Rival Factions 2009

August 23rd 2009 - Extreme Tournament 2009 Finals:

The scene fades back to ringside, where the carnage has been cleared, and Melinda Brown and Spike Johnson are stood, to massive cheers. In the middle of the ring is a table, covered in a red cloth, and with the contract seen in Melinda Brown’s hands laying on it. The crowd cheer once more as Melinda holds a microphone up.

MB: As you all know, since Jesse Gunn left this organisation down and out as far as having a boss and having any money goes, we have been on the search for a new Chief Executive Officer. Last week I announced live on air, that before our Deathmatch main event, we would see Spike Johnson here, the man who is responsible for the entire tournament, crowned the new CEO.

A loud pop from the fans as Melinda smiles widely, and Spike raises a hand to the fans. A chant for him starts, however it soon dies down as Melinda calls for silence.

MB: Well now, that time has come. On the desk is a contract, and with one signature, it will allow Spike to become the head of the Experts… so, without further ado, over to you Spike!

He smiles widely, and takes both a pen and microphone from the desk, before bringing the microphone to his mouth.

SJ: Wow, this is really an honour for me… you know, I’ve built my career as a booker based on the excellent work I’ve seen in places like the VWF, the TFWF, SCW and G-2. For myself, and I guess on behalf of the Experts, it is an absolute privilege to be associated with these companies, and that they allow their wrestlers to compete in our events… but hey, you’re not here to see me get all blubbery are you?

Another big cheer from the fans as Spike laughs a little and clicks on the pen.

SJ: Let’s get this officially done, and then we can see that amazing main event!

The crowd begin to chant ‘main event’ as Spike leans over the table and flicks through the pages of the contract, briefly checking that they’re the same ones he reviewed earlier. He finally gets to the last page, the one he needs to sign to make himself CEO… and a look of horror draws over his face. He stares at the page, before looking up at Melinda with anger.

SJ: W..w..ha… is this some kind…of…joke?

He looks down at the contract, and Melinda does too, a look of concern and bewilderment taking hold.

MB: I..I…what…er

Both speechless, suddenly anger fully takes hold of Spike and he holds the contract up as he screams in her face.

SJ: IS THIS SOME KIND OF FUCKING SETUP?!

Briefly the camera catches sight of the contract as the fans are shocked and confused… the contract is already signed! Quickly the technical team get to re-playing that last bit of footage with the signature, and as the plasma screens cut into life with that footage in slow motion, a stunned silence hits the warehouse.

DRAEDEN DARKSKY!

“Astronomy” quickly hits the speakers, and the fans remain in their stunned silence as the curtain parts and Draeden Darksky steps out with a microphone in hand. He stands just at the entranceway and smirks to the crowd as he walks down the aisle and climbs into the ring. He and Johnson stare down, and Spike shouts at him as the music fades.

DD: Calm down, Spike. That’s no way to speak to your new CEO.

Massive heat from the crowd as Darksky takes the contract from Johnson’s hand and raises up the page with his signature for all to see.

DD: As you saw earlier, Melinda here left that contract out on the side. I'm no fool. I know an opportunity when I see one. I saw the contract just lying around and just had to take a look, and I read this very interesting section contained within, just near the end of the document...

He begins to read from the contract.

DD: ‘The following signature and printed name entitles the bearer to fulfil the role of Chief Executive Officer of the Experts.’ There’s no mention of Spike Johnson here anywhere. Why would I pass up the opportunity to get the ultimate revenge on the The Experts and become their boss?

The crowd boo loudly at Draeden, who ignores the abuse as Melinda and Spike back away from him, in full realisation that he’s played them, and played them well.

DD: You see, you’ll all remember that I, Draeden Darksky, was presumed dead a few months back. I had been a mainstay for this place; I’d competed in all events I could, I’d helped to keep one of your flagship stakeholders, the VWF, alive by being their poster boy. I'd made a fortune for both VWF and The Experts. I did everything that was asked of me - AND MORE - for you people, and yet when the newspapers printed the news that I’d died, did any of you care? No. Not one of you selfish bastards gave a damn.

The booing for Darksky becomes almost too much to be able to hear him over the top, however he perseveres.

DD: A little voice in the back of my head said, "you know what Draeden, why don’t we test these people?" I signed up to his very tournament; a move that, when some people saw my name in the brackets, they were confused. And yet, a matter of days before round one, when Spike Johnson found out I was supposedly dead, what did he do? Did he host some kind of memorial for me? Of course not! "Sorry for the mix up, here's a drunken Russian instead!" So there I am, standing outside this shabby excuse for an arena, thinking, "do I return to this? Or should I remain in the shadows?" But when I find out that this Russian guy’s too drunk to even wrestle, I make my decision, take action. DRAEDEN DARKSKY RETURNS!

His words are met with a chorus of boos from the crowd.

DD: And yet still, nobody cared...

His tone changes as he looks down, scowling; then at the fans, at Spike Johnson and Melinda Brown.

DD: Each and every one of you shrugged it off as if I was just another of the pathetic wretches that dragged their worthless carcasses through those curtains with the expectation that I’d never make it. The nearest it got to any interest was having that jumped up prick interviewer try and grab a few words from me. Was I going to waste my breath on him? No. But then I got eliminated. I'd make outlandish claims that this wasn't my fault, that I got screwed out of the tournament by elements out of my control. It was my fault that I allowed some outside interference to stand in my way, something I should have dealt with prior to the event.

He waves his free hand dismissively.

DD: Irrespective, no-one cared, no-one even mentioned it… so I began to forge my plans in the furnace of fury that burned inside of me. I had to make use of it before it consumed me, before I was burned to the core by my own hatred. I wanted my revenge and it had to be swift, brutal. At first I planned on ruining your main event; if you didn’t want to give me the respect I have earned tenfold in this organisation, then why should I show any to your big main event in return? Or anything else, for that matter?

He turns, and eyes the contract on the desk.

DD: But then, as if guided by the hands of destiny, that document fell into my path like a leaf in the road that the rest of the drooling, Neanderthal-like morons in this building would simply ignore, an incredible opportunity for change that would be missed. So why interfere with one match when I could cause untold amounts of chaos to any match I please? Why do something that might be remembered by a few diehard fans when I could do something that would leave the legacy of Draeden Darksky forever scarred upon the calloused skin of the history of professional wrestling? But then I thought: Why just ruin The Experts… when I could ruin each and every one of the companies associated with it?

Monster heat for Darksky as his face twists into a bitter smirk.

DD: As ever, I am underestimated. I'm a good thinker, Hayward, quick and cunning. I revised my plans of attack, re-thought my strategy. I’m in charge now, I have full command of the Experts and I’ve already amended a small rule to the contract; no longer can the board of directors overrule anything I say. My power is absolute; The Experts is under my total control... and I will bring it to its knees. I will crush this organisation in the palm of my hand and I will cast away the dust that remains to be carried away by the wind, gone forever! I'll send the VWF, HIW, TFWF, APW, PWR, SW, EW, SCW, G-2 and now SCCW along with it too! I will drag you so far down all that will remain is for you to beg for mercy as I lay waste to all that you have worked for...

He smirks sickly and surveys the audience as a few items get thrown at him, including food wrappers and drinks. Darksky turns to Spike Johnson.

DD: As for you, you’re out of here. I never want to see your face in my ring again… Spike Johnson, YOU’RE FIRED. But not just that, I’m going to sue you for every damn penny you’ve got; the damages of being so cruelly left to rot should be enough to get a few thousand dollars out of you. Your everlasting legacy will be that you paid for the downfall of The Experts, and for that Spike - I thank you.

Johnson screams at Darksky, and runs at him, looking to physically vent his anger, however the sly Draeden manages to lift him up and plants him through the table with a spine buster! The crowd go crazy with hatred for Draeden, throwing everything they have at him as “Astronomy” hits again, and he backs out of the ring and drops to the outside, exiting the main warehouse as Melinda tends to an out-cold Spike Johnson.

Draeden reaches the stage, and raises his hands in the air, however suddenly his music gets replaced with “Perfect Strangers”, and entrance theme familiar to fans of the Experts…

EV: No it can’t be…

JR: That’s…

BLACK DEATH! The crowd go nuts as the Experts legend emerges from the curtain with a grin on his face and looking better than ever! A look of horror spreads across Darksky’s face as he turns, and immediately Death slams a fist into his mouth, and Darksky responds with one of his own. An all-out brawl ensues; Darksky, Death, Darksky, Death, Darksky, Death. The rights keep coming as suddenly Black Death nails Darksky with a punch to the gut, and he locks in a side headlock before grabbing at Darksky’s legs and flipping him over, nailing the Black Death Driver (Reverse Fisherman’s Brainbuster) onto the concrete floor!

EV: YES!

JR: NO! He just nailed our new CEO with that vicious Black Death Driver!

EV: It looks like when the Experts needed a hero the most, Black Death’s returned to fulfil that role!

The crowd go wild as Death stands over Darksky, breathing heavily and raising his hands. The scene slowly fades out to a re-cap of Georgie Nickles and Hannibal Cage’s paths to the final as the crowd’s cheering slowly disappears from hearing range.

September 4th 2009

An office building in Hayward; not any particular building, nothing special about it to look at, simply offices. However, inside, on the top floor sat fifteen people around a large oak table. Their names were not important, but their roles are; they are the five members of the Experts' board of directors, and the owners of the ten companies associated with the group. Each one had received the same note - simply an address, a time, and a date. Each one sat around, nervously waiting to see why they had been called away to Hayward, each one in silence. All of a sudden a large door opened, and in stepped two men.

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, to uncle Draeden's bonanza!" A smirk developed over Draeden Darksky's face as he surveyed the 15. He felt an arm on his shoulder, and he turned as Level-One too smirked. "I suppose you're all wondering why exactly you've been asked here on such a fine Autumn afternoon eh? Oh I'm sure you are, and you'll find out soon enough, but first... let's make our acquaintances." He sauntered past the table, to the large chair at its head, with Level-One standing on the opposite side, watching every member of the committee.

"Now, you'll have all heard about the Extreme Tournament and what happened, right?" he asks, however each and every one of the men and women around the table remained silent, looking down at the wood beneath their arms. "Answer me..." Draeden said softly; still no reply. "Answer me..." he said once more, however nobody would. "ANSWER ME!" he screamed, sending shockwaves through everybody in the move - the heads nodded in unison, and a few mumbled 'Yes'.

"Good. Now, you will have also seen that each and every one of you now answers to me, Draeden Darksky, your Chief Executive Officer. When we began giving you money, you each signed a contract that granted us free use of your talent for our events; a binding contract. With that contract, you each gained a percentage stake in the Experts, hence the reason you each benefit from your dividends. Well... that's all about to change. Lester, the contracts!". Level-One smirked widely as he dipped into the bag over his shoulder, pulling out 15 sheets of paper, sending each one across the room to the dignitaries around the table. “Ladies and Gents, on those papers is a new contract, that when signed will legally entitle me to each and every one of your dividends and percentage share of the Experts. However, you’ll still be obliged to provide me with your wrestlers four times a year; starting this November. Now, you each have a pen I trust? Good. Get signing.”

He smirks, and sits back, crossing one leg over the other. The 15 men and women got to reading their contracts, and as one member of the board finished he looked up to Darksky. “And if we don’t sign” he asked, and Darksky suddenly looked as if his plan had failed. He leant forward with his hands over his face.

“Shit.” He muttered, and the board members’ expression turned into a triumphant one. He nodded his head, and pushed the contract to one side. Darksky removed his hands from his face and looked back up to the table. “Oh yeah, Lester, remind me what’s in t bag?”. Level-One smirked widely, and tipped the bag onto the table, where a pair of brass knuckles and a baseball bat fell out. Suddenly the faces of those around the table fell pale, and One began to slide the brass over his fingers.

”Now, anyone need to borrow a biro?”…

September 14th 2009

Georgie stared at the two titles over her hands. In her left was the shining gold TFWF European Championship, the belt she was set to defend against Jose Ramon and Hannah Rickman in just a matter of minutes; in her right was the True Expert Championship, the title she had won in a gruelling Deathmatch just a few weeks back. She sighed, and placed them both down on the bench before turning to her mirror, inspecting the wounds. All of a sudden the handle of her door began to twist, and she turned with a start. The door began to creak, and Georgie reached for her True Expert belt, holding it as a weapon as the door opened.

“Oh, it’s you.” She said as the man known as Black Death stepped into her locker room. Her defensive pose slackened as Black Death smiled widely, and looked from her to the belt.

“Looks like my lil’ Georgie’s all grown up!” he remarked, pointing to the belt he had held in the past. Georgie laughed a little and placed it to one side. “Sorry to intrude on y’all girl, but I need to talk. I guess you saw what went down at the finals? With Darksky and me?”

“Yeah…” she answered, an eyebrow questioning where Black Death was going with this.

”Well, word on the street is he’s managed to get all the board and company owners to hand over their shares of the Experts to him, and he’s got Level-One as his enforcer. Now I know I’ve been out for ages, and I know half the guys in the Experts nowadays have no idea who I am, but dammit I ain’t gonna let the group that made me what I am fall apart like this…” His voice was full of concern as he and Georgie sat down on a bench. Death picked up the True Expert belt and began to run his hands over it. “I’ve held this three times, I’ve beaten all comers for it; except Level-One. I know how he rolls, I know what a tough son of a bitch he can be, and while my fight’s with Darksky, I can’t take him and One on my own. I need someone to even up the numbers y’see?” He asked, and Georgie frowned in confusion.

“Where do I fit into all of this?” she questioned, and Death looked back down to the belt.

“November 29th, Rival Factions; your first defence of this lil’ baby. It’ll be against One, no doubt. He’s not working with Darksky for nothing, and I can tell you now it won’t be money. It’ll be gold. I can also tell you Darksky will throw everything he can at you to take that title… Now I’m not asking you to go to war with Darksky, that’s my fight, but what I am asking you is to have my back, and I’ll have yours. These two ain’t idiots, and with them in cahoots, we’re facing a bleak future. So… you with me gal?” He stared at Georgie as she bit her bottom lip. Suddenly the corners of her mouth began to curve up and she smiled at Black Death.

“Me, Georgie Nickles, pass up the chance to fight an unfair system? Of course I’m in!” she said, and Black Death too cracked a smile. The two shared a friendly hug, and Death mouthed the word ‘thanks’ as he headed out of the locker room, leaving Georgie to prepare for her title defense…

September 23rd 2009

Georgie looked across the empty street as she continued on her evening run. With her schedule already packed, and only getting more full as the weeks grew on, she needed all the conditioning and training she could find – the streets of Chicago provided a good enough track for her to work on cardiovascular. She’d done the run hundreds of times, always checking her time and setting aims. The quietness of the streets was surprising for a city so lively, but welcoming too.

As she turned a corner her iPod changed tracks – a louder and more drum-oriented song this time. Soon she found her feet pounded the pavement to the beat of the song, and she drifted away into its hypnotic rhythm. Suddenly she saw some headlights approaching; a strange occurrence this late at night. The car came towards her, the lights brightening and causing her to shield her eyes and stop her run. She heard the brakes screech and the sound of an opening door, and as she finally looked up an arm grabbed her, throwing her into the car before she could react.

She could barely make anything out as the door slammed shut and the engine revved. The car was dark, but she could hear voices and breathing. The hand over her mouth slowly retreated and instantly she began to scream, however her screams were soon muffled by the hand.

“Oh, Miss Nickles, good of you to join us. Relax - you play ball, and we’ll part ways without... incident,” a familiar voice said from the front seat. She figured ‘playing ball’ meant staying silent, and as the hand was removed once more she did just that. She turned to her right to see her kidnapper.

“You?!” she blurted out as the man removed his hood – Lester Only, better known by his ring-name of Level-One. She grimaced, realising she was now locked in a car with the number once contender to her True Expert title sitting next to her. She looked to the front seat as a man turned around – Draeden Darksky. She should have known.

“Just listen, bitch,” Lester said, and instinctively Georgie went to hit him; something Lester had pre-empted as he grabbed her hands. He nodded towards Draeden, who smiled calmly.

“I’ve heard on the, um, grapevine that a certain someone has agreed to join Black Death’s little rebellion, am I right? While you may have your friends in the locker room, Miss Nickles, I too have mine. You're familiar with that worm, Scorpio? Hmm, I paid him a fair sum to track yours and Death’s movements through that night. I underestimated his usefulness but it would appear that I had made a sound investment. So, your dear self and Black Death are working together. I'd re-consider your... situation... before you settle on such a decision, Miss Nickles. Do you seriously think you'll get very far in this Experts business working with an ignorant parasite like Black Death?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Georgie breathed in deep, thinking how to word her answer – while her heart told her to scream and shout all the insults she could, her head reminded her these men had become two of the most dangerous in the business, and they both wanted to see her out of their lives.

“We’re standing for what’s right. What you two are doing, taking money, trying to injure people, hoarding it all for yourself… that’s not right, and it’s not what the Experts was established for!” She said, getting a barked laugh from Draeden. He smirked as he calmed down, staring into her deep, black pupils.

“Look at me...” he urged her quietly, however Georgie kept her eyes focussed on her own feet. Draeden scowled a little and sighed. “Look at me Miss Nickles,” he said a little more forcibly, however Georgie remained defiant. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU!” he bellowed, and Lester grabbed at her jaw, forcing her to look at the Experts’ CEO. Georgie tried to fight it, but soon realised she was in an impossible situation. “Tell me, what are you really doing this for? For what the Experts stands for? Or to keep your shiny little belt?”

“For what it stands for… sure the belt’s nice, but it’s not my life like it is to this asshole next to me. The Experts was about giving young guys a shot, getting everyone together and improving their skills! That’s why we wrestlers bugged our employers to deal with them… and now you’ve gone and ruined it…”

”Ruined it? My dear Miss Nickles, I’ve saved it! Can you imagine The Experts in the hands of a man like Spike Johnson? A moronic, leather-clad biker? We would have been doomed; just look at what's happened already because of his idiocy! We'd not be in this situation were it not for Spike Johnson's inadequacy as Chief Executive Officer and trust me, Miss Nickles, things could be a lot worse. What you don't understand is that I gave a massive part of my career - my LIFE - for this organisation, and even when I was presumed dead they offered nothing in return for my efforts. Why should I allow this atrocity to go unanswered? There was an opportunity for revenge that fell at my feet and practically cried out for me to take it... so I did. The Experts. I took it, I saved it; and with it I took into my hands the facility to bring suffering to the ones responsible for my fury, to give them a little taste what I was going through. Nobody should have to learn how it feels to be a dead man, but it's too late for that now. And you want the Experts to be about pathetic newcomers like your friend AC Thunder? The Experts is not about them, and it never will be – it’s about people like Lester. People who are not only dedicated to a cause and open to suggestions for a different way of thinking; but also talented, determined, strong. Is that really so wrong?” he asked, his face began to relax after the anger subsided while Lester released his grip on Georgie. She slumped back into her seat as the car began to slow down. Georgie peered out of the window, at the building she called home. “Ah, we’ve reached the end of our journey; Miss Nickles, True Expert. It seems you have little concern for your own well-being, otherwise you'd have asked what I wanted from you. Perhaps you should re-evaluate your opinion on what constitutes as 'right'.”

Georgie went to speak, however Draeden placed a finger over his mouth. “Shh... no time to talk now. I suppose we’ll have to try something a bit more... close to home. Don't you think, Lester? Heh. We'll be seeing you, Miss Nickles.”

”I… no… what do you mean ‘a bit more close to home’?!” she asked, desperate to find out the CEO’s future plans, however he simply grinned and turned away from her. Lester opened the door and began to drag her out.

“You’ll find out soon enough. Until then, sleep well. Train. Relax. After all, I gather that Lester is somewhat determined to take that title you fought so hard for...” he said, and gestured to the door. Lester pulled Georgie from the car and Georgie turned to him.

“And what’s your game, huh?” she asked, and Only exhaled deeply.

“You’ve got something I want, plus… a bit more power over places like your TFWF can’t hurt can it? And hell, when all’s said and done, I’ll make sure you’re my special slave.” He said, a sly grin over his face – a grin that was wiped off as Georgie slapped him. He went to retaliate, but thought better of it as he slipped back into the car and it sped off. Georgie breathed out hard and closed her eyes as she looked to the floor. It was going to be a long couple of months to Rival Factions… and she had a phone call to make.

September 24th 2009

“Woah! Calm it Georgie, girl. Ok, go through slowly what happened… mmmhmm? Yeah? Ok… Jesus. Alright, I’ll get some of my guys to keep you company. Ok? Good. Keep it real Georgie, you hold in there.”

Black Death put the phone down and breathed out hard – Draeden and Lester had stepped it up a gear; they’d kidnapped and threatened Georgie, and he was sure that they had more planned. A part of him wished he had never got involved when he saw what Darksky was doing during that Tournament, but still, a part of him knew he had to get involved and had to do what he was doing. It was the right thing.

He pushed himself up from the sofa and walked to a nearby cabinet, taking out a glass ad pouring himself some whiskey. He slurped at the liquid, letting its cool yet heated taste slip down his throat and he spluttered a little, placing the glass back. He wasn’t the alcoholic type, but the situation called for him to steady himself.

He wasn’t nervous – he was Black Death, nerves didn’t come into it. But he was apprehensive; apprehensive of what Darksky had next…

And he didn’t need to wait long.

October 10th 2009

The sound of the letterbox opening, and the unmistakeable thud of something dropping onto the mat roused Georgie from watching back her last TFWF matches, searching for holes in her techniques. She pressed pause on the machine, and slowly lifted herself from the seat, heading into her hallway and finding a simple, solitary brown envelope sat underneath the door. She eyed it cautiously…

“What the?” she said to herself, as she stepped over the package and opened the door. Nobody was on the path to her house; hell, there was nobody even on the street. She sighed, and closed the door again, picking up the envelope and without a moment’s though otherwise, tearing it to pieces. Inside was a note, and sellotaped to it was a smaller envelope with a disc in it. She eyed the note; it said simply to play, it and enjoy it. Once more she sighed, and shook her head with bemusement before heading back to the lounge. Georgie swapped the DVD of her match, for the DVD she had been sent, hitting play. She sat back…

“Hello Georgie” a familiar voice said, and immediately the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The voice belonged to that of Lester Only, better known by his ring name of Level-One. The man, who along with Draeden Darksky, had taken to tormenting the True Expert over recent weeks. She sat forward, and a picture slowly came on the screen…

“Holy fuck!” Georgie blurted out, as the image of her beloved uncle Patrick; a man famed for his part in the Irish Union, a form of Irish Mafia in the states. Immediately Georgie got to her feet, staring at the picture as Only slithered in behind her uncle. The binds around his mouth keeping him silent, the binds around his body keeping him to the chair.

“Recognise him Georgie? Dear old uncle Paddy? The big, mean, Irish Union man, who’d always have his little niece’s back, be it with guns, money, or forced love. Oh Georgie, I know what it is to have a father-figure let me down, and now you will too. You thought this man would be your friend, your confident, your cheery, supportive old uncle Patrick didn’t you Georgie? Well, the thing is, as you’re about to find out… when I get involved, they all go back to… hah… level one!” he began, and rage started to build within the Rebel Child. “You see, Draeden and I picked up Paddy a few hours ago. He’s been very co-operative with our questions, and we know a great deal about the childhood of TFWF’s favourite Rebel. We know what made her tick as a girl, and now what will make her tick as a woman. And here’s the interesting thing; apparently as a child you were very affectionate towards your family, you hated to see them hurt. Well, we’ll see how that’s transcribed into adulthood, won’t we Georgie?” he said cruelly, before immediately swinging a hard right at the uncle. The old man stumbled in his seat, his cries muffled as in her lounge Georgie screamed out. She knew there was nothing she could do, it was pre-taped, but she still found herself wanting to phone in and stop the attack.

“How was that G-girl? Was that heart-wrenching enough for you? No? Ok then!” he says, a sick smile on his face as he once more swings a hard punch at Georgie’s uncle. “Now, that’s two. Can Georgie handle that much? Well just in case, here’s what we want… your title. No match, just give up your title, hand it in to Draeden, and you’re left well alone. Believe me Georgie, neither of us could care less about you, it’s the gold around your waist that matters… and you will give that up. Or what? Good question Rebel Child… or uncle Paddy here? Doesn’t ever get to taste Guiness again, without swallowing half of his teeth.” Another cruel grin on the face of Only, and once more he landed a punch to the cheek of his victim as the DVD ended.

Immediately a distraught Georgie fell back to her seat, staring straight ahead at the black screen. Her hands shaking, thoughts rushed through her head about her uncle and the situation she’d found herself in. Was the shiny gold belt and status really worth seeing her family members destroyed like her uncle had been? She was sure there would be backlash if she refused, and as she closed her eyes and sat back in her seat, the thoughts were interrupted – by a ringing phone. Warily she reached over to the handset, placing it to her ear.

“Whatever you do…” the man on the other end started, his familiar gruff voice heightening Georgie’s feelings. “Do not give that title in.” Black Death clearly had got the same video as Georgie, and as he spoke, the Rebel Child’s heart filled with hope. “I know you’re going through a rough patch, we both are, but giving in to them isn’t going to help. Ever. I need to go, got a few things of my own to sort. Stick with it girl.”

The line cut dead, and Georgie fell back on the sofa, staring up at her ceiling. It was going to be a tough few weeks…

SCCW Monday Night Aggression - 12th October 2009

[We return to ringside as the fans are chanting a few names and enjoying the show. All of a sudden "Misery Business" hits the speakers, and the crowd goes wild with cheers. Georgie Nickles steps out onto the stage, raising her True Expert Championship to the sky as the fans pop in response. Nickles makes her way down the ramp, smiling as she does, and she rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring. As she's handed a microphone by a stagehand the music dies down and she looks around the crowd.]

Georgie Nickles - Why hello there Simcoe County! Wow, man, it's been a while right? You know you guys have always had a place in my heart, and I felt while I've had the week off in TFWF it'd be wrong not to come and say hey to all you fantastic SCCW wrestlers and fans!

[A big cheer of appreciation from the fans as Georgie smiles and taps her True Expert title belt]

Georgie Nickles - But the thing is, while I was hanging out with the guys in the back, I noticed another non-SCCW wrestler was here. A man by the name of... Level-One

[A massive boo goes up from the fans for the name of the former True Expert. Georgie nods her head and smiles for the support.]

Georgie Nickles - Now, I'm not stupid... I know full well that One's here because I am. You guys may not have read this stuff, but this past few weeks he and Draeden Darksky, the Experts' CEO, have been making my life hell. I've been bundled into cars, been sent threatening messages, been generally hounded; all over this. [She raises the title belt] So if Level-One thinks he can interrupt MY enjoyment of seeing my pals here in Simcoe County, he's got another thing coming. One, get the hell out here!

[Nickles stares at the ramp as the fans cheer for her calling out of her aggressor. Suddenly the cheering is replaced by booing as "Put You Game On" hits the speakers and Level-One steps out with a microphone, staying on the stage. The ever-ready Georgie drops her title and microphone, and beckons One into the ring to settle it physically, however he shakes his head and smirks. The music cuts.]

Level-One - Oh, poor little Rebel Child don't like the big boys coming to play on her playground? Is that was this is Georgie? You've had free reign of SCCW, been able to spread your poison about me to the rest of them, and now they can see what a fine specimen I am for themselves, you're worried that they'll realise what a disgusting, vile little whore you are and they'll turn their backs on you!

[The fans boo, however Level-One simply flips the bird at them]

Level-One - I didn't come to speak to you people, I came to answer the spoilt bitch in the ring. Georgie, we've heard your crying, we've heard your whining and we've heard your complaining about what Draeden and I have been doing, but nobody else has picked issue with it. So, how about you do what we ask... in front of these so-called fans of yours. Hand that belt to me, place your tail between your legs, and get the hell out of my life!

[Georgie looks like she's been affected by Level-One's words, and she slowly climbs out of the ring - to massive heat from the fans. She stretches out her hand with the title in it as she approaches Level-One, looking as if she's going to relinquish the belt, however as One places his microphone down she snaps, dropping the belt and landing a forearm to Level-One's face! One drops back and a fired-up Nickles leaps on him, to massive applause, and she begins to lay forearms and elbows all over him. Suddenly a host of referees come running out of the entranceway, dragging Nickles free of Level-One. One scampers backwards up the ramp, just near the entranceway the General Manager, Justin Rose steps out onto the stage, receiving boos.]

Justin Rose - Woah, woah, woah. What the HELL is going on?! This is still SCCW right? So why are we playing host to these two foreigners having a little argument? Actually, y'know what... Georgie, you've wrestled for us in the past, Level-One, you seem to have gotten yourself acquainted, so I'm gonna go back and write you two temporary contracts. You want to use my show for your fights, you can make me some money. Next week, Georgie Nickles and Level-One team up here in SCCW!

[Huge cheers from the fans at the prospect of seeing these two wrestling in their ring, however the looks on Nickles and One's faces can only be described as disbelieving. Georgie shouts something at Rose, who raises his microphone.]

Justin Rose - Who're your facing? Good question, well... your two opponents will be two who have had a history of alignment. In fact, one of them you've battled countless times over the Experts, TFWF and even here in SCCW... the team of Kirsta Lewis and Galactix!

[Massive boos for the two members of the Sydicate as Rose goes backstage, and the referees release Georgie. Level-One climbs to his feet and the two staredown as Georgie taps her title belt. The scene fades.]

SCCW Monday Night Aggression - 19th October 2009

[G-Funk stands, as Georgie has began crawling for her corner, just as Galactix grabs at her, Georgie dives for the tag to Level One! The crowd on fire with boos however as Level One quickly pulls away his outstretched hand with a sly smile. Georgie glaring through her pain up at him as Galactix drags her to the center of the ring. He stomps at her as Kirsta and Level One both enter the ring, Level One staring down at the wreathing Georgie Nickels as Kirsta readies herself in the corner behind them. Galactix drags Georgie up and shoves her towards Kirsta where the Hellcat plants a vicious Hell’s Bitch kick square into Nickel’s face!]

Johnny Wilkins - Level One left her out to dry here! The referee doesn’t know what to do now! OH MY GALACTIC SPLASH!

[G-Funk followed the kick with his splash as he remains over Nickels for the cover. The crowd raining in the boos as the referee makes an almost reluctant pin count.]

One.

Two.

Three.

Winners : Galactix and Kirsta Lewis

[Galactix and Kirsta celebrate like they just won the Stanley Cup, Level One drops to his knees near Nickel’s head. Georgie is out of it, hardly mobile, L1 just staring down at her as we see Justin Rose heading towards the ring with a huge smile. He enters the ring with a microphone and after quickly congratulating Lewis and G-Funk. Justin pats Level One on his shoulder, breaking his stare down of the hurting Nickels. Level One jumps to a stand and wraps his hand into Justin’s as they shake. Rose then hoist Level One’s hand into the air as he screams into the microphone to make his voice boom over the extreme booing from the crowd.]

November 1st 2009

“I’m sorry, we’re clo-” before the man could finish, a single right-hand punch from Black Death sent him to the ground. Death looked around himself, the marble floor of the office suite Draeden had rented was a great contrast to the financial problems the Experts had found themselves in. He checked his note – room seven, third floor. He’d managed to find someone on the inside here; he’d got all the information he needed. Where Draeden Darksky would be. He’d decided it was time to end it, time for the abuse on Georgie Nickles, time for the threats, time for it all to end. He’d never been a patient man, and waiting until Rival Factions was far too long…

He turned to his right, ignoring the lift, and going straight for the stairs. A deep breath, a focussed mind, and three flights of stairs later Black Death found himself at the end of a corridor. Two doors later, and there stood the key number.

Seven.

Behind that mahogany door sat the man he had come for. Draeden Darksky, the man who’d taken what he loved and turned it into an enterprise of pain and of suffering. The man who’d been so damn bitter about his own career and life, he’d tried to ruin it for everyone else. Well, no longer. Death took a long, slow, calming breath, and stared at the door. “You gonna get it Motherfucker!” he screamed, and without a seconds thought, slammed a shoulder into the wood. It splintered and broke, the hinges twisting and pain shooting through the big man’s arm. He stumbled through the door frame and looked up at the table, and up at the chair that housed his target.

It was facing away. So Draeden was playing the cool and calm game? Well tough, that game went out as soon as he messed with the Experts. Death took the chair in a vice-like grip and spun it. No Draeden. Nothing. Nothing except for a wad of cash, and a note pinned to it, with his name on it. Black Death shouted out, a loud roar of anger. Draeden was gone.

He picked up the note, and opened it…

Dear Mr. Death, I’m glad you found your way to my office, sorry I couldn’t be in. Urgent business meeting; us CEO’s have them occasionally. On the chair you should find twenty thousand dollars, and a one-way plane ticket to Siberia. I hear we have a fantastic company out there; I’ve not seen it myself, the cold doesn’t tickle my fancy.

Now, I want you to take that money, take that ticket. And go. Lester and I have grown to the end of our tethers with you and your constant willingness to get involved in things that don’t concern you.

Disappear, make Rival Factions a non-event, and never return. You may be the hero, but we both know that illusion will change on November 29th. Let’s keep the love for Black Death alive, keep my time from being wasted and we’re all happy.

Make a wise decision.

Yours sincerely, Draeden Darksky – CEO of the Experts

Immediately he dropped the letter, and stared down at the money and ticket. A smirk developed across the big man’s face, as he dipped into his pocket slowly pulled out a lighter in the shape of a gun. Death placed it on the desk, turned to the cleaning cart left in the office. A wider smirk came across his face as he pulled out a bottle of alcohol cleaner, and unscrewed the cap. He hurriedly cleared the desk, and tipped the bottle a little, pouring some of the liquid out onto the desk in the shape of two letters…

N O

He then drops the bottle, and picks up the lighter, touching it to the alcohol. He smirks widely. “Burn in hell Draeden…” he says, and pulls on the lighter, igniting the liquid and allowing the desk to burn brightly. He backs away, just as the office door bursts open and a terrified woman, Alice Bowman, PA to Draeden Darksky, comes bounding in. She screams and pushes past Black Death, pulling on the curtain and using it to douse the flames. But the message had been made, and it was burnt into the wood itself. Death took one last look at Darksky’s office, and turned.

November 29th… the war ends.