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The lights around the arena that normally buzzed with life began to shut off, one by one. With each dying spotlight, the audience was plunged deeper into a thick blanket of darkness. The large screen that showed the footage of Chrono in the ring was abruptly shut off and replaced with a sea of white static. The sound that accompanied filled the arena with a painful roar, until a lone melody began to break through the noise.

"The Outsider" - A Perfect Circle

The arena remained in it's abyssal state while the screen flashed to the shaking image of a black star, outlined by green flames. As a drumbeat finally sounded over the guitar, a sole spotlight hit the stage, welcoming whomever was bound to enter the arena. Matt Shanahan approached behind the curtain, his eyes trained on the fabric behind the dark aviators. It seemed his retirement would never come, and tonight he was destined to face the man he never wanted to face. After all... Who wants to face a man they consider a brother?

Help me, if you can.
It's just that this, is not the way I'm wired.
So could you please, help me understand why...
You're giving into all these reckless dark desires.
You're...

The chorus kicked in as Matt Shanahan pushed aside the curtain to move into the spotlight, breaking onto a WWE:E stage for the first time in... A very long time. There was no cloak, there was no bangs in his face, there wasn't even the nonchalant look he often wore. Instead, his bangs were chopped off and his hair was black and slicked back once more. Instead of his cloak, he took a pair of black slacks and a faded Iron Maiden shirt tucked into his pants, the material tight against his chiseled torso. His exposed arms showed off every tattoo, with his right hand grasped tightly to his signature black baseball bat, caked in the dried blood of his fallen victims. The bloodshot, black eyes were hidden by a thick pair of aviators. A smirk lined his features perfectly, giving off an aura so smug that even World Champions couldn't match. The God of legend had returned, not the Fallen dark persona he had portrayed for the past two years. The Punk was alive once more.

Lying through your teeth again,
Suicidal imbecile!
Think about it,
You're pounding on a fault line!
What'll it take to get it through to you, precious?
I'm over this! Why do you wanna throw it away like this?
Such a mess, why would I wanna watch,
You...

Flames exploded off of the stage in an engrossing inferno as the gigantic figure rose his baseball bat into the air, cueing the pyrotechnics. What fans were still loyal to him roared with approval of the God of Punks. With his normally arrogant stride, he began to walk down the ramp, He smirked as if he were the Champion, not Chrono. He smirked as if he owned the company, even. But he wasn't a Champion here. He wasn't the owner. He wasn't even a Hall of Famer. Here... He was just a God.

Disconnect and self-destruct,
One bullet at a time.
What's your rush now?
Everyone will have his day to die.

The guitar's melody grew harsher as he reached the bottom of the ramp, now standing outside of the infamous squared circle. He looked at each side of him, his eyes piercing through the dark aviators to glare at his fans. The lights exploded on with the increase in the music's intensity, bathing the arena in blood-red hues.

With a single hand, The Punk pulled himself up onto the apron by the top rope. He wasted no time to step over ropes, his feet landing in the ring for the first time in such a long time. The announcer's voice barely managed to break through the roaring fans and the music, only assuring the fact that this was a Matt Shanahan that the audience had been missing for years.

"Hailing from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and coming in at a weight of three-hundred and twenty-six pounds and a massive six-foot-eight... He is, The God of Punks, Matt Shanahan!"

Medicated drama queen.
Picture perfect, numb belligerence.
Narcissistic drama queen,
craving fame and all its decadence.

The music slowly died away as the chorus repeated itself through the sound system. The lights faded back to their normal brightness, but the fans weren't done just yet. In the middle of the ring, the iconic God stood with his baseball's head lowered to rest at his side while he basked in the adoration he was being screamed at with. He was as still as a mountain in front of his adoring followers, until the realization hit him that for the first time in a -long- time, he wanted to speak. His left hand dived into his pants' pocket to produce his own microphone, hastily turning it on with one hand as he lifted it to his lips.

"... First off, I've just gotta say... How -great- it feels to be back in a ring." He spoke with a sigh of relief to his tone, causing an eruption from the fans around him, "I mean, honestly. For the first time in years, I'm... I'm honored to be here. Tonight will be the first time in years, on a live broadcast... I'll be facing someone that -deserves- my respect. -Our- Undisputed Champion, let's here it for Chrono!"

Unfortunately, despite how much pull Shanahan may have had with the crowd tonight, the jeers rained down like boulders upon his sportsmanship. The Punk only chuckled dismissively and shook his head, "Well... I mean, -I- have respect for him. This man has done many things in our industry! He's made bigger impacts than a wave hitting Japan! He's accomplished more than our Nation's past three Presidents combined! He's delivered a Piledriver to more women than Ron Jeremy! Why, if it weren't for his appearance on tonight's broadcast, I might be facing... I have no clue! I promise you this, whoever they were... They would not have called for the amount of respect that this man does. Well... Besides Kelly King," Matt followed with a playful chuckle to his words, securing the good humor he was in tonight.

"... However, in all seriousness... Tonight is a big night, for the both of us... For, you see, Chrono and I... We are the Gods that have -not- faced off against eachother. In fact, him and I have rarely worked together, and that's a goddamned shame. But tonight, we make history. Tonight... We face off, for the first time. And to that, all I can say is..." Shanahan paused briefly to toss his baseball bat to the outside of the ring, then take off his aviators with his now freed hand. The bloodshot, black pupils exposed to the light and his audience, he turned to stare at the entrance of the arena. His fellow "God" would be arriving shortly, and thus the real main event of the night would occur. "... Don't disappoint me."

Shanahan tossed the microphone to the side and stood in the center of the ring, waiting for Chrono. The Punk was back in full swing, and he was going to prove it.

Shanahan watched his fellow God's introduction and entrance with... An amused expression. He only gave a nod in response as he backed up from the center of the ring, his eyes on Chrono the entire time.

"Let's see how high you'll get, bromeo..." He muttered to himself as he waited for the man's followers to undress his opponent.

Shanahan was never known to be a clean fighter, and the fact that Chrono was trusting him with close contact already? Ballsy.

With a smirk barely tugging at his features, The God of Punks tapped his own fist against The God of Time's and backed away a pace afterwards; almost immediately as his back foot met the mat, he shot forward with his arms out, an attempt to force Chrono into a lock-up.

Since his recent disappearance, not only had Shanahan reverted to his former ways, but so had his body; the peak strength that he used to show off in the ring was back, but it wasn't going to be for crowd appeal tonight. Tonight, he'd actually need that returned strength.

The Punk was forced a single stride back, before that strength was put to use; with a sharp shove, he attempted to move his opponent back into the opposite direction.

Shanahan wasn't used to a man matching his own strength, even if he had expected it beforehand. After all, it was rare that anyone could stand against the brute.

With the knowledge of the fact that the shoving contest would go on forever at this rate, it was time to change up his tactics. With a fierce roar, The God of Punks surged with a quick burst of strength and shot a knee forward, attempting to land it into his opponent's chest.

Great minds were known for thinking alike, and it seemed both of the Gods were synchronized perfectly. As soon as Chrono pulled his knee away, Shanahan had dropped his back into place as well. Immediately after his boot met the canvas, his foot locked in place and sent his other knee slamming forward... Right into the Champion's knee, not a second too soon.

Right after the connection, The Punk was quick to pull his knee away and back to the ground, before attempting to bring the opposite knee flying forward again, hoping to be quicker than his opponent.