The fans were still chanting for Cartwright when it began to settle in that Shanahan still hadn't made his appearance. Few fans chanted for The Storm on this occasion; the world knew he wasn't the favorite tonight. Regardless, many were beginning to anticipate the man's entrance into one of the most hardcore environments in WWF:G history. Who was more fitting for it than two of the most brutal competitors in the history of the industry? The air itself began to drop in temperature as time went on, sending an odd chill down the spines of many of the fans; for a building that was usually pretty warm, the AC must've kicked on at full power to deliver such a chill. Or did it?
A very abrupt boom of thunder shook the arena, causing the lights on the ceiling to flicker. The thunder was replaced with the outcry of negativity from the audience, but they were soon overpowered by another shockwave of The Storm's fury. A flash of lightning streaked across the dome of the arena, shutting off all the lights as it disappeared. It could only mean one thing: The Storm was coming.
A lone guitar began to quietly play over the sound system, mixing in with the distinct sound of raindrops hitting steel. Tonight, two men would clash once again, this time on Cartwright's terms. His championship was on the line, a belt he had fought so hard to keep. But tonight was also about a legacy The Storm aimed to build. For three Wrestlemania events, he had come out on top. Last year, he ended his friendship in one of the most controversial manners, only to get a match. That kind of desperation was enough to put the fear of a god into anyone. What would he do just to win a belt?
Short Change Hero - The HeavyThe slow, haunting intro to the familiar theme music echoed through the darkness. The titantron began to flicker to life, playing the planned video package for the the world to see.
The image of shattered glass scattered on a concrete floor in the shape of a heart melded into the screen, with a baseball bat laid out on top of it. Overlapping the image was the faint outline of video footage, Matt Shanahan smashing his baseball bat down onto Mike Landry's chest. A single message faded in over it all:
1-0.
The number remained on the screen as the background faded to that of a dragon's head, tongue falling out its mouth and blood pouring from the neck as it remained propped up on a pike. The footage of Matt Shanahan slinging Brandon Damone around for the Chapter Four played over the image in a transparent manner. The number changed:
2-0.
The part of the video package that followed sent the entire arena into a seizure of jeers. A broken sledgehammer and a bloodied, cracked crown laid out on a cobblestone floor. Outline flashes played, highlighting the biggest feud in near WWF:G history. Matt giving Kelly King The Toss out of the ring, across his own kitchen, and then through the titantron. It ended with the scene of him committing The Last Corner on his ex-best friend. The clip ended with one final change:
3-0.
As the intro to the song came to an end, one more clip played on the screen. The Union Jack, flying high on a pole while storm clouds lingered in the background. The flag was ripped and burnt, barely hanging on to the pole by threads. The first number slowly began to rotate downward as the intro faded, leaving a striking omen in the audience...
4-0.
It wasn't a prediction. It wasn't a boast. It was a promise.
BOOM!!!The calm before The Storm ended abruptly. 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 pillar of flames to shoot up from it. The flames spread all over the stage, bathing it in fire and fighting against the 'rain' pouring from the ceiling of the arena. 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 illuminated the heavy rain that pounded the stage, ramp, and a good portion of the arena at this point. 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 rain slid off of his trenchcoat.
"And introducing the champion: From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania... Weighing in at 326 pounds... He is The God of Punks, The Storm... Matt SHAAAAN-A-HAAAAN!"
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. A structure he had never set foot in laid ahead. A man he had only bested once stood in waiting, ready to offer the challenge for the most coveted title in WWF:G. Tonight wouldn't be like any encounter either men had before. This wasn't a grudge, this wasn't a rivalry. This was for glory, and that's what scared most of fans at this point. Both men had a history of pulling desperate measures just to get what they wanted. Both men had an extensive history with weaponized matches. Tonight, they were going to be locked into that chamber with all the weapons they could want. No one left until the title was claimed.
No one left until The Storm was champion.
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."As he moved down the ramp, some fans would dare say he was simply floating through the fog in his way, as his legs seem to just barely stride down the metallic walkway. On the last two lines of the chorus, a flash of lightning ripped across the roof of the arena, causing the dark-blue lighting to go out once more. Despite the immediate power outage, Matt continued to pace down the ramp.
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. The Storm had miraculously moved from the bottom of the ramp to within the chamber in a matter of seconds, standing right at the doorway with his head bowed. His hand flicked to the side, sending his baseball bouncing against a glass chamber and clanking to the ground. He wouldn't need it, not yet. He brought a hand up to toss his hood away from his face, his icy stare automatically locked onto The Talented One. Without much more flair, he pulled his trenchcoat off and tossed it out of the door, gripping the chained wall of it afterward.
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, The Storm pulled roughly at the chains, bringing the door to the chamber swinging inward and slamming shut with authority. With it, another booming thunder to echo through the arena; a lightning bolt followed and shot across the ceiling overhead as the lights flowed back into their normal, colorless hue. The pouring rain stopped, leaving the outside area and the ramp wet, along with a good portion of the arena.
They were locked in, and no man was getting out until it was all over. Until Matt Shanahan was either crowned a champion, or his legacy ended before it could even be realized. Either result was possible, but there was only one Matt believed in. He was leaving with that championship tonight.
As the chorus played once more, Matt's haunting pace carried him to the ropes, which he quickly stepped over to enter the ring with his opponent for the evening. His boots carried him immediately to the center of the ring, muscular torso shimmering in the limelight. Those eyes threatened murder as they stared down at Cartwright once again while the music faded.
Tonight, they were going to make history.
-DING DING-
Reply
