The fight was closing down to an end. No one ran out to the ring, the fighting had worn down almost completely. Rosey and Jamal were going for the belts, but were knocked off the ladders by Chris Jericho. He put up a ladder, but when he got to the top, La Resistance sent him flying down to the ground. They set up 2 of the 12 ft. ladders, and started to climb tiredly.
Anonymous stood up, stretching his arms. Grenier and Dupre were 1/4 the way up. He picked up a 20 ft. ladder, and set it up outside the ring. 1/2 the way up. He climbed up the ladder, his feet not touching the steps. 3/4 the way up. He stood on top, his balance perfect. As they reached the top, he made his move. Spreading his arms with a face expressionless behind his mask, he jumped up towards the 2 frenchies.
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Dupre could taste the victory. His hand groped for the belts; his vision blurred by sweat and blood. He would not loose this job or title shot. His hand grasped the belt, but slipped. He felt for it again, and blinked. The vision cleared slightly. He saw what he thought was his personal hell flying at him. He instantly saw his life pass before his eyes. He blinked again, and saw it was Anonymous. What's the difference?
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Grenier saw the same thing, but couldn't do anything about it. His hands gripped the side of the ladder, the thought of jumping escaping his mind.
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Anonymous did the attack just like he hoped. The way he positioned his flight was that, if he was correct, his neck would fly through the belts, and his arms clotheslining the 2 Frenchies. The belts were luckily not connected too tight, and they unsnapped easily from his weight of 375+ (Rico and Flair were not that heavy, and they loosened them for him). "This is for America!" He yelled at Grenier and Dupre as they fell.