Summerslam. One of the biggest shows for WWF:G, and Matt had managed to remain champion until then. The Wrestlemania gladiator had never been part of Summerslam; and if he had, then it was clearly a forgettable one. Tonight was his first (probably), and many were already beginning to put up bets to see if he'd begin another Streak tonight; chances were that one would go unnoticed though. The crowd was electric for Bad Boy, they wanted to see this home-state hero take home the gold. The Storm's reign over WWF:G was an unwelcome one thus-far. 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 a good portion of 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. A gust of wind could be heard, many of which assumed to be coming from the sound system; however, it was not. What felt like mild winds began to blow throughout the arena in Bad Boy's direction.
Short Change Hero - The HeavyThe 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, but not to display a boastful image of the champion's Wrestlemania streak. Instead, it showed the outside of the arena. The building of which everyone had crowded into for tonight's event. Storm clouds hung overhead, swirling over the area, threatening to unleash a tempest upon the arena. The ramp didn't light up to usher in the devoted Storm worshipers. Aside from the titantron, there was only darkness. The rain could be heard pouring down inside the arena, 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. The winds grew stronger, blowing against Bad Boy as if they blew with intentions to knock him down. The sound of the whirling winds echoed around the room. And with their 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, seemingly straight through the roof of the building. A small flame sparked from the impact, rapidly growing into a harsh inferno. 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 introducing the champion, weighing in at three hundred and twenty-six pounds... standing at six feet and eight inches.... he is The Storm, The Legacy Champion, MAAAAAAAAATT SHAAAAAAAANAHAAAAAAAN!"
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, the piercing glare of The Storm locking onto Bad Boy immediately. The winds continued to blow, the rain continued to weep over the crowd; The Storm had arrived.
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 Bad Boy's direction and stood in place, a menacing image of the champion.
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 head 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 his challenger of the evening: Bad Boy. A man who once held the previous version of the belt around his waist. Just to taunt him, 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 his opponent, he handed it off to the referee and began to remove his trenchcoat with his free arm, signalling for the music to fade away. After his speech at the last show, the hateful chants seemed to be not as strong as before. Still, the fans continued to rain their anger down at the man in the ring. They broke out in
"BAD BOY!" chants, and
"MATT SUCKS." He swiftly tuned the people out and tossed his coat over the top rope, letting a nearby stagehand catch it for him. He put his bat down onto the mat for a brief moment to quickly rip off his shirt, tossing it out into the hateful fans afterward. His tattooed, scarred torso shined like a twisted masterpiece under the lights, highlighting the various violent confrontations he had dealt with over the years. He kicked the baseball bat into his corner, then turned back to glare at the man he'd be beating tonight. Firm near his corner, Matt stood like a haunting statue as the bell rang.
-DING DING-
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