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Cartwright was in the ring basking in the boos of the crowd, all by himself. The Evolution Champion seemed to be running late, but the fans knew how he worked; on his time, no one else's. 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 The Storm... 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: 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. While the titantron typically showed images of The God of Punks' latest success in the company, tonight it showed nothing but storm clouds with lightning coursing through them. 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 a small flame to spark around it. 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 revealed that it wasn't drizzling like it typically had during the man's entrance; instead, it looked to be a sizable, steady rain that pounded the stage, ramp, and a good portion of the arena at this point. 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? What exactly did that mean? Perhaps the fans would find out, perhaps they wouldn't. 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: the reigning Asylum Champion, a man that went from future legend to Swagtastic mockery. Cartwright.

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 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. He stood at 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.

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 his hood with his free hand and tossed it back, revealing his clean shaven features to the world. 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. His cold, calculated stare lingered on The Talented One, sizing up the man that would go down as one of the most bizarre champions in WWE:E history.

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 pulled his trenchcoat off and lowered it to the outside of the ring, leaving it in the hands of a capable crew member. There he stood before his competition, the WWE:E Evolution Champion wrapped around his waist. The superior championship, in the eyes of most. The referee came over to take the belt from him, The Storm meeting his eyes with a harsh stare. With a single hand, Shanahan pulled the belt loose... then held it high above his head, glaring right into the soul of Cartwright as he did. Not a challenge, not a dare, but a proclamation. He was the Evolution Champion for a reason. No amount of swag was going to contest that.

When Matt finally pushed the championship belt into the referee's hands, he took off his muscle shirt and tossed it out into the crowd, exposing the tattoo-and-scar littered torso he hid beneath, a toned tapestry of his past. The fans gave another loud pop for the Champion as he stepped towards the center of the ring, ready to take on the fellow champion.

-DING DING-

Shanahan's locked-on glare narrowed at Cartwright when the man began to remove all the unnecessarily tacky gear. The Storm didn't care about health and safety at this point; the bell had already rang! While The 'Swagtacular' One was removing all that gaudy 'bling', Matt marched over the man, raising his fist and hauling back for a haymaker straight to his nose once in close range!

That punch to the nose would hopefully teach Cartwright that more than five chains is just silly. The Storm followed immediately after his target of the evening, stepping through the ropes and dropping down to the mats feet first. His path followed Cartwright's like a predator, and his hands aimed to latch onto those swaggy locks like sharp talons. If he managed to grip the man's hair, he'd try to toss him right over the barricade! Weren't there rules in standard matches?!

The referee was already yelling at Shanahan get to back in the ring, but the Evolution Champion wasn't hearing it. The crowd was roaring in approval, cheering The Storm on with his assault on the Swagmaster, but they weren't what propelled him to do so.

Matt placed a hand on the barricade and hopped over it, careful not to kick a fan in the process. "How's the saying go, Cartwright?" He asked while pacing after the crawling man, "Hashtag... Swag, right?" With that, Matt shot his foot to the side, aiming to send a swift kick to the downed champion's ribs! Who was the heel here?!

The Storm followed after the downed Asylum Champion, but stopped short when the man turned and began to... grovel? Was he really begging for mercy from the Evolution Champ?! A look of pure disdain overtook Shanahan's feature as the once-great Cartwright degraded himself at his feet; he didn't have time for this!

"Get to your goddamn feet, coward!" Matt shouted in response while reaching down and attempting to pull him up by his hair! There would be no mercy tonight!

The Storm's vision was blinded! The poke to the eyes held true, causing the champion to grasp onto his eyes instead and back away from Cartwright for a moment to tend to his impaired vision.