...when suddenly there came a loud pounding on the control room door. "All right you, we know you're in there; surrender!" barked a gruff voice. Mr. Hughes spun and started peppering the door with lead. This, however, only led to more bullets coming through the door the other way, which did not hit him or Sherri (who frantically rushed for the closet again and slammed the door shut), but sent sparks flying from the equipment that was being hit. With a loud crash, the door burst open, and a swarm of security officers stormed the control room. Mr. Hughes leveled the rifle at them, but several guards knocked it out of his hands before he could fire. "Here," Bret swept into the room, grabbing the gun in midair and handing it to one of the officers. "Aha," he picked up Mr. Hughes's briefcase from the floor, "Looks like a dart gun in here all right, Hawk, Animal."

"It is, is it?" Hawk was glaring as he stormed towards the struggling Mr. Hughes, "So, you think shooting me and Animal with darts to cheat us out of the belts is fun?" he roared in the enforcer's face, "Weeeeeeeellllllllll, what you're going to get from Animal and me is more than fun, it's really more like, OOOOOOOOOOOHHH, WHAT A RUSH!"

Roaring, Mr. Hughes broke free and swung a punch at him, but Hawk flung him high over his head-so high that Mr. Hughes cracked his head off the ceiling before starting downwards-before Animal grabbed him in midair and spiked him down hard to the floor. He then hefted the enforcer onto his shoulders while Hawk climbed up on the audio table and delivered a spot-on Doomsday Device to the man who'd cost them the tag titles. Mr. Hughes dug into his pockets and started to pull out another gun. "Oh no you don't, boy!" the Boss Man whacked this gun away with his nightstick and handcuffed Mr. Hughes to the doorknob, "Or, should I say, Curtis C. Hughes, wanted for murder and fight fixing?"

"You're too late; the WWF is dead," Mr. Hughes muttered defiantly, "It may be tonight-it'll probably be tonight-but the New World Order is coming to wrestling some day very soon, and you'll all be history, swept aside. The boss'll make sure of that even if I'm locked up."

"And who is this boss of yours?" the head security guard demanded.

"I'll never tell, I'll never tell," Mr. Hughes laughed mockingly.

"Oh I think you will, boy. Take him down to the Miami police station and work him over good," the Boss Man unlocked Mr. Hughes from the door and cuffed his hands behind his back before shoving him to the guards.

"Don't worry, Mr. Traylor; if this is Curtis C. Hughes, then we'll take extra care to make sure he tells us all he knows," the security chief assured him. "Let's go," he dragged Mr. Hughes out the door. "That was close," the Hitman breathed in relief, "Who knows who might have just been shot down there?"

"It's a good thing all of you were paying attention on the monitors, or we'd never have been alerted to any of this," another guard commended them.

"Hey, an officer like me always is on watch to maintain law and order; when a problem's brought to my attention, I solve it as best I can," the Boss Man said proudly.

"Sure, not like we didn't help at all," Animal grumbled.

"He included you and Hawk with that, Animal," Bret assured them. He took a glance out the window at the action in the ring. "Well, let's hope Hulk or Roddy can pull it off; I don't like the odds against either of them in there right now," he admitted, concerned.

"You're not rooting for Michaels at all? Thought you would have; he's a good enough competitor to work on his own," Hawk pointed out.

"Well, yeah, Hawk, Shawn's a good athlete, but the thing is...I'm not quite convinced on him, not really convinced at all," Bret confessed, "Almost like he can't be trusted in the clutch to do the right thing..."

"Well, whether he can or not, I guess our work here's done," the Boss Man started out the door. The others fell into line after him, none of them turning to see Sherri quickly bolt out of the control room behind them, undetected. "What do you think he meant by a New World Order coming?" Animal had to ask as they all started down the stairs, "That didn't sound too promising..."

"Yeah, I know, Animal, so Hughes can't have been working alone," Bret shook his head, "I know the mob's been heavy into wrestling for years-not in Stampede, mind you; my father made sure organized crime had no part in his operation-and somebody big might be wanting to move in on the WWF. And if the wrong person wins the Rumble tonight, who knows; it might well be the beginning of something bad..."

"Action still running hot and heavy in the ring right now," Monsoon continued the match commentary, "All nine finalists still going strong with each other; Ted DiBiase delivering sharp blows to Hulk Hogan in the corner; Million Dollar Man mimes putting on the world championship belt, but he doesn't have it yet. DiBiase takes hold of the champ's arm and hurls him hard into the far corner."

"Hogan looks winded; it's only a matter of time before DiBiase or somebody else gets rid of him," Ventura predicted confidently.

"You've said that before both in this match and in previous matches. Many of those times, though, the Hulkster has managed to dig down for a little something extra to go the distance; let's see if he's got it here."

"Not at the moment, though; DiBiase up on his shoulders and slugging away."

"Across the ring, Hercules and the Honky Tonk Man teaming up on Shawn Michaels, slugging him hard in the chest. Now they whip him into the ropes and down him with a double kick to the face. Herc hauls him up-and slaps on the full nelson. Michaels fighting it as best he can; Herc pouring it on hard. Honky Tonk Man giving Michaels more blows to the chest; now he's measuring him, goes off the far ropes, I think he's going to ram him in the chest-but Michaels turns around and he rams Herc in the back instead! Hercules lets go of the full nelson...and Michaels picks him up and hurls him out of the ring!"

"Bad break there for Hercules; he could have gone far."

"His night's over, and Michaels going after the Honky Tonk Man now, hitting him with a combination of lefts and rights. Over in the far part of the ring, Piper and the Undertaker are also trading blows; Hot Rod gets the Deadman up for an atomic drop; Undertaker stumbles, but stays on his feet-and now he hits Hot Rod with another chokehold. Piper gasping in agony as the life's choked out of him. Undertaker lifts him up and tries to dump him out; Roddy fighting it hard, grabbing onto the middle rope-and he starts kicking the Undertaker in the face, which makes him let go. Hot Rod rams him in the chest, tries to flip him over the top like he did earlier with Knobbs-no, Undertaker instead flips him over and in."

"Went to the well once too often there."

"Undertaker going airborne over Piper-and Piper rolls out of the way in time."

"Still no injury to the Phenom; he's getting right to his feet."

"Piper abandoning the Undertaker for now, rushing over and pulling DiBiase off Hogan in the corner. Hot Rod picks the Million Dollar Man up, and a big slam on him. He drapes him over the ropes and tries to push him out; Hogan joins in as well, they're pushing...and look at this, Virgil up and over to the ring, and he's trying to push his boss back in; give me a break!"

"Hey, he's just doing what DiBiase paid him to do, Gorilla."

"Hulkster and Hot Rod still seem to have the advantage here, and...look out, Earthquake charging at them from behind, and he pancakes all three of them into the ropes! All three men go over the top, but stay on the apron. Earthquake nailing Hogan as...look at this, Virgil yanks Hot Rod down off the apron!"

"And he's gone, Gorilla; both feet touched the floor."

"He shouldn't have been put in this situation in the first place; Virgil had no business being at ringside! Piper looking hot indeed-and now he's got a steel chair, and he's chasing Virgil around the ring and down the aisle! Virgil may have just made a fatal mistake!"

"Well if Piper touches one hair on his head, he's got a big suspension coming."

"So should Virgil!"

"For what!? And Jack Tunney didn't see nothing sitting on the other side of the ring."

"Maybe not, but he'll see the tape in the end, and hopefully strong action against Virgil will be taken. The Hulkster now being double teamed by Earthquake and DiBiase, who strain to get him over the top rope..."

"Let's see Hogan stand up against the colossal power of Earthquake and the million dollar strength of the Million Dollar Man."

"Hulkster going over...going over...and here comes Shawn Michaels, who nails the Million Dollar Man in the back. DiBiase spins and shoves Michaels hard to the ground, then stomps on the chest..."

"Forget him; finish Hogan; I want Hogan out!" Ventura shouted at the Million Dollar Man.

"Hogan still in a load of trouble at the hands of Earthquake, so DiBiase concentrating on Shawn Michaels. Million Dollar Man drops the elbow on Michaels, and now turns him upside-down for a piledriver-and a beauty. DiBiase mimes putting on the world championship belt again, and now he's dragging Michaels towards the ropes-Michaels grabs the top rope and blocks him. DiBiase frustrated, pushing harder, trying to get him off his feet..."

"Look, Earthquake's about to eliminate Hogan; the reign of terror is over!" Ventura pointed excitedly to the near ropes, where Earthquake almost had Hulk all the way out.

"Earthquake with one final shove, and the Hulkster goes over...no, he grabs the bottom rope, saving himself by the narrowst of margins..."

"Stomp on the hands, Earthquake; all you need are for both his feet to touch the floor!"

"Earthquake going for the stomp...but Hogan grabs the leg! Earthquake shaking it trying to make him let go; Hulkster does let go, but starts climbing up to the top rope. A very high risk maneuver coming against the big guy...and Hulkster goes airborne and nails Earthquake hard in the head-and Earthquake goes down! Earthquake down hard on the mat as the champ punches away on his head...!"

"I don't believe it; why won't he just give up and quit!?" Ventura muttered in disgust.

"He knows everyone in this arena is pulling for him, and he won't quit on them as long as there's a drop of blood in his body-and look at this across the ring; Honky Tonk Man nails Ted DiBiase just as he was finally getting Shawn Michaels off his feet. DiBiase upset, and gives the Honky Tonk Man a hard roundhouse right, now a dropkick too. Honky down on the mat as DiBiase picks him up, spins him around over his head, and throws him out; we're down to six guys now."

"Big mistake by Honky there; he should have worked with DiBiase instead of against him."

"DiBiase laughing hard; he knows he's one step closer to the title now. He turns his sights back to Michaels-and Michaels flattens him with a forearm smash. Shawn Michaels with another wind, stomping on the Million Dollar Man's chest...but here comes Flair from behind, and he shoves Michaels over the top rope and out...!"

"WOOOOOOOOO!" Flair shouted in delight, pumping his fist in the air. "And you notice, Gorilla, Michaels was Hogan's last friend in there," Ventura grinned darkly, "He's now on his own in there against four of the best members of the Million Dollar Corporation."

"Flair, DiBiase, and the Undertaker converging on the Hulkster as he continues pounding away on Earthquake, oblivious that Michaels, his last ally, is now gone-and the Undertaker yanks him up off Earthquake-and there's a chokeslam on the champ!"

"Now don't turn on each other until he's gone! Finish him, and finish him as a team!" the Body urged the Million Dollar Corporation.

"Million Dollar Man getting the next shot at the champion; turns Hogan over, and here comes another piledriver. Ted DiBiase drops the elbow on Hogan's chest as Flair grabs the legs; are we going to see the Hulkster get the Figure Four Leglock?"

"Whatever it takes to weaken him; take it to him, Flair!"

"WOOOOOO!" Flair shouted again just before slapping on the Figure Four. Hulk fought hard to get out of it...but that became a moot point when Earthquake came crashing down hard on his chest. "Terrible blow there to Hogan; he's grimacing in agony now from that," Monsoon grimaced himself.

"I think a ten on the Richter scale ought to be a good next move," Ventura opined.

"Will you stop!? Not when he's a helpless man in the Figure Four Leglock! DiBiase coming off the ropes and going airborne over the Hulkster; that's going to hurt even more. Flair still pouring on the Figure Four-now he lets it go. Flair and DiBiase haul the Hulkster up, whip him off the far ropes...and here comes the Undertaker off the near ropes, and Hogan goes down to that flying chokeslam!"

"I love it; give him more!"

"And more coming; Earthquake sending out more tremors! Hulk Hogan perhaps about to indeed get a ten on the Richter scale as Earthquake goes off the ropes-down hard on the chest!"

"It's over; Hulkamania's dead! Long live the Million Dollar Corporation; it doesn't matter which of these guys becomes champion. All I know is we'll finally have a real, honorable champion any moment now."

"Earthquake lifting the Hulkster up over his head; if he's got anything left, now's the time to bring it to the front. Earthquake gives him a backbreaker, and a beauty, and now he's up again..."

"He's going to throw him out; Hulkamania dies right now!"

"Earthquake measuring the distance and throws the Hulkster over the top rope, raising his arms in...NO, HOGAN CAUGHT THE BOTTOM ROPE!" he exclaimed as the arena exploded, "AND LOOK AT THIS, HOGAN IMMEDIATELY SWINGING BACK UP OVER THE TOP ROPE INTO THE RING; I THINK HE'S GETTING THAT SECOND BURST OF ENERGY!"

"IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!" Ventura roared, shocked, "HE TOOK THE SHELLACKING OF A LIFETIME! HOW THE HELL IS HE STILL SURVIVING!?"

"Wild look on the Hulkster's face as he sees the members of the Million Dollar Corporation now brawling with each other, thinking it's only themselves left...and he grabs DiBiase from behind and throws the Million Dollar Man out right away; listen to this crowd go crazy!"

"That was cheap; he attacked a man from behind!" Ventura bellowed furiously, "He calls himself a champion!? Eliminate him, somebody!"

"Undertaker lands a hard blow to the Hulkster's face, but Hogan didn't feel it-and he doesn't feel a tremendous blow from Earthquake either! Hulkster shaking his finger at both of them and Flair, and now flattens the Undertaker with a clothesline!"

"Getting right back up, though..."

"Flair flattened as well, and Hogan now off the ropes and rams Earthquake hard in the chest, wobbling the big guy hard...!"

"But look, Earthquake slaps the chokehold on him; that'll slow him down good."

"Earthquake picks the champ up and slams him down hard. Now picks him up, whips him towards the ropes...no, Hogan reverses him and sends him into the ropes, and shoves him from behind for extra speed...AND EARTHQUAKE CRASHES HARD INTO THE UNDERTAKER AND FLAIR, AND ALL THREE OF THEM GO FLYING OVER THE TOP OUT OF THE RING!" Monsoon roared as the arena exploded with an unprecidented cheer, "IT'S OVER!"

"He cheated, I don't know how, but I know he cheated!" Ventura shouted, utter frustration on his face as the bell rung and "Real American" cranked up over the sound system, "He needs to be disqualified somehow...!"

"He won't be, Jesse, because everything he did was perfectly legal. Hulk Hogan is still champion, and what a terrific way to retain it," Monsoon couldn't help breaking into applause as the referee handed Hulk the belt, which he thrust high into the air to a terrific cheer from the crowd. Smiling, Finkel climbed into the ring himself and took hold of the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared grandly, "the winner of the Royal Rumble, and STIIIIIIIIIILL World Wrestling Federation Champion, the Immortal Hulk Hogan!"

"This is utterly ridiculous! This is a travesty of epic proportions!" Ventura roared furiously, "Hogan should have been forced to step aside if the belt was on the line! Instead, he STILL walks out of here as champion by nothing more than SHEER DUMB LUCK!"

"And it was all done legally, Jesse, so you can't complain," Monsoon told him calmly.

"Oh yeah!? Well I'm going to say what's on my mind right now, whether the damn kids like it or not: as far as I'm concerned, Hulk Hogan and every single of one of his Pukesters are complete pieces of...!" Ventura started to bellow. In the production truck, the director frantically jammed his thumb down on the censor button before the curse could come out, bleeping it out-as well as the rest of the the obscenity-laden rant Ventura continued to spew until he realized he was being censored. "WHAT IS THIS!?" the Body roared angrily once he realized almost nothing he'd said had gotten out on the air, "HOW DARE THE WWF CENSOR ME!"

"It's called good decorum, Jesse, and you're showing none of it right now," Monsoon was starting to look frustrated himself now.

"I'll show you and Tunney good decorum, Monsoon, you mother-!" his broadcast partner shouted at him, prompting the director to quickly bleep him out again-and continue bleeping him as the obscenities kept coming nonstop for close to a minute and a half. "All right, have it your way, Tunney!" Ventura shouted in frustration, "You want to silence Jesse Ventura, go right ahead! But my voice will still be heard, and Hogan will not win the war! I'm out of here!"

"Where do you think you're going; the broadcast isn't over yet!" Monsoon shouted after Ventura as he got up and stormed away from the broadcast position.

"It is for me, and I'm going wherever I damn well please! Good night, Gorilla!" the Body shouted coldly at him, disappearing into the crowd. 'Well, there you have it, everyone, Jesse 'the Body' Ventura not happy that Hulk Hogan has retained his world title; looking around, though, he's clearly in the minority here at Miami Arena," Monsoon started the close, looking nonetheless glad to be rid of Ventura for the moment, "Hulkster putting the world title on again now, and look at this, he's bringing Brutus 'the Barber' Beefcake's shears into the ring and clipping them in the air as a tribute to his friend; now that's a good gesture for you from a true champion. We'd like to thank you for joining us this evening, and hope you've enjoyed this broadcast of the Royal Rumble; join us again in two months for the granddaddy of them all, Wrestlemania. For all of us here with the World Wrestling Federation, this is Gorilla Monsoon wishing all of you a very happy good night."

"So it was some guy shooting at us from the control room, then?" Tito asked Bret gravely back in the locker room.

"Looks like it," the Hitman nodded solemnly, "And it looks like he was there all night. So for all of us," he glanced at the entire Rock 'n Wrestling Connection around the locker room, "In the near future, watch your backs when you're in the ring; we don't know if this is connected to anything bigger."

"Too bad I didn't see him up there sooner," Tito mumbled bitterly, rubbing his rear end, "Maybe I could have gone all the way..."

"How do you think I feel, pal; if Virgil hadn't stuck his mitts into the Rumble, it could have been me with the belt," Piper muttered, slugging the nearest locker hard, "I don't know what makes him tick, why he's so happy being DiBiase's lapdog...!"

"Well Roddy, you did good either way," Elizabeth tried to console him, "You all did good," she told the entire Connection, "Now we can get back to..."

The locker room door swung open. "Hulk Hogan, champion again; how does it feel?" an ecstatic Okerlund asked the champion as he strode into the locker room, the belt draped over his shoulder and Beefcake's shears still in hand.

"It's a wonderful feeling, Mean Gene," Hulk happily proclaimed into the interviewer's microphone, "Like I always tell the little Hulkamaniacs, the prayers, the training, and the vitamins can take you all the way to the top, and it feels great to have reached the top again after having survived against the best the WWF has to offer..."

There came a loud slam as Savage jumped up and stormed out the door, a look of frustration on his face, closing it hard behind him. Hulk was taken aback for a minute, but then continued, "And I'd also like to thank the rest of the Mega Powers Rock 'n Wrestling Connection, the best teammates anyone could have."

"Thanks, Hulkster," Andre cracked a small smile, "Good to know you do appreciate us."

"Darned right I do, big guy," Hulk patted the Giant on the back. He slid alongside Elizabeth and whispered in her ear, "Randy OK?"

"I hope so," she looked worried at her husband's abrupt exit from the locker room, "I've never seen him this upset before. You know, seeing everything go the way it did during the Rumble, seeing us vying with each other for the gold, maybe it would be better if they switched the Rumble for a title shot rather than for the title itself; that might get rid of the jealousies."

"Well, at least it's over now, Liz," Bret let out an audible sigh of relief behind her, "Once it recedes into the past, Randy should snap out of it. Hopefully it'll be smooth sailing from here on either way now that this plot got thwarted, and they haven't got any other bad ideas left..."

"Hurry up, hurry up, we've got to be on the plane and out of the city before the cops learn anything," Don Vincenelli waved his men hard into their limousines outside the Ritz-Carlton.

"Mr. Hughes ain't gonna talk, Boss," one of them reasoned as he rushed by.

"I know he won't, but the feds have ways of getting confessions out of people...Killer, where are you, Killer?" the don looked around for his porcupine, finding Killer nosing around in the bushes by the front door. He seized the porcupine and rushed for his own limo. "Go," he instructed the driver once he was inside, slamming the door shut just as the limo peeled out into traffic for the airport. "I can't believe Hogan survived again to keep the belt," he muttered under his breath.

"Strange odds, huh boss?" one of the other mobsters in the limo spoke up, "We'll at least now we have the tag belts through the Sheik and Volkoff..."

"Yeah, it's a start, but I need the world title," Don Vincenelli muttered, staring out at the scenery whipping by outside, "How can Hogan survive everything!? There's got to be some way we can get him out of the way and consolidate a grip on the WWF."

"Well, on the plus side, Uncle Kenny, it's looking like we might be chasing the only game in town soon; the Southwest territory just went under," Stefano consulted the sports page in the newspaper their chief bodyguard Patrizio was reading, "Couple that with the Florida territory going under with Grammachi's death, and we're standing on the edge of a monopoly worth billions soon. From what it says here, New Stampede and ICW are just about broke too, and even the AWA might fold; never thought I'd see that ever happen."

"Me neither, Stefano, but again, it comes back to Hogan; he's the main stumbling block," the don mumbled, "He can't be bought, he won't take dives; he keeps winning in the clutch; how do you stop him?"

The limo's phone rang at that moment. "We're busy!" Stefano snapped into the receiver once he'd picked it up. His expression then went wide. "And you're completely calling on your own; nobody's listening in on this? Well, OK then. Here, Uncle Kenny," he handed his uncle the phone, "This might be what we're looking for."

"We'll see," Don Vincenelli wasn't as confident as he took the phone, "Who's this?" he barked into the receiver.

"It's Bruce Hart, Don Vincenelli," came the tentative voice of Bret's second oldest brother on the other end, "I'm calling from a phone booth by the Saddledome; no one can trace this call. Listen, I'm in deep trouble fiscally up here with New Stampede; if I were to help you, could you help me?"

"That would depend, Hart," the don shifted around in his seat, "What are you offering?"

"Hogan. I watched the Royal Rumble with my family; I couldn't believe he'd survived either..."

"And what's the point, Hart?" the don barked impatiently.

"I think I might know a way to get the title off Hogan," Bruce whispered nervously, "It's something we experimented with in Stampede a while back when my father was still in charge; it worked then for dramatic effect; I think it could work for real in the WWF with the right people. If I give it to you, I'd like in return a guaranteed loan for at least the next five years to ensure Stampede stays alive, and a guarantee no one gets hurt doing this."

"Well, what's the idea then, Hart?" Don Vincenelli inquired. Dropping his voice low, Bruce whispered the idea into the receiver. The don chuckled when he'd finished. "You know, Hart, you're really more talented than your father gives you credit for," he told Bruce warmly, "Well, if this works, not only will you get the money for Stampede you want, but I'll make sure to angle you into a high-level position in the WWF as well once I have control."

"And no one gets hurt, right?" Bruce emphasized.

"No one's getting hurt, Hart. Thanks for calling; this might be the one thing that changes the world of wrestling for good," the don told him in closing, hanging up. "Just in our darkest hour, boys, we may have some light," he told everyone in the limo with him, "That was Bruce Hart, willing to sell out his brother's friends to keep his promotion afloat, and he's got the perfect plan to get the belt off Hogan."

He told his goons the plan as well. "It's brilliant, Uncle Kenny," Stefano snapped his fingers excitedly, "And I know the perfect guy to bring in for it..."

"Hold that thought, Stefano; here we are," Don Vincenelli noticed they were arriving at the airport, and his private plane was visible on the runway ahead of them. The mobsters all piled out of their limos and bustled quickly towards it...

"Don Vincenelli," came the shout from the gate. It was Ventura, huffing as he ran up from a taxi parked outside towards the don. "I'd heard you were leaving from here. Before you go, I want you to know, I have a brilliant idea of how to get rid of Hogan, and I want to help bring him down if you like it," the Body told him, a devious grin spreading across his face.

"Well, we've got a plan formulating right now, Ventura..." Stefano started to tell him.

"And we're open to any new ones too, Stefano," his uncle held up his hand. "You've got a flight booked out of Miami soon, Jesse?" he asked the commentator.

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"Come along with me and tell me what you've got, then," Don Vincenelli put an arm around Ventura and led him towards his private plane.

"Well, ever since he became champion, you've thrown everything you've got at Hogan, and it hasn't stopped him so far, hasn't it?" Ventura continued, his dark smile getting wider, "Even though I'm no longer technically working for the Vincenelli Family since my career in the ring ended, I still know you've been wanting to get your hands on the WWF, and that doing so means getting Hogan, whom neither of us can stand, out of the picture. Well, I've been seeing things unfold in the ring for a while now, and after what I saw during tonight's card, I think know Hogan's one big weakness. And it's spelled E-L-I-Z-A-B-E-T-H."

"What about her?" a goon asked as they all climbed on the plane.

"I want some guarantees first," Ventura held up his hand, "In exchange for getting rid of Hogan, whom both of us agree is the worst thing to ever happen to wrestling, I want a position of high authority under your New World Order WWF-I want Tunney's position as president, and I want actual power as president; no puppet crap."

"Well, Jesse, if your idea works, I think that's very much in play," Don Vincenelli assured him, pouring them both glasses of bourbon, "Now, tell me how the First Lady of Wrestling can destroy Hulk Hogan..."

THE END-OF THE ROYAL RUMBLE

TO BE OTHERWISE CONTINUED...