The Road So Far:

A Spirited Opportunity

A Spirited Journey, P1

A Spirited Journey, P2

A Spirited Journey, P3





Lately, Peter Vaughn has been put through the ringer. He lost his identity for a time to a virtual reality program, having to fight to reunite his mind and body. His mentor sacrificed himself to save Vaughn's life, which made Vaughn the new Head Custodian of the Custodial Coalition. He's fallen into the Down Below and battled sinister spirits while walking the Yellow Brick Road. Yes, you read that correctly. He's even had time in another organization to join his long-lost mother in working to bring down a devious underground criminal enterprise.

So, yeah, it's been a busy summer.

After all that, as well as successfully defending his XWF Supercontinental Title, it feels like Vaughn is due for a nice, quiet time in his life. But with the Cannabis Cup around the corner, it appears that things aren't going to slow down anytime soon...

---

NOW

~The only thought running through his mind at the moment is "Run". There is nothing else that he can do. No other option has presented itself.~

~The flames begin to creep around the corners of the room, as the explosions go off in slow motion, following a chain sequence, one after the other... ~

~He runs. Step after step. Pushing off the balls of his feet to get the strongest sprint of his life. But it's a race he's destined to lose. He knows this to be true. But he still refuses to accept it.~

~The explosions are beginning to join together into a wall of fire, erupting forward, seeking the easiest passage straight down the hallway. Any doors passed that haven't been blown up yet smash inwards off their hinges. The wall of flame... is gaining... ~

~He runs. What other option is there? The only thing he can see is the window up ahead, a standing frame placed at the end of the hallway in case anyone wanted a scenic view of New York. He calls upon whatever reserves he has left to run... faster... ~

~Paint blisters on the walls seconds before they cave in, unable to withstand the pressure of the explosions. The force shakes the building, even as it's channeled straight ahead. Another explosion comes from the floor level, shattering the ground that was just stood upon.~

~He turns. It's a spin that might remind you of the Tasmanian Devil from your youth, or, more accurately, like an Olympic hammer throw specialist going for the greatest distance. The bag he's carrying comes with him, and after the spin is complete, it's launched forward. If the window is reinforced, this will not work, and the odds of success drop from minimal to nonexistent. But it DOES succeed, as the glass shatters outwards, the edges glinting in the sun for a moment before starting their descent below.~

~The inferno moves as if it has a mind of its own. It is devouring the ground between them at a frantic pace, even in slow motion. There is almost no time left before the distance between the two will be zero.~

~He leaps, getting as much power behind his legs as possible. As the flames close in, he flies through the now-open window, unable to avoid all the shards of glass still sticking out from the frame. It is a sacrifice freely given, bloody scratches that leave some of him behind. He launches past the frame, heading out into open space.~

~The destruction is almost complete. As if not wanting its prey to get away, the flames jet out from the building, almost for a second appearing like a hand of God. The blast scorches the air itself, in a blast that's seen for miles around, bringing back painful memories to those who lived through traumatic times.~

~He falls, his back jacket now smoking from the blast, about to ignite. The blast seems to push him further forward, even as he begins to feel the pull of gravity. We see him from below, watching him begin to plummet downwards, with no tools to stop himself. It appears to be a long way down... for Peter Vaughn... as his life flashes before his eyes... ~

---

BEFORE

I was born in Allen, Texas, on December 2nd, 1991. Word has it I was an impatient guy even then, as I opted to wake my parents up late at night with the beginning pains of childbirth. My father was able to rush my mother to the hospital on icy roads, using a beat-up loaner from a friend that probably had no right to still be operational. He got us there in time, and I officially came into this world at 5:52am.



Yes, I did come out with a mop-full of hair, which was both a shock to my mother and a sign of the future to my father. From all reports, I was said to have been a happy child, even if I wasn't routinely spoiled by extravagant gifts from my parents. I felt blessed every night we had food on the table. My father tried his hardest, he truly did, but there was little he could do to better his current situation, and paying to feed one more mouth was certainly a strain. My mother contributed where she could, but she had to make some choices: be there for her son, or leave town for weeks on mysterious assignments. Ol' Mom never strived to be Mother of the Year, so very few of my first memories have her face in them.

I remember my dreams from back then. I would think about places I would go when I grew up, taking my father with me on trips around the world. I thought about many different adventures, but while others were seeking Carmen Sandiego, I was seeking my mother, never knowing when she would return. And then one day, she left and never came back. I believe there was a note to my father, and even possibly one left for me as well, but I never laid eyes on it. My father shredded everything, before taking the remains out to the recycling bin as a good custodian does.

And all I was left with were my dreams.

Those have been what have driven me in life to this moment. Some dreams I've achieved, through a great deal of blood, sweat, and even a few tears. Others have slipped away from me, staying painfully out of reach. And the most cursed dream I've had? Having the greatest match of my life with one James Raven.

I remember James from the GCWA, where he became the World Champion. I was still a curtain jerker at the time, but I knew, if I ever wanted to be great in the wrestling business, I needed to try and emulate someone like him. But copying him wasn't successful. So in OCW, I changed my course, and became my own man, working up the OCW World Heavyweight Championship. As I stood on top of the world, James Raven entered the picture as the new OCW General Manager, and he immediately set up the new #1 contender: himself. While some saw it as a conceited move from a former hero, I believed that it was my destiny to meet James Raven in battle and vanquish him, finally securing my place as one of the top wrestlers in the world today.

And then... the Purge took place.

OCW fell to pieces, at least for a time, and James Raven was one of those released from his position. I was devastated. I saw my opportunity fade from my grasp, along with so many other possibilities... and so, I jumped. I left OCW behind to enter the free agent waters. There were many factors behind the decision, but if I'm honest with myself, the #1 reason was still to find James Raven... and defeat him. But this proved harder than I would have ever thought possible.

I entered the XWF, but Raven had left that fed behind, leaving me on a different path.

I went to Fight for their special Blood Money event, but despite my best efforts, I was never able to track down Raven in the chaos. Neither of us saw the other that night.

I competed in Pro Wrestling Valor, my time overlapping with James Raven's entry into the Roth Tournament. But despite our proximity in the brackets, I couldn't get there, getting screwed over by Matthew Knox. I could only watch as Raven was defeated not by me, but by SEB.

It felt like the fates were aligned against us. It did not seem like Raven and I were meant to fight.

But then, "Chronic" Chris Page approached me about the Cannabis Cup. He told me that he would line up a special opponent for the event, since I could no longer defend the TPW International Title due to the fed closing. He must have remembered some utterances I made while drinking with him at The Velvet Rabbit. I've never been one who could truly hold his liquor, unfortunately.

So Page opted to make my dream come true. He signed Peter Vaughn vs. James Raven, for the first time ever. And suddenly, everything was right in the world.

I had thought so long about standing across the ring from Raven, about walking up to him and sizing him up face-to-face. I thought about the handshake between two great competitors, before the war was on, with each of us trying to take the other to the edge of death if that's what it took to secure victory. I focused so intently on the moment of my landing the Plunge on Raven for the victory, that I had to remind myself that it hadn't taken place yet. And now, thanks to Chris, I had my opportunity to dish out that punishment to Raven. I had my chance to obliterate my idol.

#HailRaven was my calling card for so long. But I knew, no, I KNOW, that if I can eliminate Raven at the Cannabis Cup, I can finally shed that statement and fully utilize my new one: #HailVaughn.

It has a beautiful ring to it.

---

THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE NOW

~The picture opens up on an aerial shot of the traffic on the FDR Drive. The camera lets a few cars pass by, then zooms in on what appears to be a stretch limo. Through a trick of the art of editing, it seems like the camera goes straight down through the limo's unopened skyroof, sliding to a step as it focuses on Peter Vaughn. He seems to be checking out every item he can from the minibar, while playing around with some of the switches to see what turns on and off. When the blender spins for a second, Vaughn smirks.~

Peter Vaughn: Seriously, who needs a blender for a short car ride? Just drink a beer or two and be happy...

~Vaughn sighs and sits back, taking it all in.~

Peter Vaughn: I will say, Chris really went all out to make this one feel special for me. I never expected a limousine like this to be waiting for me at the airport. But I suppose, as one of the top draws of the Cannabis Cup, I definitely deserve it. Man, never thought I'd see the day when I finally get to face James Raven. Part of me wonders if an asteroid will hit the Velvet Rabbit the night before... no, I better be careful what I say, it could still happen...

~The wrestler sits back, staring out the window of the limo, taking in the 'scenic' view of the East River. He scratches his chin, wondering about the decision to come this way, when the limo abruptly takes the next exit. As Vaughn watches with more and more curiosity, he can tell that they're pulling up to an unexpected location: the American Copper Building.~



~Vaughn stares upwards at the massive structure, speechless. He finally decides that the limo isn't going to be moving any further, as it's still sitting in the parking lot, so he knocks on the divider. After a moment, possibly because the driver is used to people using the intercom in these post-COVID days, the divider goes down and the driver looks back.~

Driver: Sir?

Peter Vaughn: Yeah, so... I appreciate you driving me out here, but according to my itinerary, I'm supposed to be at The Four Seasons to get ready for my match. So why are we here?

Driver: The Four Seasons? No, sir, I was instructed to bring you to the Copper. I just do what I'm told. Your envelope should be there in the pocket next to you with the information.

~Confused, Vaughn looks around, finally noticing the envelope addressed to him that's sticking out to the side. He grimaces, having been so busy experimenting with the limo that he missed it. He nods to the driver and opens it up, reading the printed document inside. There is also a set of keys, which Vaughn pockets. He shakes his head.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. I guess Chris had a change of heart. Or maybe he really wanted me to have an exclusive apartment to prepare in? I mean, I need all the advantages I can get with who my opponent is. You ever heard of James Raven?

Driver: Who hasn't heard of James Raven? The man is a legend.

Peter Vaughn: He is... or, I mean, he was... no, legends never die, so I guess he still is, even if he's not the same wrestler he used to be.

Driver: So hang on, you're fighting James Raven? Why'd they throw someone like you into that match?

~Vaughn's quiet for a moment, staring at the driver, who suddenly reads the room. His finger drifts over to the divider switch, in case he needs to put it up quickly.~

Driver: Of course, for you to be driving around in a limo, I suppose you're reaching his level, aren't you?

Peter Vaughn: ... One could say that... I AM a four-time World Champion, after all...

Driver: So, uh, if there's nothing else, my card's in the envelope whenever you need another ride while you're here. It's all paid for.

~Vaughn studies the driver a few moments more, then opts not to make a scene. He wouldn't want to damage something Page had paid insurance for. The door gets flung open, with Vaughn grabbing his single bag and stepping out. He slams the door shut, turning towards the giant building in front of him. He shifts the duffel bag onto his shoulder, watching as the limo quickly pulls away, heading for the main road.~

Peter Vaughn: I'll have to remind Chris to get better drivers next time. Guys who actually know the wrestlers. Strange that he never told me about the change of plans. I guess he wanted it to be a surprise?

~He sighs and steps forward, intent on making his way upwards per the instructions he found in the limo. The camera, meanwhile, zooms into Vaughn's duffel bag, focusing on the cell phone that he absentmindedly stuck in there earlier today after getting off the flight. It shows the screen, which is lit up with multiple messages.~



~It's clear more messages are coming in, but we cut away before we can see anything else.~

---

BEFORE

I sometimes wonder how different my life would have been if my mother had stayed in the picture.

Would she have raised me differently? Fought to keep me from becoming like my father? I guess we'll never know the answer to that question, unless parallel universes can be reached. Personally, I don't think I need to know. I like what I am now, so why would I want to see something that could have been different?

In this universe, I was raised by my father, who spent most of his time doing the handyman work for a stubborn jerk of a landlord. I found myself helping him out, first on small chores, and then much larger ones. While I continued in my studies, eventually graduating from high school, my main learning took place at a young age inside the apartment building I lived in.



I can hear the comments now, how I look like a pretty cute kid in my janitorial outfit. But when others are wearing their football jerseys or favorite bands to school, while you're spending time with this kind of look, well, you can imagine how I was bullied as a kid. The snobs, those with plenty of money who could afford whatever they wanted, loved looking down on guys like me. They'd try to get in their shots, both verbal and physical, whenever they got the chance. It wasn't a very fun life.

And yet, in some ways, this was the beginning of my training as a wrestler. I would learn to use my smarts, choosing different paths wherever I went, mapping out a course of action in case so-and-so showed up. I learned the best patterns to run in order to avoid confrontation. A lot of the speed and agility I use when running circles around my opponents goes back to the time I'd have to avoid Big Ricky's fist from connecting with my skull. I also gained physically in other areas, due to constantly mopping the floors and painting the side walls another awful color.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was definitely preparing myself for my future life.

I wonder what kind of privileged life James Raven had as he grew up?

You'd think as a fan boy, I'd know these things, but for some reason, I've never looked into Raven's history. If I'm being honest with myself, it's probably because I might find myself hating him if I found out he was one of those pretty snobs who was given everything in life. I hope that wasn't the case. But there are times when you feel it from him that he grew up in privileged circumstances.

He's certainly enjoying those privileges today. He's had plenty of title reigns, enough that the money gets thrown at him to make a special appearance, even if he's not expected to succeed while wrestling there. He's got Atara Themis with him, with her about to start the next generation of Raven's. The man is living the life, there's no doubt about it. That, more than anything, is why I'm glad to still have the option to face him between the ropes. It was starting to look like the only way I'd ever fight him would be to ambush him on his way to some special event, smashing him through the car's windshield and leaving him a blood-soaked mess as Atara screams his name.

Not that I would ever do that to him.

I don't think I would, at least.

Raven's always felt like he lives on a higher plane than the rest of us. That's probably why my attempts to emulate him never succeeded. The only way I could become a champion was by relying on my true self, releasing all of the emotion and becoming the force I am today. In the last year, I've learned that I don't need to be the next James Raven. I just needed to be Peter Vaughn, the once and future king of the wrestling world.

My name's started to get out there over the last year. Victories in so many federations have made it hard to ignore. For many who follow wrestling, Peter Vaughn is now a household name. But I'm not blind. It's clear that, even if they know me, they don't set me on the same level as someone like James. Why would they, really? Even after all my championships I've held over the last year, there's still plenty of debate about who I've actually defeated. Guys like Matt Knox and Supreme Machine claim my wins don't count. Fighters like Jim Caedus and Calypso had meltdowns before I could finish destroying them, giving them excuses. Even clean wins over foes like Centurion and Mac Bane barely stirred the waters.

But if I do what I have promised for so long... if I defeat a man the caliber of James Raven... we're talking less of a stir and more of a typhoon effect.

Raven is a Hall of Famer. He may have lost a few steps over the years, but he's still one of the most respected men in the business. And once I bloody his nose with the Keyholder... once I crack his spine with Revenged... and once I demolish his guts with the Plunge... I'll pull that respect away from him, building up my own.

It's going to be glorious, thinking of those bullies watching from their recliners, their guts sagging over their belts, as they see me victorious over James Raven and say to themselves, "If I had been nicer to Peter back in the day, maybe I could have been there to celebrate with him."

I hope they regret every moment of their misbegotten lives on that day.

---

TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE NOW

~The elevator arrives on the desired floor, with a muffled 'Ding" ringing down the hallway. As the doors open, we see Vaughn working to remove the set of keys, having used them to reach this floor. The elevator doors start to close again, with Vaughn blocking it with his foot. He manages to step out, bringing his bag with him, then watches as the doors quickly close again.~

Peter Vaughn: They don't give you much time to get out, do they? Guess they want the elevators available for everyone else in the building.

~Vaughn shrugs and continues on his way, checking the flap on the keyring for the correct apartment. He heads down the hall, looking at the numbers as they ascend. It sends him around a corner, where we see a picturesque window built into the end of the hall. Vaughn makes a note of it, wanting to check it out later, but he's reached the room he was looking for. He unlocks the door, stepping inside.~

Peter Vaughn: Paradise, here I... come....



~As the lights come on, Vaughn looks around, having expected a beautifully decorated suite. But there's nothing. No portraits on the walls. No furniture. Very little to speak off, really, other than what looks to be a smaller television screen hung on the wall. Vaughn moves and checks some of the other rooms, finding them just as empty as the first one. Walking back to the entrance area, Vaughn stops in the center, rubbing his head.~

Peter Vaughn: I don't get it. Is Chris playing some sort of joke on me? Prank the CCPE member? But why would he do that? This doesn't make any sense.

~Still confused, Vaughn walks over to his duffel bag, unzipping it and searching through it for his phone. He finally finds it, opening it up and immediately seeing the messages from Chris Page.~

Peter Vaughn: I never showed up? Why would the limo driver say that? Unless...

~Even more puzzled, Vaughn sends a message back, asking about the limo, before putting the phone back in his pocket so that he can receive messages from now on. He looks around the empty apartment once more, this time getting a bit more of a foreboding feeling from it.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah... until this is straightened out, something tells me I need to get the hell out of here...

~Vaughn heads back over to his bag, reaching for it... just he hears the television in the main room click on. There's the sound of someone clearing their throat. Vaughn slowly turns, looking back over his shoulder at the TV.~

Voice: Leaving so soon, Mr. Vaughn?

~It's a voice that Vaughn has heard before, but not for a long while. He focuses on the figure appearing on the screen, confirming to himself that it is who he thought it was.~

Peter Vaughn: ... Andrew Logan...

~The camera turns enough so that we, too, can see the former wrestler turned manipulator turned criminal, Andrew Logan, sitting in front of a large desk. He is leafing through the book in front of him, as if the whole conversation is beneath him. His voice, though, has a slight tinge of anger boiling up from underneath.~

Andrew Logan: You didn't think things were over between us, did you, Mr. Vaughn?

~Logan lets out a small laugh, as Vaughn, tensed, waits to find out what kind of mess he's gotten himself into this time.~

---

BEFORE

It was fate that decided that I would become a wrestler.

While I had watched some of the older wrestling programs growing up, at least the ones you could watch without a major cable subscription, I never considered stepping into the squared circle. It was not through any love of wrestling that I applied to the Global Championship Wrestling Association for a janitorial position. I was simply looking for work, so that I wouldn't starve while trying to pay for my father's early entry into a medical ward.

He spent his best years working to keep me alive, so it was really not that surprising when he had his collapse. He was never the same after that.

So I applied anywhere I could for a good position, something that paid more than a custodian in a small apartment building. Since the GCWA was just getting started, they were very interested in filling staff positions, and I was fortunate to get in there with a good salary. That's where I expected it to end. I never thought that The Accelerator would grab me from my work in a fit of rage, ordering me to compete in another wrestler's place that night.

It was a colossal beatdown. I never should have been out there with a professional.

I doubt I truly proved anything to Ace, but he still offered me a full-time wrestling contract after that night. I think it had more to do with his fears, once he calmed down, that I could sue the company for all it was worth if I wanted to. But at the time, I was the happy-go-lucky Janitor, so why would I ever think of suing? I just wanted a good job, and this paid triple what I was getting for janitorial services. It was basically a promotion.



Sure, I suffered lots of bruises, a few cracked ribs, and various other injuries over the next stretch of my career, but in my mind, I decided that the money was worth it. I was doing it all to keep my father comfortable, right? Nothing else mattered.

Over the years, though, I began to tire of being a human punching bag. I started seeking people who I thought might actually be able to train me to be something better. I ended up with Mike Zybala, one of the craziest bastards I've ever known. He had me fighting orangutans and testing my endurance by abandoning me in the wilderness on multiple occasions.

Looking back on it, it's remarkable that I survived.

I believed that it was all for the best, that it was making me a better man. But it didn't help me in the ring. I was still a loser.

That's when Jonathan Barrows, Ace's son, came into the picture.

Would things have been different if James Raven had been willing to become my mentor?

I have to think it would have been a huge change. Maybe I'd be in a different place today if Raven cared more about those who were underneath him. But I don't remember Raven and I sharing more than an occasional "Excuse Me" during his time in the GCWA. He has shown he rarely has time for anyone outside his small circle of friends.

I would call it selfish, but I understand it now. I don't like hanging out with those beneath me, either. I guess I AM resembling James Raven in that regard.

But it's hard not to consider a different place where Raven mentored me instead of Zybala, and I became a champion that much faster. I think I've proven that the basic materials were there. I just needed a guide. It's too bad that Raven had no interest in it. He was focused on trying to keep his own career continuing on its fiery run at the top to worry about any of the next generation.

When you think about it, Raven missed a major opportunity as well. I might have been able to teach him a few things during training, tricks that I created myself that work extremely well in the ring. There's a reason I have such a strong winning record this year, and it's not because I've faced easy competition. I wonder if Raven's seen any of those matches in preparing for me? Has he worked hard to prepare for such a talented wrestler like myself, or does he still see the skinny Janitor he left behind in the GCWA?

It wouldn't shock me if Raven is underestimating me. So many wrestlers have, to their detriment. You'd think, by now, people wouldn't be that stupid, but it just keeps happening. I've been preparing over the last year and a half to build myself into competition for Raven. I've studied almost every match he's ever been in, taking in his usual quirks and decisions while wrestling men my size and speed. I have a detailed knowledge of his favorite attacks and counters, and how he likes to end a match in the most flamboyant way possible.

If Raven walks into the Cannabis Cup just expecting me to be a push-over, well, it's going to be extremely disappointing... and it'll be an extremely fast contest.

---

TEN MINUTES BEFORE NOW

~Vaughn waits for Logan's next move, expecting him to reveal something on the television screen, but Logan seems more intent on finishing the chapter of the book he's reading.~



~Never being the most patient individual, Vaughn steps forward, his voice growling at the man who once tried to recruit him.~

Peter Vaughn: What's this about, Logan? Why'd you bring me here?

~Sighing at the interruption, Logan finally books his book to the side, turning to face Vaughn. He steeples his fingers, thinking for a moment before responding.~

Andrew Logan: Well, you could say I just brought you here to 'mess with you', but that's only a side benefit, I'm afraid. No, I wanted to have this conversation, Mr. Vaughn, to once again offer you the option of working with me.

~Vaughn's eyes narrow. It was not the expected response, clearly.~

Peter Vaughn: The Left Hand is dead...

~Logan lets out another laugh, this one with little humor in it.~

Andrew Logan: It may very well be. I haven't had much contact with anyone in that group for quite some time. It wouldn't surprise me, though, if they were still out there somewhere, waiting for the moment to come back...

Peter Vaughn: Never happen.

Andrew Logan: Never say never, Peter. Still, The Left Hand served its purpose. Once I got out of jail, I was able to use what I learned there to my benefit. I've built quite the successful little enterprise, if I do say so myself. I now have my fingers in many organizations now... but, I'm afraid I still have not been able to return to the wrestling business that used to be my home. But you, Mr. Vaughn... you're part of it. You're surrounded by it. You're the man I want to work with.

~Vaughn finally smirks, knowing what an absurd Idea this is. He turns and grabs his bag, preparing to leave without any other words.~

Andrew Logan: Let us not be too hasty, Mr. Vaughn. You haven't even heard my full offer yet.

Peter Vaughn: I don't need to, Logan. I've made something of myself in this business. I've built myself up to be the equal of men like James Raven! But you never could. You were a failure wherever you went. You became a JOKE! Why would I ever want to do anything with you? I never was Left Hand material... because I love hitting people with both fists at the same time. All you've done, Logan, is waste my time. I've got my actual hotel to get to, even if I have to hitch-hike to get there.

Andrew Logan: If you step out that door, you're making a very serious mistake, one you may very well never be able to come back from.

Peter Vaughn: I'll take my chances.

Andrew Logan: So be it.

~As Vaughn opens the door, heading out, Andrew Logan's image disappears from the television. Instead, a countdown timer appears. Vaughn, stopping just outside the door, looks back, hearing the start of the beeping. Logan's voice can still be heard, now echoing in the hallway. Perhaps it always was there.~

Andrew Logan: I had the feeling our conversation might go this way, Mr. Vaughn. So I arranged for you to be able to "take some time off". I wish you only the best of luck.

~As Logan begins to laugh menacingly, little lights appear above all of the doorways in the hallway. Vaughn peers at them, recognizing the sign of detonators being activated. He gasps and sprints away from the room, heading to the elevators. But all of them have gone to the first floor, far away from any access for Vaughn. This was most likely done on purpose, as well as to prevent any additional casualties in the elevator shafts. Vaughn turns around, looking for the emergency stairwell. He runs over to it, hitting the door, but it's been locked securely shut. It doesn't budge as Vaughn bangs his shoulder into it, again and again.~

Andrew Logan: Your time is running out, Mr. Vaughn. It looks like this time, you'll be the one taking the Plunge. Good bye.

~Frustrated, Vaughn spins around, looking for any way out. That's when his eyes land on the window at the end of the hall. It's a million-to-one chance, but it's better than no chance at all. He begins to sprint, bag in hand, as we're shown the timer again... ticking down to zero. That's when the explosions begin.~

---

BEFORE

Not many would consider torture to be the greatest turning point of one's life. But it worked for me.

When I survived Jonathan Barrows' manipulations, I came out a changed man. I didn't have the morals that held me down in the past. I didn't feel the emotional angst that once surrounded my life. I became Peter Vaughn, the wrestling machine.

Maybe that's a little conceited, calling myself a machine. But I still think it's accurate.

I went through OCW after that moment and tore my way up to the top. After becoming the OCW Craze Champion due to my placement at the first PPV, I went from there to challenging and defeating Outcast for the OCW World Title. The less said about what happened after that the better, but it did lead to my obsession with fighting James Raven. I went to the XWF, immediately making the most of what I was given by becoming the XWF Universal Champion, dismantling Jim Caedus. I stormed through the Roth Tournament to become the Pro Wrestling Valor World Champion. I dominated in Thunder Pro Wrestling, earning the TPW International Title. And suddenly, I was holding all of these championships at once. I was on top of the world.

Of course, that never lasts.

But the battles have continued. The titles are still there for the taking, like the XWF Supercontinental Title I am wearing at this very moment. I've made waves in other federations, like winning the Game Genie in Level Up Wrestling. And I have become one of the signature figures of one of the greatest agencies ever in the sport.



I have found pride in myself, having reached this point in my career where I believe I can be seen as one of the greatest in the world today. There's only one thing in my mind that can make everything even better:

The total domination of those who came before me. Those like James Raven.

I have put together a magnificent battle plan, if I do say so myself, for the match with Raven.

I have a Plan A, a Plan B, and a Plan C, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I've got a whole series of strategies on how to counter Raven's best moves and make them work against him. It's the same strategy I employed to get the victory over another 'Raven' in Matt Knox. But I'd say I'm showing James Raven a lot more respect in my preparations, because I know he's likely one of the most decorated wrestlers I'll ever face in my career.

I will never underestimate James Raven. Hopefully, I'm not overestimating him, and he's going to bring every single trick he's learned to the war. He is still a dangerous competitor in the ring, who's only lost a step or two so far. I'm glad, because that means that a victory over him still counts for something. It still means that it will be a Top Five moment of my career, once it's all said and done. I will not let this moment slip away from me. Not again. Not ever again.

After so many chances that have been taken away, I can't let this one get by me. There are only a limited number of matches left for Raven before he decides to hang up his boots and become a house husband. I have no doubt that he'll be a tremendous father. I will do my best not to inflict any permanent injuries that would hinder him. I don't want that. I want him to be able to raise his son or daughter up in the air and give them a spin around the room. I'm pulling for him to eventually have more children. Maybe not as many as Knox, but a few more. I want them to have a future where they talk about their father, one of the greatest wrestlers who ever came into the ring.

And I want those kids to also be reminded of the man who soundly defeated Raven, pinning his shoulders to the mat for the 1-2-3. I want them to have posters of Peter Vaughn in their rooms, as I take Raven's spot as the must-watch superstar of his time.

They'll be talking about me, James, and I hope that won't be something that you try to punish them for. Just let them have it. Let them have me, their future hero.

And I'll continue to praise you as the best wrestler I've ever beaten.

---

TEN MINUTES AFTER NOW

~The renowned New York Fire Department is already arriving on the scene. The damage to the Coppers appears to be surprisingly minimal, as the explosion was channeled directly through one floor of the apartment building. Taking no chances, the NYFD have suited up and are on their way up the stairs, prepared to put out whatever structural fires remain. We see the smashed window on the side of the building, which angles out to the East River. As the camera moves along the path that must have been taken, it zooms downwards from the building, aiming towards the river. We can see something floating down there, face-up, not moving. The camera gets closer and closer, showing us Peter Vaughn. We get a close-up of his face... as his eyes open.~

Peter Vaughn: Phaaugghh!!

~Vaughn comes to, which nearly causes him to sink into the muck of the East River. He manages to right himself, treading water, as he looks around, then up at where he fell from. He laughs to himself, knowing how improbable it is that he survived the fall.~

Peter Vaughn: Good one... Logan...

~He takes a few deep breaths, still trying to pull himself together after what must have been a frightening experience… at least for normal people.~

Peter Vaughn: Now... it looks like… it’s my move...

~Vaughn starts to backstroke his way towards the shore, moving slowly, as if sore from the likely rough landing he endured. The camera zooms up, showing his path towards the nearby coast, as the smoke is still billowing out from the building. We slowly fade out.~

CWF Paramount Champion
GCWA Hardcore Champion
Outsiders Champion (x3)
OCW Craze Champion
OCW World Champion
TPW International Champion (First-Ever) (x2)
PW Valor World Heavyweight Champion
XWF Universal Champion
Level Up Game Genie Winner
XWF Supercontinental Champion

WGWF West Coast Rumble Winner

WGWF World Heavyweight Champion

SCW (Sin City) Roulette Champion