vaughn reaches out and grabs the book, just before Thomas can go for it. It might have just been a late reaction, or maybe it was acting on his part. Who knows for sure? But either way, Vaughn’s got the bill.~

Peter Vaughn: And also, with millions in the bank, I can afford to pick up the check.

~Vaughn leaves some money in the book, including a sizable tip, before getting up. He and Thomas head for the door, with Thomas opening it for Vaughn. They walk through, exchanging one final round of pleasantries before Thomas turns and goes off to the right, while Vaughn begins to walk to the left, still carrying his styrofoam drink from the restaurant. Waste not, want not.~

Peter Vaughn: Sometimes I wonder what the normal people are doing with their lives. And then I remember, I did have that “normal” job for a while… and I’ll never go back. I’ll take the chaos of the wrestling world over normality any day of the week.

~As Vaughn approaches a bent-over older Hispanic male, he nods to him and steps to the side, giving the guy room. They begin to pass each other… and then the bullets start landing, smashing into the wall of the apartment building right behind them.~

Peter Vaughn: And I just WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!

~Vaughn dives into the older man, with both of them collapsing backwards as the bullets continue to fly. We see a speedy compact car on the other side, with a man leaning out of it, spraying lead with his semi-automatic. They peel away, leaving the scene, as we focus back on the shooting area… and the large splash of red now dripping down the side of the building.~

Peter Vaughn: ……

~The camera slowly pans downwards, showing the two men laying on the ground. Alerted to the shooting, Thomas comes running back, looking shocked. He races over to Vaughn, turning him over… and helping him up. Vaughn is shaking his head as he checks himself over, before looking at the nearby wall. He looks at his hands, covered in sticky soda.~

Peter Vaughn: Damn it. I really wanted to finish that Big Red. What a waste of soda.

~Thomas, still looking concerned, which seems like a more realistic emotion than we saw in the restaurant, leans over the hurting older man. He wasn’t shot, but having a wrestler, even someone like Vaughn, land on him isn’t pleasant. Sirens can be heard, approaching the area. We hear Vaughn’s voice-over one more time as he stares in that direction.~

Peter Vaughn: So now someone’s trying to kill me. Fun times. I need another drink.

~Vaughn waits as the police cars stop nearby, as we slowly cut away.~

Here in a few weeks, I’m facing my toughest challenge yet. Ever since Alias, or as his friends call him, ALIAS, returned from isolation after losing the Universal Title, he’s been practically unbeatable. He’s torn through some of the best wrestlers in the world, including Xavier Lux, Charlie Nickels, and Mark Flynn. If you look at the odds in Vegas right now, they aren’t looking so sweet for your hero.

Meanwhile, all I’ve done lately is defend my TPW International Championship and fight a guy named Tommy Wish. That last one? Not exactly awe-inspiring. So I asked for a ‘tune-up’ fight to get me in the right mindset for my battle with ALIAS. And what did Page do? He signed me up to fight one of the legends of the game, Centurion.

Cent went on a little rampage of his own a little while ago, venturing out to a bunch of different feds and fighting wars against anyone who would face him. It was, quite frankly, inspiring. I have to admit, some part of me probably saw him as a role model when I left OCW, as I haven’t settled on just one federation. I’ve gone out and fought in as many as will have me, and that trend will continue in the coming months. It’s the reason I’m a current Four-Time World Champion and one of the hottest names in wrestling right now.

I suppose I should thank Cent for his contribution to my career path. So, thanks, Cent.

With all the titles and huge victories I’ve had over the past three months, though, it’s in the XWF where I’ve felt the most disrespected. I came in and fought whoever they put me against, be it literal gorillas or drunk wrestlers with no balance left to them. I stormed to the front of the line and took down Jim Caedus at Fire & Ice, and somehow got no credit for becoming the Universal Champion. I beat up Barney and Wish, and no one cared.

But maybe this is a chance to change all that. Because Centurion, that’s a name that’s got some clout behind it. If the members of the XWF see me absolutely butchering such a well-known name, destroying him inside the squared circle that helped build his legendary status, maybe they’ll finally start to realize that I’m the man who can stop ALIAS.

If that means I have to make an example out of a guy who’s BEEN an example to me, so be it.

~The police are gone now. They didn’t seem too thrilled with the information given to them, as Vaughn apparently couldn’t identify anything about the vehicle that shot at him. Or at least, no information that he wanted to tell them. Thomas has once again left as well, after gouging one of the bullets out of the wall to keep as a souvenir. Now, it’s just Vaughn, sitting on the side of his Ford truck, thinking things over. He slowly reaches into his left pocket, pulling out a cell phone and pressing a specific quick call option.~

Voice: You’ve reached the Church of Enlightenment. How can we free your soul today?

Peter Vaughn: It’s me, Bill. Your caller ID should prove that, since I’m using your special phone.

~The man’s voice changes, sounding similar to the other custodians we’ve heard in previous Vaughn adventures. For now, though, we’ll just stick with his name being “Bill”.~

Bill: Mr. Vaughn, we trust in technology, but we do not trust ONLY in technology. I was waiting to hear your voice, and see if there was any duress.

[color=#87CEFA] Peter Vaughn: I don’t know about duress, but there’s probably a spike in my stress levels. I did just get shot at, after all.

Bill: What? Did you say you were shot?

Peter Vaughn: Shot AT, not shot. Although it was close. But close would have only counted if they had hand grenades, right? Not quite as funny now that I’m not a kid anymore, actually…

Bill: This is a serious matter, Mr. Vaughn.

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, no shit, Bill. I wouldn’t be using this phone otherwise.

Bill: What details do you have on the shooter?

Peter Vaughn: Male, Hispanic, gang member, I think. I saw a red scarf and he had a couple of distinctive tattoos. He was the passenger of a dark red Honda Civic, 2014, I believe. License plate RMH-249.

~There is the sound of typing on the other end, as Bill’s taking detailed notes of the encounter.~

Bill: Police involvement?

Peter Vaughn: Minimal. They didn’t seem too interested, honestly.

Bill: Okay, I’ll start a trace on this immediately and see what we can find. Are you in a safe spot right now?

Peter Vaughn: Ummm…

~Vaughn looks around at where he’s sitting, in a very similar neighborhood to the one that was just shot up.~

Peter Vaughn: Let’s say… sure.

Bill: Stay alert.

Peter Vaughn: I always do… so just to satisfy my curiosity, Bill… you guys had nothing to do with this, right?

~There is silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments.~

Bill: Are you asking if the Coalition just tried to assassinate you, Mr. Vaughn?

Peter Vaughn: Maybe…

Bill: … Do you think you’ve done something that warrants assassination?

Peter Vaughn: … Not that I know of.

Bill: Well, then, let’s assume it’s not us. I’ll get back to you. Keep the phone close as always.

Peter Vaughn: Sure, sure…

~The connection ends. Vaughn shakes his head, looking at the phone, before slipping it back into his pocket. He then pulls a SECOND phone out of his other pocket, dialing in another number.~

Voice: Jose’s House of Pork, you call it, we slice it!

Peter Vaughn: Salvaje? It’s Peter Vaughn.

Salvaje: Oh, hey, Peter. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.

Peter Vaughn: Well, I thought I’d report in and let you know that someone tried a drive-by on me a few minutes ago.

Salvaje: Seriously? Someone tried to whack you? Who?

Peter Vaughn: Well, I was going to ask you if the Maintenance Mafia had anything to do with it…

~Similar to the earlier call, there’s a spot of quiet before the conversation continues.~

Salvaje: You know we wouldn’t do that to you, Peter. You’re important to us.

Peter Vaughn: You mean my connections to the Coalition are important. But from what you’ve told me, my identity’s been kept secret from the other members of the Mafia, right? So it could have been an attempt at revenge for ol’ Bernardo.

Salvaje: I suppose that’s a possibility, although they’d be working without authorization. I’ll look into it and get back to you. Keep your head down, pendajo, we still need you.

Peter Vaughn: Thanks for your concern.

~The phone clicks, and Vaughn puts it away. He sighs to himself, looking around.~

Peter Vaughn: All those spy movies made this look so much simpler.

~Vaughn goes to get in his truck, as we cut away.~

I remember what it was like to be completely one-sided. It isn’t a pleasant memory. So I’ll take the role I’m currently in.

As for Centurion, well, everyone knows what your role currently is as well. One last hurrah around the wrestling circuit, doing as much as you can to cement your position of a potential Mount Rushmore of Wrestling recipient. This is about the time, I’m sure, most of your opponents focus on your age and how you “must be getting weaker with time.”

I don’t believe it.

I’ve seen you in action in various feds, and it’s hard to say you’ve really lost that much of a step. You still are a dangerous force inside that squared circle, a force that I’m extremely looking forward to meeting. I won’t talk down about your dwindling skills or less powerful punches, because I know the heart of the warrior is still there, waiting to strike.

I’m not kidding when I say I’ve based my recent career choices off of yours. And look how they’ve paid off: three World Titles. The Roth Invitational Trophy. Making it to the Final 6 of The Last of Us 2. Millions of dollars in earnings. And I’m just getting started with all the places I can go, all the people I can bloody. It’s a thrill and a half, let me tell you.

… But it’s not enough. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll ever be enough.

There are still those that look at me and see the simple Janitor, a man who shouldn’t be in competition with the greatest of the greats. I hope you’re not one of them, Cent, because that would just be depressing… and dangerous.

I need more victories over the top names in the industry. I’ve got several of them under my belt now. Supreme Machine. Jim Caedus. Barney Green. Dickie Watson. El Diablo Blanco. “The War Queen” Leah. It’s starting to become an impressive list, and it will soon have Amber Bane-Ryan and Matthew Knox added to it.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was drooling at the opportunity to add Centurion to the list.

I have this dream of having a picture wall in my trophy room, specially built into my new ranch house. These pictures will all be autographed by the individuals pictured, taken over their broken bodies as they fell to my skills in the ring. It’s going to be an impressive sight, covering all over with the pictures of the greatest to ever get pinned or submitted by me.

You wouldn’t mind signing yours afterwards, would you, Cent? Once you regain consciousness?

I’ll give you one of my stock photos in return. It’ll be worth a lot soon enough.

I promise.

~The truck slowly pulls up, its headlights going out as it parks on the quiet street. Inside, we see Peter Vaughn pulling out a set of binoculars. Apparently they can see in the dark, as we briefly see what he sees, focusing on the car parked down the street. It’s the same car used in the drive-by earlier tonight, if judging by the license plate. Vaughn shakes his head, sitting back.~

Peter Vaughn: Pretty ballsy of them, leaving the vehicle out in the open like that after using it to commit a crime. Almost feels like they’re setting a trap. Well… I like traps.

~Vaughn checks his phone again, with the messages written on it from Bill. It talks about where the car could be located, and what Bill knew about the owner. He again assured Vaughn that the Coalition was not behind the shooting, but Vaughn wasn’t convinced yet. This all felt too easy. Suddenly, there’s a commotion nearby, catching Vaughn’s attention. He turns to look, seeing a man staggering out of a nearby doorway. He laughs at something said to him, then starts making his way over to the parked car. It’s the same man we saw shooting earlier.~

Peter Vaughn: Well, damn… far be it from me to waste their time, right?

~Vaughn slips out of his truck, making his way in the man’s direction. We switch to the man’s perspective, as he fumbles his keys, then manages to get them into the door. He unlocks it and swings it open, giving him access to the seat inside. Before the man sits, though, he feels the car shake as someone bumps into it, hard, from the side. He looks down, seeing the new dent in the side, foot-shaped.~

Man: Huh? You mother-fucking son of a whore…

~The man turns, sloppily reaching for a gun he’s got underneath his jacket. He freezes, though, when he sees Peter Vaughn smiling at him.~

Man: Wha… you???

Peter Vaughn: Yep. Me.

~Vaughn kicks the man low, causing him to double over. He then starts to slam the car door against him repeatedly!~

Peter Vaughn: Me, me, me.

~The man slumps over, knocked unconscious. Vaughn shoves him into the car, then looks around.~

Peter Vaughn: Me too. *sigh* A great Matrix reference, wasted.

~Vaughn slides into the car with the unconscious man, using his keys to start up the engine. They pull away, disappearing into the night.~

I’ve always been good at thinking fast on my feet. I consider it one of my specialities.

Others tend to only lean on their wrestling talents, counting on them to take them all the way. But you and I both know, Cent, that you can be the greatest wrestler to ever set foot on this Earth and still be a complete loser if you don’t know how to react to surprises. Improvisation is a huge factor in what makes the great ones great.

Okay, so ALIAS is more bullet-proof and invulnerable than most, but I’m talking about us normal human beings, Cent. You and me.

We’ve both found ourselves in losing situations where all hope seems lost, and then we found a way to come out victorious. We’ve both seen the road going downhill, only to find that hidden path to the side that leads to the championship.

I think the deciding factor between us? It’s going to be who has the quickest reaction time to whatever’s going on. And as humble as I try to be, I know in my heart that I’m damn fast when it comes to deciding what course of action to take. I’m speedy everywhere but the bedroom, boyo.

Because, I mean, the bedroom can be dangerous if you’re running through it. Sometimes you’ve got to take your time.

But that’s going off on a tangent. Back to what matters: my brilliant, deductive mind that will find a way to win our contest of wills.

I want this one to be a great victory for me, Cent. I will wholeheartedly promise that I will not have my tranquilizer gun with me, and Chris Page won’t be getting involved. He’s more like moral support, cheering me on as I get this monumental victory in my collection.

I plan to beat you one-on-one, Cent, cleanly, in the ring.

Now, that being said, if the ref should ‘happen’ to look the other way, I can’t guarantee that the temptation won’t get the best of me. After all, when it all comes down to it, all that really matters is the mark in the win column.

But I do promise that I will do everything to stay within the legal authority of the referee at all times as I annihilate a Centurion and crown myself on top once again.

~We find ourselves in a dark basement. Well, I mean, not everyone. Most of you are sitting in your bedrooms, living rooms, maybe watching this on your phone somewhere when you should REALLY BE PAYING ATTENTION TO THE ROAD!! *ahem* But as for our protagonist and his prey, they’re in a dark basement setting. A spotlight comes on from above, focusing in on the unconscious gang member. He wakes up when a splash of water, or some other liquid, hits him in the face.~

Man: Wha wha wha?!?!

Peter Vaughn: Very articulate. Mind giving me a name, friend, or am I just calling you Wha?

~The man looks around, quickly sizing up his situation… and not liking it. He’s strapped to the chair with his arms behind him, gulping as he stares at the calm-faced Vaughn.~

Man: Look, this is fucked up, man!

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, it pretty much is. So… name?

~Vaughn starts twirling a screwdriver in one hand. The man follows it, probably imagining all the things that someone like Vaughn could do to him with that simple tool.~

Man: It’s John. John!

Peter Vaughn: … John? Seriously?

John(?): Yes! I swear! It’s John!

Peter Vaughn: Huh…

John(?): What? What is it?

Peter Vaughn: Sorry, I shouldn’t be like that. It’s racist to think certain cultures have only certain names. I apologize, John. It’s insensitive of me.

John: So… you let me go, then?

~Vaughn laughs, then tosses the screwdriver up in the air. John’s eyes follow it as Vaughn snatches it in one fluid motion and brings it down… right next to his head. John leans back as far as he can, as Vaughn keeps the screwdriver right there.~

John: No! Don’t!

Peter Vaughn: So, John… you tried to shoot me earlier today.

John: Wha? No, no, I…

Peter Vaughn: Please don’t lie to me, John. I hate liars. Now, tell me, who are you working for?

John: … Huh?

Peter Vaughn: Who… are… you… working for? The Mafia? The Coalition? The Rebellion? I’ve heard rumors about them…

John: I’m not working for anyone, cabron! Other than the Sharks!

~Vaughn fumbles the screwdriver for a moment before steadying it again.~

Peter Vaughn: The… the Sharks?

John: Yes, the Sharks! Landsharks, really, but we shortened it to the Sharks.

~For a few seconds, Vaughn just studies John’s face, looking for any hint of laughter. There is none, only fear.~

Peter Vaughn: You’re shitting me.

John: No, I’m telling you the truth! I swear!

Peter Vaughn: So… the Sharks… the Landsharks… decided to put a hit on me?

John: No, man, it had nothing to do with you!

Peter Vaughn: Really? Because those bullets came awfully damn close!

~Vaughn brings the screwdriver closer, with the man likely wetting himself. It’s hard to tell from this angle and, really, who wants to look for that anyway?~

John: It wasn’t you! It was Eduardo! EDUARDO!!

~The screwdriver end floats dangerously close to John’s left eye… before Vaughn pulls it back, pondering what the man just said.~

Peter Vaughn: Wait… that older guy I tackled? Is he Eduardo?

John: YES! HIM!!

Peter Vaughn: Why… the HELL… would you want to kill that old dude? And why do it with a drive by?

John: He’s… he’s helping to fund his nephew’s gang, our rivals. The Street Possums!

Peter Vaughn: The… the…

~Vaughn can’t hold it in anymore. He starts to laugh. There’s little joy in the laughter, but what’s there is there.~

Peter Vaughn: The… the STREET POSSUMS!!!! HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!

~John nervously laughs along with Vaughn, trying to get on his good side. Vaughn shakes his head and steps to the side, putting down the screwdriver… and picking up a pair of cutting shears. John’s eyes bulge out as Vaughn comes towards him.~

John: Wait! WAIT!!! I’M SORRY!!! DON’T CUT IT OFF!!!

~Vaughn, still laughing, steps around the panicking John and cuts the hand straps holding them back there. John comes forward, massaging his wrists. Vaughn walks away, still chuckling to himself.~

Peter Vaughn: Honestly, man, you’ve given me something I haven’t had as of late: something to laugh at. I appreciate it. So get the hell out of here.

John: You… you mean it? You’re not gonna kill me?

Peter Vaughn: Huh? I was never going to kill you. Maybe torture you a little, but then, you don’t have any information I needed. This was all just a crazy misunderstanding, you know? Here I was thinking you were part of a secret underground power group!! Instead of… the landsharks… HAH!

~Vaughn keeps laughing as John slowly backs away. He glances at the screwdriver and the other tools sitting there, but it doesn’t seem worth the risk to grab any of them. Not with the crazed guy in front of him. Instead, John turns and pushes through the door, running up the stairs out of sight. Vaughn, meanwhile, presses a number on his phone, bringing it up.~

Peter Vaughn: He’s on his way.

Bill: Okay, the guys are ready for him. So what’s the verdict?

Peter Vaughn: False alarm, I guess. We need to find this Eduardo guy who was the real target and warn him, maybe. He’s probably still in the hospital. I did kind of throw him down.

Bill: I know who you’re talking about. We’ll take care of it. Go ahead and head home, get some rest.

~Vaughn hangs up and heads for the other side, where an elevator is waiting. He heads on up to the first floor. The sounds of some commotion can be heard to the right, but Vaughn doesn’t head that way. Instead, he walks out the front door, stopping for a moment on the steps of the building.~

Peter Vaughn: The Landsharks and the Possums. Classic. Wonder if they spell it with an “O” at the beginning? He he he… to think, I thought my life was in danger…

~Vaughn chuckles and walks away, planning to head back to his truck. The view changes, showing us a shot of Vaughn from a far distance… inside the crosshairs of a sniper rifle lens. The gun follows him as he moves in the potential shooter’s direction, without a care in the world. As Vaughn gets more lined up in the sights, the picture slowly… fades… out…~

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