The show returned from commercial right before the supposed main event of the evening. It was the Legacies right after WrestleMania, marking it as the second biggest night of the month; though, it seemed much more lackluster than previous post-WrestleMania shows. No matter, the fans were ecstatic and eager to see the main event of the night.
Though as they waited, time seemed to drag on and on. Then, suddenly, the lights all shut off in the arena. A moment of silence passed. A single moment, holding everyone in suspense. A moment that brought a chill to everyone's spine, as the temperature itself seemed to drop gradually. Perhaps it was the anticipation of what may come, perhaps it was the fear of darkness, or perhaps the air conditioning had just been triggered. Whatever it was...
... It cued the sound of a lone guitar, quietly strumming through the air. A sound that was all too familiar to every WWF:G fan, as it began to meld with the sound of falling rain. The eerie notes hung in the air, an omen for all.
The Storm was coming.
Short Change Hero - The Heavy
The titantron flickered on to display an image of storm clouds surging with electricity, filling the skies with their ominous light. The faint sound of war drums echoed through the air as the guitar continue to hum its lullaby. As the drum beat on, the fans were already roaring with approval into the darkness, excited the man that marched to the same beat.
But eventually, the titantron began to dim, and the guitar played its last note. The arena was left in silence once more; if one were to disregard the roaring fans, chomping at the bit to see what may follow. Their cheers wouldn't go unheard, and their answer would soon come with a single sound...
BOOM!!!
Another shockwave of thunder erupted through the air, but this one brought its mate with it: lightning. The bolt of energy struck the stage as the thunder boomed above. Dark blue lights flashed on, illuminating the arena and attempting to penetrate the thick layers of fog that had descended upon the stage, ramp, and ring-side area. The familiar music began to play again, as the camera zoomed in on the source of the fog: an opening at the center of the stage, with thick amounts of the haze billowing outward.
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...
As the verse continued to hum over the sound of the thundering storm, a silhouette began to rise up from the center of the stage. The fans were still on their feet, screaming for the man who they assumed was hidden behind the thick veil of fog; but would they be correct? That's the question that truly needed answering.
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...
A spotlight flashed on and focused on the center of the stage, as the figure fully rose out of the fog. In a tattered hooded trenchcoat stood the man, the myth, the legend: The Storm. The hood hid the Hall of Famer's eyes from view, but his facial features gave him away; along with the weapon he had in his right hand. Tight in his grasp was the wooden handle to his legendary weapon, "The Punk-ville Slugger." It had indeed been reforged, now complete with a thick metal plate around the center of it. If it wasn't an intimidating weapon before, perhaps the addition of cold metal to it would change that.
As the chorus to his theme song began to play, Matt Shanahan slowly began to descend down the ramp, practically gliding his way through the thick haze.
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."
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. A loud bell chimed through the arena, sending chills through the air as the entrance seemed to only become more ominous.
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 Shanahan was in the ring, the music stopped abruptly. The lights flickered back to their standard, colorless hue. He kept his hood on, keeping the majority of his face hidden on the shadow of it. His eyes danced around the arena, looking over every fan that he could see; he saw the curiosity in their eyes. Why was he out here? Why was The Storm on a post-WrestleMania show, after his first ever loss at WrestleMania, no less?
The Storm lifted his bat up into the air and slid it over his shoulder, sealing it into the custom holster he had crafted onto his trenchcoat, making the weapon appear more like a sword than a baseball bat. His right hand slid into the inside of his trenchcoat and revealed a microphone, which he quickly flicked on with his thumb. The Storm would speak...
Though as they waited, time seemed to drag on and on. Then, suddenly, the lights all shut off in the arena. A moment of silence passed. A single moment, holding everyone in suspense. A moment that brought a chill to everyone's spine, as the temperature itself seemed to drop gradually. Perhaps it was the anticipation of what may come, perhaps it was the fear of darkness, or perhaps the air conditioning had just been triggered. Whatever it was...
... It cued the sound of a lone guitar, quietly strumming through the air. A sound that was all too familiar to every WWF:G fan, as it began to meld with the sound of falling rain. The eerie notes hung in the air, an omen for all.
The Storm was coming.
Short Change Hero - The Heavy
The titantron flickered on to display an image of storm clouds surging with electricity, filling the skies with their ominous light. The faint sound of war drums echoed through the air as the guitar continue to hum its lullaby. As the drum beat on, the fans were already roaring with approval into the darkness, excited the man that marched to the same beat.
But eventually, the titantron began to dim, and the guitar played its last note. The arena was left in silence once more; if one were to disregard the roaring fans, chomping at the bit to see what may follow. Their cheers wouldn't go unheard, and their answer would soon come with a single sound...
BOOM!!!
Another shockwave of thunder erupted through the air, but this one brought its mate with it: lightning. The bolt of energy struck the stage as the thunder boomed above. Dark blue lights flashed on, illuminating the arena and attempting to penetrate the thick layers of fog that had descended upon the stage, ramp, and ring-side area. The familiar music began to play again, as the camera zoomed in on the source of the fog: an opening at the center of the stage, with thick amounts of the haze billowing outward.
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...
As the verse continued to hum over the sound of the thundering storm, a silhouette began to rise up from the center of the stage. The fans were still on their feet, screaming for the man who they assumed was hidden behind the thick veil of fog; but would they be correct? That's the question that truly needed answering.
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...
A spotlight flashed on and focused on the center of the stage, as the figure fully rose out of the fog. In a tattered hooded trenchcoat stood the man, the myth, the legend: The Storm. The hood hid the Hall of Famer's eyes from view, but his facial features gave him away; along with the weapon he had in his right hand. Tight in his grasp was the wooden handle to his legendary weapon, "The Punk-ville Slugger." It had indeed been reforged, now complete with a thick metal plate around the center of it. If it wasn't an intimidating weapon before, perhaps the addition of cold metal to it would change that.
As the chorus to his theme song began to play, Matt Shanahan slowly began to descend down the ramp, practically gliding his way through the thick haze.
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."
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. A loud bell chimed through the arena, sending chills through the air as the entrance seemed to only become more ominous.
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 Shanahan was in the ring, the music stopped abruptly. The lights flickered back to their standard, colorless hue. He kept his hood on, keeping the majority of his face hidden on the shadow of it. His eyes danced around the arena, looking over every fan that he could see; he saw the curiosity in their eyes. Why was he out here? Why was The Storm on a post-WrestleMania show, after his first ever loss at WrestleMania, no less?
The Storm lifted his bat up into the air and slid it over his shoulder, sealing it into the custom holster he had crafted onto his trenchcoat, making the weapon appear more like a sword than a baseball bat. His right hand slid into the inside of his trenchcoat and revealed a microphone, which he quickly flicked on with his thumb. The Storm would speak...
