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Shanahan was far too busy with unhinging the rope from the hook to pay attention to Chrono. It wasn't until he heard the name of his best friend that he stopped. No... He couldn't be...

Matt dropped the knife and turned upward to stare at Chrono, his eyes going wide at the sight of the urn; it was in fact Joey's urn, he'd know it anywhere. It sent shivers down his spine to even see it, tears threatened to break through his eyes. He had remained so strong willed the entire match... And now, he was at the breaking point. "What the ******** do you think you're doing?! Put that back! YOU ********> By this point, The Punk was shouting at the demonic man, until he was abruptly cut off by the smashing of the urn against his head. Ashes split all over him as the urn cracked, scattering across the canvas and leaving a puff of dust in the air. He sat there, covered in his best friend's ashes... Unable to even move, or speak...

Mephisto's words hit Matt like daggers in the back. It was a known fact that he had a thing for Christina Parks, the female icon in the industry, but to bring her up, saying such things about her... After dumping the ashes of Saint Joey onto him... It broke him. It hit him harder than anything ever had. Everything thus far in the match was nothing compared to how he defiled two of the people he held dear to his heart in a matter of seconds.

Silence reigned in the arena, for Matt at least. Not a sound was made after that man's speech... Not a fan existed, not a particle moved. His vision washed red as every vein in his body began to pulse in a rage driven bloodlust; they weren't the eyes of The Punk, they were the eyes of a lunatic. Without even struggling, he gave his wrist a hard tug, breaking the handcuffs' chain like it was paper. A blood-curdling scream, not a roar, but a scream erupted from his throat as he suddenly leaped forward at Mephisto, his hands reaching out towards the man's throat in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. The ashes that weren't clinging to his bloodied, sweat-covered body fell to the mat in a puff of smoke, making way for the enraged man.

Matt landed on top of Mephisto with brutal impact, the crazed eyes of Matt Shanahan staring down at the masked man. Once again, there was no Black Star. There was no God of Punks. There was only a man that had been pushed to the edge, and far off of it. Before he knew what he was doing, he quickly yanked himself to his feet, attempting to drag Chrono up by the throat as he did. If he could, he would attempt to throw him into one of the nearby flaming tables with the one hand on the man's throat!

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The light may have left Chrono's eyes, but Matt's were still ignited with a burning fury. He wasn't going to let up, not now. Not while this man was breathing. Matt's boots stomping across the padded mats echoed through the arena with ease; the fans were completely silent at the display. "NO! GET THE ******** UP!" Shanahan roared down at the man, though he wasted no time for a response. He attempted to lift the man up with both hands wrapped around his throat. If he could manage to, he would drag him away from the table and up towards the ramp... Before trying to lift the man up with both hands, over his head, and into the case of Chrono's many infamous belongings with a mighty scream!

Shanahan stood on the ramp fuming, his entire body shaking with rage. Never before had he been has angry as he was in that moment. Never before had someone driven The Punk to the point to where he wanted someone dead. And when Mephisto dared to speak in Joey's voice... That only fueled the fires. "CUT THE s**t!" Matt roared in complete defiance, even as the gauntlet smashed into his ribs.

He staggered back from the impact, but no signs of pain crossed his face. Nothing could stop his rage driven assault at this point, and he was going to prove it. He charged at Mephisto from the short distance, ducking down for what seemed to be a spear attempt... Then trying to hook his leg underneath the Entity and lift him up onto his shoulders! If he managed to, he'd wrap his other arm around Chrono's head and drop back; he was going for the The Eleventh Commandment onto the ramp, Joey's finishing maneuver!

"Even after the Angered Alliance ceased to be seen, Joey and I were always partners. We worked together back stage and there was always that unspoken brotherhood between us; at the end of the day, no matter what happened, we were brothers. To this day, he's one of the reasons why I'm still here."

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Matt sat on the steel ramp for a long moment after the impact, hunched over holding his chest. That smack to his chest with the steel gauntlet was far from pleasant, and probably cracked a few ribs. Needless to say, Matt was going to be far out of commission by the end of this. He didn't even notice the small square attached to his chest, as it nearly blended in with the ashes that covered him.

The Punk looked up to the ceiling afterwards, pointing up with one hand. "That... That was for you!" He shouted up to the heavens, where Joey would truly be. With a groan, Matt began to push himself to his feet, driven by his own rage and the cheering fans. He stood firm at his full height, his head turning to look out to the fans for a long moment. In a small way, it was still for them. This was to show that Matt was not dead, his career was not over. No, the best had yet to come.

He turned slowly to stare at Yukari down near, his chest heaving to fight through the pain. He didn't need to say anything, for the match was saying it all. He carefully began to limp down to the ring, his eyes meeting with the apron. With a huff, he lifted the material up and began to search underneath for something...

Matt's hands finally caught what he had been looking for... Another baseball bat! The fans ignited at the sight of one of Matt's handy 'Punk-ville Sluggers' twirling it in his hand as he returned to his feet. "... C'mon, baby..." He whispered to himself as he examined the bat...

... Unfortunately, something else ignited on the final swing around; that patch attached his chest. Before he could even look at it, the small patch exploded with the force of a firework, sending The Punk backwards like a star! He fell back on the mats a few feet away, his baseball landing beside him! His chest was bleeding, the flesh of it burnt... He was out cold once more!

The fans sat in utter silence at the sight of Matt laid out, seemingly for good this time. They didn't know how to react... He was barely even breathing.

"... Shan-a-han." One lone fan in the audience began to chant, far in the back of the arena. "Shan-a-han!" The same fan repeated, with others slowly catching the hint. Before long, the entire arena began to shout in the chorus of the fallen man's name: "Shan-a-han!"

They kept their chorus up, in hopes that it would cause the man to stir... But he didn't even flinch.