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The lack of response to the so-called proclamation by Nathaniel was exactly what the arena expected. The unnerving silence, the feeling that The Evolution Champion wasn't going to show. The calm before The Storm. Chants of "SHAN-A-HAN!" broke out across the arena, as if to make the reigning Evolution Champion make his appearance. Time rolled on, but there seemed to be no sign of Shanahan... Then, like a God answering the cries of his people, the sound of deafening thunder broke through the air, strong enough to send the lights into a seizure of dysfunction. Before they could recover, a bright flash filled the area... and then there was darkness. No lights, no emergency power, not even cellphones seemed to light the arena.

A lone guitar began to quietly play over the sound system, mixing in with the distinct sound of raindrops hitting steel. The fans closest to the entrance ramp and the ring began to shout loudly, but not because they were getting wet. They cheered for the force that was heading to the ring: Mother Nature's Fury, The Storm.

Short Change Hero - The Heavy

The slow, haunting intro to the familiar theme music echoed through the darkness, building hope in the Shanahan fans in the massive room. Aside from the occasional flash of lightning, nothing gave the room proper lighting; even the titantron was shut off. The ramp began to emit a dim light through the thick fog that hovered over it, revealing two lines of men and women in black hooded trenchcoats, symbolic of Shanahan's latest style change. In each right hand was the symbolic weapon of The God of Punks, almost invisible in the dark arena. As the war drums in the music resonated through the air, they marched out in unison to the sound. They slowly lined the wide ramp until they were perfectly lined to the bottom of the ramp. One row at a time, the army of trenchcoat clad figures pointed the head of their baseball bats to the ground and fell to a knee, resting their hands on the top of the hilt of the legendary "Punkville Slugger" replicas.

After the men and women finished their kneeling ritual, the music stopped and the ramp's lights flickered off, once again leaving nothing in sight. "SHANAHAN!" Shouted one obnoxious fan, causing the rest of them to erupt once more. And with them...

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 the entire area of the stage to explode in an inferno. As if on queue, the lights came with a dark-blue hue, just barely giving the fans a glimpse of their surroundings; the first thing people noticed was the downpour of rain falling from the ceiling. It wasn't a drizzle, or even a light rain. It was legitimately pouring heavy drops of rain down all through the arena. The main crowd, the stage, the ramp, even the ring. The figures lining the ramp were covered in the rain, water sliding off of their leather trenchcoats as they remained in their kneeling positions. 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, THE TRUE EVOLUTION CHAMPION... 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...

The True Evolution Champion. Still confusing the people, still having no answers as to what it meant. 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, his competition stood: one of the few men that could outpower him. The monster of WWE:E, Disciple. Despite how most feared him, nothing about the man phased The Champion. After all, he had beaten him with a simple roll-up pin last time they encountered each other. He was yet another roadblock in his journey to find a true, proper 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, 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. His eyes traced down to glance at the men and women kneeling at his side; his army, the truest followers of the Storm. 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 standing at the base of the ramp, tugging his trenchcoat off. He gave the coat to a nearby stagehand, dropping his baseball bat down to the side afterwards. With the remaining flashes of light, he stood resolute outside of the steel cage in the pouring rain, the Evolution Championship tight around his waist, staring right into the ring at the mountain of a man before him.

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. He paced to the foot of the steel steps, his feet beginning to carry him up as soon as the lights turned back on. The Storm put his right foot between the top and middle rope before stepping through, entering the ring once again and stepping through the cage door.

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 grabbed the base of the door and brought it swinging inward fiercely, smashing it into place against the steel frame. 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. He didn't need words to send the message that came with that notion, his cold stare would help convey it though.

He wasn't locked in here with Disciple.

Disciple was locked in here with him.

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 the song began to come to an end, Matt moved towards the center of the ring and pulled the Evolution Championship off of his waist, hoisting it high in the air in his traditional manner. The challenge he issued once again, daring Disciple to try to take it. Where other men would've trembled, that's all The Storm had to offer Disciple. A challenge.

A challenge no man had managed to match yet.

The official came over to ask Shanahan for the belt, receiving it promptly upon his request. Matt backed up a few steps and pulled tightly at each of his gloves, adjusting them to his hands to prepare for his second brawl with this man. Hopefully he had actually evolved since their encounter; he wouldn't be worthy of the belt if he hadn't.

-DING DING-

One right! Two rights! The blows connected with the side of the Champion's head, causing it to recoil to the side on impact! But that third blow would never land. His left hand shot up and caught the man's fist dead on, halting the assault right in its tracks. Matt's eyes locked onto Disciple and aimed to return the favor to the man by throwing his right fist forward. His aim wasn't the head though; he was aiming to punch the giant straight in the throat to cut off his air supply!

The boot connected with The Storm's torso, causing him to stumble back a mere step. Before he could retaliate, he was whipped across the ring and into the ropes! He rebounded back at the Destroyer of Worlds, hurtling at the man at full speed...

The Storm came bounding back to Disciple like a bat out of hell. As his leg began to swing upward, Matt fell nearly face-first to the mat, his shoulder leading as he attempted a frontal Chop Block to take the giant down early!

The Destroyer of Worlds was grounded a lot quicker than the last time the two men had encountered each other. While Matt might've let an average competitor have some time to recover from the opening assault, he wasted no time with this man. Immediately, he scurried to his feet and closed the distance between the two of them, aiming to deliver some quick stomps down onto that right knee he had targeted!

The kick from Disciple's undamaged leg was enough to catch The Storm offbalance, sending him falling backwards in the opposite direction! As soon as his back hit the mat, he began to roll back towards the cage to increase the distance and recovery time between them.