The crowd was beginning to fill back into their seats after the commercial break. The show was nearly halfway done, and the upcoming matches had many of them hyped up as it was. Most of all, the fans were anticipating Cartwright's rematch. They wanted more than anything to see the former champion take back what was his! But even with all the energy in the audience, some couldn't help but notice the temperature steadily dropping. It seemed to be getting colder all through-out the room.
A very abrupt boom of thunder shook the arena, causing the lights on the ceiling to flicker. The thunder was replaced with the outcry of jeers from the audience, but they were soon overpowered by another shockwave of The Storm's fury. A flash of lightning streaked across the dome of the arena, shutting off all the lights as it disappeared. It could only mean one thing: The Storm was coming.
A lone guitar began to quietly play over the sound system, mixing in with the distinct sound of raindrops hitting steel. The eerie music that had ushered in Matt Shanahan at Wrestlemania was playing once more, letting the fans know that their new champion was present this evening. Tonight would be his first title defense, but it was nowhere near time for his match. It seemed The Storm was coming out to greet his subjects early.
Short Change Hero - The Heavy
The slow, haunting intro to the familiar theme music echoed through the darkness, leaving the sea of fans visionless in the massive room. The titantron flickered on to display an image many had seen at Wrestlemania. A tattered Union Jack barely flapping in the wind, as dark storm clouds churned behind it. The message "4-0" was engraved over it, proclaiming the champion's Streak once more. The ramp didn't light up to usher in the devoted Storm worshipers. Aside from the titantron, there was only darkness. The could be heard pouring, but no one knew to what degree it had overtaken the arena. As the intro began to wind down, the fans let out another disapproving roar for what dared to follow. And with that noise...
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 pillar of flames to shoot up from it. The flames spread all over the stage, bathing it in fire and fighting against the 'rain' pouring from the ceiling of the arena. 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 this rain was falling all across the arena. The audience, the stage, the ramp, even the ring itself was being poured down upon by the deluge from the ceiling. The music kicked back in, now with a distinct drum beat to it. The center of the stage was wide open with fog billowing out of it, concealing the figure that 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 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...
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, despite it being empty of any opposition. A ring that he proclaimed to never re-enter back in 2011. And here he stood, as the figurehead of the talent. THE man to beat. THE 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, a flash of lightning ripped across the roof of the arena, causing the dark-blue lighting to go out once more. The Storm didn't remotely pause in his wake tonight though.
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. Matt had shifted to stand at the steel steps, ascending up the platforms the moment the lights phased back in. He carried himself on the apron and stopped midway to step through the ropes, his trenchcoat dragging behind him. Once in the ring, he faced the left side of the arena with his head down to hide his face from view. He lifted his baseball bat up and slid it down his back, notching it in the custom holster on his trenchcoat meant specifically for the weapon.
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 right hand as he pulled it from his bat 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, entire indoor arena damp; luckily, most fans had realized to bring rain jackets and water-resistant items after Shanahan's previous entrances. His cold, calculated stare fixated on various faces in the crowd. They dared question his victory. They loathed his victory. Just to taunt them, his gloved hands moved to his waist and pushed the folds of his trenchcoat to the side, revealing the prized WWF:G Legacy Title around his waist. His championship, no one else's.
After displaying his prize to the fans, he reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out his own microphone, signalling for the music to fade away. The fans continued to rain their anger down at the man in the ring. They broke out in "CART-WRIGHT!" chants, and "MATT SUCKS." How fitting, he had nearly the same reception after defeating Kelly King just a year ago. His soulless eyes glanced about as they ranted on, and he began to speak as if they didn't exist.
"... How does it feel... to be proven wrong two years in a row?" The Storm prodded the crowd with his icy, deadpan tone. Of course, they only got louder at the taunt from their new champion. "Just a year ago... you all thought Kelly King would best me at Wrestlemania. In one of the longest matches in WWF:G history... I proved you all wrong. At the Royal Rumble this year, it was clear that most of you didn't believe that I would be victorious. I proved you wrong, yet again. Then, just the other night, you all were convinced that Cartwright's legendary reign would NOT end. He would end my Streak and continue to be the champion you all love and adore... and yet, he is not standing here with the belt around his waist. I am. Because I proved you all wrong... -yet again-. I have proven you ALL wrong at every... single... turn. How does it feel?"
All the taunting, all the cold and cruel words from Shanahan's mouth just proved to fuel the hatred the audience had for The Storm. Inside, Matt was smirking. But his cold exterior showed no emotion. He didn't give this crowd even an inch to work with.
"I know what most of you believe, as well. You think Cartwright would have won if this piss-poor company would've provided a stable Chamber to compete in. Not one that began falling apart after one elbow-drop off the top rope. He would've won if the belt didn't fall off the hook. He would've won... if he didn't face The Storm. But despite what you believe, the facts cannot be argued with. I won at Wrestlemania. My Streak lives on. I am THE Legacy Champion... and Cartwright could NOT weather... The Storm."
Matt began to slowly pace around the ring as the fans continued to boo. His frozen stare danced around the arena, filled with the rage and sorrow that seemed to haunt them for the past year. They betrayed the emotionless features of his face. Deep down, he felt the anger and agony of loss each and everyday. Ironically, here he stood as a victor.
"... And yet, you all still have hope. You have hope that Cartwright will take back what was once his. You have hope that somehow, I will not leave tonight as your champion. I hate to bring you down to my level... but I'm afraid your hopes are hollow. Cartwright... is not in attendance tonight. There will NOT be a rematch tonight."
If the fans were pissed before, now they were ready to riot. The former champion wasn't even in the building?! Where was he? Was Matt even telling the truth. The confusion and anger was clear in the room, which only seemed to drive The Storm forward even more.
"You see, after Wrestlemania, Cartwright was dragged out of the flimsy Chamber and taken straight to a medical facility. He is not remotely in shape to compete tonight, because much like Mike Landry, and Brandon Damone, and Kelly King... I. BROKE. HIM. I left on the VERGE of his demise and left with his championship belt! I didn't need chairs, I didn't need tables, I didn't fire, or ladders, or my bat, I didn't need ANYTHING! With my bare hands, I nearly retired Cartwright in THAT MOMENT! Once again, I proved that there is NO MAN that can face The Storm's fury and walk out on their own two feet! So, allow me to apologize for disappointing you all once again, because he will NOT be challenging me tonight!"
Matt lowered the microphone from his lips to allow the fans their moment of rage. They were livid over The Storm's proclamations; Cartwright couldn't have been that broken from the short-lived match! Shanahan was clearly just trying to provoke them... or so they believed. Matt continued to pace about until he came to stop in front of a nearby cameraman, his black, piercing gaze focused on the lens.
"... But I know you, Cartwright. You don't want to stay down. You'll want another chance. So... I urge you take that chance. Next week, if you can crawl out of the depths of your own misery, you can have your shot. Just you and me. Toe-to-toe, one last time... to finish off what I started. To see who really will be the... Last Man Standing. Maybe now, though... you realize what you face. You don't face Salem Croft. You don't face Jimmy Monera. You don't face just a random face in the back... you face The Storm. You face a force of nature that no man has managed to withstand. You face the new... WWF:G Legacy Champion. Can you feel it, Cartwright? Do you feel the chill winds blow? Can you feel that icy pain crawl up your spine? Can you hear the thunder booming in the distance every night?... The Storm is coming, Cartwright. Will you be able to withstand it this time? Can you survive the aftermath?... Or will you falter yet again?... We shall see..."
The Storm's icy glare remained on the camera for a long moment, driving home the message he aimed to send at his upcoming opponent. Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaked through the arena, causing the electricity to flicker out once more. A booming thunderclap echoed across the building, vibrating through the air violently. When the lights finally returned to life, the ring was empty... The WWF:G Legacy Champion was gone. But The Storm's reign was just beginning.
A very abrupt boom of thunder shook the arena, causing the lights on the ceiling to flicker. The thunder was replaced with the outcry of jeers from the audience, but they were soon overpowered by another shockwave of The Storm's fury. A flash of lightning streaked across the dome of the arena, shutting off all the lights as it disappeared. It could only mean one thing: The Storm was coming.
A lone guitar began to quietly play over the sound system, mixing in with the distinct sound of raindrops hitting steel. The eerie music that had ushered in Matt Shanahan at Wrestlemania was playing once more, letting the fans know that their new champion was present this evening. Tonight would be his first title defense, but it was nowhere near time for his match. It seemed The Storm was coming out to greet his subjects early.
Short Change Hero - The Heavy
The slow, haunting intro to the familiar theme music echoed through the darkness, leaving the sea of fans visionless in the massive room. The titantron flickered on to display an image many had seen at Wrestlemania. A tattered Union Jack barely flapping in the wind, as dark storm clouds churned behind it. The message "4-0" was engraved over it, proclaiming the champion's Streak once more. The ramp didn't light up to usher in the devoted Storm worshipers. Aside from the titantron, there was only darkness. The could be heard pouring, but no one knew to what degree it had overtaken the arena. As the intro began to wind down, the fans let out another disapproving roar for what dared to follow. And with that noise...
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 pillar of flames to shoot up from it. The flames spread all over the stage, bathing it in fire and fighting against the 'rain' pouring from the ceiling of the arena. 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 this rain was falling all across the arena. The audience, the stage, the ramp, even the ring itself was being poured down upon by the deluge from the ceiling. The music kicked back in, now with a distinct drum beat to it. The center of the stage was wide open with fog billowing out of it, concealing the figure that 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 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...
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, despite it being empty of any opposition. A ring that he proclaimed to never re-enter back in 2011. And here he stood, as the figurehead of the talent. THE man to beat. THE 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, a flash of lightning ripped across the roof of the arena, causing the dark-blue lighting to go out once more. The Storm didn't remotely pause in his wake tonight though.
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. Matt had shifted to stand at the steel steps, ascending up the platforms the moment the lights phased back in. He carried himself on the apron and stopped midway to step through the ropes, his trenchcoat dragging behind him. Once in the ring, he faced the left side of the arena with his head down to hide his face from view. He lifted his baseball bat up and slid it down his back, notching it in the custom holster on his trenchcoat meant specifically for the weapon.
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 right hand as he pulled it from his bat 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, entire indoor arena damp; luckily, most fans had realized to bring rain jackets and water-resistant items after Shanahan's previous entrances. His cold, calculated stare fixated on various faces in the crowd. They dared question his victory. They loathed his victory. Just to taunt them, his gloved hands moved to his waist and pushed the folds of his trenchcoat to the side, revealing the prized WWF:G Legacy Title around his waist. His championship, no one else's.
After displaying his prize to the fans, he reached into his trenchcoat and pulled out his own microphone, signalling for the music to fade away. The fans continued to rain their anger down at the man in the ring. They broke out in "CART-WRIGHT!" chants, and "MATT SUCKS." How fitting, he had nearly the same reception after defeating Kelly King just a year ago. His soulless eyes glanced about as they ranted on, and he began to speak as if they didn't exist.
"... How does it feel... to be proven wrong two years in a row?" The Storm prodded the crowd with his icy, deadpan tone. Of course, they only got louder at the taunt from their new champion. "Just a year ago... you all thought Kelly King would best me at Wrestlemania. In one of the longest matches in WWF:G history... I proved you all wrong. At the Royal Rumble this year, it was clear that most of you didn't believe that I would be victorious. I proved you wrong, yet again. Then, just the other night, you all were convinced that Cartwright's legendary reign would NOT end. He would end my Streak and continue to be the champion you all love and adore... and yet, he is not standing here with the belt around his waist. I am. Because I proved you all wrong... -yet again-. I have proven you ALL wrong at every... single... turn. How does it feel?"
All the taunting, all the cold and cruel words from Shanahan's mouth just proved to fuel the hatred the audience had for The Storm. Inside, Matt was smirking. But his cold exterior showed no emotion. He didn't give this crowd even an inch to work with.
"I know what most of you believe, as well. You think Cartwright would have won if this piss-poor company would've provided a stable Chamber to compete in. Not one that began falling apart after one elbow-drop off the top rope. He would've won if the belt didn't fall off the hook. He would've won... if he didn't face The Storm. But despite what you believe, the facts cannot be argued with. I won at Wrestlemania. My Streak lives on. I am THE Legacy Champion... and Cartwright could NOT weather... The Storm."
Matt began to slowly pace around the ring as the fans continued to boo. His frozen stare danced around the arena, filled with the rage and sorrow that seemed to haunt them for the past year. They betrayed the emotionless features of his face. Deep down, he felt the anger and agony of loss each and everyday. Ironically, here he stood as a victor.
"... And yet, you all still have hope. You have hope that Cartwright will take back what was once his. You have hope that somehow, I will not leave tonight as your champion. I hate to bring you down to my level... but I'm afraid your hopes are hollow. Cartwright... is not in attendance tonight. There will NOT be a rematch tonight."
If the fans were pissed before, now they were ready to riot. The former champion wasn't even in the building?! Where was he? Was Matt even telling the truth. The confusion and anger was clear in the room, which only seemed to drive The Storm forward even more.
"You see, after Wrestlemania, Cartwright was dragged out of the flimsy Chamber and taken straight to a medical facility. He is not remotely in shape to compete tonight, because much like Mike Landry, and Brandon Damone, and Kelly King... I. BROKE. HIM. I left on the VERGE of his demise and left with his championship belt! I didn't need chairs, I didn't need tables, I didn't fire, or ladders, or my bat, I didn't need ANYTHING! With my bare hands, I nearly retired Cartwright in THAT MOMENT! Once again, I proved that there is NO MAN that can face The Storm's fury and walk out on their own two feet! So, allow me to apologize for disappointing you all once again, because he will NOT be challenging me tonight!"
Matt lowered the microphone from his lips to allow the fans their moment of rage. They were livid over The Storm's proclamations; Cartwright couldn't have been that broken from the short-lived match! Shanahan was clearly just trying to provoke them... or so they believed. Matt continued to pace about until he came to stop in front of a nearby cameraman, his black, piercing gaze focused on the lens.
"... But I know you, Cartwright. You don't want to stay down. You'll want another chance. So... I urge you take that chance. Next week, if you can crawl out of the depths of your own misery, you can have your shot. Just you and me. Toe-to-toe, one last time... to finish off what I started. To see who really will be the... Last Man Standing. Maybe now, though... you realize what you face. You don't face Salem Croft. You don't face Jimmy Monera. You don't face just a random face in the back... you face The Storm. You face a force of nature that no man has managed to withstand. You face the new... WWF:G Legacy Champion. Can you feel it, Cartwright? Do you feel the chill winds blow? Can you feel that icy pain crawl up your spine? Can you hear the thunder booming in the distance every night?... The Storm is coming, Cartwright. Will you be able to withstand it this time? Can you survive the aftermath?... Or will you falter yet again?... We shall see..."
The Storm's icy glare remained on the camera for a long moment, driving home the message he aimed to send at his upcoming opponent. Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaked through the arena, causing the electricity to flicker out once more. A booming thunderclap echoed across the building, vibrating through the air violently. When the lights finally returned to life, the ring was empty... The WWF:G Legacy Champion was gone. But The Storm's reign was just beginning.
