Wrestling Universe

Raw iMPACT

I do not own any of the characters, people, or events involved that are associated with either ROH, WWE, TNA, and independent rights. This series is a writing exercise for myself and posted for those that wish to read.

"You never said, I'd end up like this. No." Said the owner, alone in the ring with a microphone. Vulnerable and his humanity exposed, he kept his eyes on the stage, saying, "I would like Degeneration-X to come down to the ring."

Nearly three minutes passed until the familiar music broke through the silence. Shawn and Triple H passed through the black curtain onto the stage and the steel was illuminated with green pyro shaped like an 'X' as they chopped at their groins. Chyna followed close behind them.

They stopped at the edge, but the owner insisted they come to the ring before he address them any further. Once inside, he held the microphone tighter and took three steps back. Shawn and Triple H looked amused at the owner's submissive behavior, but kept silent for him, curious as to what he could possibly want from them after what they had done to him on Raw.

"I'd like to formerly apologize." He said, his voice cracking.

Shawn and Triple H dropped their jaws, looking at each other in mock surprise. The owner sighed and spoke, "I've not been acting right lately. I'm not going to let this company fall into the wrong hands like Vince had, Dixie Carter and even that rat-fink Erich Bischoff." He said, "I lost my temper on Raw, but I'm a true businessman and a man higher than all others."

"How high?" Shawn remarked.

"Look, if you two want to goof around, go ahead, but I am not Vince McMahon. I won't fall prey to your antics. So, to make peace, I'm giving you what you want."

"What is that?" Triple H wondered, curious as to what this peace offering could be, he knew the belts were already scheduled for the pay per view and so Triple H's desire to face off in the Fatal-Four-Way couldn't have changed the owner's mind even if he was willing to enter him in.

"Come on out--" Nathan spoke, being interrupted by the new theme song of 'Team Rocket' before he could say the name of the person he called out.

With a wide grin, exaggerated steps, and proud posture, James stood front and center on the stage with his partner next to him. Shawn's grin shriveled into a scowl of discontent. He didn't like the punk. He didn't like anyone that pestered him or his faith so aggressively as James had.

"Shawn, meet your opponent for tonight." Nathan pointed to James and then turned to Triple H, "you on the other hand will have the opportunity to face off against Kai En Tai. Alone."

"Woah, woah, woah. Doc, this doesn't seem like a peace offering to me." Shawn broke in before the owner could say a word more. This wasn't his idea of a happy coming together of the minds.

"Well, if D-X can't handle it, then perhaps you two aren't the top tier men you used to be. Shawn, Triple H," the owner said, pulling out a rolled up piece of paper from his pants pockets, looking them over. "I can always terminate your contracts if you don't think you're tough enough to survive the Wrestling Universe?"

"You know what? You want to threaten us? Go ahead," Triple H cut in. "We're not going to standby while you assassinate our characters and try to degrade us in front of the crowds that we drew in."

"Your crowds?" James hastily added himself into the conversation. "That's funny, because you guys aren't even in the running for championship of whatever. If anything, I'd say they're here to see Undertaker and Sting."

"We'll take the matches, but if you think threats are going to break down Degeneration-X, then we've got two words for ya'" Shawn then crossed his arms at his groin and struck the owner with his signature super-kick.

Like a wave crashing into a jagged cliff, James and Brandon, with assistance from Kai En Tai, poured into the ring to attack Degeneration-X. The three escaped, running off through the crowd. They would face these fools soon, but now was not the time.

After the brief break, one of the goons of Legacy -- Cody Rhodes -- walked out onto the stage with his partner, the son of Jerry Lawler. They showed off their finely tuned, well-oiled machine-like bodies in arrogance as they crossed the aisle toward the waiting ring. As the champions, they adorned their Universal Tag Titles over their shoulders to shine under the bright, gleaming lights.

After Rhodes, making a far quicker entrance was the man that held the National Championship Title, held only by those whom were residents of the United States or Originated from. Likewise, the European title could be held by anyone outside of the states, Canada and the Southern Americas included.

Ultimate Warrior, bursting with as much energy as his aging body could shoot through the pistol of adrenaline, made his grand escape from the stage toward the ring in nearly uncountable seconds. Time was something he could both defeat, but become defeated by before anyone had the chance to notice. He rolled himself into the ring, his lungs already gasping like land-stranded fish straining to find its breath.

He shook the ropes for a few brief seconds before waiting until the bell. Warrior took that chance to regain his breath and rest his already worn legs before he'd have to thrust into a struggling marathon to defend the title he has held onto for many months prior.

The first contact between these two started off slow. Warrior wished to pace the match, keep distance from the youngster and build himself to a powerful, quick end that he was known for. A power slam and then splash, but Rhodes had other things in mind -- like cheating to end the match quick and steal the title from the old-timer.

He twisted Warrior's arm around, bending and flexing, bending and flexing until it was twisted around his back where he could pull it down with a stomp and then pull Warrior close. He dragged his opponent down into the canvas with a clothesline, nearly tripping over the strings that fell down Warrior's white boots.

Warrior tried to transition the tumble into a small package, retracing his footing to wrap around Rhodes' own ankles and lock him in the pin. After the count of two, the member of Legacy quickly rolled out and back onto his young, speedy feet. Warrior pulled himself up, with aid of Rhodes impatient, assertive clutch.

Watching from outside of the ring, even Brian Christopher was embarrassed by the attempts made from Warrior's desperation. The old man simply could not keep up with Cody Rhodes and each maneuver only proved to aid his opponent instead of defeat him. If he was placed in the ring with a man like Flair or Hogan, he may seem as upbeat as he was in the nineties, but placed in the ring with fresh young blood and talent, it was apparent that the Ultimate Warrior was a little less Ultimate, and most likely the Barely-Kinda-Mediocre Warrior.

After an almost saddened victory, Rhodes stepped over the old legend to exit the ring and celebrate. He didn't care that the match was a disaster, a win was a win. And a belt was a belt. Rhodes was now the National Championship title-holder and that meant Legacy was growing in power. The flames of Orton's ambition were beginning to spread throughout the organization, burning the lesser tier talent and the starting to heat the soles of those that were able to stop him, had he not had an army behind him. Though small, two young and talented men were more than enough to protect and serve Orton's mad desires.

After collecting himself in the ring, Warrior left empty-handed, and his pride dragging behind him in shreds.

"How are you feeling after that Sweet Chin Music kick to the face?" Asked Jim Ross, returning the show from break.

"Not too keen on having that degenerate smack me in the kisser when I was trying to send a peace offering, but we'll see how the night goes," Nathan rubbed his bruised chin. He scratched off the previous match from a paper in front of him and then said, "well, up next is the last qualifying match for the newest and secretive championship title."

"We'll see Chyna, of Degeneration-X, go against Santino Marella in his last chance at a title for -- as far as he knows -- a long time." Ross added in, "do you think Santino can finally grasp a title after having lost the Women's Championship as his twin sister Santina?"

"I don't know anymore with this man. He's a joke," replied the owner. "Marching around like some kind of trumpeting band and his exaggerated accent. I'm sick of him," he practically spat the words from his lips."

Ross countered, shaking his head in disagreement and disbelief, "I believe Santino shows a lot of real potential. Goldust won the title shot for WrestleJam, and so could Santino."

"Goldust won by pure chance. The battle royal is fair to all, but even Santino didn't make it far in that match."

"Either way, the last chance for Santino is up next and if he wins, then he'll go on to face Goldust for the new title at Night of Hell, but if he doesn't, and Chyna wins, then we'll see our first ever inter-gender match for a championship title!"

Accompanied by neither Triple H, or Shawn Michaels, but by the Outlaws, Chyna stepped out from behind the black curtain that concealed the entranceway to the stage and arena. She stepped walked to the ring with calm strides. She didn't expect to lose to the likes of a clown like Santino. He was nothing but an idiotic joke to her and seemingly to everyone else that had ever laid eyes on the poor, sad fool.

When she entered the ring, and Santino after her, she glanced back at the commentary tables. The owner, seated next to Jim Ross, looked back with a cold and bitter glare. It almost emitted a chuckle from her, but she kept her lips tight and her sights focused for the rest of the match.

The match itself lasted mere seconds before Santino was pinned. Broken down by Chyna with a powerbomb and a quick cover to pick up the win. She stood tall and proud afterward, but still reserved and calm. She was good at hiding emotions and especially when the vulture-like eyes of the owner glared daggers into her. He would eager wish to grant Santino the title-shot and not her, just to spite the degenerate action of D-X.

Following Chyna's victory, Triple H felt confident in his chances against the Japanese horde of Kai En Tai. Nathan Black's enforcers. He walked around the corridors alone toward the stage. Soon he would face an army, but he had fought far greater foes than what the owner, wether it be Vince or Nathan, or even Eric Bischoff or Jeff Jarrett could throw at him.

Inside the ring, after his long, extravagant entrance under the theme of himself, not Degeneration-X, but wearing the colors of his faction, Triple H also gave the owner a gaze, but also a smirk. He knew their antics had actually nearly taken up the cards of the supershow. D-X match after D-X match. He effectively cut down the chances of any of the title belt matches to be promoted other than the later-coming match between Edge and Sting. A lumber jack match, of which Triple H and Shawn were invited to partake in on behalf of Sting and the Main Event Mafia.

Like a crashing wave, Kai En Tai broke through the curtain and swarmed the stage. Then ran to the ring to initiate combat with whom displeased the owner so greatly. Triple H smirked at their display. Rushing to battle, mindless and wasteful of their energy. This should be quick, he thought to himself.

Quick it indeed was for him to dispose of Funaki and Tajiri. Ejecting them out of the ring with a swing of his arm or hip toss. Sun Xun and Taka Michinoku kept back. They reserved themselves a greater battle against the Cerebral Assassin. Funaki and Tajiri had merely been fodder to test the waters.

Triple H caught Taka in his grasp after the Japanese wrestler impatiently lunged forth at him with all of his might and agility. He balled his fists like he had weilded blades in each of them, hoping to strike The Game and end him then and there. Triple H wasn't to be easily apprehended by such weak enforcers. He sent a clear message to the Owner and the remaining Kai En Tai member that it wouldn't be smart to cheat at this game. He dropped the Japanese wrestler with a pedigree and then rose up to set his sights on his purple haired opponent.

Only one left.

Sun Xun was all that was left for Triple H to take on. The others would hesitate before taking action him again, even as they gathered outside of the ring, just waiting for the instruction of the owner. They would bide their time and watch the match unfold before taking whenever opportunity presents.

Inside the ring, Triple H twisted the arm of his opponent and pulled him close for a clothesline. After his attack was dodged, The Game followed up with a hefty right knee to his opponent's abdomen. Sun Xun bent over from the pain of knee-strike, but he regained his senses quicker than Triple H could lock in the pedigree.

Kai En Tai flooded into the ring!

They began to peck at Triple H like hawks diving in for a kill. Pecking and swooping away to avoid a counter strike. Diving and fleeing, diving and fleeing. Soon all that was left of Triple H was his fallen body. Sun Xun took the chance to pin him, letting all thoughts of D-X coming in to aid their fallen comrade fall to the back of his mind after the count was finished.

As soon as Kai En Tai cleared, Triple H slowly rolled himself out of the ring and was immediately accompanied by B.G. James and Kip, aiding their friend to the back. They had not entered the match, knowing the Owner would simply just grant Kai En Tai the victory, and also because the disgusting display of predatory savageness was considered legal in the match. Any interruption would merely serve to aid a gaping wound that had been opened by the owner.

Backstage, with his hands held close together in a silent prayer before his match, Shawn's moment of silence of broken when a loud knock at the door repeated itself after he refused to answer it. He hoped to God that it wasn't James, trying to play mind games or his friend wanting to take Shawn out before the match could even begin. No, these heathen cowards were filled with too much bravado to knock at the door of their enemy. They'd bust it down in proud displays of arrogance and disrespect. It still didn't answer to him who the knocking person may be.

Shawn Michaels opened the door.

The discovery surprised him far more than he thought it would. It wasn't James coming to strike him with vitriolic banter, or even a member of D-X come to accompany him to the ring.

"Bret?" Shawn blinked, uncertain if the man standing before him was truly Bret Hart, or just his imagination.

"Yeah, it's me." Bret nodded, his hands at his hips. "I don't like you, and you don't like me, but we've but I'm not here to drag up the past."

Shawn wondered to himself then, why would Bret be here? He asked,"what do you want?"

"I came to wish you luck. I've seen the eyes of this punk and there isn't a shred of sanity in them." Bret warned, "I don't know why he has targeted the two of us, but whatever he thinks he can pull, he'll have a hard time trying." He held out his hand, an almost unfathomable gesture between the two men.

"Thanks, I'll need it." Shawn hesitated to shake Bret's hand, but in the end, he didn't have to.

Just as he suspected, Brandon Powers came from the side and with his forearm, pinned Bret against the pastel corridor wall. He then turned to face the target of the beat down, but he had already retreated to his dressing room. He tried to beat down the door, yelling and cursing, but it wasn't going to get him through.

"This business used to be about honor, respect!" Bret wiped the blood that curled down his lip. "What do you believe in? What do you believe in!?"

"Believe?" James' voice rang in Bret's ears. He cackled as he slowly lowered down to his knees, eye level with the legend. "What do we believe in? Is that what you asked?"
"I hope Shawn knows what he's got himself into," spat Brandon at the door, banging it one last time for good measure. He retreated down the hall, not waiting for his partner. He was ring bound just like Shawn would be. It seems that it would be in the ring that the assault would take place after all, instead of the locker rooms as instructed by the owner.

James watched Brandon turn the corner, then he looked back down at Bret Hart's eyes, angry, yet defeated. He smirked and said, "I like you Bret. I respect you, so cause of that, I'll answer your question: I don't."

"You don't what?" Bret watched James stand up and walk a past Shawn's dressing room.

"I hope to see you at Night of Hell. I really want to step in the ring with you, even if I lose." Those were the only words he parted the legend with. He couldn't make out wether he was trying to be a smart ass, or if there was some honesty in the man's words. He didn't care either way, he was just some punk working under the owner to punish D-X and anyone that aided them. Bret looked back at the opening door of Shawn's dressing room and extended his hand once more, this time so his longtime rival could help him to his feet.

Team Rocket blasted off onto the stage with a burst of white and red pyro. Brandon walked behind his partner, accompanying him for the single pinfall match as they expected Triple H or Chyna to for Shawn. James walked with a little antsy excitement in his step, rubbing over his white wrist bands and running his fingers through his slick, mid-length hair. There was a slight skip in his step, something akin to how Shawn Michaels may have entered the arena in his early years. Then it dawned the he was trying to be like him, even going as far as wearing the same heart-break long tights that Shawn did in his earlier years.

He rolled himself into the ring and mocked Shawn's signature pose, bending one knee and extending the other as he raised up his arms to show off his muscles. He jumped back up to his feet and then the real Shawn Michaels made his own entrance to the ring.

Shawn was revolted by the man he saw in the ring. He noticed the familiar pants, not like his current attire, but of a past Shawn Michaels. He felt that there was a message James was trying to send him. Something had to have sparked this violent obsession with the Heart-Break Kid. He stepped down the aisle with Chyna at his side. A welcomed nostalgic presence to the distraught Michaels.

He let out a quick prayer at the end of the stage before continuing on toward the ring where he would face his recent nemesis.

Once inside the ring, the bell rang, and the two men were ready. This one match meant a lot to James and even to Shawn. For James, he would finally be able to destroy the man he felt was a fraud. The man that used to be something great, a legend, and an icon, and inspiration to himself, but now what he saw before him, across the ring from him, was an old, beaten, and fraudulent copy of what used to be. To Shawn, he needed to win to confirm to himself that he wasn't going to allow anyone to bully him or his faith any longer. He had ran and tried hiding, but now he had to face his demons, both mentally and physically. It was the chance he needed to show to everyone that he still was HBK, that he still had it in him to bring down the house like the Show-Stopper he was.

They locked shoulders.

Shawn pulled away from James and then threw a quick kick that jabbed at his opponent's ribs. He backed himself from James counter swing and then used the momentum of his opponent to drop him with a swift, cunning back drop.

Shawn rolled himself up off the canvas. He was focused on this match more than any match he had had during his current run in the Wrestling Universe.

Shawn Michaels tagged James with a slap across the chest and then whipped him across the ring, into the turn post, then he ran too. He leapt up with an elbow splash that knocked James onto his back, conveniently placed before the turnpost where Shawn decided was the right spot to hit him with an infamous elbow drop.

The Heart Break Kid ascended up to the top of the ropes, his feet balancing on the turnbuckle and metal plate that rested atop the corner post. He looked down, James was still out.

He jumped off.

Arched his elbow.

He collided with the canvas. James rolled out of the ring just in time to miss the high impact maneuver.

Shawn had never felt so disappointed in all his life, but the match was still on. He slowly reached his feet and looked around for James. The familiar apparel caught his eye from the side and he turned to meet his opponent with a hard right hook that nearly brought the youngster to his knees.

James took several more hard, quick jabs from his rival before finally gaining purchase to his opponent's chest with an enziguri. The sound of his boot slapping against Shawn's skull echoed the arena, eliciting a low "ooh" from the crowd.

James pinned Shawn.
"One!" The referee slapped the canvas as he called out, then again with a "two!" He then stayed his hand in mid-air as Shawn broke from the grip of James' cover.

James pushed himself from HBK and argued bitterly with the older referee, insisting that he should have counted to three.

This was Shawn's chance to regain control of the match; he seized it. Shawn grasped at the right arm of his rival and keeled him over after putting all of his weight into a heavy, hard-hitting clothesline.

James was down and Shawn was moving to the corner of the ring. The audience could feel the band beginning to tune up. The taps of Shawn's boots against the canvas echoed to the beat of a heart not ready to give up, not willing to let this punk bully or insult him. As James rose up and turned, that's when Shawn struck!
The boot came into James' view too late to change course. And unfortunately for James, too late to miss. It smacked into his face and like a like the switch of a light; Darkness filled his sights.

Shawn covered his opponent for a full, successful three count and hastily exited the ring to celebrate. He wasn't going to stick around for a surprise attack like had happened to Triple H, not that he knew it wasn't waiting for him backstage. He won and that's all that mattered. Nothing else could bother him at this point, not even the cold and hurtful words that stabbed him like piercing fangs from James venomous maw.

Shawn exited to the back as James was left still unconscious in the ring. A lesson to him not to disrespect his elders and the veterans of the business -- paycheck or not.

After a short break, Jim Ross dove quickly into the next match, saying, "up next, is looking to be a great match, possibly even as good as the one we just saw. The triumph of Michaels against one of your own enforcers -- James."

"Right, he did good, I'll admit it. Shawn has always been the Show-Stopper," Nathan, admitted with a sigh. "but I just don't appreciate him and the rest of Degeneration-X getting into my business. There are repercussions to dissension in my ranks and they're feeling it tonight."

"What can you say about the next match? A lumberjack bout between World Heavyweight Champion Sting against the returning Edge?"

"Edge comes to us after a devastating injury, but he's in top shape again and I'm waiting to see what he can do in the ring against the Champ." Nathan then added, "remember, J.R. Sting can lose at Night of Hell without even being pinned. The fatal fourway is not a friend to champions, but that doesn't mean Edge will come out victorious either. It could be him, a retaining Sting, one of the others: Orton or Abyss."

"Right you are, and it looks like this match is ready to start. Edge is coming out first." Announced Jim Ross.

The match began with a headlock. Sting held tight onto Edge and the men that had accompanied him to the ring watched as Sting continued to gain purchase in domination over his opponent. Edge, however, wasn't going to be taken lightly by the leader of the Main Event Mafia. He pushed the champion from him and toward the front ropes.

Sting bounced his back and shoulders against the top rope to propel himself toward Edge, but a mischievous hand had reached out and pulled the champion out from under his feet.

The hand belonged to Chris Jericho. He had accompanied Edge to the ring, along side Christian, Ric Flair, and Randy Orton.

Across from them was Booker T, Batista, AJ Styles, and Mick Foley. They started to turn the corners of the ring at the sight of Jericho's interference with the match in the ring. Mick Foley had managed to reach Ric Flair to the left of the ring when a brawl was suddenly sparked with Edge being clotheslined over the top rope, toppling onto Batista.

Flair and Foley broke off from one another as the match continued inside the ring.

Inside, Edge was dragged to his feet. The champion enjoying the success early in the match, but still remained as alert as he could be. Edge was returning from an injury that had sidelined him for months, and now he came for gold.

Sting's championship gold.

He pounded his opponent with a forearm and then tried to maneuver a Scorpion Deathlock, but to no avail. Edge was regaining momentum with each failed attempt to attack him. He took the initiative and whipped his face-painted opponent across the ring like he had prior, this time facing toward Sting's allied lumberjacks. Edge lifted up, high into the air with a drop kick and covered his opponent quickly.
One! Two!

Sting desperately gained purchase to freedom. As he rolled onto his stomach, pulling himself slowly up, Edge argued with the referee. It was enough time for Sting to reach his feet and surprise his turning opponent with a german suplex back down into the canvas.

The impatient lumberjacks that resided in Edge's corner grew tired of watching the constant back-and-forth action of the match. Orton had nearly entered the ring to interfere several times, but Booker T and Batista kept a hawk-like gaze on him. They would not let anyone ruin their leader's match. On the cusp of the pay-per-view, they knew it was crucial he not be injured. One injury meant that Sting's chances of retaining the title were even less than they were without injury.
Orton finally decided that enough was enough.

As Sting had locked in the Scorpion Deathlock after a crossbody into the corner, dropping a worn down Edge to the canvas, Orton slid in and broke up the submission hold with an a hard stomp.

The bell was called.

Disqualification in favor of Sting.

Orton continued his short-lived assault. Sting was furious, and even with Booker T and Batista battling through Jericho and Christian, they aided Sting in his counter-assault.

Soon the ring was filled. Ten men battled simultaneously and in every corner, every spot that could be filled was.

Sting clotheslined Orton over the ropes.

Now it was five on four. Christian exited the ring with haste as he knew the battle was over. There would be no solid way to break through the ranks of the Main Even Mafia whilst Foley and AJ Styles were also there to even the odds.

Next out was Flair, then Jericho retreated as well. The Main Event Mafia stood tall and proud in the ring despite match ending in disqualification. Foley and Styles raised the hand of the champion, showing to the heels that together, they could take on anyone.

Edge parted from the group, exiting by himself to the back as the remaining four watched on and the show went to a break.

After the break, Nathan stood once again in the ring. His head high after the events that unfolded throughout the show. He had helped to cripple Degeneration-X, at least partially. He looked around, waiting for the boos and derogatory chants to come to a low simmer before he spoke, saying, "calm down." The owner turned himself around to see the crowds surrounding him in a frenzied mob of vitriol and intoxication.

"Pleasant, isn't it?" Nathan sighed, "I didn't expect this all to happen. I purchased several wrestling organizations and their wrestlers to make the ultimate product, but I did not expect myself to become part of that product any further than commentary." He rubbed his arm awkwardly and then looked toward the stage and its large screen that showed himself in the ring, saying, "I'm not going to succumb to the failures that Vince McMahon and Jeff Jarrett had."

"What are you going to succumb to?" Said a voice from the stage.

It was John Cena.

"Excuse me?" The owner was surprised to see the Raw star interrupt him before he could even make the announcement that had been on his mind since the match between Michaels and James. In an accusing manner, he said, "What brings you out here?"

"Yo, man, I know you're going through a lot. D-X is full of scum and dogs. Dogs that want to corrupt the industry so that they become the champions and no one else can rise up to take the mantle that they believe belongs to them." Cena responded. He said, "I know you got that Team Rocket and Kai En Tai on this, but please let me handle D-X for you."

"You want to get in the ring with Degeneration-X?" the owner cocked an eyebrow, thinking to himself that this idiot couldn't possibly be gutsy enough to take on such veterans.

"Right, hand control of The Wrestling Universe over to me, as a General Manager of the brands. I'll ensure order is restored, sir." Cena proposed.

"Here you judge the motives of five individuals, yet you yourself appear to present evidence that relates to the accusations you made toward them. Are you just wanting power for yourself?"

"I just am sick of seeing a good man fall." Cena shrugged, trying to 'keep it real'.

"Woah!" James interrupted, coming up from behind Cena, nearly pushing him over as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "General Manager Cena? I kind of like the sound of that."

"You think I should do this?" Nathan was shocked.

"Of course. As long as Cena knows his limits." James replied, speaking casually and still wearing an outfit reminiscent to the Early Years of Shawn Michaels. "As an enforcer of yours, I'm suggesting you take this."

"Gives yourself a rest, and let us handle things for you." Cena insisted.

"What do you think I should do?" Nathan turned to the audience, noting their clear disapproval. If James and Cena were involved, they didn't believe it to be wise.

"That says it," said Nathan with a wide grin, opening his arms and welcoming the two men to the ring, "Cena is now the official General Manager of Raw and iMPACT!"

"We have a new General Manager!" Jim Ross said, stunned at what had taken place. "Just before Night of Hell too! I hope Cena's power takes place after the event, because who knows what kind of things he could do to ensure his own championship reign! My god!"

The owner closed the show, saying, "I'll allow you full control so that I may think on where I stand in this company. Deal with Degeneration-X as you see fit, Cena, your reign as General Manager begins at Night of Hell!" The show closed after his shocking announcement with a view of Cena's smirking reaction and James congratulating him alongside his partner Brandon Powers.