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After Summers made his over-the-top entrance for a house show, the fans sat in anticipation for the Champion to make his appearance. After sparing moments, Matt Shanahan could be seen pushing past the curtain and slowly walking out onto the stage. His baseball bat was holstered on the back of his trenchcoat, a microphone was in his right hand, and a steel chair in his left. It was odd to watch the Evolution Champion make an appearance without the usual signature notions. The thunder, the lightning, the rain, the music... all of it was gone. Tonight, he was simply a Storm of emotion.

He unfolded the chair onto the middle of the stage and carefully sank down into it, his piercing gaze dancing over the audience from underneath his hood. After sitting, he pushed the folds of his trenchcoat back to reveal his Evolution Championship. The title he had retired Chrono Clepsydra for. The title he had fought to maintain for over a year now. And just after a major defense, he was forced to defend it once again. This time, it was against a rumored backstage rival of his, one that he had been set to brawl with many times. Tonight, the fans were getting to see that epic clash.

And how those fans roared for The Storm, despite his lack of theme music and theatrics. He was the only face within the company, the only one that fought for them. "Before I begin... I want to say thank you to every fan in the audience, and at home. But I also want you to remember this moment, as it might be the last time you drive The Storm forward into combat..."

Matt lifted his free hand to push his hood back, letting his slicked back locks shine under the bright lights. His cold, bloodshot eyes glared down at the ring at Summers, as if he was ready to start the brawl. "For over a year, I have defended the honor of this championship and this company. For over a year, I have prevented the likes of Major Devastation, Disciple, and Salem Croft from getting a chance to begin some tyrannical, childish reign over this business. I didn't do it for selfish reasons, I did it simply to ensure that the future of Evolution would go to a man that deserved it. I fought so that this company's future would not be one of darkness. I fought so that The Storm could eventually pass over and l could leave, knowing that the future was in good hands. For a full year, I issued challenge after challenge to each member of the roster. I commanded the executives to send me a man worthy of being THE Evolution Champion. What do I get instead?... I get Disciple, Hiro Shin-Mozas, Salem Croft... and now, Brantley Summers. Do you know what all these men have in common?"

The Storm paused to let his rant settle with the fans, and to make sure he had Brantley's attention. "... They're all arrogant, self-centered -children-. They've sought this title for their -own- status in this company. They sought to overthrow me simply for bragging rights, and not to lead this company into a better tomorrow. They wanted this belt for yet another achievement on their lists, because they -must- deserve it, right? WRONG."

Matt pushed off of his chair, clearly irritable in his body language. He stormed across the stage while staring at the man in the ring, one that he was destined to face for many months now. "I fought to ensure this company's future, and all I receive are challengers that would spit upon it and think only of themselves! The roster in this company does NOT care for its future! Every other champion has abandoned it; where was Matt Draven?! Where was Trent?! Where has any of the former champions been?! And when I reminded the management here of this, what do I get? I get pitted against a man that has been riding on the coattails of Freakshow's name for so long that he can't even win a championship on his own, even if he has to resort to hiring an obese whale to fall on his opponents!"

The Storm raged across the stage, unsure of how the audience was reacting. He honestly didn't care at this point, his quarrel wasn't with them. "If the roster doesn't care, if my challengers don't care, and if management doesn't care, then why should I? Why should I continue to fight for this company when they spit in my face by asking me to face that shell of a man? FOR THIS?!" Matt stopped to rip the title off of his chest and hold it high in the air, just like he did the night he beat the God of Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey Stuff for it. His chest heaved with each breath, displaying the level of anger he had reached.

"A belt that was designed to encourage men and women alike to evolve beyond their comfort zones? A belt that was meant to be held by the best of the company, a figure that could adapt and survive anything thrown his way? I fight for this, when babbling infants are sent my way, seeing it as just another prize?... No. Tonight, I refuse. I will -not- allow another imbecile the chance for this! I AM THE TRUE! EVOLUTION! CHAMPION! I do not NEED a piece of metal to tell me or this audience that I am the ONLY person to remotely care for this company and live up to its name! I don't need a title to tell me that The Storm's winds are just too strong for any to contend with anymore!"

The champion lowered his arm, dropping the title down to his side. "... So, Summers, I'll make this easy for you." The Storm spat as he threw the title down the ramp, allowing the metal to clank against the steel until it was roughly halfway down the ramp. It seemed the Evolution Champion was forfeiting his title.

As Brantley slid out of the ring and began to run to the title, The Storm began to turn away and walk back behind the curtain. The arena was filled with jeers of a hateful crowd, a crowd that did not want Summers as a champion. But it seemed that Shanahan had made up his mind...

That was until he stopped short of the curtain and turned to his side, gazing down at Summers and the belt. The man had almost made it to the prized gem of the company, he needed only to grab it. Matt's right hand gripped tightly around his baseball bat before he suddenly rose it in an arch, aiming to bring the end of it pointing down towards the prized title belt, and give it the treatment that it deserved.

Before Matt could send that damned title into oblivion, he was interrupted by the Guy Fawkes crew. As the entourage of fake CEOs made their appearance, The Storm slowly turned on heel to face them, his soulless eyes focusing on the one in the middle. Their voice. The one that dared interrupt him. The Storm didn't bother with words, instead he moved towards the speaker with calculated steps, taking his time to tower over the smaller man.

[As always, sorry for the delays.]

Suddenly, the anonymous CEO clocked Shanahan right across the forehead with the microphone, a move that the champion didn't anticipate. He fell down to the steel ramp on his side, his hands covering his forehead from the blow.