Welcome to Gaia! ::

The energy in the building had been electric all night—and somehow, it was still rising. The fans knew what was coming next. And they were ready.

“Left Alone” by Zero 9:36 begins to play.

As the somber, breathy intro washed through the speakers, the entire climate of the arena shifted. The lights dimmed, casting a cold white glow across the stage as fog curled low around the ramp. The music built... and so did the emotion.

This was more than just another match.

Last year, on this very stage, Trent fought tooth and nail in a career-defining showdown against Cartwright. A match not just for gold—but for legacy. And even though he nearly pulled off the impossible, the night ended in horror. A devastating post-match assault left him clutching his neck, his future uncertain. The headlines weren’t kind. Many believed he’d never step through the ropes again.

And yet…

He returned.

The song picked up. The hook blasted in. The lights flared to life—white, neon, flickering with rhythm.

Trent emerged through the fog, standing tall with a fire in his eyes and a smile on his face. The Las Vegas crowd erupted, their cheers washing over him like a wave of gratitude and love.

No nerves. No fear.

Just joy—and a mission.

He extended his arms out toward the sea of fans, who reached right back, thunderously welcoming him home.

JR:
"Twelve months ago, this man lay in the center of that ring with doctors around him. Tonight, he walks again—not just to fight, but to live out what many said was impossible."
King:
"Honestly, I was one of those who never thought I would see Trent again. But I am glad I was wrong. Even if he did cross the boss one too many times!"

“Introducing at this time…”
“Weighing in tonight at 247 pounds…”
“From St. Paul, Minnesota…”
“He is… the Initiator… TREEEEENT!”

The cheers somehow grew louder as Trent made his way down the ramp, moving with purpose but soaking up every second. He didn’t just high-five fans—he connected with them. A hug here. A fist bump there. Pointing to signs. Kneeling to share a moment with a kid in the front row.

It wasn’t about slowing the entrance down—it was about making it mean something.

For them.
For him.

Trent circled the ring, slapping hands the entire way before climbing the steel steps. He paused on the apron, breathing it all in. Then ducked between the ropes and entered the ring like a man who knew what he almost lost—and never forgot how badly he wanted it back.

Grabbing the top rope, he made a slow lap around the ring—one more moment to absorb the magnitude of where he was, what he survived, and what he was about to do.

His music faded, but the crowd didn’t.

They stayed loud. They stayed on their feet. Because tonight…

The Initiator was back.

"You still got it!"
"You still got it!"
"You still got it!"

Trent would bounce inside his corner. Preparing mentally and physically for this match that was bound to be competitive, to say the least.

The official approached Trent, patting him down and confirming he was ready to compete which Trent would give the nod.

Hopefully his opponent felt as good as he did going into this match, and was just as ready as Trent was to tear this whole place down with a performance to be remembered.

Trent would raise his hands, squatting into position. Approaching White Tiger. He didn't respond verbally to White Tiger, but would show he was prepared by inching in closer and closer.

The two would meet in the center for the collar and elbow. Both these men were no slouches, so Trent wanted to see what he was working with as he tried to win a battle of strength with White Tiger despite the small weight difference.

It seems that the test of strength had gone out the window. Trent getting cocky and assuming his opponent was playing the same game he was.

Coming back down to Earth. Trent wrapped his arms around the waist of White Tiger, beginning to bring him back to the ropes, hoping to push his opponent off of him and to the opposite set of ropes if all went down as Trent wanted.

Polar opposites with great minds that thought alike. As White Tiger came back, he would shove his shoulder out for the shoulder tackle, only to be slammed by the body weight of White Tiger in return. Stumbling back a bit, Trent would keep his eyes on White Tiger.

Resettting, Trent shook his shoulder that slammed against White Tiger, and offered the opposite arm for another collar and elbow near the center of the ring. Both men were balancing each other out early on, but eventually the tides would shift and the real contest would begin.

Once again, White Tiger took the lead. Using his speed to maneuver behind Trent who instinctively sent an elbow behind him. Fine with causing some separation or doing a bit of damage.

Trent brought his left hand to his nose, running it across. Relieving an itch or possibly a soothing reaction realizing how close White Tiger almost had him if not for the reactions he had built up over the years.

Trent got into a slight squat once more, putting his hands up and offering another collar and elbow.