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.
(Image: http://img8.imageshack.us/img8/2968/contracty.png)“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.
(Credit to Russell Gritton of ewexperts.com for the Extreme Tournament 2009 results)
