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The fans were beginning to grow impatient by the lack of Matt's appearance for his own match, but their murmurs of disappointment were swiftly overpowered as a booming thunder shook the arena, followed by a bright flash as an entire section of the arena lost all power; lights, cell phones, cameras, everything seemed to miraculously shut off. Thunder rolled through the arena again with another bright flash, extinguishing all light from a larger part of the arena. One more time, and the arena was plunged into complete darkness. The majority of the fans were silenced by the sudden storm that seemed to shake the arena; it took a moment for a sea of cheers to erupt over the sound of the storm. It didn't take a genius to know who was coming out.

A lone guitar began to quietly play over the sound system as the titantron buzzed back to life, showing black and white footage of previous encounters involving Shanahan. Lightning flashes occasionally streaked through the arena with a booming thunder along side it. The distinct sound of raindrops hitting steel could faintly be heard with the music; the fans closest to the entrance ramp and the ring began to shout in protest of getting wet. Was it really raining in the arena?

Short Change Hero - The Heavy

The footage rolled, starting with the famous image of a bloodied and beaten Shanahan holding the Evolution Championship high above his head after his ground-breaking clash with The God of Time. The image faded into the match that happened right afterward, the moment Major Devastation cashed in his Money in The Bank to rob Matt of the title. The God of Punks fought back with all he had left, but the devastating Mother of All Bombs broke Shanahan, thus giving the title to Major. Seamlessly, the footage carried on to show Matt pulling himself out of the wreckage he caused from his Showdown return, back in good health and ready to take the title back. The film went through the major highlights of the events, with the primarily ones being him landing the Chapter Four on Major and throwing the Devil Dog over his shoulders to reverse the Mother of All Bombs. The footage ended with Matt barely managing to stand as the referee gave the nine count while both men were down; it followed with Matt holding his hand high with the title tight in his grasp. The titantron faded to black, and the music seemed to stop with it, leaving the arena in a state of silence and darkness.

BOOM!!!

A thunder-clap with the force of a sonic boom shook the arena as a bolt of lightning struck the center of the stage, causing a small flame to spark around it. As if on queue, the lights came with a dark-blue hue, just barely giving the fans a glimpse of their surroundings The dim lights revealed that it had indeed been drizzling on the stage, ramp, and around the ring; the ramp itself was hardly visible through the small screen of fog that covered it. The music kicked back in, now with a distinct drum beat to it. The center of the stage was wide open, and a figure began to slowly rise from it...

I can't see where you comin' from,
But I know just what you runnin' from.
And what matters ain't the "who's baddest" but,
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby...

The figure continued to rise up from the hole in the stage as the song played; his head was covered by a black hood, attached to a long, black leather trenchcoat. His head was kept down to hide his face from view, even though the roaring fans knew who he was. The platform kept rising as the song went on and the drizzling rain slid off of his trenchcoat.

"And introducing his opponent: From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania... Weighing in at 326 pounds... He is The God of Punks, The Storm, The Evolution Champion! Matt Shan-a-han!"


And you feel like you're feelin' now,
Doin' things just to please your crowd.
But I love you like the way I love you,
And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause...

As the first verse finished, the platform ended it's rise to the the stage. Matt Shanahan lifted his head to stare down at the ring, where a new challenge stood: Disciple, a man he had yet to face in his entire career. His right hand was gripped around his legendary weapon, the 'Punk-ville Slugger', only loosening to give the bat a single twirl to his side. The chorus began as The Storm slowly began to step down the ramp, well protected from the rain thanks to his hooded coat.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero to call "home."

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero to call "home."

On the last two lines of the chorus, Matt stopped in the middle of the ramp to slightly turn his head to the left and right, taking in the size of the cheering crowd. They stood by him against Chrono and against Major, and he hadn't let them down yet. Deep down, he hoped tonight wouldn't be any different. Once he began to pace down to the ring again, a flash of lightning ripped across the roof of the arena, causing the dark-blue lighting to go out once more.

Every time I close my eyes, I think,
I think about you inside.
And your mother, givin' up on askin' why -
Why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make
A fool outta she...

Three more bells chimed as the bridge was sang through-out the arena. Each time, there was a quick flash of light to give the fans a split-second view of what was happening; Matt was still making his way to the ring. With each flash, he was closer. It was almost haunting to see the black-clad figure suddenly moving positions through the rain and darkness.

I can't see where you comin' from...

The drumbeat kicked back in on queue, the dark-blue lighting throughout the arena returning with it. Now, The Storm was standing at the steps to the ring and beginning his ascent up them. He walked onto the apron and stepped through the middle and top rope to enter the ring, turning on heel to stare out at his opponent from underneath his hood.

But I know just what you're runnin' from.
And what matters ain't the "who's baddest," but the
Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause...

Right before the chorus began, Shanahan brought his free hand up to grab his hood by the rim and pull it back, revealing his clean-shaven features. His black locks were slicked back in his usual style, and his black eyes were in their typical near-bloodshot state. They stared right into the eyes of his new target, Disciple. To him, it was just another soul about to be lost to the aftermath of The Storm. The moment he pulled his hood back, another booming thunder to echo through the arena. A lightning bolt shot across the ceiling overhead as the lights flowed back into their normal, colorless hue. The drizzling rain stopped, leaving the outside area and the ramp wet, along with some unfortunate fans who paid a well earned salary for their Front Row Seats.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero to call "home."

Without turning away, he tossed his baseball bat to the outside and tugged his trenchcoat off, revealing his Evolution Championship wrapped around his waist along with his usual attire of black jeans, boots, leather gloves, and a muscle shirt. With the theatrics over with, he turned to the outside and tossed his trenchcoat to the nearby stagehand; afterwards he tugged off his muscle shirt and threw it out into the fans, granting one of them a piece of free merchandise. His extensively tattooed torso, rarely revealed to the world, seemed like a masterpiece underneath the bright lights.

The music died away, leaving Shanahan to the mercy of the praising audience. He stood in the center of the ring and gazed around the arena, his face seemingly devoid of emotion; with a single tug, he pulled his championship from his waist and hoisted it high in the air for the fans to see, proving that he was still their champion. They screamed for The God of Punks like he never lost. Traces of a grin attempted to tug at his lips once he lowered the belt down and handed to the referee. He remained in the center of the ring while the referee walked off to secure Matt's title in a safe location. The champion's dark eyes locked on to The Dreadnaught, waiting for him do the same.

It took a lot for Shanahan to make the first move. He knew it would set the tone for the match, and could cost one of them the upperhand rather quickly. The remnants of the smirk didn't fade from The Storm's lips, though his eyes told a different story. While Disciple's were devoid of emotion, Matt's showed the constant rage that boiled within; the storm that everyone had been provoking since his return to the ring. The storm that had gained him the title both times.

"... Take your best shot," Matt muttered to the larger man as he took a step back, giving Disciple ample space. The God of Punks was giving Disciple a free chance at the upperhand. He stood stock still, only raising an arm to motion his opponent forward to 'take his best shot'.

The uppercut came swooping in, landing its mark right underneath Shanahan's chin. For one unaccustomed to brawling, that punch would've surely knocked them out for the night; however, Matt grew up brawling and learned how to handle such a blow. His head tilted backwards, the momentum causing him to stumble back near the ropes, only stopping when he was a pace away from them. His head lowered back down and locked onto Disciple, his smirk remaining prevalent on his features.

"Showtime," The Storm muttered to himself as he stepped back towards his opponent, his fists coming up into the fighting position he was known for. Few have managed to stand toe-to-toe with Shanahan's brawling, and he knew Disciple would be able to; for how long would be the question. As he came in close quarters, he decided to mimic his opponent's destructive blow by sending his own uppercut flying up into the Dreadnaught's chin, helped by the added momentum of his advance!

The Champion's assault proved to be successful, but it seemed Disciple was refusing to give Shanahan the classic slug-fest he loved so much. The brute forced connected with the The Storm and rammed his back into the nearby turnbuckle, causing shocks of pain to rack the Champion's spinal cord. Pain was written all over his face, but that didn't stop him from attempting to sending a bludgeoning forearm down onto the Dreadnaught's face, followed by another should that not force the bull to back down!

The Champion managed to push the Dreadnaught back, giving The Storm enough space to unleash his fury; however, right as he was about to burst forward for a brutal clothesline, the giant's fist came swinging in and nailed him right on the chin, causing the seasoned brawler to stumble back right into the turnbuckle once more!

How Disciple managed to lift three-hundred and twenty-six pounds and toss it, he had no idea. Then again, how he himself managed to lift a man high above his head and toss him through a chain-link cage, he still couldn't fathom at this point in his career. Some people just don't know their own strength, or they know it too well.

Shanahan was lifted in the strange hold and thrown over Disciple's head in a rather sloppy manner, sending him towards the middle of the ring. Matt landed on his back, sending ripples of pain through his spinal cord on impact. Even a rough landing like that didn't seem to keep the Champion down though, as he was already beginning to push himself to his feet. He knew he would have to do things differently, at least until he wore Disciple down. He just didn't know to what degree.

Matt's quick rise to his feet was met with a brutal headbutt, causing The Storm to stumble out of the Dreadnaught's grasp and back up into the opposite turnbuckles once more. With a hand nursing his cranium, which seemed to be under constant assault lately, Matt stayed relaxed against the corner; was he giving Disciple another opening?