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Arena lights dim as a generic hard rock guitar riff begins to play throughout the venue. Pyrotechnics sparkle, smoke, and crackle cheaply onstage as newcomer Greg Shamrock throws the curtains aside and steps onstage. Dressed in Clinch Gear fight shorts and 4 ounce gloves, the 6'1", 205 lb rookie begins his descent down the ramp to no almost no audience response whatsoever, smirking to himself for no particular reason. Stopping just outside the ring, Shamrock knocks on his cup and smiles wide, displaying his mouthpiece to no one before carefully rubbing Vaseline on his forehead and cheeks. After this he walks up the ring steps and ducks under the top rope to enter the ring, a ringside employee tossing him a microphone. Shamrock paces the ring as he begins to speak.

"My name is Greg Shamrock, and I'm a fighter, not a wrestler. MY fights aren't fake. The only predetermined outcome is that I'm gonna lock your a** in an armbar or rearrange your face. I'm here to represent true combat. I'm going to show you rednecks how pathetic your favorite pro 'wrestlers' actually are when they meet boxing, jiu-jitsu, muay thai, judo, or any other real martial art. I am sick to death of seeing pro wrestlers portrayed as actual athletes with actual skills! Everyone who has ever trained a real martial art or even collegiate wrestling is embarrassed to be associated with pro wrestling's little freakshow giving combat sports a bad name. So if any of you cans want to come down to your own ring and meet me in a real fight I'll be right here."

Shamrock smirks as he awaits a response.

Shamrock looks Shanahan up and down as he towers above him.

"You're right, I've never fought in a ring, but I've punked out plenty of chumps in an octagon. Tonight I'm in the ring and going to punk of the 'God of Punks' at his own game. I am better than pro wrestlers and I'm about to prove it starting with you!"

Shamrock tosses away his microphone and walks to his corner, fists up and bouncing on his toes, eying Shanahan as he awaits the opening bell.

The bell rings and Shamrock approaches circling to the right, keeping his hands up in a textbook stance. Closing in on Shanahan, Shamrock attempts to whip his leg into the side of Shanahan's inner thigh for the inside leg kick.

Shamrock eats Shanahan's fist to the side of his face and is knocked back a step. Shaking his head to clear cobwebs, Shamrock again raises his fists, feinting a left before attempting to slam his leg once again into Shanahan's inner thigh.

After the thigh kick, Shamrock looks to throw followup punches to the face but is kicked in the stomach by the larger man, winding him for a moment.

Shanahan's axe handle slams into the top of Shamrock's head, sending him to the matt. Scrambling to regain some composure, Shamrock ends up on his back with his legs in the air, inviting Shanahan to experience his ground game.

Shamrock launches a powerful upkick as Shanahan dives down, barely missing his head! Shanahan lands in half mount and immediately begins working for mount, but Shamrock quickly regains full guard. Now given an opportunity to work his bottom game, Shamrock squirms and keeps his hips busy, constantly moving while trying to control the wrists of Shanahan to minimize damage taken. From the bottom Shamrock slides his foot onto Shanhan's thigh and uses both hands to attempt to grab the larger man's wrist and crank it behind his back in a kimura.

Shamrock cranks the arm for a moment as he eats shots to the face and body, remaining calm. Using the kimura, Shamrock attempts to use the momentum to sweep the God of Punks onto his back and gain top position!