By: Jay Winger
FIRST SIGHTING: RAW IS WAR, Jan. 3
"Are you scared? He's here....Ohhhh...they call me 'Cowboy!' I'm the singer in black, so throw a finger in the air, lemme see where you're at, and say, 'HEY! HEY!'..."
The fans shouted the lyrics to Kid Rock's "American Bad Ass" as the Undertaker roared down the ramp on his Titan motorcycle. He circled the ring, as dominant as ever, looking as if he owned the entire arena, then parked at the base of the ramp. He stood up, let his leather duster fall loose, then raised a fist in the air. He climbed into the ring, glancing at Lillian Garcia briefly, then removed his sunglasses and bandanna. "The following match is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring, from Death Valley, weighing in at 328 pounds...THE UNDERTAKER!" The six-foot-ten Phenom adjusted his gloves and looked up as his music cut off.
"One, two--s'this on? Yo, Jimmy, hit me wi' that Triple H... Yeah, you let the music keep playin', Mr. Dumb Sh....it!" The techno music of "My Time" played as Triple H stepped into view, by himself. (A pre-match segment had shown him, once again, telling his wife Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley to stay backstage.) He had his head lowered, trademark glower on his face as he poured water over his scalp. He poured some into his mouth, spewed it out in the air, then shook his wet hair out of his face, grimacing as he stalked down to the ring. "And his opponent, from Greenwich, Connecticut, weighing in at 246 pounds...TRIPLE H!"
Triple H was about to suck in some more water for the rest of his entrance pose when his music was replaced by a steady buzz-buzz-buzz sound, not unlike the EBS signal. All eyes turned to the Titantron, where a stylized exclamation point, flanked by two lightning bolts, was flashing over the images of Triple H's enrance video in time to the buzzing.
"What's this?" J.R. wondered aloud at the announce table. "Someone's interrupted Triple H's entrance video."
"Is this another one of Kurt Angle's tricks?" Jerry 'the King' Lawler asked beside him. But that theory was dashed when words appeared over the symbols flashing on the screen:
THIS IS YOUR STORM WARNING...
"'Storm warning?'" the King repeated. "What's that mean?"
"I don't know, King, but the Game does not look happy," J.R. pointed out. "I don't think he likes the fact that someone's interrupted his video." True enough, Triple H's standard glower was steadily turning into a definite scowl. The words and symbols flashed a few more times, and then inexplicably cut off. Triple H's music picked right back up. The Game blinked in surprise, staring at the screen as he stood on the ring apron. The Undertaker took advantage of the distraction, grabbed him by the head and pulled him into the ring. The match began, and Taker pressed his leverage, and ten minutes later, he powerbombed Triple H with the Last Ride for the pin.
SECOND SIGHTING: Smackdown!, Jan. 6
Newly-recrowned Tag Team Champions Edge and Christian were laughing to themselves as they headed back to their private dressing room. They had just been in the ring, where they "totally mocked and humiliated" their current #1 contenders, the Dudley Boyz, with another classic five-second pose. They stopped outside their door as they found it spraypainted with a big, blue, stylized exclamation point. Puzzled, they opened the door, then stood in shock.
The lockers had been knocked down, chairs overturned, light-bulbs smashed. Spray paint covered the walls in lightning bolts, hurricane symbols, and more exclamation points. Edge went over to the shattered mirror and picked up his stack of promotional photographs. They had all been drawn on with a permanent marker, as had Christian's stack. Christian pointed at the wall, where the following words had been spraypainted:
FOR THE BENEFIT OF THOSE WITH FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY...THE STORM IS APPROACHING...
"Man, someone totally trashed our room!" Christian complained. Typically, he was stating the absolute obvious.
"Yeah, this so reeks of heinosity!" Edge added. "Who did this?"
"It must've been those damn Dudleys," Christian said. "This is pure stinktatude!"
Edge nodded in agreement, then looked out in the hall. A guy, a stagehand or something, was looking in the door at the devastation. "Hey, who're you?" he demanded.
The man held up his hands, as if to ward off a sudden attack. "I'm Joe, just Joe."
"Well, Joe, you seen anybody come in here while we were gone?" Christian asked.
"Yeah, like the Dudleys?" Edge added.
Joe shook his head. "No, guys, I didn't see anyone. I can ask the boys in the back, if you want."
"Yeah, do that," Edge said.
Christian looked pained as he held up one of his shirts, which had been torn and spraypainted on. "Man," he whined, "this is totally lacking in coolness!"
A short while later, Joe returned. "Hey, I talked to the boys in the back, and they said the Dudleys haven't been anywhere near your dressing room." He shrugged at their confused expressions.
Edge thought of something, slapped his forehead, then smacked his brother's arm. "It must've been the Hardys!"
Christian nodded. "They're fighting Lo Down right now... We could do a run-in!"
Edge considered, then grinned. "Yeah, run-ins rule!" He slapped a high-five, then pushed past Joe with Christian as they ran for the ring. In their haste, they didn't hear Joe say something else.
"Guys, it was some new guy..."
Out in the ring, the referee had been knocked out, and the Hardys were gaining momentum. They had Chaz and D'Lo on the run, Matt scoring a Twist of Fate on Chaz as Jeff ascended the post. At the announce table, Michael Cole was doing play-by-play: "And Jeff Hardy setting up for the Swanton Bomb, and--wait a minute!"
"It's Edge and Christian!" the King shouted beside him. "It's an E.C.R.I.!"
"'Edge and Christian Run-In!'" Cole translated.
Christian jumped and shoved the ropes, causing Jeff to lose his balance and fall on the top rope crotch-first. The audience groaned in sympathy as Edge slid into the ring, then nailed Matt with a Spear before he could help his brother. Edge and Christian roused Chaz and D'Lo, then left the ring as the two members of Lo Down took advantage. Chaz climbed Jeff's post and set him up for a superplex. He flipped Jeff backwards, making him land squarely on his fallen brother. D'Lo, on the other corner, leaped out in a `Lo Down splash and hit both Hardys. D'Lo rolled Jeff off his brother, and Chaz hooked up a leg. The ref came around, saw this and slapped the mat...1...2...3.
Edge and Christian grinned as Lo Down's music hit for their win. Chaz and D'Lo gave the Tag Team Champions an odd look, as if wondering why they got the assist, but then they shrugged and went to stomping on the Hardys. The two Canadians headed back to their dressing room, grinning maliciously as officials ran down to the ring to separate the fighting teams.
THIRD SIGHTING: Smackdown!, Jan. 13
A red and white 'NO' symbol flashed on the Ovaltron as buzzers and sirens went off, an electronic voice wrabling, "Warning! Warning!" Boos cascaded down on the four men who walked out in white shirts and black ties. Oblivious to the raw, seething hatred the fans had for him, Steven Richards had his trademark 'evil' smirk on his face. Right to Censor entered the ring, Val Venis, Bull Buchanan, and the Goodfather taking up bodyguard-like positions around their leader. Richards took a microphone from the ringside.
The censor started to raise the mike to speak, but chants of "ASS-HOLE! ASS-HOLE!" thundered down on him. Richards' smirk turned into a scowl for a moment, but then he recovered his collected facade and spoke.
"I can assure you," he told the fans, "that I am not what you say." That remark served to intensify the chants for a moment before it degenerated into booing. Richards smiled and continued, "My comrades and I are united in our crusade to correct the lack of morality demonstrated by this company. Again, we will see to it that the World Wrestling Federation exhibits no acts of gratuitous violence--"
"Right, like those damn Dudleys and their tables!" the King remarked from ringside.
"--no demonstrations of substance abuse--"
"I think that was meant for the Acolytes," Michael Cole said.
"--no indecent exposure," Richards said, his smirk turning into a definite scowl as he rubbed at his cheeks.
"Talking about Rikishi and the Stink Face, King."
"--and," Richards sneered, "no scantily-clad women." This earned Right to Censor a rousing chant of "SAVE THE HOS!" from the fans, which only served to infuriate the cult-like leader of the group. Richards raised his microphone to speak again, but he was cut off as a buzz-buzz-buzz sound blared over the speakers. He turned to look at the Ovaltron as a voice broadcast over the speakers.
"Steven Richards..." The audience hushed and looked at the screen, where the mysterious stylized exclamation point and lightning bolts were flashing over Richards' face. The rest of Right to Censor looked about in confusion, but then the disembodied voice spoke again, loud and forbidding.
"This...is your Storm Warning," it said.
The audience, picking up on the fact that whoever was behind this was no fan of censorship, started to cheer as Richards started to stomp around the ring in frustration. Val Venis and the Goodfather climbed out of the ring and stood at the foot of the ramp, staring up at the screen and the flashing emblem.
"Steven Richards..." the voice said again. All eyes looked at the screen. "Censor...THIS!"
The flashing sign vanished, replaced by several edited clips from old WWF broadcasts. Clips from the Godfather's old pimp persona played on screen, showing the Pimp Daddy dancing away with his Ho Train, stogie in his mouth, jewelry on his neck, and cane in hand. Sound now: "Are there any pimps up in this house?!" and then a chorus of voices roared on the screen. Next, "Hello, ladies," as clips of Val Venis' old ex-porn star gimmick played, showing him doing his striptease routine in the ring, flirting with the WWF divas. Images of the two hos--Mandy and Victoria--brandishing their placards as chants of "SAVE THE HOS!" echoed over the speakers. An image of Chyna pulling down Richards' pants during Eddie Guerrero's Intercontinental Title match with Val Venis.
But the crowning achievement--which Richards noticed earned the most cheers and (worse) laughter--was when the Titantron showed an image of "Stevie" Richards...in drag. This image stayed on the screen the longest, causing Richards to scream at the booth, ordering them to cut the tape.
"You want to censor me, Steven?" the voice asked. "I'm backstage at the truck. Come and get me!"
Seething in rage, all four members of Right to Censor tore up the ramp and backstage. In their sprinting haste, they shoved stagehands, officials, and other wrestlers out of their way. At last, they reached the truck, where a monitor was set up. No one was there, but one of Right to Censor's 'NO' placards was there; spraypainted in blue over the crossed-out circle was the stylized exclamation point. Written underneath it were the words:
THE STORM IS COMING...JUST TRY AND CENSOR IT.
FOURTH SIGHTING: RAW IS WAR, Jan. 17
The fans were murmuring amongst themselves as they waited for the next match to begin. All at once, red fiery pyros went off at the top of the stage, lighting the entire arena in red. Haunting music played as the masked monster Kane walked down the ramp, climbing into the ring, looking almost as if he didn't realize the audience was there. Raising his arms to the sides, Kane brought them down swiftly, causing the corners of the ring to explode in red flames.
"The following match is scheduled for one fall," Lillian was saying during his entrance. "Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 326 pounds...KANE!!"
Kane threw his head back, whipping his hair back out of his face. Patriotic, Olympian music played on the Titantron, and the fans started to jeer as the sappy, deceitful, and self-serving Kurt Angle walked out, medals clinking on his chest, microphone in hand. He smirked at the fans, waved condescendingly, then turned to look back at the Titantron as his 4th-of-July pyros went off. Turning back to Kane, Kurt allowed Lillian to finish: "And his opponent, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 220 pounds...he is the 2000 King of the Ring...KURT ANGLE!"
"Kane," Kurt said, "to tell you the truth, I don't want to fight you. In fact, I feel sorry for you! It's only because Commissioner Foley booked this match that I'm going to through with it. You see, I pity the fact that you grew up with a brother like the Undertaker and a father like Paul Bearer. Now--" He stopped a moment to tug on the end of his nose as Kane cocked his head to the side (as if trying to decide which part to tear off first). Kurt went on, "Now, I don't know what happened to you to turn you into this," he made quotes with his fingers, "'monster.' Maybe you didn't get hugged enough as a kid. Maybe people were always cutting in front of you in the lunchline. Whatever the case, it's clear to me that what you need is a real positive role model. It's true," he told the booing audience, "it's true. Now, what better role model could you ask for but an Olympic gold medalist."
By now, Kurt had climbed up on the ring apron, where Kane stared impassively at him. The Big Red Machine cocked his head to the other side (he'd decided to rip out Kurt's tongue first, so he wouldn't have to listen to him anymore), then looked at the Titantron as the EBS-like buzz-buzz-buzz filled the arena. The stylized exclamation point and lightning bolts appeared again, flashing over Kurt's face. The fans, anticipating an end to Kurt's sappy promo, started to scream, especially when words started to appear.
KURT ANGLE...
The Olympic athlete, bewildered, tugged on his nose as he paced back and forth on the apron, staring at his name on the screen. Kane blinked behind his mask, equally confused.
"Looks like another 'Storm Warning,' King," J.R. commented.
"Oh, no," Jerry Lawler muttered. "What's this guy gonna do now?"
The name hung on the screen a moment longer, then disappeared, replaced by the following words: THE AMERICAN JACKASS... IT'S TRUE, IT'S TRUE.
The fans immediately started to laugh as Kurt screamed in self-righteous anger at the screen, then singled out the nearest WWF stagehand and started to berate him, blaming him for the insult on the screen. The disembodied voice that had spoken to Steven Richards a few nights earlier spoke again. "This...is your Storm Warning."
The words on the Titantron changed again: THE STORM IS COMING...
All at once, the message disappeared, and Kane loomed up behind Kurt, who was still staring in confusion at the screen, grabbed him by the head and hauled him over the ropes into the ring. Try as he did, Kurt was unable to shake off the distraction brought on by the sneak attacks (both to his ego and to his body) and fell prey to Kane's chokeslam. A pinfall later, Kane strode victoriously up the ramp.
FIFTH SIGHTING: Smackdown!, Jan. 20
Pompous, Masterpiece Theatre-esque music trumpeted over the speakers as Steven William Regal finished preparing his table setting in the middle of the ring. The fans, sensing another dull ettiquette lesson, started to boo. Mr. Regal smiled condescendingly, holding a microphone.
"Hullo to you all," Mr. Regal said, "and a very good evening to you. I've managed to convince the producers of this programme to allow me to do another lesson in manners for our uncivilized American viewers. Now, I know that our crass friend, that buffoon Chris Jericho--" The mention of Y2J's name brought on a cheer, which Mr. Regal tolerated. "I know that Mr. Jericho will not be interrupting us this time. Now, then--"
Buzz-buzz-buzz. The EBS signal echoed as the exclamation point and lightning bolts appeared on the Ovaltron. The fans cheered--anything could be better than Mr. Regal's pompous posturing. Mr. Regal had a surprised and indignant look on his face as he looked up. The disembodied voice spoke. "Steven William Regal...this...is your Storm Warning."
The fans cheered as Mr. Regal started to look as if he'd stepped in something extremel unpleasant. The Storm Warning symbol continued to flash on screen, and then the voice spoke again. "Mr. Regal...with all due disrespect...SHUT YOUR CAKEHOLE!"
The WWF's Goodwill Ambassador now looked extremely insulted as the fans cheered on the unseen character-assassin. The King, at ringside, was laughing uproariously at seeing the stiff and unpopular Mr. Regal flustered.
"You obviously need a lesson in WWF table manners, Regal," the voice said. "And who better, when it comes to tables--" The voice paused, and in anticipation, the fans started to scream. "--than the Dudley Boyz?"
The fans cheered as the words "THE STORM IS NEAR..." appeared, and then a bomb whistled on the Ovaltron before pyros exploded at the top of the ramp. Sprinting out of the smoke came Buh-Buh Ray and D-Von Dudley, looks of sadistic glee on their faces as they cut off Mr. Regal's escape and started to stomp him in the middle of the ring.
Buh-Buh scoop-slammed Mr. Regal, then held apart his legs and turned him toward the corner. He grinned at his half-brother, who was standing at the top of the post. Wagging his tongue out of his mouth, Buh-Buh yelled, "Whassup!!" at D-Von, who launched out in a flying headbutt into Mr. Regal's exposed crotch. As the stuck-up fop doubled over in pain, and as D-Von did his crazy victory dance, Buh-Buh turned to look at Mr. Regal's table setting. A look of insane anticipation came across his face, then he shoved his half-brother. "D-Von!"
"What?!" he yelled. Now everybody saw what was coming, and that only served to excite the Dudleys further.
Grinning like a maniac, Buh-Buh Ray pointed at Mr. Regal's prop. "Get the table!" D-Von, grinning exactly like him, ripped the setting off the table and exposed the wood beneath. He positioned it by the corner as Buh-Buh Ray hoisted himself to a sitting position on the top rope. Sure that the table was ready, D-Von hauled Steven Regal to his feet and lifted him onto Buh-Buh's shoulders. The heavyset Dudley stood up and threw Mr. Regal down hard in a powerbomb that reduced the table to splinters. D-Von did his dance again as Buh-Buh stared down at Regal, face slack as his euphoric trance came over him.
ARRIVAL: Royal Rumble, Jan. 23
About an hour before show time, at the top of the pre-PPV Sunday Night Heat, Tazz stomped around backstage, upset because he wasn't participating in the Rumble. In the final qualifying match, his old nemesis Jerry "the King" Lawler had smashed his head with a metal water pitcher (this after Tazz had taunted him prior to the match), allowing Eddie Guerrero to make it into the Rumble instead of Tazz.
Tazz walked past the boiler room, barely glancing at the hand-lettered "COMMISSIONER" sign that adorned it. He walked past, but then the door opened and a man stuck his head out. "Tazz!" Mick Foley said. The Brooklyn native stopped and turned to him. Foley grinned. "Not thug life dead yet?"
Rolling his eyes, Tazz muttered, "No, I ain't. Whaddaya want, Foley?"
"The Royal Rumble's tonight," Foley said.
"Don't remind me," Tazz grimaced.
"Hey, I'm sorry you don't have a match tonight and Al Snow does, and I'm sorry Raven's in the Rumble and you're not," Foley said, "but...how'd you like me to book a match for you tonight?"
Tazz blinked, raising his sunglasses up to his forehead. "Come again?"
Foley grinned. "I'm the Commissioner, aren't I? It's the anniversary of your WWF debut...why not celebrate by having a match tonight before the Royal Rumble?"
Tazz folded his arms. "Sounds good. S'not against Lawler, is it?"
"No, it's not Jerry Lawler," Foley said. "But I'm glad you agree to the idea. I'll go book the match right now. I'll catch you later. Lemme know if the mood changes while I'm gone!" And before Tazz could reply, Mick Foley pulled his head back in the boiler room and shut the door. Tazz gaped at him, then growled and punched the wall. He grumbled as he stomped off to find some sap to punk out.
* * *
During the PPV an hour later, a series of pre-Rumble matches took place. X-Pac battled the Big Bossman (and won after clobbering Bossman with his own nightstick), Right to Censor fought Too Cool, Rikishi, and Dean Malenko (Richards' group won after Grand Master Sexay missed a Hip Hop Drop), and Al Snow defended his European Title against Perry Saturn while wearing Swedish attire. The fans expected the next match to be The Rock against the Undertaker for the WWF Title, but instead the music of Tazz hit. Tazz strode through orange-lit smoke, his torn towl flapping on top of his head, then stalked down the ramp to the ring. He threw his towel to a ringside official and folded his arms, sneering at J.R. and the King.
"The following match is scheduled for one fall," Howard Finkel annoucned. "Making his way to the ring, from the Red Hook District of Brooklyn, New York...weighing in at 255 pounds...TAZZ!"
"This match was booked just a few short hours ago, King," J.R. said, "and I don't think Tazz is completely ready for it."
"I hope not," Lawler said. "Who's his opponent gonna be?"
The big-screens started emitting the EBS buzz-buzz-buzz and flashing the stylized exclamation point and lightning bolts. The fans, recognizing this emblem, started cheering as lightning flashes began to accompany the buzzing. One by one, the words appeared and replaced each other: THE ... STORM ... IS ...
The buzzing and the symbol stopped as the screen flickered crazily as the final word appeared: HERE!
The voice spoke. "This is your Storm Warning!"
Violent clips of weather phenomena -- hurricanes, tornadoes, lightning strikes, microbursts of wind -- clashed on the screen to heavy metal-esque music. Two lightning bolts shot down from the ceiling and set off pyros at the top of the stage. Lights flashed behind the smoke of the pyros, looking almost like lightning, and then a man stepped into view from the smoke. He stood a few inches taller than Tazz, wearing a black tee with a blue exclamation point on the front. Arcing down from the shoulders were two electric blue lightning bolts. He wore loose black jeans and thick black boots. A pair of black sunglasses hid his eyes from view as he stood at the top of the ramp. Tazz paced back and forth in the ring, snorting and snarling as Howard Finkel announced the newcomer.
"And his opponent, making his World Wrestling Federation debut, from Dallas, Texas, weighing in at 250 pounds...THE STORM!"
The Storm gazed over the audience and raised a microphone in his hand. When he spoke, it was that same voice that had been taunting people since weeks earlier It had a bit of a growl to it, and was unusually deep for a man of his not-that-tall size. "The Storm...has...ARRIVED!"
Cheers again, and the newcomer raised his other hand to gesture at his opponent. "Tazz...you've said since you arrived in the World Wrestling Federation that..." He made a quote with his fingers, "'the mood is about to change.' So far, the only mood I've seen has been complete and utter boredom." When the fans reacted, the Storm held up his hand, then said, "I don't mean to give you the same dull spiel that Y2J gave you...BUT! Tazz, here's how it winds down: nobody cares if you're thug-life born or thug-life bred. Hell, they'll probably celebrate when you're dead, thug-life or not." He slowly started down the ramp. "But you go in that ring and go all hardcore on their ass, make 'em tap out to your Tazzmission. But lemme tell you something, boyo..." He removed his sunglasses, exposing cold blue-gray eyes. "...the Storm is a Force of Nature...and Nature does not tap out."
The Storm handed his shades and the microphone to an official, then climbed up on the ring apron. Tazz charged, swinging a fist, but the challenger blocked and grabbed Tazz's head. He jumped backwards off the apron, choking Tazz against the ropes, then releasing him, making Tazz stagger backwards into the ring. The Storm slid into the ring -- officially getting the match underway -- and clotheslined Tazz with a stiff arm. The newcomer grabbed Tazz's left leg and planted his foot against his right ankle. He paused briefly, then leaned to his right and twisted Tazz's left leg painfully. Grimacing and shouting in pain, Tazz grabbed at his leg and attempted to grab the Storm, only to get respite as the Storm released his right leg.
Tazz aimed a kick at him, but the Storm grabbed his other leg, then stepped forward, looking as if he were starting a Sharpshooter. But instead of twisting the Orange-and-Black Attack's legs around, the Force of Nature raised his other leg and stomped hard on Tazz's crotch. Despite the fact that it was Tazz, the audience groaned in sympathy. The Storm dropped Tazz's legs and let the Brooklyner roll in pain. He moved out on the ring apron and climbed up on the steel post, holding the ropes on either side of it and leaning way back in a crouch. When Tazz reached his feet, the Storm yanked himself forward and slingshot himself into an amazing diving cross-body. With Tazz down, the Storm hooked up a leg. 1...2...
Tazz got a shoulder up. The Storm frowned and stood up, pulling Tazz to his feet. Abruptly, Tazz kicked him the gut, then grabbed him around the waist and hurled him to the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex. The challenger sat up and started to turn, but Tazz planted a kick to the base of his spine. The Storm bent over in pain, clutching the kicked spot.
The Human Wrecking Machine straddled his chest and started unloading punches to his temple. The Storm jerked limply with each punch, eyes starting to roll back in his head. "Oh, man! Somebody stop Tazz! Come on, Storm!" Jerry Lawler called from the ringside. Tazz stopped long enough to shout some abuse in the King's direction, and in that moment of distraction, one of the Storm's "limp" arms shot up and low-blowed Tazz. The Brooklyn Bad Ass stumbled away, allowing the Force of Nature to get to his feet. He grabbed one of Tazz's legs and one of his arms, then flipped him up in a Samoan Drop. He hooked up a leg for a pin. Again, Tazz got his shoulder up on two.
The Storm angrily stood the groggy Tazz up and unleased a fierce arm chop to his chest. The crowd groaned as they heard the smack. He stood Tazz up again, then delivered a second arm chop. Another groan from the audience. The Storm wound up again, but Tazz ducked the swing and slipped behind, quickly snared him in the Tazzmission. "Oh, no!" Lawler screamed from the side.
"Tazz has the Storm locked in the Tazzmission!" J.R. shouted.
As the Storm grimaced in the tight hold, his vision starting to swim, he heard Tazz growl in his ear, "I'm gonna choke your ass out! C'mon, just tap out, and I'll go easy on ya!"
Grunting, the newcomer replied, "Sorry, but...I...don't...tap...out!" Using his free arm, the Storm bent over and grabbed Tazz's leg behind the knee. All at once, the Storm jumped in the air and turned over, slamming Tazz to the mat underneath him. The Brooklyner oofed as the wind was knocked from him. A bit out of wind himself, the Storm got to his knee and started to blink rapidly as he got his breath back. Tazz rolled to his stomach and started to push himself to his feet as well.
Tazz attacked, and the Storm blocked his punch, delivering a harsh jab to Tazz's gut, knocking the wind out of him again. The Storm then pivoted, grabbing Tazz's leg and hoisting him up on his shoulder. He held there for a moment, then dropped to one knee and pounded Tazz's head into the mat in a unique piledriver. He stretched across Tazz's chest and hooked up a knee. 1...2...3!
The referee called for the bell as the Storm's metal music played, then raised his arm in the air. The Storm got his sunglasses back from the officials and replaced them. He climbed up on one of the corners and raised his index and middle finger of his right hand to his forehead. With a karate yell, he swung his hand -- fingers still pointed -- in a wide arc until he was pointing down and to the left.
"Here is your winner...THE STORM!" Howard Finkel announced.
Hopping down from the post, the Storm looked back briefly at the still-woozy Tazz, his face unreadable. Then the Force of Nature exited the ring and strode victoriously up the ramp.
* * *
The PPV continued. In the following match, The Rock managed to kick out of the Last Ride from the Undertaker and hit his challenger with a Rock Bottom for the win. Immediately afterwards was the Rumble itself. Tazz's former ECW buddy Raven was one of the first ones in the ring, and he managed to survive into the twenty minute mark. That was when Crash and Chris Benoit teamed up against him. Tazz ran out then and helped Raven throw the Crippler and the former Hardcore Champion out of the ring. They started to team on Kane then, but the Big Red Machine simply threw them against the ropes, then clotheslined them over the side. The two partners, however, ignored the referees and climbed back in the ring.
"Some--somebody stop Tazz!" J.R. shouted.
"He's not even supposed to be here!" the King said.
Road Dogg, the next one in the ring, nailed the two witha few punches, but then Tazz locked on the Tazzmission. He started to back toward the ropes, intending to fall over them and take Road Dogg with him, thus eliminating him.
That's when somebody jumped out of the audience with a black baseball bat. He came up behind Tazz as he reached the ropes and creased the back of the Human Wrecking Machine's head with the bat. Road Dogg stumbled away and narrowly avoided a DDT from Raven. Tazz turned to look at his assailant, then blinked in disbelief as the Storm stared back at him. The newcomer clobbered him in the face, then grabbed his ankle and pulled him out of the ring. He stomped on Tazz a bit, then nailed him in the stomach with the bat. His job done, the Storm stalked up the ramp past Bradshaw as the Acolyte ran down to the ring. EMTs tried to tend to Tazz, but he angrily shook them off and charged backstage after the Storm.
Three minutes later, Raven was thrown out of the ring by Road Dogg. By the end of the Rumble, Kane was the last one standing. He would go on to fight for the WWF Title at Wrestlemania.
Backstage, Tazz hunted around for the man who had ambushed him, only to be blindsided from behind with the baseball bat once again. The Storm looked down at him almost contemptously, then shrugged and started to walk off, leaving the semi-conscious Tazz on the floor. A few officials tried to stop him, but the Storm merely raised the bat and they shied away.
-more to come-
Disclaimer: All things WWF are property of Titan Sports. The Storm is a completely fictional character. I do incorporate a few traits from existing WWF wrestlers, but for the most part, he's my idea. For storyline-followers, I started this fanfic prior to Unforgiven 2000, so Edge & Christian were still Tag Champs at the time and Raven hadn't yet debuted. I have edited things a tad to accomodate this. Yes, there is more to this story, this is but the first part. If you have any ideas for who you think the Storm would team up with or go up against, let me know. Drop me a line at jay_winger_2k@hotmail.com
-=Jay 2K Winger=-