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Peter Vaughn · (08-16-2022)

The Road So Far:

A Secret War Is Brewing, P1

A Secret War Is Brewing, P2

A Secret War Is Brewing, P3

Civil (Servants) War, P1

Civil (Servants) War, P2

It's been a few extremely grueling hours for Peter Vaughn.

Earlier in the day, Vaughn found his Custodial Coalition headquarters under assault, seemingly by a variety of other underground societies in the Civil Service line of work. Strangely, though, each group has been small, showing that there might still be a lack of trust between the organizations. The union, though, has made strong headway in the headquarters, as Vaughn has had to fight through wave after wave to get closer to the Security room on Level C.

From police to firemen, groundskeepers to teachers, Vaughn has stood up against every battle, refusing to back down due to his recent decision never to abandon a fight again. While his head assistant, Bill, has directed him, Vaughn has made his way towards trying to regain control of the building once and for all. But there's still the possibility of a saboteur in their midst, someone who made all of this possible. Will Vaughn find what he's looking for at the end of the journey?

Will he MAKE it to the end? Let's find out.

~The picture slowly comes up with the sound of a body hitting the ground. It's an unmistakable sound for anyone who's been in the business. The first thing we see is a pair of feet, laying on the ground, their heels sticking up in the air. A shoe steps between them, a sneaker that's seen much better days. It's got red splashes and multiple tears in it, like it had been through a cuisinart... or been struck by a whip. The shoe stays there for a second, then slides forward, as if the wearer of the shoe is too tired or hurt to raise it completely off the ground. The foot still manages to get over the unconscious person, although not a lot of care is taken to avoid them entirely.~

Woman: *groans*

~The sound doesn't stop the man from continuing forward, to where a smashed desk seem to be located. It's unclear what the desk was meant to do, other than, y'know, be a desk, but it clearly was damaged by an impact to its surface. The camera begins to float upwards, giving us more of a view of the man's side as he gets close to the desk. A hand with bloody knuckles slowly lifts the cracked lid and reaches inside, feeling around for a second before pulling out what looks to be an apple. Somehow, the apple has survived mostly unscathed, although you know there's probably a new bruise or two under the surface. The hand raises the apple up to eye level, as we finally see Peter Vaughn's face. He's got a few new cuts and scrapes bleeding away, but he appears to be ignoring them for now. Instead, he takes a bite out of the apple, chewing away for a second. He sighs in contentment.~

Peter Vaughn: Ahhh. A Red Delicious. My favorite.

~Vaughn takes another bite, working to avoid the part of his lips that are broken from a strike he must have taken. He finishes the bite, studying what's left of the apple for a moment. Below him, another one of the teachers moans, possibly getting closer to consciousness. Vaughn shrugs, then tosses the apple downwards, thumping it right off the woman's skull. She stops moving from the strike, even though it really couldn't have done that much damage. Vaughn looks down at her, smirking as he finishes the last bite he had taken.~

Peter Vaughn: School's out.

~Vaughn walks away, pushing the remains of a blackboard out of the way. Since there's a third woman underneath the debris, it's clear what happened there. Vaughn leaves them all behind, though, hobbling back towards the doorway that the three women were protecting.~

Peter Vaughn: Level C, here we come...

~Vaughn pulls open the door... and finds a ladder. He looks up, but it's sealed at the top. It can only be descended to get to Level C and beyond. Vaughn rubs at his head, probably feeling every ache and dent he's received so far today.~

Peter Vaughn: You've gotta be freakin' kidding me...

~Vaughn releases a deep breath, taking a few more before reaching out and grabbing the first rung of the ladder.~

Peter Vaughn: Bill, when we talk again, we've really got to discuss the way this building is put together. There SERIOUSLY need to be some changes...

~Vaughn taps at the mic on his chest, which hasn't seemed to work since a whip strike went across. Vaughn can repair many things, but something like this would be outside his comfort zone. Still unable to talk to those assisting him, Vaughn starts on his way down, hopping down the rungs, as we watch him disappear from sight.~

If there's one thing that everyone should understand about me, it's that I'm a survivor.

I grew up as the boy most likely to have a target on his back from the various bullies throughout his school life. It's hard to avoid it when you're the son of a custodian whose mother had chosen to abandon your family. I took a lot of beatings to get through, eventually managing a high school diploma despite working on my off hours to bring money to the table.

Obviously, college was out of the question.

Eventually, my willingness to take any employment I could find led me accidentally to the wrestling world, where I found my true calling. But for years, it didn't feel that way. I still took a monumental level of bruises and cuts as veteran after veteran took out their rage on me for daring to compete against them. But I never quit. I never walked away.

I probably should have, to be honest. It would have saved me from getting tortured and brainwashed.

But all of that, as agonizing as it was, led me to this point today: being a four-time World Champion and the current XWF Supercontinental titleholder. I've resisted calling it a World Title, even if it IS the top belt on Warfare. It also is getting defended all around the world. But I'm fine with keeping it on the "second-tier" list, even as I continue to elevate the belt to new heights.

Heights that someone like Calypso could never reach.

Sure, he's been in the XWF longer than me, and he loves to point out how great that makes him. But look at that title history. I've done WAY more for my resume in a much shorter amount of time, while Cally has always managed to come up short. But that doesn't stop him from imagining himself as a far greater wrestler than me, or visualizing himself as some great champion that's bound for the XWF Hall of Legends.

That kind of thing? That takes accomplishments, boyo. You don't have them.

But you keep having fun, making up stories about me because of my family's background. I've heard them all before, from bullies who spoke much more menacingly than someone like you. You try to convince yourself that I'm just a simple janitor who 'slipped' past you last time, that you would have surely beaten me if a few more things had gone your way. I love that kind of thinking. I mean, you would think the fact that I kicked your ass in our last one-on-one match, with the ending never in doubt, you'd come into this one with a renewed respect of my skills.

Instead, you still doubt me. What a lovely impression to have, going into a title match where that arrogance will be your undoing.

You're right about one thing, Kelso. There will never be respect between us, because no matter what happens, you've never earned it. You have simply shown yourself to be another one of those despicable bastards that I need to simply break down and remove from the equation once and for all. One of the know-it-alls who, for some unexplainable reason, thinks they're better than me. Those that did that in school? They eventually regretted it. Just like you will.

I never forget my past, Cally, which I guess means that, in a way, I'll never forget you. But I never let the past interfere with my future, and it's bright as hell, while your path appears to be shrouded in darkness and despair.

I'm so looking forward to that look on your face...

~The shot comes back on Vaughn's assistant throughout his recent promotion to Head Custodian, Bill Sykes. He looks a little frantic, checking in with various members of the Custodial Coalition from the panic room he stationed in once everything began to fall apart.~

Bill: How is it coming, Luke? Are you making enough progress?

~We hear the response, as if listening through Bill's headset.~

Luke: It's slow, Bill. Memphis has had to stop a couple of times due to needing to do a... clean-up. It's apparently been very chaotic in there.

Bill: You need to keep Memphis moving, Luke. Every second could count.

Luke: There's a limit on what I can do, Bill. Have... have you heard anything else from the Head Custodian?

~Bill sighs, leaning forward and looking at the computer monitor in front of him. He begins toggling through camera shots from each hallway as he talks.~

Bill: There's been no word since Level B. He... he may have fallen.

Luke: Why did he have to go in there in the first place??

Bill: I've been asking myself that question a lot, Luke.

Luke: Well, look... we'll get there. But Memphis isn't a speedster.

Bill: Just do what you can. We need to get everything taken care of.

Luke: Just remember, I can't guarantee this will work. And I certainly can't guarantee Vaughn's safety. You'll let me know if you find out anything about him?

~Before Bill can answer, another camera image comes up. This one shows Vaughn hopping out of one of the emergency ladder shafts, wincing from the impact on his sore foot. He limps away from the view, crouching down to avoid detection by any other guards. Bill studies the footage for a moment before responding.~

Bill: You'll be the first one I tell if I find out anything about him, Luke.

~Bill switches the channel off, before leaning forward and watching as Vaughn makes progress down the hall of Level C. He takes in the man's condition, looking concerned, but not doing anything to relay his location to those who are searching for him. The camera zooms in on Vaughn's image on the monitor... ~

~... and we find ourselves now with Vaughn in real time. He is creeping forward, checking his pockets to do an inventory of what he's got left. There's a gun hanging on his belt and a couple of hidden items on his person, and he prepares them as he watches for anything that catches his eyes... or his ears.~

Guard: *Cough*

~Vaughn presses against the wall, knowing that he just heard someone around the corner. He slides up, able to see a guard's heel sticking out from the entry to the next room. The guard seems to be stationary, just waiting for something to happen. It may be possible for Vaughn to just sneak past him, or maybe he could go try another path to the Control Room... ~

[Image: coward.png]

~But Vaughn isn't going to do that. Not anymore. Besides, he'd hate to disappoint the guard who's been so patiently waiting for action. Vaughn reaches into a pocket and pulls out a Windex bottle that he snatched from the weapons testing range, studying the color. It looks like the usual blue, but you never know with these crazy chemists.~

Peter Vaughn: *whispering* Let's see what you do.

~He purposefully bumps the bottle against the wall, causing the guard to start, hearing the sound. He turns around, coming into full view, his uniform looking like something you'd see routinely walking around in front of a bank vault. As he opens his mouth to shout a warning, Vaughn fires the bottle's spray directly into his face. The man immediately screams out, grabbing at his eyes, then coughs some more as some of the liquid gets in his mouth. He stumbles forward, blinded, as Vaughn considers the bottle.~

Peter Vaughn: Huh. Just Windex. Well, I guess that does the job, either way, although I really was hoping for acid. Ah well.

~As the guard painfully reaches out to try and grab Vaughn, he twists through the arm, delivering the Keyholder!! The guard is out cold on the ground, as Vaughn gets back up. He hears the sound of running, though, and sees another two guards charging around the corner. With no other options, Vaughn rears back and throws the Windex bottle, sending it sailing across the hall and into the first guard's head!! Of course... it's a Windex bottle, so it mostly just bounces off without a ton of damage. The guard, stumbling back into the other man, shakes his head to clear it and angrily starts forward again, even as Vaughn aims his gun at the floor and fires it. Seeing no effect, the guards run at Vaughn... and instantly slip and crash hard onto their backs, knocked out from the effect of the Slick Shooter. It looked just like a scene from a Home Alone movie. Almost as funny, too. Vaughn holds up the gun, pointing it at both of them, but neither rise.~

Peter Vaughn: I still hate the name... but not bad... not bad...

~Vaughn moves off, carefully avoiding where the gun sprayed, lest he go down as well. He continues on his way, when a fourth guard comes running out, grabbing him by the arm and making him drop the Slick Shooter. Vaughn answers with a headbutt, sending the guard reeling, then grabs him by the head and runs up the wall, before spinning into a bulldog on the hard concrete floor. We have another guard that's not getting up anytime soon. Vaughn pulls himself up, groaning with the effort.~

Peter Vaughn: Hopefully that's the last of you guys. I've had about enough of this day. I was supposed to be relaxing, damn it.

~Vaughn moves on, favoring his leg, as he goes to the door marked "Control Room". He steps inside... and immediately freezes, seeing the men pointing machine guns in his direction. He hesitates, before raising his hands, having no other choice at the moment. Behind the men, a larger figure rises up and steps over his way, causing Vaughn to do a double-take.~

Peter Vaughn: What the hell?? You??

Bernardo: It's been a while, Peter Vaughn, you culicagado.

~Vaughn has no words, stunned at the appearance of the former (and apparently still) leader of the Maintenance Mafia. Bernardo smirks, pleased with the reaction, as we cut away.~

People always seem to be coming back from the dead these days.

I mean, that's how I feel about Calypso. Every time I thought he's been buried, he rises back up like an undead masked zombie with a flair for stupidity. And seriously, is there anything dumber than a flesh-eater wearing a mask? Having their face just dripping out the cracks, while they drool and stumble forward, barely able to see anything as they try to find something to eat? We'd probably call it the Blue Travesty.

Then again, that name works whether he's living or dead, so I'll have to think about something else.

I know Calp claims that he didn't kiss ass and massage the undercarriage of XWF staff in order to get another title opportunity after blowing it the first time... but that doesn't leave too many other options. I mean, so many others deserved their own crack at the Supercontinental Title. I could have brought Xavier Lux into Warfare for his dream match-up, or taken on Game Girl or Carnes once more to get some revenge. I could have set up a championship-vs-championship match with Latina Submission Machina or Mastermind. There were so many other, better options.

So if Caly wasn't smooching that butt to get pushed back ahead, I guess he had to have been doing something else.

I'm going to rule out bribery. Caly-broke wouldn't have been able to raise near the amount of funds needed to make a change to the booking sheets. I can just see them laughing at the pennies being offered them from his empty pockets. So if we rule that out along with ass-kissing, that brings us to only one final alternative: blackmail.

What do you have on them, Cal? You using your 'special' alter-ego skills to find the dirt on the guys on top? It must be something strong, if they didn't just beat the ever-living hell out of you when you brought it up to them. Who knew that that Blue Tango was actually evil all along? Well, actually, it's not that shocking. All the signs have been there. It explains a lot of Caly's motivations. In any case, I guess I should say "Bravo", because I didn't realize a buffoon like you had it in you to pull this off.

After the match, if you're still breathing, you'll have to show me what you have on them. I'm rightfully curious now.

It's too bad that my own life is a pretty open book. I'm sure you, as a hidden supervillain, would have loved to blackmail me into taking the fall this week. But I have nothing in my past that I really care if anyone knows. And clearly, you know nothing about me in that regard. Less than nothing, judging by the way you were making up more random bullshit than Trump on a hot mic. With that fat zero in information, I guess that means I have nothing holding me back from obliterating you at Warfare.

Then maybe I'll have a few words with the bookers, find out what I need to know, and make sure it never happens again.

The truth will come out, Sinisypo. The truth always comes out.

~We switch back to the panic room, where Bill is pacing back and forth, while talking to a member of his security team.~

Bill: How far back are you, Captain?

Captain: We've gotten through the blast doors on the main floor. It wasn't easy. We're now progressing our way downwards, with minimal opposition.

Bill: There have been others... clearing out the path for you, technically. The Head Custodian is still down there somewhere. He was last heard from on Level B. I'd appreciate it if you don't shoot him.

Captain: Affirmative. We'll keep an eye out for him.

Bill: Also, be advised that Memphis has been unleashed.

~There's a pause on the radio.~

Bill: Are you still there, Captain?

Captain: Who made that decision?

Bill: It's not for you to worry about, Captain. I'll deal with it afterwards.

Captain: I wish you would have told me earlier... we're going to move slower to make sure we don't catch up.

Bill: Fair enough. Bill out.

~Bill clicks the channel, switching over. His eyes stare at the monitor, where we now see a shot of Vaughn with his hands in the air, as the Maintenance Mafia begin to surround him.~

Bill: How much further, Luke?

Luke: We're moving down through Level C now.

~Bill nods and leans forward, switching the cameras back. We see the hallway of Level C, complete with several individuals still laying on the ground in various states of consciousness. Suddenly, the camera is blocked by a large shape, moving forward. We see one of the guards straighten up and try to start crawling away, terrified, but soon we can't see anything that's happening. Bill switches back to the control room feed.~

Bill: Lock it down, Luke. As fast as you can.

Luke: Roger.

~Bill considers Vaughn and the men inside the room, then reaches out and presses a switch. The screen begins to blink, showing a "Cameras Disabled" message. He turns and walks away, leaving the panic room to head for an emergency escape elevator. The camera focuses on the wall next to him, losing focus... ~

~When it comes back into focus, the camera moves to the side, showing us back in the Control Room. Vaughn is looking around at the two men moving around him, guns staying firmly pointed in his direction. He looks back at Bernardo, the man he betrayed as a double agent, temporarily taking down the Maintenance Mafia. (For more information on this, you can check out the "A Secret War Is Brewing" videos in The Road So Far section above. And you thought those previous videos were just there for show.) Bernardo looks in remarkably good condition considering what was supposed to have happened to him. After a few seconds of silence, Vaughn can't take it anymore.~

Peter Vaughn: Alright, I have to ask...

Bernardo: How I was freed from virtual reality captivity? How my brain was never fried like it was expected to be? How I infiltrated one of your most secure facilities?

Peter Vaughn: No, I have to ask... why are your guys carrying simple machine guns?

~Bernardo looks puzzled, as this was one of the last questions he could have expected. Vaughn, realizing his confusion, continues on.~

Peter Vaughn: If there's anything I've realized over the course of today, it's been that every secret group loves their little gadgets. Police and their rubber bullets, firemen and their flamethrowers, teachers and their whips & spy desks... but your Maintenance Mafia guys are just carrying Uzis? The first guys I encountered had nail guns and staple guns. So why are your guys so different?

~Bernardo finally nods in understanding.~

Bernardo: Ahhh, you see, Cabron, I know it's become a stereotype for all of us to have our own special weapons. But I've never seen the point of it. These guns here? They do the job, no? So why trick them up to look any different? We're not 007's, you know.

Peter Vaughn: Oh my gosh... Exactly! EXACTLY!! I've been wondering all day today what's with all the modified gear when all I needed was a pistol and some grenades! It'd be so much simpler!

Bernardo: Right? But you know, boys and their toys, they can't help themselves. They watched too many spy movies as chicos.

Peter Vaughn: I tell you, it's nice to talk to someone with a good view on that. I've been waiting to face someone with, like, a lipstick launcher or a candy corn explosive. The guns are really a breath of fresh air after all I've seen today.

Bernardo: I'm glad I've been able to make your final moments a little bit easier, Baboso.

~The guns rise up, with clicks heard as they're readied to fire. Vaughn, who had been gingerly lowering his hands towards his pockets, immediately raises them back up again. He shrugs, as it had been worth trying.~

Peter Vaughn: So... how ARE you free? I was pretty sure I'd never see you again.

Bernardo: Unlike you, pendejo, there were still people who were loyal to me. They freed me from that holding facility with minimal effort, even falsifying the records so that nobody knew I was missing. This allowed me to move underground and bring the Maintenance Mafia back to life without any of you being the least bit suspicious, as well as making some deals with mercenaries from various branches.

Peter Vaughn: You did a fine job keeping that secret, Bernardo. When I woke up this morning, I never expected to end up here. I was hoping more for finishing the day relaxing in the hot tub after preparing for my next fight.

Bernardo: You look like you could use a hot tub. Too bad it seems unlikely to happen.

Peter Vaughn: So... you haven't shot me yet, because....

Bernardo: Oh, I still need something from you, Pietro. I need your retinal and fingerprint scans to get me fully into the database here, so that I can become the NEW Head Custodian. You see, it's about time that the Custodial Coalition fell under the management of a group that knows what needs to be done. It's time to unify our organizations.

Peter Vaughn: And you think that forcing it to happen will cause the deal to be honored?

Bernardo: Trust me, I know that we'll have to still kill a lot of dissenters. But with control of this facility, there is little any of them will be able to do. So, time is wasting, cucaracha. Move over here.

~Bernardo gestures, but Vaughn doesn't move an inch. He shrugs.~

Peter Vaughn: Sorry, Bernardo, it's not going to work like that. You see, I don't particularly feel like giving you control of the Coalition. It's a pain in the ass, sure, but I'm not giving it up. And since you need me alive to trigger the sensors...

Bernardo: Who says I need you alive? I just need your body to still be, shall we say, warm...

~The guns seem to readjust, anticipating the next order. Vaughn realizes he's miscalculated.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh. Well. In that case...

~Vaughn quickly reaches into his pocket, grabbing for a grenade. The fingers begin to pull the triggers... and suddenly, the door to the Control Room explodes inwards!! It flies by, flattening one of the Mafia, as the rest turn to point at the door. Vaughn, momentarily thrown off-balance, shoves himself to the right, rolling, as a massive machine begins to pull itself through the destroyed doorway. The robot, showing some scratches and dents from earlier conflicts, still has a readable name across its front: MEMPHIS. It immediately begins to open fire, slashing lasers back and forth across the room, as screams and gunfire erupt simultaneously.~

Have you ever seen Robocop? I've having ED-209 flashbacks. This one didn't even give us twenty seconds to comply.

Still, you have to admire the craftsmanship of such a device. I've always admired machines that replace or enhance a human being. One of those, slightly less lethal, machines is the electrical scissors lift that we'll be using on Wednesday.

You could really hear the trembles of fear in Calypso's voice as he asked about how high the lift was going to go, and how quickly it would rise. No doubt, he was hoping and praying it would be your typical safety style, which takes far greater than 10 seconds to rise to extreme heights. I'm sorry to disappoint him. Okay, no, I'm not, I thoroughly enjoying cracking apart his weak prayers for protection.

The lift that we're going to be using at Warfare? Let's just say it's been modified by yours truly. It will move quite faster than a normal lift, and will certainly reach a considerable height when it's finally, fully extended. In other words, nothing like Cal has ever seen before.

The only limit to how high up the championship might be held? The arena itself. I'm sure there will be federal laws that don't allow us to put any fans in danger, so that could limit us from going all the way to the ceiling. But I feel pretty certain that it's going to be a long way up there, moving at a rapid pace. I know I'm playing right into Chickypso's fears that his vertigo will cause him to pass out on the way up. I'm actually not trying to do that, believe it or not.

I want Cal to spend as little time in the lift as possible. Actually, if he's underneath it, I'd be okay with that, too.

I'll do my best to make sure Calpy's fear of heights isn't affected too much. I'll be the one going all the way to the 'top floor', reclaiming my championship and wearing it with extreme pride, knowing that I finally dismantled the greatest annoyance I've ever known.

You see, I'm the one who's already rising to great heights. I'm the one on the fast track back to the top. Cal's lucky to be out of the basement, and I fully plan to send him right back underground, away from the acrophobia that would otherwise terrorize his nightmares for weeks to come.

I'm not a complete monster, after all.

~Bernardo's instincts serve him well in this moment, as he had already leapt out of the way, using one of his men as a makeshift shield. This guard, taken by surprise, quickly takes two laser blasts to the chest and goes flying, crashing to the ground, unmoving. Other Mafia members are now firing away at Memphis, trying to find a way to damage it, without success. They're just making themselves targets. Bernardo, further away, gets to his feet, cursing their luck. He turns... and Peter Vaughn is there, grinning at him.~

Peter Vaughn: Going somewhere? I don't think your plans have worked out quite the way you liked.

Bernardo: A minor setback. But I can still get what I came for.

~Bernardo readjusts the sleeve on his jacket, and suddenly a long wrench slides out into his hand. He hefts the piece of metal, knowing perfectly well how to use it. He turns to Vaughn, raising the weapon... and his swing is blocked by Vaughn's own wrench! The metal tools clang against each other, making a satisfying ringing sound. Bernardo, surprised, steps back as Vaughn readies himself.~

Peter Vaughn: What? You thought I didn't have one on me? I ALWAYS have a wrench on me...

Bernardo: So be it. Let's finish this, you Pelagatos!!

~Bernardo and Vaughn begin fighting it out, striking their wrenches together again and again, almost like a swordfight (or a lightsaber duel). As the two rivals battle it out, Memphis continues to fire, showering laser beams all around them. As Mafia bodies get flung into the air from explosions, they fly past Bernardo & Vaughn, neither of whom pay any attention. They're battling in a way only Mechanics would understand. Vaughn begins to get the upper hand, landing a few shots that begin to drive Bernardo backwards. He falls to his knees, reaching back and grabbing a cup of pens from the table. He throws them into Vaughn's face, causing him to have to swat them away, blinded for a second. Bernardo raises up, preparing to swing... and a laser beam hits the wrench, causing it to glow red hot!!~

Bernardo: ¡¡Mi maldita mano!!

~Bernardo drops the wrench, staggering away towards the wall as Vaughn gets back to his feet. Another blast comes close, causing Vaughn to duck down. He glances back at Bernardo, who has put his uninjured hand against a nearby wall. Shockingly, despite all protocols, the emergency elevator opens for him. He sneers at Vaughn.~

Bernardo: This isn't over! Que te la pique un pollo!!

Peter Vaughn: Wait!!

~But Bernardo's already inside the elevator, which closes, sending him to the surface. Vaughn curses, upset at him getting away. He goes and presses on the wall, wanting his own elevator, but nothing else appears. Sighing, Vaughn turns back and looks at the devastation. Memphis lowers downwards, seemingly in search mode.~

Peter Vaughn: That could have ended better... but I appreciate the assist, Robby. Who sent you, anyway?

~Hearing Vaughn's voice, Memphis suddenly starts raising back up. It targets him, with the rotating laser Gatling gun once again spinning. Vaughn stops in shock.~

Peter Vaughn: Oh, SHI-

~The lasers begin to fire.~

Well, I guess this is it. It's about over.

It's the final time I shoot on Calypso. *deep breath of satisfaction*

Cal, you and I have been through a lot over the past month, haven't we? You tried to force us to be a team. You failed. You tried to fight your way to me and win the Supercontinental Title. You failed. You put together a team so you could win War Games. I'll give you a partial success, because you couldn't do it for yourself, but you did choose NKWC, which turned out to be an incredibly lucky pick.

I'd say smart pick, but we all know you were drawing from a hat.

So after all those interactions at the last three major events, it's all coming to an end this Warfare. It really hasn't been that long, by anyone's count, and yet it really, REALLY feels like it's been endless. It's been an annoying nightmare I haven't been able to awaken from. I've had way too many interactions with the masked Smurf. I am greatly anticipating squashing him into blue goo once and for all and finally moving on with my life.

Calypso Smurf. A smurf that just dances. Papa Smurf would hate him more than he does Lazy Smurf. But I digress.

It's time to finish this completely, Cal. You've had your fun. I've had a few giggles bashing you in the face. But I'm going to greatly enjoy moving on from your unpredictable mood swings, your chaotic catchphrases, and your developmental delusions. The Supercontinental Championship is currently in the perfect hands of a man who's going to make the division the greatest in all of the XWF. Even Raion Kido will be looking over with respect once I'm done defending this belt for the next few years.

And while I'm doing that, Caly, you'll be sitting back at home, waiting for the call on another opportunity, wondering how your run completely fell apart after War Games. Really, I think the answer is rather obvious.

You will have taken the Plunge.

~It's a short time later when the troops finally breached Level C. The Captain of the guard led the way forward, keeping Luke nearby him in case he needed to quickly deactivate Memphis... if he can. They stop nearby the Control Room, readying themselves.~

Captain: We go in two by two. Have your guns ready, but do not raise them unless you find a need to fire. I repeat, DO NOT RAISE THEM!! I don't want to give this machine a reason to fire on you. It's been quiet for several minutes, but we can't guarantee Memphis is deactivated. Luke, you move in with me to the left. Be ready on your panel.

Luke: I, uh, I'm... ready...

~Luke doesn't sound too confident, but let's face it, he's just a programmer. Why should he be excited about running into harm's way? It's not like the Captain is ready for it either, but he knows he needs to follow through on his responsibilities... and not leave a killer robot roaming the halls of the headquarters. He raises one finger... two... and on three, the two men charge in. They move to the left, then stop, shocked. The other troops come in as well, sliding to the right... and freezing as well. The camera slowly rotates, showing Memphis pointing their direction, but not functional. Next to the robot, sitting at a burned chair he's pulled up, is Peter Vaughn. He nods to the troops, not getting up.~

Peter Vaughn: Nice to... see you gentlemen. What took you so long?

~In shock, the Captain sputters, having no good answer. Vaughn waves it away, not expecting one.~

Peter Vaughn: So... you there, with the control box. You design this Goliath?

Luke: Er... yes, sir. I mean, I was one of the designers, anyway...

Peter Vaughn: You guys... did a good job. It took me forever... to find the off switch.

~Vaughn starts to stand up, then slumps forward, his legs threatening to give out on him. Luke and the Captain quickly step in, helping him stay at least partially up.~

Captain: We need a stretcher here!

~The troops hasten to comply, as Vaughn breathes heavily, finally able to relax after an insane day of invasion As medics come in (yes, there are custodian medics) to check on Vaughn, Luke pulls out his radio, making a call. We switch to outside the building, where Bill is currently standing.~

Bill: So the Head Custodian is safe? Okay, that's great news. Thank you, Luke. Be sure to store Memphis away... carefully...

Luke: You got it, Bill.

Bill: I'll be back in soon enough. I just have to take care of a security issue. Bill out.

~Bill lowers the receiver, clipping it back on his belt. Behind him, a man walks up to him, studying the landscape.~

Bernardo: So a question for you: why did you name El Monstreuo Diablo such a strange name as Memphis? Is it an abbreviation?

Bill: The first parts that they received for him were all labeled "Made In Memphis". I guess the name stuck.

Bernardo: Ahhh. Well, that robot really screwed with my plans. We would have had Vaughn for sure if that Tinker Toy hadn't shown up. Who ordered that to happen, hmmm?

Bill: As far as I can tell, they made the decision on their own. The troops were anxious to get everyone cleaned out. I guess they didn't care if Vaughn was a casualty.

~Bill says this easily, without any tells, yet Bernardo still doesn't appear to believe him. He doesn't press, though, knowing his time there is limited.~

Bernardo: Well, we got the majority of what we were wanting, and only lost a few foot soldiers and mercenaries. I'd still call this an incredible success... amigo.

Bill: If you say so. A lot of people were hurt today.

Bernardo: True. And it's all thanks to you, Bill. Oh, I'm sure you don't see it that way. But then, you're the one who's playing a dangerous game...

~Bill seems to swallow, not looking at Bernardo, who's watching closely to see if any hints pop to the surface.~

Bernardo: ... And it's a game that can still end with you as the Head Custodian. I will see you around, Bill.

~Bernardo takes off, heading towards a waiting vehicle. He'll most likely be out of the country by the end of the day. Bill doesn't watch him go. In fact, he doesn't seem to be watching anything but the skyline, staring off into the distance. We slowly fade out.~

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Civil (Servants) War, P3
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