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Jonathan Barrows · (03-27-2023)

~The picture slowly comes up, once again, on a digital clock. This time, though, the clock appears to be on a cell phone, showing that it's around 5:30 am. The time shifts off, as we suddenly see a picture pop into place, sent from a text message. A heavyset man is shown in the photo, smirking at the camera. He's dressed in police blues, holding a Krispy Kreme doughnut in his hand. The doughnut has a clean bite taken out of it. Behind the police officer, you can see one of the workers in the store, looking a little annoyed. Who knows if this doughnut was paid for. As the camera zooms out from the shot, we see the hand holding the phone.~

Voice: So this is him?

~The voice, spoken in person, is shown to be Peter Vaughn, as the camera continues to go wide. Vaughn's face shows a great deal of contempt and fury, as he stares at the photo before him. From the phone, we hear a voice come through.~

Bill Sykes: Yes, sir, Mr. Vaughn. This is a photo we've found of Joshua Bingham, the name you requested. We also included a bio with his personal & career information, as well as an itinerary of his usual movements.

~Vaughn scowls at the man, taking in the person who he recently learned had apparently assaulted his half-sister, Sammy, while they were dating. Vaughn's eyes focus on the badge, as he zooms in the phone to get the number there.~

Peter Vaughn: So he's a cop, huh? Why is that not surprising?

Bill Sykes: He's been a member of the department for the last four years, sir.

Peter Vaughn: And I suppose there's nothing about any reports that were filed involving my half-sister?

Bill Sykes: ... If there were any, we weren't able to find them, sir.

~Vaughn's anger seems to grow, as he appears to be close to shattering the phone screen, just to do damage to the man shown there. As if sensing his emotions through the call, Sykes hesitantly starts to speak again.~

Bill Sykes: Mr. Vaughn... I just want to let you know that I understand how you're feeling.

Peter Vaughn: That's impossible, Bill. I don't even know how I feel...

~Vaughn shakes his head, a mannerism that Sykes couldn't possibly see, and yet he seems to understand.~

Bill Sykes: Still, sir, I'd like to recommend that you don't need to do anything... rash. We have plenty of resources in the nearby area, who could... help resolve this issue. As this man IS a police officer, I would definitely recommend restraint...

~With a quick swipe of his finger, Vaughn hangs up the phone call. With Sykes' voice of reason silenced, there's nothing to stop Vaughn as he continues to glare at the photo of Joshua Bingham, making up his mind... ~

I've always found that a little rage can be a good thing. Too much rage, though, can consume you. Sometimes it's difficult to find a good balance.

Just look at my opponents. Sidney Grey has never been able to find that balance, which is why her family has deserted her. Well, it's one of the many, many reasons. Then you look at Noah Jackson, who tends to venture on the opposite side of things. Some rage might actually be a benefit for NoCunt, it might fire him up to make it through the rest of the tournament. Finally, we've got Neddie, who acts like the most balanced of the bunch. I tend to believe he's actually the most screwed up, but he hides it better than most. The dude's a fruit loop at times, unable to control himself when he needs to. Honestly, it's amazing that he hasn't blown his opportunity already in this tournament.

For me, I've always found a way to walk that fine line... most of the time.

I will admit, though, hearing No-Doze talk about how my jabs are childish is pretty damn funny, considering how OBSESSED the man is with one single word. He's legendary for it at this point. It's the reason that nobody ever really, truly takes him seriously. His speaking is just... terrible. Awful. The guy needs to attend a few of those "Promo Classes For Dummies" and take notes. But can you picture it? Noah Jackson actually taking NOTES?

Nope, it's a ridiculous concept. Jackie's just going to show up, fall asleep at the back of the class, and then act proud if they give him one of those participation diplomas.

He'd probably even frame it.

Look, Noel, I'll level with you: the reason I change up your names so much, using whatever words happen to come to mind? Because I LOVE the fact that it gets under the skin of my opponents. I mean, it's the dumbest thing to be concerned about when we have war coming our direction, when we're going to be beating the living shit out of each other.

And yet people like you? It still gets in there. It still festers, boils, and burns. "How can he do something so stupid?? It drives me crazy!!!" And man, it brings a smile to my face, Neo, it really does. If anything can control that rage, it's remembering the upset tears of a grown-up juvenile who's sobbing into his wet pillow at night... after, y'know, using the body pillow for other things, because it's the only other access he's got.

You'll help me get through the rage, No-No, and I'll appreciate it, especially when I wipe the mat with your face throughout our contest, proving that you don't belong in these finals. You deserve a lot of insults added into the injuries I'm going to be dishing out to you, Nolly. In fact, I might channel my fury a little differently this time, as it'd be fun to crush your larynx with a few well-placed shots, silencing the Cunt of the XWF once and for all.

And won't that be soothing? For me, at least.

~The camera comes up, showing a shot of a nearby police station in the distance. Officers are coming and going, starting to begin their day shifts while others end their time on the streets. The camera pans to the side, showing several early-morning pedestrians walking past what appears to be a dark alley. We travel towards the alley, moving into the darkness, where we see Peter Vaughn standing in wait. He appears to be holding an industrial-sized wrench in one hand, its metallic shine barely visible due to the shadows of the alley. He swings it back and forth, grinning to himself.~

Peter Vaughn: The perfect weapon. Sturdy, does the damage, and can still be used afterwards. It's perfect... perfect for Mr. Bingham...

~Vaughn readjusts, looking off to his side. Suddenly, we see Joshua Bingham standing there, in his police uniform, glaring at him.~

Joshua Bingham: Who the hell are you? What are you doing in here, just standing around?

Peter Vaughn: Why, waiting for you to take your daily trip for your doughnuts, of course, Bingham. Why else?

Joshua Bingham: What? I don't...

~Vaughn viciously swings the wrench, crashing the front edge of it into Bingham's side. It makes a tremendous crash, echoing throughout the alley, as Bingham... disappears like a blast of smoke. Behind him, we see the dumpster that Vaughn just smashed, leaving a large dent in the container. Vaughn shakes his hand with the wrench, seemingly enjoying the impact, even if Bingham wasn't there yet.~

Peter Vaughn: Only a matter of time, Bingham... a matter of time until you face your destiny...

Joshua Bingham: Put your hands up! Now!

~Vaughn spins around, seeing Bingham standing behind him, seemingly pointing his pistol at him. But Vaughn reacts instinctively, launching his wrench into the air. It goes through Bingham, who fades out again, before colliding with the side of the wall. Vaughn walks over, scooping the wrench up.~

Peter Vaughn: Yeah... yeah... this is going to be perfect...

Sammy Mitchell: Why?

~Startled, Vaughn looks over at where he now sees his half-sister, quietly standing near the edge of the alley. A second later, she disappears, only to reappear on his left. Vaughn rubs his eyes, confused.~

Sammy Mitchell: Why do you want this? Why do you NEED this?

Peter Vaughn: I... because... because he hurt you. He's an abuser.

Sammy Mitchell: But why does that matter to you? You don't care about stuff like that. You never have. So why... why do you want something that I don't want for you?

Peter Vaughn: You... you need vengeance...

Sammy Mitchell: No. I've moved on. I'm happy now. But you... you could go to jail for this. You could ruin your life... and you know I'd hate you if I found out. I'd hate you. Is that what you want?

~Sammy turns away, disappointed, before fading away. Vaughn reaches towards her, more confused than ever.~

Peter Vaughn: But... but I'd do it for you... wouldn't I?

Mr. Vaughn: Are you sure about that?

~This time, it's Vaughn's deceased father, making his appearance near the dumpster. He looks at his son with sad eyes.~

Peter Vaughn: Dad?

Mr. Vaughn: I didn't raise my son to be like this. When all those bullies abused you... you took it on the chin. You just survived. But now... you want revenge. You want revenge for all of it. It's why you're a wrestler, isn't it?

Peter Vaughn: I... I don't...

Mr. Vaughn: You have to decide what you want, and what your family wants, Peter. You have to determine the lines you'll cross... and if it's worth crossing them. My son... you know the truth... you know it.

~Mr. Vaughn reaches out, as if to grip his son's shoulder. But then, he disappears as well. Suddenly, the alley is quiet, as Vaughn slumps to a knee, with the wrench falling off to the side with a clank. Vaughn rubs at his head with both hands, struggling, trying to figure out what he wants, as the picture slowly fades away.~

It's all about the choices you make. That's why they say, isn't it?

For me, the choices I've made have earned me a Universal Title run, a Supercontinental Title run, and gotten me to the Final Four of the March Madness tournament. Suffice to say, I regret none of those choices. But you have to wonder how the rest of the field feels. Does Siddy regret any of her actions, that have ruined her personal life and made her the laughing stock of anyone watching? Does Neddy regret his involvement with the Trilogy/Trinity/Triumphalist, that short-termed union that led to the overgrowth of SAGA, enough to leave Nedward on the outside looking in?

Does Nome regret being born?

Yeah, probably not. He's too wiped out and incapacitated to be able to think about something like that. Never mind. He's probably the happiest "cunt" in existence, in that way.

You all have to live with your decisions that have brought you to this moment. Sid's family, Ned's relationships, Noah's brain, they've all taken extreme hits thanks to this business. Honestly, a medical evaluation might be in order for Noacunt, if the XWF truly cares about their employees. But then again, insanity seems to do well here in this company.

After all, like I've said, I made some major achievements here, and who's to say I'd ever be diagnosed as sane?

But I have so much less to lose than the rest of you. This is Noahhh's only chance at the big time. Neddd desperately needs this to prove that SAGA isn't wasting its time with him. Siddd needs to prove to her daughter that she's not a complete waste of wrestling talent bound into a psycho hosebeast's body.

For me? I beat Raion Kido.

And I will be able to show his name on the List of the Vanquished for the rest of my life, along with Calypso and Goth. If I win the tournament? It's another incredible accomplishment in an amazing career over the last few years. And I want it, no question. But I don't NEED it like these other tools do.

Maybe that'll work against me. Or maybe Noah's going to take bigger risks that backfire on his ass, allowing me to squash him like the bug he is. Maybe Sid looks at the crowd one too many times and gets blind-sided, and maybe Ned can't keep his attention on the true threat in front of him, because he's worried about what comes next.

And, y'know, it could happen. Peter Vaughn: the true King of the XWF.

Wouldn't it be a kick, if I chose to get a crown? You know the rest of the company wouldn't be able to handle it. They'd melt down once again... to the enjoyment of many, including myself.

Yeah. I think I'm going to choose to win, and choose to give each of these opponents a taste of the Plunge as they all fail to stop me from making it to the top.

It's up to them if they choose to quit the sport afterwards.

~The camera comes up, once again focused on the police station. We see the doors open, with a familiar figure to us now, Joshua Bingham, stepping out. He walks down the stairs, taking a moment to appreciate two women who just got released from custody, moving away in their scantily-clad outfits. He gives them a leer, showing his true colors, before walking away from them. He moves towards his usual location, feeling the craving for a large, creme-filled doughnut. As he walks past an alley, though, he suddenly stops, looking back.~

Joshua Bingham: That's strange...

~Bingham moves into the alley, pulling out a small flashlight to focus on what he's seen: a large wrench, left sitting in the middle of the alley. Bingham leans over it, his police instincts telling him not to pick it up, as fingerprints can be dangerous with something you don't recognize.~

Joshua Bingham: Huh. Maybe it fell off a truck? Somebody's going to be pissed when they reach into their toolkit. Hah!

~With a shrug, Bingham gets to his feet and continues out of the alley, leaving the wrench behind. He has no idea what could have originally happened to him. Instead, the man heads to his favorite location: the Krispy Kreme. He walks in, with the employees turning to look at him. Neither looks that pleased to see him. But sometimes lousy customers are part of the job.~

Cynthia: Hello, officer. Your usual?

Joshua Bingham: You know me so well, sweetheart!

~Bingham grins at the girl, who looks away, hiding her disgust. She moves off to the coffee area, having to make her way around the man currently working on mopping up the floor from a spill that took place a few minutes ago.~

Cynthia: Excuse me, Clarence. I just need to get to the coffee machine.

Clarence: Oh, no problem, mon chere, no problem.

~Clarence steps to the side, allowing her to quickly make a cup of coffee. She sets it to the side, nodding to him, before heading over to get the bag of Krispy Kreme doughnuts that Bingham always requests, but rarely pays for. As she turns her back, though, Clarence slips forward, quickly dropping something into the coffee cup, before turning away again, whistling as he mops. The girl comes back, capping the coffee before walking back to the counter.~

Cynthia: Here you go, officer.

Joshua Bingham: It's Josh, remember? Put it on my tab. Thanks, hon!

~Bingham takes a long sip of the coffee, smacking his lips afterwards. He then turns, heading out the door, as Cynthia just shakes her head. Clarence, meanwhile, pushes his bucket off to the side. He heads to the back door, stepping out for an apparent smoke. As he lights up, Clarence looks over to his right, where Peter Vaughn is leaning against the wall, holding his phone.~

Peter Vaughn: Any problems?

Clarence: Not at all, Mr. Vaughn. That Bingham boy is gonna have himself a bad time of it later on when that there medication hits, I guarantee it.

~Vaughn nods, seemingly glad to hear it. He looks back down at his phone, where we see a video conference in progress, showing Bill Sykes. The assistant from the Custodial Coalition looks rather relieved.~

Bill Sykes: I think this was the best path to take, Mr. Vaughn. I'm so glad you came to your senses. Your original plan, though bold, was possibly being too...

~With one swipe of his finger, Vaughn, once again, hangs up on Sykes. He puts away the phone, looking over at Clarence, who raises an eyebrow.~

Peter Vaughn: He talks too much.

~After a moment, Clarence starts laughing uproariously, loving it. He turns away, continuing his smoke break, since it's the only one he'll get today. Meanwhile, Vaughn walks to the edge around the building, looking out at where Joshua Bingham is still walking back to the police station. He isn't showing any ill effects... yet. Vaughn looks down at his hand, which has involuntarily clutched into a fist. He forces himself to release it, looking back at the departing police officer.~

Peter Vaughn: It's a start, I suppose.

~Vaughn turns away, walking in the opposite direction towards where his beloved truck is parked. For the moment, he's not seeing anyone else, if he ever saw them at all. You never can tell with Peter Vaughn. The screen fades to black.~

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