A camera is outside the Brantley Summers locker room. Summers needed the shine, it kept him warm. He walks out of it and down the long hallway before entering the fire escape stairwell. He's wearing a trench coat and a fedora with shades to cover his rough exterior. Summers had competed in an uneventful ladder match that mysteriously ended at the last pay per view. On the next pay per view, Summers was going to be facing Matt Shanahan in a unification match of the FFA Heavyweight Championship and FFA Team Rocket Championship, Summers apparently carrying the former. The two belts were going to be unified into the Omega Ultimate Championship. The match very obviously was to make up for a confrontation that was built up for six months before a month hiatus of it. The match was set up to be an Ironman Roulette match. The second ever.

You could say it was the Omega Ultimate Championship match because it was an end all. Would the match really end it all though? Could this match be the contest to show something that could be the best match. Why would Shanahan and Summers even have tension with each other? They have two connections in Saint Joey and Freakshow. Freakshow's the mentor of Brantley Summers and the man that Matt Shanahan might hate the most. Joey, Joey's dead. He and Summers were tag champions in Hawaii. Shanahan and Joey were also tag champions in various places. You could say that there belts were more in paradise than the Hawaii that Joey and Summers were. Joey spiraled out of control, he was on top of the world. But Joey's dead.

Shanahan and Summers only say goodbye with words. They've never thrown down their gloves and grappled. There's a few dim lights in the stairwell. Summers begins to walk up the flights of stairs. Shanahan was now on top. He was the face of almost every company and if he wasn't the face, he owned it. Summers was there. He's never the 'face' of it. Brantley's always in the company, but he's a forgettable face. You could almost say he's faceless. Barely an exaggeration would be to say he's a nobody. Summers makes it up and sits on a step about half way up that flight. How do you kill someone with no body? That was for Shanahan to figure out in their match, not Summers. Summers wasn't the face, he just had to pretend he was and try to leave a black eye.

Shanahan was considered a god among men in this business. He was a storm. Summers, he's been a king, but you can't expect a king to tame a storm or fight a god. It's almost as if Summers role in the match was to be sacrificed. Brantley was turning into Icarus. He was touching the sky and getting to close with the gods. The Sun was going to ruin his wings. You couldn't tell that to Brantley though. Summers had unwavering confidence, a brash cockiness. He's learned almost every in the book. Brantley made Mike Landry pass out to a sleeper hold and had another king, Kelly King, beat. A crack and loud thud is echoed throughout the stairwell. You could tell it was from a distance. Summers stayed sitting on the step. He leaned backwards revealing his FFA Heavyweight Championship. Summers didn't really earn the belt, the belt seemed more of a gimmick than an accomplishment to him. It almost kept him warm.

Summers was kicked out of a place that he had called home. He wasn't the top star, but it was a warm place. He was looking for warmth since it was gone, maybe that's why the Sun seemed like his destination. Shanahan was a Black Star. A cold, desolate land that needed to be conquered. Craving glory, Brantley needed to leave Sanitarium a winner or he'd likely end up in a sanitarium. Brantley took off his hat and would lay it next to him as he ran his hand across his short hair. Summers fixed the tie and lined it up with the vest he had on. The trench coat stayed on.

The footsteps were heard and began to get louder and louder. Summers finally stood up and turned to face some random man who ran a stand. The man had a box of merchandise. Shirts, replicas, jewelry, etc. Brantley reached into his trench coat and pulled out a wad of cash that he handed to the man. The man gladly took the excess amount of money and scurried off. Summers opened up the box and dumped its contents on the wide section of the flight of stairs. The door was shut and the loud thud echoed. Matt Shanahan shirts from across his whole career, debut to now, necklaces, rings, belts, all of it was in this box. Brantley through the box down the stairwell.

Brantley pulls out a flask from the trench coat. Pouring the liquid over the merchandise, Summers was dousing it, getting it ready for the match he pulled out. Brantley flung the flask down the stairwell. Brantley flicked the match into the assortment of clothes. The flames rose. Brantley tucked himself into the trench coat. It wasn't warm enough yet. Summers, a name of heat, was beside a fire of his opponents history while wrapped in layers of clothes. Summers wasn't warm yet. Brantley walked up the rest of the flight and walked out the door.

The fire burned.