~ WWE: The Blueprint ~ NWO GO HOME RAW & SMACKDOWN RECAPS POSTED

WrestleWizard · Mar 21, 2025

~THE BLUEPRINT ~

SUNDAY JANUARY 25, 2004
Wachovia Center - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
TABLES MATCH
EVOLUTION (RIC FLAIR & BATISTA [c] def. THE DUDLEY BOYZ
via table (5:29) to retain the World Tag Team Championships

The Dudley Boyz brought the fight, but Evolution’s numbers advantage proved too much. Batista’s raw power sent D-Von crashing through a table with a devastating Batista Bomb, securing the victory for the champions. Flair’s veteran instincts and Batista’s brute strength kept the gold firmly in Evolution’s grasp.

WWE CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
SINGLES MATCH
REY MYSTERIO [c] def. JAMIE NOBLE w/NIDIA
via pinfall (3:06) to retain the WWE Cruiserweight Championship

Jamie Noble’s underhanded tactics were in full effect, using Nidia’s "blindness" as a distraction. However, Mysterio’s resilience shined through as he countered Noble’s Tiger Bomb into a West Coast Pop for the win, successfully defending his title.

SINGLES MATCH
EDDIE GUERRERO def. CHAVO GUERRERO
via pinfall (8:02)

With revenge in his heart, Eddie unleashed his fury, dominating much of the match with aggressive offense. Chavo tried to use his technical prowess to slow Eddie down, but the fiery Latino Heat was unstoppable, eventually securing the victory with a Frog Splash. After the match, Eddie, still seething with rage, delivered a brutal post-match beatdown, bloodying Chavo and leaving him a broken mess—a fitting exclamation point to their family feud.

WWE CHAMPIONSHIP
SINGLES MATCH
BROCK LESNAR [c] def. HARDCORE HOLLY
via pinfall (6:22) to remain the WWE Champion

Hardcore Holly was out for revenge after breaking his neck at Lesnar’s hands, but the beast was simply too dominant. Holly had flashes of offense, but once Lesnar hoisted him up for the F-5, it was all over. The champion retained, cementing his reign of destruction.

WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
LAST MAN STANDING MATCH
TRIPLE H [c] vs. SHAWN MICHAELS ENDED IN A DRAW
via draw (22:47) Triple H retains the World Heavyweight Championship

This was a war. Triple H and Shawn Michaels brutalized each other in a match filled with chair shots, blood, and shattered tables. In the end, both men collapsed after a simultaneous knock-out, leading to a draw. The Game retained the title, but both men left on stretchers.

ROYAL RUMBLE MATCH
KURT ANGLE WINS
via last eliminating Big Show (1:01:37)

The Royal Rumble delivered on chaos, surprises, and heartbreak. With a WrestleMania main event spot on the line, 30 men entered, but only one could stand tall.

Surprise entrants included Mick Foley, returning to attack Randy Orton in revenge for their past battles.
Kane dominated early on, eliminating several superstars before being haunted by the eerie return of The Undertaker’s gong—leading to his elimination in a state of shock.
Goldberg entered at #30 and tore through the competition, racking up eliminations left and right. But when he went for one more, Eddie Guerrero used his quickness to counter and eliminate Goldberg to the shock of the crowd.

However, Goldberg was furious. In a shocking act of betrayal, he stormed back into the ring, dragging Eddie out, and brutally annihilated him with a Spear and Jackhammer on the outside. Security struggled to pull him away as he roared in anger. Eddie’s dreams were shattered. With the match down to its final moments, Kurt Angle outlasted the field, eliminating Big Show in the final sequence to win the Royal Rumble! Philadelphia erupted as the Olympic Hero pointed to the WrestleMania XX sign, solidifying his spot in the main event.

CHAMPIONSHIP HISTORY
(As of Royal Rumble 2004)

WWE CHAMPIONSHIP
BROCK LESNAR (September 18th, 2003- Present)
Defeated Kurt Angle on Smackdown (Sept 18)

WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION
TRIPLE H (December 14th, 2003- Present)
Defeated Kane and Goldberg @ Armageddon

UNITED STATES CHAMPION
BIG SHOW (October 19th, 2003 - Present)
Defeated Eddie Guerrero @ No Mercy

INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION
RANDY ORTON (December 14th, 2003 - Present)
Defeated Rob Van Dam @ Armageddon

CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPION
REY MYSTERIO (January 1st, 2004 - Present)
Defeated Tajiri on Smackdown (Jan 1)

WOMEN'S CHAMPION
MOLLY HOLLY (July 28th, 2003 - Present)
Defeated Gail Kim on RAW (Jul 28th)

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (October 23, 2003 - Present)
Defeated Los Guerreros on SMACKDOWN (Oct. 23)

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS
BATISTA & RIC FLAIR (December 14th, 2003 - Present)
Defeated The Dudleys @ Armageddon (Dec 14)

AD_4nXdf1GNy9Zul5MIHzvrT5e5Rekfwgk5QLswvLWE9U-VxZCBzlzqntUkT-9q_TS8Pb-yd1MbBq_9kAu0ZMHVecfN27NuBbSpgfBTRzXfMcmtPWWDdXAugrSmQ4PBu6OMeqnRToVKD7A

SUNDAY FEBRUARY 15, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City, California

SUNDAY APRIL 4th, 2004
Madison Square Garden - New York, New York

WrestleWizard · Mar 23, 2025

Post-Show Press Conference

As soon as the Royal Rumble pay-per-view goes off the air, WWE.com airs an exclusive post-show press conference. The room is filled with reporters, photographers, and WWE officials, all eagerly awaiting insight from the night’s biggest names. The atmosphere is buzzing with energy following one of the most unforgettable Royal Rumble events in history. At the podium, Todd Grisham stands with a microphone in hand, scanning the room before addressing the press.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Royal Rumble Post-Show Press Conference,” he begins. “Tonight, history was made. We saw champions retain their titles, alliances tested, legacies cemented, and, of course, a new Royal Rumble winner crowned. We are officially on the Road to WrestleMania XX, and the stakes have never been higher. Without further ado, let me introduce the man who runs the show, the Chairman of WWE, Mr. Vince McMahon!”

The room erupts with flashes of cameras and murmurs as Vince McMahon makes his way to the podium, dressed sharply in a tailored suit. He smirks, gripping the microphone with confidence as he addresses the room.

“First and foremost, congratulations to Kurt Angle on winning the 2004 Royal Rumble,” McMahon declares, his voice filled with authority. “Kurt fought through 29 other competitors to earn his ticket to WrestleMania XX at Madison Square Garden. And let me tell you, that is no small feat.”

Pausing briefly, he adjusts his tie before moving on to the night’s business success.

“Now, let’s talk numbers. Tonight, we had a completely sold-out crowd here in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with over 17,000 passionate fans in attendance. And when it comes to pay-per-view buys, early indications suggest we are well over 600,000 buys, making this one of the most successful Royal Rumble events in WWE history!”

McMahon lets the media absorb that information before transitioning.

“And speaking of success, the Road to WrestleMania only gets bigger from here. Our next stop? No Way Out, next month. And I am here to announce that, starting with No Way Out, all future WWE pay-per-view events will be co-branded, featuring both Raw and SmackDown Superstars. That means bigger cards, bigger matchups, and even more history to be made.”

McMahon lets the statement sink in before dropping the night’s biggest bombshell.

“And to kick off this new era of co-branded pay-per-views, we are going to give the fans a blockbuster main event at No Way Out—a match worthy of WrestleMania itself. For the first time ever, it will be WWE Champion Brock Lesnar going one-on-one with World Heavyweight Champion Triple H!”

A wave of chatter spreads through the room as reporters quickly jot down notes. McMahon nods, satisfied with the reaction.

“Now, with that said, let’s hear from the man who still holds the WWE Championship after tonight’s dominant performance—Brock Lesnar!”

McMahon steps aside as Brock Lesnar emerges, his WWE Championship slung over his shoulder, a confident yet intimidating expression on his face. He steps up to the podium, grips the microphone, and speaks with his signature intensity.

“Tonight, I did exactly what I said I was going to do—I walked into the Royal Rumble as the WWE Champion, and I walked out the same damn way. Hardcore Holly? He ran his mouth for weeks about breaking my neck, about ‘settling the score.’ And what happened? I took his best shot, and I put him down. Because that’s what I do. I take guys who think they have a chance and I crush those dreams."

Lesnar pauses for a moment, scanning the room before nodding toward another reporter who quickly fires off a question.

“Brock, many believe that your dominance as WWE Champion is unmatched. But with your match against Triple H, do you feel like you have something to prove in this Champion vs. Champion match at No Way Out?”

Lesnar scoffs, shaking his head. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear—I don’t have to prove anything to anybody. Triple H has had his little reign of terror over on Raw, hiding behind Evolution, picking his spots, and holding onto that title by any means necessary. But I don’t need backup. I don’t need anyone watching my back. I walk into that ring alone, I wreck people, and I leave as the most dominant force in this industry. So no, I don’t have to prove anything. But Triple H? He does. Because when he steps into the ring with me at No Way Out, he’s gonna find out real quick that this isn’t Raw, this isn’t Evolution running the show—this is Brock Lesnar’s world. And he’s in for a very, very rude awakening.”

A slight murmur spreads through the room as reporters scribble down notes. Another hand goes up.

“Brock, you’ve talked about being the most dominant force in WWE. But with Kurt Angle winning the Royal Rumble and having the chance to challenge you at WrestleMania, do you think he poses the biggest threat to your championship reign?”

Lesnar lets out a small, amused chuckle before his demeanor turns ice-cold. “Threat? Listen, I respect Kurt Angle. The guy is one of the greatest to ever step foot in a ring. He’s an Olympic Gold Medalist, a world-class athlete, and one hell of a competitor. But if he picks me, I don’t care what he’s done in the past—I will tear him apart.”

Lesnar leans in slightly, gripping the podium. “See, go back to WrestleMania XIX, I defeated Kurt Angle to win the WWE Championship. Now? I’m bigger. I’m stronger. I’m even more dangerous. Kurt might be looking at me and thinking he knows what he’s getting himself into, but he doesn’t. Nobody does. So if he wants to relive history, he better be ready for a nightmare.”

Lesnar straightens up, taking in the tension in the room before nodding at Todd Grisham.

Grisham clears his throat, shifting nervously. “Alright, well, thank you for your time, Brock.”

Lesnar smirks, adjusting the WWE Championship on his shoulder before stepping away from the podium, his presence still lingering in the air as he walks off.

Lesnar steps away from the podium as Todd Grisham takes over. “Thank you, Brock. Next up, let’s hear from the Intercontinental Champion and Evolution’s own—Randy Orton!”

Orton walks in, his Intercontinental Championship slung over his shoulder, but frustration is written all over his face. A reporter quickly asks, “Randy, Evolution had a successful night with Batista and Ric Flair retaining the World Tag Team Titles, and Triple H keeping his World Heavyweight Championship. But you? Mick Foley ruined your shot at winning the Royal Rumble and potentially main-eventing WrestleMania. Thoughts?” Orton sneers, his patience wearing thin. He grips the mic, muttering under his breath, "I don’t have time for this shit," before dropping the mic, turning on his heel, and walking out, dragging the IC title with him.

Grisham hesitates, then regroups. “Well, uh… up next, the man of the hour—the 2004 Royal Rumble winner, Kurt Angle!”

As the press room settles, Kurt Angle takes a deep breath, still visibly exhausted but riding the high of his monumental victory. The reporters, sensing the opportunity to get deeper insight, continue firing questions. A journalist leans forward. “Kurt, in your storied career, you’ve accomplished nearly everything there is to accomplish. You’ve won multiple WWE Championships, headlined major pay-per-views, and, of course, won an Olympic gold medal. But tonight, you outlasted 29 other superstars to earn your spot in the main event of WrestleMania XX. Was this the most difficult match you’ve ever competed in?”

Angle tilts his head, considering the question. “Physically? No,” he admits. “I’ve been through Iron Man Matches, I’ve fought inside Hell in a Cell, I’ve gone to war with the toughest guys in this industry. But mentally? Yes. The Royal Rumble is a different beast. You don’t just have one opponent—you have twenty-nine. You have to outlast legends, up-and-comers, and the biggest powerhouses this company has to offer. There’s no way to prepare for it. The fact that I was able to make it to the end and throw the Big Show over the top rope? That might make this one of the biggest wins of my career.”

Another reporter raises their hand. “Kurt, the last time you were WWE Champion, it was Brock Lesnar who ended your reign. You two have one of the most competitive rivalries in WWE history. Does that play into your decision on who you’ll challenge at WrestleMania XX?”

Angle lets out a small chuckle. “Oh, it definitely plays into it. Look, Brock and I, we’ve pushed each other further than anyone else has. We’ve fought for that title before, and trust me, I haven’t forgotten that night. The difference is, this time, I’ll be the one going in with the advantage. I’m healthier, I’m sharper, and I’m even more dangerous than I was a year ago.”

A third reporter jumps in, flipping through their notes. “But if you were to pick Brock, that means you’d have to go through the most dominant WWE Champion in years. Brock has torn through every challenger put in front of him, and just tonight, he dismantled Hardcore Holly in decisive fashion. Are you truly ready for that kind of challenge?”

Angle doesn’t hesitate. His eyes lock in, filled with competitive fire. “I was born ready. I’ve taken on the biggest, the strongest, the meanest guys in this business, and I’ve beaten them all including Brock Lesnar himself. Brock may be a freak of nature, but last time I checked, he’s not an Olympic Gold Medalist. If I choose Brock, I’m walking into familiar territory and at WrestleMania if it is Brock I choose I'll be ready to break him down and take his title.”

Another hand shoots up. “And what about Triple H? You two have had your share of battles, but you’ve never faced each other one-on-one at WrestleMania. If you choose to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship, do you think you’d have the advantage over The Game?”

Angle lets out a deep breath, nodding slightly. “Triple H is one of the greatest of all time, no doubt about it. He’s survived against Shawn Michaels, Goldberg, and countless others. But if you ask me, he’s gotten comfortable. He’s used to being at the top, used to having Evolution watching his back. But if I decide to come after him? That title reign of his won’t last past WrestleMania.”

The final question comes in, the one everyone has been waiting for. “Kurt, have you officially decided which champion you’ll challenge at WrestleMania XX?”

Angle exhales, adjusting his medals again. “Like I said before… It's been barely an hour since I won the Rumble. This is the biggest decision of my career, so I’m going to sleep on it. But I’ll tell you all this—by the end of Raw tomorrow night, I will have my answer. So if you want to know who I’m challenging, Raw is a must-watch. Don’t miss it.”

A murmur spreads across the room as the press notes Angle’s words. The WWE Universe will have to wait just one more night to find out the fate of the WrestleMania XX main event. As Todd Grisham steps forward, adjusting his tie, he clears his throat and prepares to bring the chaotic evening to a close.

“That concludes the official Royal Rumble press conference—”

But before he can finish his sentence, a sudden commotion erupts from the back of the room. The murmurs among the press quickly turn into gasps as Goldberg storms onto the stage, his presence alone sending a wave of tension through the air. His nostrils flare, his jaw clenched so tight it looks like it might snap. His rage is palpable.

“This isn’t over,” Goldberg growls, his voice dripping with venom. He grips the edge of the overturned podium, his knuckles white with fury. “My dream—my destiny—of main-eventing WrestleMania ended tonight because of Eddie Guerrero. And Eddie found out the hard way what happens when you cross Goldberg.”

Goldberg’s breathing is heavy, his eyes darting across the reporters, but he’s not looking at them. He’s looking past them.

And then—BAM!

Eddie Guerrero blindsides Goldberg from behind!

The crowd erupts as Eddie—his face twisted in pure fury—tackles Goldberg to the ground, fists flying. The impact sends the podium toppling over, microphones scattering across the floor. Chairs crash in every direction as reporters scramble out of the way. The scene is pure chaos. Goldberg, caught off guard for just a second, roars in anger and shoves Eddie off him, sending him rolling across the stage. Eddie, ever the scrapper, bounces right back up and lunges at him again, this time landing a stiff right hand to Goldberg’s jaw! Security immediately rushes the stage, but it’s already madness. Goldberg shakes off the punch, his eyes wild with fury, and grabs Eddie by the throat. With sheer brute strength, he drives him backward into the backdrop, nearly tearing it down! Eddie groans but refuses to back down, grabbing a loose microphone from the floor and smashing it into Goldberg’s ribs! Officials flood the stage, trying to pry the two apart. It takes at least half a dozen men to restrain Goldberg, who is foaming at the mouth like a caged animal, veins bulging from his neck.

“YOU’RE DEAD, EDDIE! DEAD!” Goldberg bellows, trying to rip free from security’s grasp.

Eddie, panting and grinning through the madness, spits to the side and laughs. “Órale, puto! You want some more?! LET’S GO!”

Despite security holding them back, the two continue shouting, the fire in their eyes unrelenting. Reporters, cameras, and WWE officials are completely overwhelmed as chaos reigns on the press conference stage. The camera captures the wreckage—the shattered podium, the knocked-over chairs, the microphones scattered across the floor. The stage is in complete disarray.

And just as the scene hits its fever pitch—

The screen fades to black.

The Road to WrestleMania XX is only just beginning…

WrestleWizard · Mar 26, 2025

AD_4nXf4bSinXAkZprUJrBWCcW-bv7IO8wPDFvB44_DDhLIRx9cmGkFGnwqmHIP5BtGzE0uwelZI72JGDetAGn0tIhWpkSC6pQ_Uj7uaUvUYmI9sw9rPX4kqnQDpu-JACS8uajJhLNS5

MONDAY JANUARY 26, 2004
Giant Center - Hershey, Pennsylvania

The show opened with an intense video package recapping the unforgettable moments from the 2004 Royal Rumble just 24 hours earlier. Dramatic music underscored the highlights, beginning with Shawn Michaels and Triple H’s brutal Last Man Standing match for the World Heavyweight Championship—both men battered, bloodied, and unable to stand by the time the final bell rang, leaving the title in a frustrating stalemate. The footage then transitioned to the chaotic Royal Rumble Match, showing Randy Orton’s dominance throughout before his world crumbled when Mick Foley stormed into the ring, leading to an all-out brawl that saw Foley eliminate Orton before taking himself out as well. And then came the biggest moment of the night—the victory of Kurt Angle. The package slowed down to show Angle tossing the Big Show over the top rope, securing his WrestleMania moment. The camera cut to footage from the post-Rumble press conference, where an emotional but determined Angle addressed the media, announcing that he would make his decision tonight on Raw regarding which champion he would challenge at WrestleMania XX. As the video faded, the Monday Night Raw intro package played, featuring the explosive pyrotechnics as the camera panned around the packed Hershey crowd. Jim Ross and Jerry "The King" Lawler welcomed the audience to the fallout from the Rumble, hyping up the major events lined up for the night. A graphic appeared on the screen showcasing Kurt Angle’s decision—which championship would he chase at WrestleMania? Another graphic followed, featuring a determined Randy Orton with the text: "Orton Calls Out Foley – LIVE TONIGHT!" The anticipation was palpable as JR reminded the fans that Orton was furious after Foley cost him his Rumble dream and was demanding an answer.

Suddenly, the camera cut to the ring, revealing the familiar setup for The Highlight Reel. The oversized JeriTron 5000 was displayed prominently in the background, the red carpet was laid across the mat, and two stools sat in the center. The crowd erupted as "Break the Walls Down!" blared through the speakers, signaling the arrival of Chris Jericho. The self-proclaimed "King of the World" strutted onto the stage, clad in his signature leather jacket, smirking as he made his way down to the ring. With microphone in hand, Jericho soaked in the reaction before casually leaning on one of the stools, nodding his head as he prepared to speak.

"Welcome to… RAW… IS… JERICHO!" he declared, his voice filled with its usual bravado as the crowd responded enthusiastically. However, his expression quickly shifted to one of frustration as he continued. "Now, I gotta be honest with you people—I’m not exactly in the best mood tonight. Y’see, last night at the Royal Rumble, I had one goal—to punch my ticket to the main event of WrestleMania XX. I wanted to go to Madison Square Garden and steal the show like I always do. But unfortunately… it didn’t happen." The audience booed in sympathy as Jericho shook his head. "Now, I could sit here and whine about it. I could complain that the Rumble was unfair, that the numbers weren’t in my favor, but that’s not what Y2J does, baby! Because here’s the thing—whether I won the Rumble or not, whether I’m in the main event or not, one thing remains true… WrestleMania XX is coming, and I will steal the show, just like I have every single damn year." Jericho adjusted his jacket, regaining his cocky swagger. "But you know what? My life isn’t all bad right now. In fact, things are actually looking pretty great in another department. And no, I’m not talking about my rockstar good looks or my incredible wrestling ability, though I do have both. I’m talking about my personal life. Because lately… things have been going very well in that department, and the reason why… well, why don’t I just bring her out here right now?" Jericho grinned as the crowd buzzed in anticipation. "Ladies and gentlemen, my special guest tonight on The Highlight Reel… Trish Stratus!" The sultry sound of "Time to Rock & Roll" filled the arena as Trish Stratus made her way onto the stage, smiling confidently as she strutted down to the ring. Dressed in stylish denim and a fitted crop top, the blonde bombshell stepped between the ropes, flashing Jericho a playful grin. Jericho pulled out a stool for her like a gentleman, prompting a small laugh from Trish as she took a seat.

"Well, well, well, Trish… looking absolutely stunning tonight," Jericho complimented smoothly.

"Oh, stop it, Chris," Trish teased, rolling her eyes but clearly enjoying the attention.

The two exchanged flirtatious banter, their chemistry on full display. Jericho leaned in slightly. "Now, Trish, we’ve had our… ups and downs, haven’t we?" Trish smirked. "Yeah, you could say that. I mean, first, there was that little bet you and Christian made about me and Lita—which, for the record, was not cool. But…" She bit her lip slightly. "Somewhere along the way, I realized something—I was wrong about you. You’re not just some arrogant, self-absorbed jerk. You’re actually… a pretty good guy." The crowd cheered as Jericho chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, Trish, I do owe you an apology for that whole bet thing. But listen, now that we’ve moved past that… maybe it’s time we take this thing to the next level." Trish raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly do you mean by that, Jericho?" Jericho smirked. "How about this? After tonight, when me and Christian win the Tag Team Turmoil Match, we become the #1 contenders for the World Tag Team Titles. And after that? We head back to my place… pop open some champagne… and celebrate, together." The crowd erupted as Trish giggled, nodding her head. "You know what, Chris? I think that sounds… perfect." Just as Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus leaned in, the crowd buzzing in anticipation of a kiss, the familiar sound of Christian’s theme music hit the arena. The atmosphere shifted instantly from romantic to hostile as the cocky, self-proclaimed "Captain Charisma" stormed down the ramp, shaking his head in disbelief. His expression was a mixture of frustration and disgust as he grabbed a microphone and slid into the ring. "Oh, for God’s sake, Jericho! What the hell is this?!" Christian snapped, pacing around the ring as Jericho and Trish slowly pulled away from each other. "This is what you’re doing right now? Flirting? Making googly eyes with Trish when we have the biggest match of our careers tonight?! Are you kidding me?!" Jericho rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Christian, relax. Take a deep breath, maybe get a massage or something. I got this," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I’m not distracted. I will win tonight. You just need to stay out of my way." Christian scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. "Stay out of your way? You mean stay out of the way of the guy who’s too busy chasing skirts to focus on what really matters?" He jabbed a finger toward Jericho’s chest. "I’m trying to keep you from throwing away everything we’ve worked for! Do you even care about this match tonight? Or are you too busy planning a candlelight dinner?"Trish let out a dramatic sigh, placing her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Christian, you’re like a bad sitcom character. Always interrupting the romantic moment. Can’t you just let us have one nice moment?" she said with exaggerated exasperation. The crowd chuckled at her sarcasm.

Christian turned toward her, shaking his head. "Nice moment? Oh, you mean the moment where Jericho forgets he has a career?" His voice dripped with condescension. "You really think you’re helping him, Trish? I’m trying to save him from himself!" Jericho, his patience wearing thin, suddenly stepped up, going nose to nose with Christian. "Save me from myself? You can’t even save yourself from being a complete and utter loser!" The crowd ooh’d at the jab as Christian’s face twisted into an annoyed smirk. "Oh yeah? Big words from a guy who's one heartbreak away from being a sad, sappy, Bon Jovi-loving mess," Christian shot back. "I mean, let’s be real, Jericho—last time you let your feelings get involved, you ended up looking like a complete idiot. And now you’re about to do it again." Jericho clenched his jaw. "Oh, and I suppose you know what’s best for me, huh? The guy who—let’s face it—hasn’t exactly been swimming in championship gold lately?" He smirked mockingly. "Or maybe you’re just jealous, Christian. Jealous that while I’m out here making connections, you’re back there alone, probably still checking your reflection and flexing in the mirror." Christian laughed sarcastically. "Oh, yeah, that’s it, Jericho. I’m so jealous that you’re about to throw away everything we’ve worked for so you can whisper sweet nothings to Trish." He shook his head, then suddenly his face darkened as he leaned in closer. "Let me ask you something, Jericho…" His smirk returned, this time more arrogant than ever. "Titles… or titties?" The entire arena gasped, followed by a massive reaction from the crowd, a mix of laughter, shock, and "oooohs" at Christian’s audacious line. Jericho’s face instantly twisted with rage. Without a moment of hesitation, he slapped Christian hard across the face, the sound echoing through the arena. Christian staggered back, touching his jaw… and then, surprisingly, he laughed. He nodded, rubbing the spot where Jericho struck him, and then looked his tag partner dead in the eyes. "See?" Christian grinned. "That’s the guy I need by my side tonight. Bring that fire, and maybe—just maybe—we’ll actually win this thing." Jericho continued to glare at Christian, mouthing something under his breath as the two locked eyes in tense silence. Trish, sensing things escalating, gently placed a hand on Jericho’s chest, a subtle effort to diffuse the situation. The tension hung thick in the air as the camera slowly faded to black.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

As Monday Night Raw returned from commercial break, the women’s division took center stage with a tag team bout featuring Molly Holly & Jazz taking on Victoria & Lita. The first team to make their way to the ring was Molly Holly, the self-proclaimed purest women’s wrestler in WWE, accompanied by the fierce and relentless Jazz, with the ever-menacing Theodore Long at her side. Molly walked down the ramp with her usual smug confidence, adjusting her Women’s Championship around her waist, while Jazz cracked her knuckles, glaring out at the audience with a look of pure intimidation.

The mood inside the arena shifted as Victoria’s music hit, and the unpredictable powerhouse emerged, her wild energy evident as she made her way down to the ring. Though still unhinged, the recent support from the fans gave Victoria a newfound edge, and she was ready to prove she belonged in title contention. The crowd erupted as Lita’s theme blared, and the high-flying daredevil sprinted onto the stage, pumping her fist in the air before charging to the ring. Lita’s presence always electrified the WWE fans, and tonight was no different as she joined Victoria, the two exchanging a nod of confidence before focusing on their opponents.

TAG TEAM MATCH
MOLLY HOLLY & JAZZ vs. VICTORIA & LITA

As the bell rang, Victoria and Molly Holly started the match off, locking up in the center of the ring. Molly, ever the technician, quickly transitioned into a headlock, wrenching Victoria down to the mat. However, Victoria used her strength advantage to power out, shoving Molly into the ropes and flooring her with a hard shoulder block. Wasting no time, Victoria followed up with a standing moonsault for an early pin attempt, but Molly kicked out at two. Molly quickly scrambled to her corner and tagged in Jazz, who wasted no time getting in Victoria’s face. The two women exchanged blows, with Jazz gaining the upper hand by raking Victoria’s eyes before nailing a brutal snap suplex. Jazz, never one to shy away from punishment, targeted Victoria’s lower back with stiff knee strikes and a backbreaker, dragging her toward the ropes. With Theodore Long barking orders at ringside, Jazz applied a camel clutch, bending Victoria’s spine in an unnatural angle. The crowd rallied behind Victoria as she clawed her way toward the ropes, and after an intense struggle, she managed to escape, countering into a roll-up that nearly stole the victory. Jazz, furious, exploded forward with a clothesline, but Victoria ducked and leaped to her corner, tagging in Lita. The fans erupted as Lita stormed the ring, taking Jazz down with a pair of clotheslines, followed by a head-scissors takedown that sent the powerhouse reeling. Molly tried to intervene, but Lita saw it coming and countered with a dropkick, sending the Women’s Champion tumbling to the outside. Jazz tried to capitalize on the distraction and went for the Fisherman Buster, but Lita fought out of it and hit a reverse Twist of Fate! Seeing an opening, Lita climbed to the top rope, the crowd roaring in anticipation. With perfect precision, she soared through the air and connected with a beautiful moonsault, landing directly on Jazz. Lita quickly hooked the leg as the referee counted one, two, three!

WINNERS:

VICTORIA & LITA

The bell rang, and Victoria and Lita celebrated their hard-fought victory, standing tall as Molly Holly looked on from the outside, clutching her Women’s Championship with a mixture of anger and concern. As Victoria and Lita embraced their moment of triumph, the message was clear—both women were coming for the Women’s Title, and Molly’s days as champion could be numbered.

The camera cuts to Evolution’s private locker room, a lavish setting with black leather couches, a stocked bar, and championship gold proudly displayed. Triple H, in a suit but with an ice pack pressed to his neck, leans back in his chair with a smug grin. The World Heavyweight Championship rests beside him. Ric Flair, Batista, and Randy Orton stand nearby, engaged in conversation. Triple H exhales sharply, shifting the ice pack. "Man… last night was a war," he says, his voice laced with amusement. "But here I am—battered, bruised, still the World Heavyweight Champion. And now the whole world waits on Kurt Angle’s decision. Well, Angle, I dare you to pick me. I dare you." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Because that would be the dumbest decision of your entire life. I am THE GAME, the greatest wrestler walking the planet. And as for Brock Lesnar?’ He scoffs. "At No Way Out, he will just be another guy on my list. He can join Goldberg, Scott Steiner, Kevin Nash—every so-called dominant force that’s stepped up and fallen right back down." Triple H asks Orton if he's alright, Randy Orton steps forward, his expression dark and seething. "Am I alright, did you see what happened last night, -Mick Foley." His nostrils flare, gripping the Intercontinental Championship in his hand. "For months, he’s been running from me, ducking me like the coward that he is. And then decides to show up at the Royal Rumble last night and costs me my dream of main eventing Wrestlemania, but tonight, I end Mick Foley once and for all. If Foley has the guts to show up tonight he will fall at the hands of the legend killer." A moment of silence lingers before the mood shifts as Ric Flair lets out a woo, nudging Batista with an excited grin. "Boys, boys, boys—Evolution is still draped in gold!" He gestures proudly at himself and Batista, the World Tag Team Championships slung over their shoulders. "We said we were walking out of the Rumble with these, and that’s exactly what we did!" Batista, his usual stoic demeanor cracking into a confident smirk, nods. "And now we get some fresh meat. Whoever steps up next—they better be ready for a fight." Flair laughs, patting Batista on the back. "Damn right! We’re just getting started!" Triple H smirks, soaking in the confidence radiating around him. He leans forward, his eyes gleaming. "This… this is what dominance looks like. We are Evolution. We run this show. And tonight, we keep proving it."

The camera lingers on the group, their confidence unwavering as they prepare for the night ahead. The screen fades to black.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The arena was bathed in a sinister red glow as the opening flames of Kane’s theme shot up from the stage. The Big Red Machine emerged from the curtain, his heavy boots thudding against the ramp as he marched toward the ring with cold, calculated aggression. His face, partially obscured by his signature mask, showed no emotion—only pure, unrelenting fury. Awaiting him in the ring was a local competitor, wide-eyed and hesitant, already realizing the fate that awaited him.

SINGLES MATCH
KANE vs. LOCAL COMPETITOR

The bell rang, but the match was nothing short of a merciless slaughter. Kane lunged forward, nearly taking his opponent's head off with a big boot that echoed throughout the arena. As the poor soul tried to scramble to his feet, Kane effortlessly yanked him up by the throat, lifting him with one arm and tossing him across the ring like a ragdoll. The local wrestler gasped for breath, using the ropes to try and pull himself up—but Kane was already on him. A vicious corner clothesline crushed his body against the turnbuckle. As he stumbled forward, disoriented, Kane snatched him up again. Without hesitation, Kane hoisted him high into the air and drove him into the mat with a ring-shaking Chokeslam. The crowd let out a collective “OHHH!” but Kane wasn’t done. With zero emotion, Kane grabbed his lifeless opponent, lifted him once more, and delivered a devastating Tombstone Piledriver. The man’s body folded under the impact, his limbs motionless as Kane simply placed one hand on his chest.

1… 2… 3.

Winner:

Kane

But Kane didn’t even acknowledge the referee’s hand being raised. He stood still in the center of the ring, his chest rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. Then, without a second thought, he stormed toward the ropes and called for a microphone. As the red lights intensified, Kane brought the mic to his lips, his voice filled with venom. “UNDERTAKER! I know you're out there! I know you're playing your little games, but I’m sick of it! I’m done with the shadows! I’M DONE WITH THE MIND GAMES!” Kane roared, his voice filled with fury as he paced the ring. The crowd erupted into a mix of anticipation and unease, knowing that whenever The Undertaker was involved, something eerie wasn’t far behind. Kane’s expression twisted with anger as he clenched his fists. "I lost the Royal Rumble because of you! You cost me my shot at WrestleMania! YOU HAUNT ME WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!" The mere mention of those words sent an unsettling hush over the audience. Kane turned his head toward the entrance ramp, nostrils flaring. "I BURIED YOU ALIVE! I PUT THE FINAL NAIL IN YOUR COFFIN! YOU. ARE. DEAD!" Kane bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the arena. But just as those last words left his lips… the arena lights suddenly flickered. A loud, thunderous gong reverberated through the building, sending chills down the spines of everyone in attendance. The TitanTron crackled with static, and then—darkness. The crowd erupted in excitement and fear, the eerie ambiance sending an unmistakable message. Suddenly, a dim, ominous purple spotlight illuminated the stage. And there, at the top of the ramp, a casket had appeared out of nowhere. Kane’s breathing grew heavier as his eyes widened in disbelief. He took a step back, his face twisting with anger and something he refused to admit—fear. The casket sat motionless, closed tight, its presence alone sending a message. The arena buzzed with anticipation, fans on edge, waiting to see if it would open… Kane shook his head violently, gripping the sides of his head as if trying to shake off the haunting vision.

"NO! NO! THIS ISN’T REAL!" he roared. "YOU'RE DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME? DEAD!"

But then…

The lid of the casket suddenly creaked open… but no one was inside. The arena gasped. Kane’s expression flickered with confusion before quickly shifting back to rage. With a guttural roar, Kane stormed out of the ring and charged toward the stage. But just as he reached the casket—

BOOM!

A massive lightning bolt struck the casket, igniting it in flames! The fire roared to life, surrounding the eerie symbol of the Undertaker’s return, as Kane stumbled back in shock.

The gong hit one more time.

The arena was completely unglued, the audience cheering and chanting "UN-DER-TA-KER!" as Kane stood there, his face contorted in pure frustration.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

"Burn in My Light" blasted through the arena. Randy Orton, the cocky, young Intercontinental Champion, strutted onto the stage, dressed in his Evolution-branded leather jacket, with the prestigious Intercontinental Championship draped over his shoulder. His face showed no signs of amusement—only burning resentment. As he stepped into the ring, he took his time, smirking at the hostile reaction before raising the microphone to his lips.

"Last night was supposed to be my night," Orton began, pacing the ring, his arrogance replaced with sheer bitterness. "The Royal Rumble match was mine for the taking. I was moments away from winning the whole damn thing and going to WrestleMania—until one man decided to steal that moment from me." His eyes darkened as he stopped in his tracks. "Mick Foley." The mention of Foley's name brought an overwhelming roar from the crowd. Orton shook his head in disgust. "You people cheer for a man who didn’t even have the guts to enter the match at number one or even number ten! No, he waited, like a coward, hiding until the moment he could get involved and screw me over!" The Intercontinental Champion sneered, pointing to himself. "I am the Legend Killer! The future of this business! And Mick Foley? He’s nothing more than a washed-up, broken-down, relic of the past! A pathetic excuse for a man who can’t stand to see the next generation surpass him!" Orton leaned against the ropes, his voice dripping with contempt. "And for what? For some pathetic form of revenge? What, Mick? Did it make you feel like the hardcore legend again? Did it make you feel alive?" He scoffed. "You disgust me, Foley. You don’t belong in my ring, you don’t belong in my world, and you sure as hell don’t belong in the same conversation as me!" He stepped back to the center of the ring, staring hard at the entrance ramp. "So if you have even the tiniest shred of courage left in your broken-down body, I dare you—no, I beg you—to drag your ass down to this ring and face me like a man!"

A brief pause followed, and then—

"Wreck!"

The arena exploded as Mick Foley’s music hit, and the hardcore legend himself emerged onto the stage, clad in his signature red flannel over a black "Wanted: Dead" shirt. Foley, with a smirk stretched across his face, soaked in the reaction before making his way toward the ring. Orton stood his ground, rolling his eyes as Foley entered, pacing around him like a shark circling its prey. "Ah, Randy," Foley chuckled, gripping the microphone. "You sound angry. You sound… upset." He tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Could it be because you got exactly what you deserved last night?" The crowd erupted as Foley grinned, shaking his head. "Because, let me tell you, Randy… nothing felt sweeter than watching the look on your face when I threw your ass over that top rope!" Orton's jaw tightened, but Foley wasn’t done. "And you're damn right, I wasn’t there to win the Rumble. I didn’t come back to headline WrestleMania. No, no, no. My only goal was simple: to make your life a living hell." His expression darkened. "You took something from me, Orton. You took my dignity when you spat in my face, when you and Evolution tried to take me out. You thought I’d just walk away?" Foley scoffed. "No, son. I'm still here. And I'm not just here to cost you a match—I'm here to tear you apart."

The two men locked eyes, the intensity boiling over.

Orton chuckled dryly. "That’s really touching, Mick. But you and I both know you don’t have what it takes anymore. You may have eliminated me last night, but when was the last time you actually won a match that mattered?" Orton smirked. "You’re a shell of what you used to be. And honestly? I feel sorry for you." Foley’s grin faded. "Oh, you feel sorry for me?" He took a step forward, getting right in Orton’s face. "Then let’s see how sorry you feel when you step inside a steel cage with me in 2 weeks on Raw—with your Intercontinental Championship on the line." The crowd roared at the challenge, but Orton immediately shook his head, laughing. "No. No way. You don’t get to just waltz back in here and demand a title shot. You don’t deserve it." Foley nodded, taking a deep breath—before suddenly blasting Orton across the face with a right hand! The crowd erupted as Orton staggered backward, and Foley tackled him to the mat, unloading with wild punches! Orton scrambled, trying to cover up, but Foley was relentless, raining down fists with a crazed look in his eye!

Before Orton could recover—Evolution stormed the ring!

Batista and Ric Flair rushed down the ramp and immediately dragged Foley off Orton, with Batista clubbing him across the back with a devastating forearm! Foley tried to fight back, but Flair struck with a low blow, and Batista followed up with a spine-shattering spinebuster! The crowd booed as Orton recovered, standing over a battered Foley, catching his breath. The smirk returned to Orton’s face. He looked down at Foley, shaking his head. Then, without hesitation, he backed up into the corner, measuring his shot.

BAM!

A sickening punt kick connected flush to Foley’s skull! The audience gasped as Foley’s body went limp, his head snapping back violently. He lay motionless in the ring as Evolution stood over him, admiring their destruction. Orton, breathing heavily, crouched down, bringing the microphone back to his lips. "You want your match, Mick?" He wiped his mouth, grinning. "You got it." With that, Orton dropped the microphone onto Foley’s chest, draping his Intercontinental Title over his shoulder as Evolution stood tall. As Raw cut to commercial, the last image the audience saw was Orton, his cold smirk widening, as he whispered:

"Have a nice day."

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Raw returns to Chris Jericho’s locker room, where he sat hunched over on the bench, methodically lacing up his boots. His fingers moved quickly, almost aggressively, the frustration from earlier still fresh in his mind. His jaw was clenched, his eyes stormy with thoughts he couldn’t shake—the slap, the words exchanged, the unspoken tension between himself and Christian. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Then, without warning, the door swung open.

Jericho barely flinched, but his eyes darted up as Christian strolled in, his usual cocky smirk subdued, but not completely gone. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, studying Jericho like he was waiting for a reaction. A heavy silence hung between them for a few moments before Christian finally broke it.

“So… are we gonna do this thing or what?”

Jericho exhaled sharply, not looking up right away. Instead, he finished tying his boot, his movements slow and deliberate, as if grounding himself. Finally, he met Christian’s gaze, his voice low but edged with something sharp. “That depends,” he muttered. “You done playing therapist? Or are you gonna give me another speech about how I’m ruining my career?” Christian rolled his eyes but didn’t fire back immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, the usual bravado in his posture shifting into something more real, more raw. “Look, man, I get it. Trish is hot. She’s cool. You’re having fun. Great. But tonight isn’t about that. Tonight is about us getting back on track and becoming the number one contenders for the World Tag Team Titles. You and me, Y2J and Captain Charisma—one of the best damn teams in WWE. That’s what matters.” Jericho let Christian’s words settle, studying his longtime partner with an unreadable expression. There was something in Christian’s voice—conviction, urgency—that made it clear this wasn’t just some routine pep talk. He actually meant it. Jericho’s scowl softened, just barely, but the fire in his eyes didn’t fade. “You really think I don’t know that?” Jericho shot back. “I slapped you in the middle of the ring, didn’t I? That was me telling you that when the bell rings, it’s all business.” Christian huffed out a chuckle, rubbing his jaw where Jericho had struck him earlier. “Yeah, you got me pretty good. Had me seeing stars for a second.” His smirk returned, but this time, it wasn’t just bravado—it was the grin of a man who knew exactly who he was dealing with. “But hey, at least I know you still got that fire.”

For the first time all night, Jericho smirked back. It was faint, but it was there. The walls between them weren’t completely torn down, but a crack had formed. Christian took that as a sign and extended his fist toward Jericho, a silent truce. Jericho stared at it for a moment, the tension still lingering in the air between them. Then, finally, he bumped his fist against Christian’s. “Yeah, we’re good. But if we’re doing this, I don’t want any screw-ups. No excuses. I want to win this thing and go to No Way Out with momentum.” Christian’s grin widened. “Now that’s the Chris Jericho I want by my side. Let’s go out there and remind everybody who the hell we are.” Jericho cracked his neck, his smirk growing. “Damn right.” Without another word, the two longtime partners walked out of the locker room, side by side, back on the same page and ready to seize their opportunity. The road to No Way Out was still uncertain, but one thing was for sure—when Chris Jericho and Christian were in sync, the entire WWE Tag Team Division was on notice. As Christian turned to leave, he glanced back at Jericho one last time. “Let’s handle business,” he said with a nod before stepping out of the locker room, the door swinging shut behind him. Jericho exhaled, rolling his shoulders, the weight of the night still pressing on him. He ran a hand through his damp blonde hair, preparing himself mentally for the match ahead.

Then, just a few moments later, the door gently creaked open again.

Jericho looked up, and there stood Trish Stratus. Dressed in her signature sleek leather jacket and form-fitting ring gear, she stepped inside, her warm eyes searching his face. There was something in her expression—not quite concern, but understanding. She had seen the tension earlier, had witnessed everything unravel between Jericho and Christian, and she knew how much was at stake tonight.

“Hey,” she said softly, closing the door behind her.

Jericho smirked, but it was different from his usual cocky grin—this one was more subdued, more genuine. “Hey yourself.”

Trish took a step closer, tilting her head slightly. “So... you and Christian? Everything good?”

Jericho let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, we’re fine. Just a little... team-building exercise, I guess.”

Trish smiled. “Well, if that’s what you call slapping your best friend in the face, remind me never to be on the wrong side of your ‘team-building.’”

Jericho smirked again, but this time with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A beat of silence passed before Trish reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Seriously, Chris... I know how much this match means to you. You and Christian have a chance to go all the way tonight, to get back to the top where you belong.” She hesitated for a second before adding, “And I know you will.”

Jericho looked at her, his expression softening. There was something in the way she said it—the confidence in her voice, the trust in her eyes—that made him believe it just a little bit more himself.

Trish gave him a playful nudge. “Now, go out there and do what you do best.”

Before Jericho could respond, she leaned in and gently pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn’t dramatic—it was just real. A moment of quiet support before the chaos.

As Trish pulled back, Jericho raised an eyebrow, his signature smirk returning in full force. “Well... that’s one hell of a good luck charm.”

Trish rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “Don’t let it go to your head, rock star.” She winked before heading toward the door.

Just as she disappeared into the hallway, the arena’s speakers erupted, signaling the beginning of Tag Team Turmoil. The rumbling bass of entrance music pulsed through the walls, the crowd roaring in anticipation.

Jericho took one last deep breath, shaking off any remaining doubt. Then, with a final smirk, he grabbed his jacket and headed toward the gorilla position.

As Tag Team Turmoil kicked off, the Dudley Boyz made their entrance to a thunderous ovation from the crowd, fired up and ready to battle. Bubba Ray and D-Von, the most decorated tag team in WWE history, stormed down the ramp with intensity, feeding off the energy of the fans. Their signature camouflage gear and fiery demeanor made it clear—they were here to dominate. As they entered the ring, they wasted no time rallying the crowd, shouting “Wassup!” as they prepared for war. The anticipation in the arena grew as they awaited their first challengers. The entrance music of Lance Storm and Val Venis hit next, signaling the arrival of a technically sound but unorthodox duo. Storm, ever the serious tactician, walked to the ring with a focused expression, while Venis, oozing charisma, smirked confidently at the audience. The contrasting styles of the two men were evident—Storm was all business, while Venis exuded swagger, playing to the crowd before stepping into the ring. Despite their different approaches, they knew their only chance against the hard-hitting Dudleys was to use their technical prowess and quick tags. The announcers hype the ramifications of this matchup where the winners will challenge Evolution for the World Tag Team Championships at No Way Out. With both teams in the ring, the referee signaled for the bell, and the Tag Team Turmoil match was officially underway.

TAG TEAM TURMOIL MATCH

As the bell rang to kick off Tag Team Turmoil, the legendary Dudley Boyz stood in the ring, ready to kick off the gauntlet against the technically sound tandem of Lance Storm and Val Venis. The match began with Storm trying to slow the pace, using his mat wrestling ability to keep Bubba Ray grounded. Venis tagged in, executing a snap suplex followed by a quick elbow drop, but Bubba powered out at two. As Storm and Venis continued to use quick tags, D-Von finally got the hot tag, coming in with a flurry of right hands before hitting a diving clothesline on Storm. The crowd erupted as Bubba called for the "What's Up!" diving headbutt, and after connecting, the Dudley Boyz finished Storm with a 3D for the three-count.

Eliminated:

Lance Storm & Val Venis

Before the Dudleys could catch their breath, the young and athletic duo of Mark Jindrak & Garrison Cade hit the ring with explosive energy. Jindrak immediately targeted Bubba, using his quickness to keep the veteran off balance. Cade joined in, hitting a double-team back suplex, nearly stealing an upset victory. However, after missing a high-risk maneuver, Jindrak was met with a devastating clothesline from Bubba, who then made the crucial tag to D-Von. With momentum shifting, the Dudleys took control, eventually countering a double-team attempt and hitting another 3D on Cade for the pinfall.

Eliminated:

Mark Jindrak & Garrison Cade

The celebration was short-lived as La Résistance (Sylvain Grenier & René Duprée) w/ Rob Conway made their way down, immediately ambushing the worn-out Dudleyz. Rob Conway provided a distraction, allowing Duprée and Grenier to double-team D-Von. The French-Canadian duo effectively cut the ring in half, focusing on quick tags and underhanded tactics. D-Von fought back, catching Grenier with a spinning elbow, and crawled desperately toward Bubba. As Bubba got the tag, he cleaned house, nailing both men with clotheslines and a sidewalk slam. However, as Bubba went to lift Duprée for a powerbomb, Conway slid into the ring behind the referee’s back, smashing Bubba with the Quebec flagpole! Grenier quickly covered, stealing the pinfall and eliminating the Dudleyz.

Eliminated:

The Dudley Boyz

The crowd was eager for revenge as Rob Van Dam & Booker T made their entrance, met with a thunderous ovation. They immediately hit the ring, RVD unleashing his explosive kicks, sending Grenier flying. Booker followed up with a spinning heel kick on Duprée, shifting the match in their favor. La Résistance tried to slow things down, but RVD & Booker were too fast and too determined. Booker T hit the Scissors Kick on Grenier, and as the crowd erupted, RVD nailed the Five-Star Frog Splash for the victory.

Eliminated:

La Résistance

It was time for the final match. Christian & Chris Jericho walked to the ring with intensity, despite lingering tension from earlier in the night. Their eyes were locked on the No. 1 contendership for the World Tag Team Titles. Jericho started the match against Booker, engaging in a technical exchange, but the match soon turned into a brawl as Christian and RVD entered the fray. Christian and Jericho used their experience as a team, isolating RVD and cutting the ring in half. They worked over RVD’s legs, targeting his high-flying ability, with Jericho locking in a modified single-leg Boston Crab. RVD struggled, fighting to the ropes. After several minutes of punishment, RVD countered a Lionsault with his knees up and rolled to the corner to tag in Booker! Booker stormed in, laying out both men with spinebusters and a jumping sidekick on Jericho. The match broke down as RVD hit a somersault plancha on Christian outside the ring, leaving Booker and Jericho inside. Booker went for the Scissors Kick, but Jericho dodged and locked in the Walls of Jericho! The crowd was on their feet as Booker clawed toward the ropes, finally breaking free. As the match reached its chaotic climax, Trish Stratus suddenly climbed onto the apron, frantically waving her arms to get the referee’s attention. Her voice rang out over the crowd’s deafening roar, pleading with the official as the action continued behind him.

Seizing the moment, Christian grabbed a steel chair, eyes locked on RVD. With a wicked grin, he raised it high, ready to swing.

But at the last second—RVD ducked!

CRACK!

The sickening sound echoed through the arena as the steel chair collided full force with Trish’s face! The impact sent Trish flying off the apron, crashing hard onto the floor in a lifeless heap. Gasps filled the arena as the realization of what had just happened set in. Jericho’s expression turned from determination to absolute horror. His body stiffened as he slowly turned to see Trish motionless on the floor. Panic overtook him as he slid out of the ring, immediately kneeling beside her. His hands hovered over her, unsure of what to do, his face riddled with guilt and shock. Inside the ring, Christian’s expression shifted from concern to frustration. He stepped toward the ropes, yelling, "Chris, forget her! I need you!" But Jericho didn’t even look up. His eyes remained locked on Trish, pleading with the ringside medics to help her. The medical team rushed down the ramp, carefully placing a neck brace on Trish before loading her onto a stretcher. Jericho, still kneeling beside her, gently took her hand, murmuring words no one could hear over the buzzing crowd. Meanwhile, Christian turned back around—straight into a devastating Scissors Kick from Booker T! The force sent Christian bouncing off the mat as he writhed in pain. Before he could even react, RVD ascended to the top rope, the crowd rising with him. Without hesitation, he soared through the air, twisting mid-flight before crushing Christian’s ribs with a Five-Star Frog Splash!

1… 2… 3!

Winners:

Rob Van Dam & Booker T – New No. 1 Contenders for the World Tag Team Titles!

As Booker and RVD had their hands raised in victory, Jericho never even noticed. His focus was entirely on Trish being wheeled up the ramp, his expression one of heartbreak and regret. Christian, still gasping from the Frog Splash, rolled onto his side, glaring at Jericho with frustration. As Trish Stratus was stretchered up the ramp, Chris Jericho finally turned his attention back to the ring. The match was over, the dust had settled, but the tension between him and Christian was far from finished. Jericho slid back inside, his eyes blazing with frustration as he walked straight up to Christian, standing nose to nose with his tag team partner. The two began to argue, their voices low but intense, speaking amongst themselves, but the body language said it all. Christian, his hands up defensively, shook his head. "I didn’t do it on purpose, man! Trish got involved—it was an accident!" he insisted. Jericho, still seething, exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched. "Accident or not, you hit her with a damn chair!" Jericho shot back, his voice filled with frustration. Christian’s expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. "She shouldn’t have been up there in the first place!" he snapped, his voice laced with agitation. Jericho’s eyes narrowed, his anger boiling over. Without hesitation, he shoved Christian hard, sending him stumbling back. The crowd let out a loud "OHHH!" as Christian regained his footing, staring back at Jericho with a look of betrayal. Jericho turned away, running his hands through his hair, clearly about to leave the ring. But just as he took a step toward the ropes—Christian struck. From behind, Christian blindsided Jericho, clubbing him across the back with a stiff forearm! Jericho collapsed to one knee, caught completely off guard. The arena erupted in boos as Christian grabbed him by the hair, yanked him up, and with no hesitation, drove him face-first into the mat with a thunderous Unprettier! Jericho lay motionless on the canvas, but Christian wasn’t done. A fire burned in his eyes as he rolled out of the ring and grabbed a steel chair, sliding it into the ring. He then grabbed another chair and stepped back inside, a twisted smirk forming on his face. The crowd gasped as Christian placed one chair underneath Jericho’s skull, then lifted the other high above his head. The realization of what was about to happen sent shockwaves through the arena.

CRACK!

The sickening sound of a Con-Chair-To echoed throughout the arena, the steel-on-skull impact making the crowd collectively wince. Jericho’s body jolted before going completely limp, knocked unconscious from the brutal chair shot. Christian stood over his fallen former best friend, breathing heavily, his eyes scanning the damage he had done. He then tossed the chair aside and looked out at the hostile crowd, his face void of remorse. As officials rushed down the ramp to check on Jericho, Christian rolled out of the ring and backed up the ramp, his face still twisted in anger. He had just sent a message—one that was loud and clear. Jericho lay lifeless in the ring, his head resting on the dented steel chair, while Christian looked on from the stage.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

Back from break and a video package airs.....

Goldberg: “What happened at the Royal Rumble… was only the beginning.”

Clips of Eddie Guerrero’s mischievous grin and his cunning elimination of Goldberg played in slow motion, the moment burned into the audience’s memory. The clip cut back to Goldberg, his expression growing more intense.

Goldberg: “Eddie… I don’t play games. I don’t do cheap shots. And I sure as hell don’t let things slide.”

The video package intensified, showing Goldberg attacking Guerrero post elimination and spearing him and jackhammering him out of the ring, absolutely destroying Latino Heat.

Goldberg: “You wanted to make a name for yourself at my expense? You wanted to pull a fast one? That was your first mistake.”

Goldberg clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he took a step toward the camera.

Goldberg: “But your biggest mistake? Thinking you got away with it. You think you’re untouchable, Eddie? You think you can just sneak by and move on?”

The sound of a revving motorcycle engine echoed in the background, the camera zooming in on Goldberg’s clenched jaw.

Goldberg: “I’m coming to SmackDown this week… and I’m coming for a fight.”

The screen suddenly cut to static before fading into a shot of the SmackDown logo with the ominous message:

"THIS THURSDAY… GOLDBERG ARRIVES."

The package ended with Goldberg’s signature growl before the screen cut to black and back to the ring.

The energy in the arena was still electric after the intense Goldberg video package, the anticipation for his arrival on SmackDown looming. But now, it was time for some in-ring action as the ominous opening riffs of Test’s theme music blasted through the speakers. The towering, chiseled powerhouse stormed onto the stage, his expression one of pure intensity. His long blond hair hung wildly over his face as he stomped down the ramp, cracking his neck and stretching out his arms. Test had a chip on his shoulder, and tonight, he was looking to take his frustrations out on his opponent. The arena lights flickered as the upbeat sound of "Live for the Moment" hit, signaling the arrival of Matt Hardy Version 1.0. The crowd popped as Matt walked onto the stage, throwing up his signature V1 hand gesture. As always, his Matt Facts appeared on the TitanTron, drawing chuckles from the crowd:

"Matt takes longer showers than you."
"Matt always gets the window seat."

Matt, exuding his usual cocky confidence, strutted down the ramp, pointing to himself while mouthing off to the camera about how he was superior in every way. Sliding into the ring, he leaned against the ropes, throwing up the V1 symbol again, but Test wasn’t amused. The moment the referee called for the bell, Test charged forward like a freight train, forcing Matt to duck and roll out of the way just in time.

SINGLES MATCH

MATT HARDY vs. TEST

Matt, knowing he couldn't go power-for-power with Test, stuck to quick, well-placed strikes—stiff forearms, a few kicks to the legs, and an elbow to the jaw. Test barely flinched, shoving Matt off like a ragdoll. Matt rebounded off the ropes, but Test caught him mid-air, countering a running crossbody attempt into a thunderous powerslam that shook the ring. He smirked as he stood over Matt, clearly in control. For the next few minutes, Test dominated the contest, using his overwhelming strength to punish Hardy. He hit a devastating backbreaker, then wrenched Matt's spine over his knee, taunting him while the crowd booed. Matt winced in pain, struggling to fight back as Test continued to dictate the pace, clubbing him down with brutal forearm smashes to the back. The former Intercontinental Champion lifted Matt with ease and slammed him into the corner, following up with a running clothesline that nearly took Hardy’s head off. But Matt wasn’t about to be counted out. As Test went for a vertical suplex, Hardy desperately countered, slipping behind him and chopping at the knees. With Test momentarily stunned, Matt capitalized, planting him with a swinging neckbreaker that brought the crowd to life. Matt quickly climbed to the second rope, taking a deep breath before dropping a perfectly executed leg drop across Test’s throat! He hooked the leg…

1… 2… KICKOUT!

Test powered out, sending Matt flying off him. Hardy stayed on the attack, attempting to hook Test for the Side Effect, but Test fought out of it and shoved Matt hard into the ropes. As Matt rebounded, Test swung for the Big Boot, looking to end things decisively—but Matt ducked at the last second! As Test turned around, Hardy rolled him up, grabbing a handful of tights for extra leverage! The referee, unaware of the cheat, dropped down for the count.

1… 2… 3!

Winner:

Matt Hardy

The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and jeers as Hardy quickly rolled out of the ring, a cocky smirk on his face. Inside the ring, Test sat up, eyes wide in shock, furious as he realized how he had been robbed. He pounded the mat and got to his feet, storming over to the referee, yelling in his face about the illegal tactics Hardy had used. Meanwhile, Matt strutted up the ramp, throwing his hands up in victory, shouting, “Version 1, baby!” as he laughed to himself.

On commentary, Jim Ross voiced his frustration. “Oh, come on! Matt Hardy stole one!”

Jerry "The King" Lawler chuckled. “It’s not stealing if you don’t get caught, JR! That’s just a veteran move from Matt Hardy!”

As Test continued to seethe in the ring, Hardy celebrated his win, all while the commentary team turned their attention toward the upcoming main event segment, where Kurt Angle was set to make his historic WrestleMania decision.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

The scene opened in the interview area, where Jonathan Coachman stood with a microphone in hand, looking eager to speak. Standing beside him were the newly crowned No. 1 Contenders for the World Tag Team Titles—Rob Van Dam and Booker T. The crowd gave a loud cheer as the duo stood confidently, sweat still glistening on their faces from their grueling victory in the Tag Team Turmoil match earlier in the night.

Coachman: "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the team that just outlasted four other teams to earn themselves a shot at the World Tag Team Championships—Rob Van Dam and Booker T! Guys, congratulations on your victory. You now have a date with Evolution’s Ric Flair and Batista at No Way Out. How are you feeling about this huge opportunity?"

Booker adjusted his wrist tape while RVD, still catching his breath, smirked.

RVD: "Coach, let me tell ya, man, we went through the wringer tonight. That was no easy ride, but when it comes to getting the job done—who does it better than R-V-D?"

The crowd popped as he pointed to himself, emphasizing each letter of his name.

Booker T: "Tell ‘em, dawg. You see, what we did tonight was just a preview of what we’re bringing to No Way Out. Evolution’s been runnin’ their mouths for too long, holdin’ onto those tag team titles like they own the place. But news flash—this ain’t their world, and we ain’t playin’ by their rules."

Before Booker could continue, slow sarcastic clapping echoed through the interview area. The camera panned to reveal Ric Flair and Batista striding onto the scene. Flair, dressed in an expensive suit with a cocky grin, let out a signature "WOOOOO!" as he and Batista stepped in close. The big man towered over RVD and Booker, arms crossed, a smug look on his face.

Flair: "Oh, wow, what a moment, huh, Batista? These two just pulled off the biggest win of their careers. We should be proud!"

Batista smirked, nodding.

Batista: "Yeah, Ric, real inspiring. They barely survived tonight, and they think they’re ready for us? That’s adorable."

Booker and RVD exchanged glances, not backing down.

Booker T: "Yo, why don’t y’all save the talkin’ for the ring? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, all I see is two guys who know their time is runnin’ out."

Flair chuckled, adjusting his Rolex.

Flair: "Booker, Booker, Booker... let me give you a little history lesson, pal. You’re looking at a 16-time World Champion, and you’re standing next to the future of this business! My man Big Dave here? He ain’t just muscle—he’s dominance personified, baby!"

Batista stepped forward, getting in Booker’s face.

Batista: "You two? You’re good... but you’re not Evolution. At No Way Out, we’re not just beating you. We’re embarrassing you."

RVD smirked and stepped in between them.

RVD: "Embarrassing us? Man, the only thing embarrassing is the fact that you two actually think you can keep those titles when you step in the ring with us."

Booker pointed at Flair.

Booker T: "And Ric, I don’t care if you’re a 16-time champ or a 16-time loser—come No Way Out, we takin’ them titles, and there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it. Now can you dig that… SUCKA?"

The crowd roared as Booker threw his signature hand taunt in Flair’s face. Flair, insulted, took off his jacket and looked like he was ready to fight, but Batista put a hand on his chest, holding him back.

Flair (seething): "You’re gonna regret that, Booker. You and your little stoner buddy."

RVD and Booker smirked, unbothered, while Batista and Flair backed away. As Evolution left, Flair continued shouting off-mic, "No Way Out is gonna be the end of you two!"

Coachman turned back to RVD and Booker.

Coachman: "Well, there you have it—things are already heating up between these two teams. We’ll see if Booker T and RVD can back up their words when they face Evolution at No Way Out!"

Back to the arena, a chorus of boos erupted as Eric Bischoff’s music hit, signaling the arrival of Raw’s General Manager. Dressed in a sharp suit, Bischoff strolled down the ramp with a smug grin, reveling in the reaction from the crowd. He stepped into the ring, microphone in hand, raising it as the boos finally began to die down. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are gonna cut right to it, the clock is ticking and its decision time. Please allow me to introduce to you… your reigning, defending WWE Champion… Brock Lesnar!" The familiar guitar riff of Lesnar’s theme music shook the arena, and the crowd exploded as the WWE Champion emerged onto the stage. With his title strapped around his waist, Lesnar marched to the ring with purpose, his eyes locked forward, his face showing no emotion. He hopped onto the apron and entered the ring, towering over Bischoff as he adjusted his championship. "And now," Bischoff continued, "The man who calls himself ‘The Game’—your World Heavyweight Champion… TRIPLE H!"

"Time to Play the Game…"

The boos intensified as Triple H made his entrance, The World Heavyweight Champion sauntered down the ramp, his signature arrogance on full display, gold shining around his waist. As he entered the ring, he and Lesnar immediately stepped forward—face-to-face, nose-to-nose. The tension between the two champions was palpable, neither man blinking, neither backing down. Bischoff quickly stepped between them, smirking. "Easy, easy, gentlemen. We all know the two of you will collide at No Way Out in a Champion vs. Champion match—but tonight isn’t about that. No, tonight, we’re here for one reason only—to find out who Kurt Angle will choose to face at Wrestlemania. So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen…..the 2004 Royal Rumble Winner…….KURT ANGLE"

The arena exploded as the triumphant sound of "Medal" hit the speakers, signaling the arrival of the 2004 Royal Rumble winner, Kurt Angle. The Olympic Gold Medalist emerged onto the stage, dressed in his signature red, white, and blue tracksuit, a fire burning in his eyes. A mix of intensity and pride was evident on his face as he looked out at the sea of cheering fans, his hands on his hips, nodding his head in acknowledgment. The crowd erupted as the 2004 Royal Rumble winner, Kurt Angle, stepped onto the stage, his signature red, white, and blue tracksuit gleaming under the arena lights. The intensity in his eyes was undeniable, his expression one of pride, focus, and unshakable determination. He stood at the top of the ramp for a moment, absorbing the thunderous reaction, his lips curling into a small smirk as he took in the significance of this moment. Angle marched down the ramp, his Olympic gold medal resting against his chest, bouncing slightly with every step. He was methodical, deliberate—his presence alone commanding respect. He slid into the ring and immediately locked eyes with both champions before grabbing a microphone. He took a deep breath, adjusting his stance, before slowly lifting the mic to his lips. Angle nodded, slowly pacing the ring as he let the moment sink in. "You know, last night was one of the biggest nights of my career," he began, his tone carrying the weight of his words. "Winning the Royal Rumble Match isn’t just about going to WrestleMania—it’s about cementing your legacy. It’s about standing in the history books alongside the greatest to ever do it." He turned to the hard camera, holding up a single finger as he counted off the names. "Austin. Michaels. Hart. Flair, Hogan. And now… my name is on that list."

The crowd erupted once more, chanting "ANGLE! ANGLE! ANGLE!" as the Olympic Gold Medalist let their adulation fuel him. He looked out into the sea of fans before turning his focus back to the two champions standing before him.

"And now I have the biggest decision of my career—who do I face at WrestleMania XX?"

Angle’s eyes locked onto Brock Lesnar, his longtime rival, his former friend-turned-adversary. He pointed at him.

"Brock, you and I? We’ve been through wars. We’ve battled for this championship before. We’ve broken each other down. I know you. I know how you think. I know how you fight. And if I chose you, I have no doubt we would go to war all over again." Lesnar remained stone-faced, gripping the WWE Championship tighter over his shoulder, his body language unreadable. Then, Angle turned his gaze to Triple H, eyes narrowing slightly as he took a step forward. "But then there’s you, Triple H. The so-called ‘Game.’ The self-proclaimed ‘Cerebral Assassin.’ A man who prides himself on being the measuring stick of this business. A man who will do anything to stay on top. And that makes you dangerous—but it also makes you exactly the kind of challenge I thrive on."

Angle smirked, the intensity in his face growing. "So, the question is—who do I choose?"

Before he could answer, Triple H suddenly stepped forward, cutting him off.

"You want to talk about legacies, Kurt?" Triple H scoffed, shaking his head. "Let’s get one thing straight—you don’t belong in the same conversation as me." The crowd booed loudly, but Triple H ignored them, keeping his gaze locked on Angle. "You might be an Olympic Gold Medalist, but that means nothing in my world. This isn’t amateur wrestling, Kurt. This is my ring. My business. My championship. I have spent years making this title mean more than any piece of gold you’ve ever won. And you think you can just waltz in, win the Rumble, and take what’s mine?" Triple H laughed coldly, then turned his focus toward Lesnar. "And you?" He sneered. "You’re nothing more than a big, dumb neanderthal who got lucky. You walked into this business and had everything handed to you. You didn’t grind for it. You didn’t fight for years to reach the top. You just came in, threw people around, and were gifted a championship. That’s not how this business works, Brock. This business wasn’t built for guys like you. It was built for guys like me—the ones who run this place. The ones who dictate history."

The moment those words left Triple H’s lips, Lesnar snapped.

With a sudden, sharp breath, Lesnar lunged forward, stepping directly into Triple H’s face. Their foreheads nearly touched as the tension exploded in the ring. The WWE Champion’s grip on his title tightened, his muscles tensing as his eyes burned with fury.

"You like to talk, don’t you, Hunter?" Lesnar growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this business was built for you? Let me tell you something, pal—you may play ‘The Game,’ but I break people like you for fun."

The crowd roared, sensing the hostility rising between the two champions.

Lesnar smirked slightly, tilting his head. "I don’t need a suit. I don’t need a sledgehammer. I don’t need a bunch of stooges watching my back. All I need? Are these two fists. And trust me, Triple H—you don’t want to find out what happens when I use them."

Triple H’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring, but before he could respond—

Angle had enough.

"ALRIGHT! ENOUGH!" Angle shouted, stepping between the two men. He turned his head, looking at Lesnar, then at Triple H. The tension in the ring shifted, all eyes now fully on Angle as he slowly raised the microphone to his lips.

His face hardened, his breathing steady.

"I’ve thought long and hard about this decision," Angle said, his voice deliberate. "And the truth is… either one of you would be the fight of my life. Either one of you would push me to my absolute limit. But at WrestleMania....."

Angle locked eyes with Lesnar, his expression unreadable.

And then—he turned to Triple H.

With absolute conviction, Angle took a deep breath, leaned forward, and shouted—

"I CHOOSE YOU, TRIPLE H!"

The arena erupted into a frenzy as Triple H’s eyes widened in shock, his lips curling into a slow, sinister smirk. The arena shook with an eruption of cheers as the realization set in—Kurt Angle had made his decision. His path to WrestleMania XX was clear. Triple H, standing inches from him, was frozen, his usual arrogance stripped away, replaced by pure, boiling rage. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the World Heavyweight Championship as his ego took a bruising hit. Meanwhile, across the ring, Brock Lesnar smirked. He glanced at Angle, gave a subtle nod of respect, and then, without another word, he stepped out of the ring. As he walked up the ramp, the camera lingered on him, his WWE Championship glistening over his shoulder. They stood face-to-face, the energy between them nearly palpable. Triple H’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as his frustration threatened to boil over. Angle, however, stood his ground, meeting the champion’s intense glare with one of his own. The crowd knew exactly what was about to happen—this wasn’t going to end without a fight.

Then—

"OH, OH, SHAWN!"

The sound of "Sexy Boy" hit like a lightning bolt, and the roof nearly blew off the arena. Shawn Michaels stormed onto the stage, his signature swagger mixed with a fierce determination. His eyes burned with purpose as he paced at the top of the ramp, a microphone gripped tightly in his hand.

"Hold on just a second!" Michaels shouted, his voice cutting through the roaring crowd.

Angle and Triple H both turned their attention to him, watching as he marched down the ramp. The fans were rabid, sensing the tension about to explode.

"You want to talk about who deserves a shot at Triple H?" Michaels questioned, stopping just before entering the ring. "How about the guy who took Triple H to the absolute limit at the Royal Rumble?! How about the guy who—if we’re being honest—never actually lost?" The crowd erupted, rallying behind HBK’s claim. Angle shifted, his brow raising slightly, while Triple H’s scowl deepened.

"The way I see it, Kurt," Michaels continued, stepping between the ropes and now standing face-to-face with Angle, "you earned your shot—but so did I. And that means, at WrestleMania, I should be in that match!"

The audience was electric, the possibility of a Triple Threat Match making the stakes even higher. Triple H scoffed, rolling his eyes, while Angle narrowed his gaze, considering the argument. Then, from the side, Eric Bischoff stepped forward. His signature smirk was plastered across his face, clearly intrigued by the chaos unfolding before him.

"You know what, Shawn?" Bischoff mused, rubbing his chin as he slowly circled the three men. "You’ve got a point."

The crowd popped as Bischoff's smirk widened.

"And I love shaking things up. So here’s what we’re gonna do—at No Way Out, you, Shawn Michaels, will get the opportunity of a lifetime."

Michaels and Angle both turned their focus to the Raw General Manager.

"You will go one-on-one with Kurt Angle!" Bischoff announced.

The crowd exploded again as Angle’s expression hardened. Michaels smirked slightly, nodding his head, relishing the fight ahead.

Bischoff, reveling in the moment, continued. "And if you win, Shawn? Then the World Heavyweight Championship match at WrestleMania XX will become a Triple Threat Match!"

The audience's excitement hit a fever pitch as Michaels nodded, but Bischoff wasn't done. He lifted a finger, his smirk twisting into something more sinister.

"BUT—" he said, pausing dramatically, "If you lose? Then you will NEVER get another shot at the World Heavyweight Title. EVER AGAIN!"

The crowd gasped, the stakes reaching unfathomable heights. The camera zoomed in on Michaels’ face, his signature cocky smirk now replaced by serious contemplation. His dream of regaining the top prize in WWE was on the line. Michaels slowly turned toward Angle, their eyes locking once again. Tension filled the air. After a brief, intense moment, HBK extended his hand. Angle, after a second of hesitation, took it.

But before they could part—

BAM!

Triple H suddenly shoved Michaels, forcing him into Angle and sending the Olympic Gold Medalist crashing through the ropes to the outside! The crowd gasped as Michaels stumbled, turning just in time to see Triple H charging at him! The Game pounced, throwing wild, vicious right hands at HBK’s skull! Michaels fought back, blocking a shot and firing back with a hard chop! "WOOO!" echoed throughout the arena as Michaels unleashed a flurry of knife-edge chops, forcing Triple H into the corner. Triple H, enraged, swung wildly, but Michaels ducked, sending The Game flying into the turnbuckle. As he staggered back—

Angle slid back into the ring!

He grabbed Triple H, hoisting him up for the Angle Slam!

But Triple H twisted mid-air, landing on his feet!

HBK swung!

Sweet Chin Music—BUT IT HIT ANGLE INSTEAD!

The crowd was shocked as Angle crumpled to the mat, completely knocked out. Michaels froze, realizing his mistake. But before he could react—

LOW BLOW FROM TRIPLE H!

Michaels collapsed, clutching his midsection as Triple H stood over him, chest heaving. The World Heavyweight Champion snatched up his title belt, raising it over his head, his smug grin returning.

But suddenly—

Brock Lesnar STORMED BACK INTO THE RING!

The crowd EXPLODED as the WWE Champion re-entered the chaos!

Triple H barely had time to turn around before Lesnar scooped him onto his shoulders—

F-5!

The impact was devastating, sending Triple H crashing to the canvas. The arena erupted as Lesnar picked up the World Heavyweight Championship that had fallen to the mat.

With an ice-cold stare, Lesnar took one last look at the unconscious Triple H before slamming the title down onto his chest.

Lesnar then raised his WWE Championship high above his head, his message crystal clear—he was still the most dominant force in WWE.

Around him, chaos remained—Angle unconscious, Michaels writhing in pain, and Triple H laid out.

As Raw went off the air, one thing was certain—war was coming.

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

WrestleWizard · Apr 1, 2025

WWE SMACKDOWN
THURSDAY JANUARY 29, 2004
MCI Center - Washington D.C

The camera pans across a packed arena as the familiar sound of Paul Heyman’s theme music blares through the speakers. The crowd is mixed, some cheering, others jeering, as the man who once managed the likes of Brock Lesnar and the Big Show now operates as the general manager of Smackdown steps onto the stage. The camera zooms in on his signature smirk as he raises a microphone.

Heyman:
“Ladies and gentlemen… unfortunately, I come before you tonight with a heavy heart. It is a tragedy… TRULY, a tragedy, that the newly crowned Royal Rumble Winner, the man who would’ve earned the right to face Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at WrestleMania XX, Kurt Angle… chose to go to Raw.”

The crowd lets out a mix of boos and cheers, some still excited by Angle’s victory.

Heyman:
“But I suppose that’s what happens when a man has too much pride for his own good. Kurt Angle must be terrified of Brock Lesnar. You see, there’s one thing that Angle, much like every other man who has tried to step up to Brock, doesn’t understand—Brock Lesnar is the WWE Champion. And tonight, I stand before you with a very simple truth… THE SHOW MUST GO ON.”

Heyman pauses dramatically, grinning as the crowd watches intently.

Heyman:
“So tonight, we begin the road to WrestleMania XX. And I’m pleased to announce… at No Way Out… we’ll have a match for the #1 Contender Spot for the WWE Championship. But not just any match. No, no, no. I’m talking about a match that will put even the toughest of men to the test. A match that will put you in the most unforgiving structure ever created… a match that will leave you broken, bruised, and battered… I present to you... the Elimination Chamber!”

The crowd erupts in excitement as the mention of the brutal match type fills the arena with anticipation.

Heyman:
“That’s right, six men will enter the steel structure, and only one will emerge victorious, securing their place as the #1 Contender for Brock Lesnar’s WWE Championship at WrestleMania XX. And here are the six participants who will battle it out in that hellacious match...”

Heyman looks out at the crowd with a sinister grin.

Heyman:
“John Cena, the self-proclaimed ‘Doctor of Thuganomics.’”

The crowd reacts with mixed cheers and boos as Cena’s name is mentioned.

Heyman:
“Rhyno, the man who’ll gore his way through anything to get what he wants.”

More boos.

Heyman:
“The Big Show, the largest athlete in the world, a man who is not to be underestimated.”

The crowd reacts with a loud pop, appreciating the Big Show’s monstrous presence.

Heyman:
“Eddie Guerrero, the man who knows how to manipulate the system to his advantage.”

The crowd cheers for Eddie, chanting “Eddie! Eddie!”

Heyman:
“Goldberg, a man who needs no introduction, a man who will come at you with a spear and a jackhammer like no one else!”

The crowd erupts at the mention of Goldberg, anticipating his presence in the match.

Heyman:
“And finally, the man who needs no introduction, the man who’s making his long-awaited return to SmackDown after a serious injury… EDGEEEEE!!!”

The crowd erupts as the familiar sounds of Edge’s theme music blare throughout the arena. After a few seconds of anticipation, Edge emerges at the top of the ramp to a thunderous ovation. His hair is longer, and he’s wearing a black leather jacket, a look that screams confidence and intensity. Edge stops at the top of the ramp, soaking in the crowd’s energy as he begins walking toward the ring with a smirk on his face.

Edge climbs into the ring, takes a moment to look at Heyman, then addresses the audience directly.

The crowd inside the arena is still buzzing from the huge announcement of the Elimination Chamber match at No Way Out, but now, all attention shifts to the man standing in the center of the ring. Edge, back after over a year on the sidelines, soaks in the atmosphere, his chest rising and falling as he takes a deep breath. The fans are on their feet, showering him with a thunderous "WELCOME BACK!" chant. Dressed in his signature long trench coat and jeans, Edge smirks, running a hand through his long blonde hair before raising the microphone to his lips. "Man… I can’t even begin to tell you how damn good it feels to stand in this ring again." A massive cheer erupts as Edge nods, taking a moment to collect himself. "For the last year, I’ve been sitting at home, watching, waiting, and wondering if I’d ever get back here. I saw opportunity after opportunity slip through my fingers, not because I wasn’t good enough, but because I wasn’t even in the game. I had to sit on the sidelines while guys stepped up, guys made names for themselves, and guys became champions." He pauses, his intensity growing. "But now? Now, I’m back. And I’m not here to just be a feel-good story. I’m here to take back what’s mine. At No Way Out, inside the Elimination Chamber, I’m not just here to survive—I’m here to win. I’m here to go to Wrestlemania and become the WWE Champion!"

Before the crowd can even process Edge’s fiery declaration—

BOOM! "WELL… IT’S THE BIG SHOW!"

The mood shifts immediately as the thunderous music of the angry and frustrated Big Show echoes throughout the arena. The 7-foot, 500-pound giant storms down the ramp, his expression twisted in a deep scowl. Clad in his black singlet, the frustration is evident on his face as he aggressively stomps up the steel steps, stepping over the ropes with ease. The audience boos as Show snatches a microphone, barely waiting for the noise to die down before he speaks.

"Oh, give me a damn break, Edge!" Show shouts, shaking his head. "You come back after sitting on your ass for a YEAR, and now you think you can just waltz into MY main event?!" Show’s voice is filled with venom as he gets right in Edge’s face. "Let me remind you of something—you weren’t even in the Royal Rumble! You didn’t have to fight, you didn’t have to struggle, you didn’t have to go through what I did! And what did I get for it? Huh? I got SCREWED by Kurt Angle! I was this close to winning, and Angle got lucky! If there’s anyone who should be WWE Champion, it’s ME!" Edge scoffs, looking Show up and down before tilting his head. "Oh, I see what this is. You’re upset, Show? You’re mad that you lost? What else is new?" Edge’s voice drips with sarcasm as the crowd laughs. "That’s the thing with you, isn’t it? Every time something doesn’t go your way, it’s never your fault. It’s always an excuse. Maybe—just maybe—you didn’t get ‘screwed,’ Show. Maybe you just aren’t good enough." The audience "OHHH!" at Edge’s brutal honesty as Show’s face turns a deep shade of red. His massive fists clench as he steps even closer, the tension between them palpable. "You better watch your damn mouth, Edge." Show growls, his deep voice filled with fury. "Because I have no problem shutting it for you!" The crowd erupts, sensing that things are about to explode between the two. Edge smirks, cracking his neck before dropping his microphone, ready for a fight. But before either man can throw a punch—

Paul Heyman, who has been standing in the ring the entire time, suddenly raises a hand, stepping between them. His signature sly smirk spreads across his face as he looks from Edge to Big Show. "I absolutely LOVE this hostility," Heyman says, adjusting his tie. "But you know what I love even more? Ratings. So, gentlemen… why wait until No Way Out? Why wait another second? Because I am officially making it official—EDGE VS. BIG SHOW… RIGHT NOW!" The arena erupts as a referee rushes down to the ring, and the tension boils over! Edge and Big Show back away, circling each other like predators ready to pounce. The bell is seconds away from ringing as SmackDown cuts to commercial, leaving fans on the edge of their seats!

Edge vs. Big Show

As SmackDown returns from commercial, the referee officially calls for the bell, and the match is underway!

Big Show immediately charges forward, attempting to use his overwhelming size and power to corner Edge, but the returning superstar is quick on his feet, sidestepping the giant. Edge unloads with a series of stinging right hands, firing up as the crowd rallies behind him. However, one massive club to the chest from Show instantly shuts him down, sending Edge crashing to the mat in pain.

The 500-pound behemoth methodically stalks Edge, yanking him up by his hair before tossing him into the corner like a ragdoll. With a sinister grin, Show shushes the crowd, raising his massive palm into the air before delivering a thunderous open-hand chop to Edge’s chest! The sickening SMACK echoes throughout the arena as Edge crumbles to his knees, gasping for air.

Show continues to dominate, lifting Edge into a gorilla press before dropping him chest-first onto the top rope, further knocking the wind out of him. Show then bounces off the ropes and delivers a running elbow drop, crushing Edge’s ribs. He covers—

1… 2… Kickout!

Edge barely manages to get his shoulder up, but Show remains in complete control. Frustrated, Show lifts Edge by his throat, setting up for the Chokeslam!

But Edge fights out of it!

Elbows to the temple!

Edge desperately fights, breaking Show’s grip before running off the ropes—only to be met with a brutal big boot to the face! Edge’s head snaps back violently, and Show smirks, taunting the audience before placing one massive boot on Edge’s chest for a disrespectful cover—

1… 2… Edge kicks out!

Now growing frustrated, Big Show drags Edge back up, setting up for a second Chokeslam! He hoists him high into the air—

Edge counters in mid-air into a DDT!

The crowd erupts as Show’s head spikes off the canvas, and Edge rolls away, gasping for breath. Both men are down, and the referee begins the count to ten.

At six, Edge crawls to the ropes, using them to pull himself up as Big Show gets to a knee. Edge sees his opening and charges—Dropkick to the knee! The giant buckles! Another dropkick to the same knee! Show is now on both knees, and Edge bounces off the ropes…

SPEAR—NO!

Big Show catches him in mid-air and hurls him into the corner! Edge slumps against the turnbuckles as Show takes a moment to shake the pain from his knee. He then storms forward, looking for a corner splash—

Edge dodges!

Big Show collides with the turnbuckle, and the moment he stumbles out—

SPEAR!!!

The crowd explodes as Edge drives Show into the mat with everything he has left! He scrambles into the cover—

1… 2… 3!!!

Winner: Edge

Edge rolls off of Big Show, clutching his ribs, exhausted but victorious in his first match back. The fans roar in approval as Edge slowly gets to his feet, his hand raised in victory. He climbs the turnbuckle, soaking in the adulation, but his eyes remain locked on the WWE Championship picture—knowing that this was just step one on his road to the top.

Meanwhile, Big Show sits up, his face twisted in fury. His nostrils flare as he slams a fist into the mat, seething over the loss. This war between Edge and Big Show is far from over… and No Way Out’s Elimination Chamber looms ever closer.

The camera cuts to Paul Heyman’s office, where the SmackDown General Manager stands behind his desk, smugly adjusting his tie after witnessing Edge’s big victory. Suddenly, the door bursts open, and in storms Orlando Jordan, looking fired up and ready for a fight.

Orlando Jordan:
"Paul, we need to talk!"

Heyman raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Jordan’s abrupt entrance.

Paul Heyman:
"Orlando, Orlando, my dear boy… barging into my office like this? You do realize you’re speaking to the man who just announced one of the most historic Elimination Chamber matches of all time, right? You better have a good reason for interrupting me."

Jordan steps closer, standing firm.

Orlando Jordan:
"Oh, I got a damn good reason. That Elimination Chamber match? I should be in it! I’ve been busting my ass week in and week out, and I deserve a shot at the WWE Championship just like everyone else in that match!"

Heyman leans back, folding his arms across his chest with an amused smirk.

Paul Heyman:
"Deserve? Orlando, let me make something very clear—this business isn’t about what you deserve, it’s about what you earn. And tell me, exactly what have you done to earn a spot inside that Chamber with the likes of Goldberg, Eddie Guerrero, John Cena, and… oh yes, the returning Edge?"

Jordan tenses up, shaking his head.

Orlando Jordan:
"You’ve seen what I can do, Paul! Give me a chance, and I’ll prove I belong!"

Heyman strokes his chin, as if contemplating the request, before flashing a sly grin.

Paul Heyman:
"You know what, Orlando? I will give you a chance. You won’t be in the Elimination Chamber, but tonight, you get to go one-on-one… with the WWE Champion… Brock Lesnar!"

Jordan’s confident demeanor falters for a brief second before he straightens up, nodding.

Orlando Jordan:
"Fine. You want me to prove myself? I’ll prove myself!"

Just then, the door swings open again—and in walks Brock Lesnar.

The WWE Champion, dressed in his signature hoodie and championship slung over his shoulder, stops just inside the doorway. He looks at Jordan, then at Heyman, then back at Jordan. A slow, knowing smirk stretches across his face as he steps right up to Jordan, towering over him. Jordan stands his ground, but the tension is thick. Lesnar lets out a low chuckle, then slaps Jordan hard on the chest with an almost playful tap.

Brock Lesnar:
"See you out there, kid."

Jordan clenches his jaw, refusing to back down, but Lesnar just grins and walks past him, shooting Heyman a knowing glance before exiting the office.

Heyman chuckles, shaking his head as Jordan glares after Lesnar.

Paul Heyman:
"Well, Orlando… be careful what you wish for."

Jordan exhales sharply, shaking off any hesitation before storming out of the office, leaving Heyman with a smug smirk as SmackDown heads to commercial.

WWE Tag Team Title Triple Threat #1 Contender Match

Rikishi & Scotty 2 Hotty vs. The APA vs. The World’s Greatest Tag Team

After the commercial break, the arena comes alive as Rikishi & Scotty 2 Hotty make their entrance, the crowd popping for the fan-favorite duo. Scotty bounces down the ramp with high energy, while Rikishi follows behind, nodding to the beat of their music, shades covering his eyes. The two slap hands with fans before sliding into the ring, playing to the crowd.

The lights dim slightly as the sound of a bar fight breaking out echoes through the speakers—then comes the unmistakable theme of The APA! Bradshaw and Faarooq stomp down to the ring with their usual no-nonsense intensity, Faarooq cracking his knuckles while Bradshaw tips his cowboy hat before tossing it aside. The two storm into the ring, staring down Rikishi and Scotty, letting them know they mean business.

Finally, the slow, methodical opening of The World’s Greatest Tag Team’s music hits, and out come Shelton Benjamin and Charlie Haas, looking laser-focused. Wearing matching tracksuits, they walk confidently to the ring, nodding to each other before rolling inside. Shelton stretches on the ropes while Haas eyes the competition, clearly ready to prove they are still the best tag team in WWE.

As the bell rings, the action kicks off with Shelton Benjamin and Scotty 2 Hotty squaring off. Shelton uses his incredible athleticism to take control early, outmaneuvering Scotty with quick takedowns and a beautiful leapfrog into a picture-perfect dropkick. Scotty stumbles back but fires up, catching Shelton off-guard with an arm drag and a deep hip toss before busting out some of his signature dance moves. The fun is cut short when Bradshaw tags himself in, leveling Scotty with a stiff shoulder block that nearly takes his head off. The APA immediately take control, isolating Scotty in their corner, using clubbing strikes and hard-hitting slams to wear him down. Faarooq plants Scotty with a spinebuster, but Rikishi rushes in to break up the pin. The chaos spills outside as all six men get involved. Rikishi and Bradshaw trade heavy blows at ringside, while Shelton leaps over the top rope with a stunning plancha, taking out both APA members! Back inside the ring, Scotty dodges a charging Haas and tags in Rikishi, bringing the crowd to their feet! The big man lays out Haas and Shelton with thunderous clotheslines before squashing Haas in the corner with a running hip attack! The crowd chants for the Stink Face, but before Rikishi can go for it, Shelton sneaks in with a chop block, taking out Rikishi’s leg! With Rikishi down, Shelton and Haas seize the opportunity. Shelton hits a superkick to Farooq, sending him tumbling out of the ring, while Haas dodges a Clothesline From Hell and Bradshaw's momentum gos tumbling out of the ring while Haas locks in the Haas of Pain on Scotty 2 Hotty in the center of the ring! Scotty fights, desperately reaching for the ropes, but he has nowhere to go. With Rikishi still dazed and APA neutralized, Scotty has no choice but to tap out!

✅ Winners: The World’s Greatest Tag Team – New #1 Contenders for the WWE Tag Team Championships!

Shelton and Haas celebrate as the referee raises their arms, pointing at the WWE Tag Team Titles that await them. As they exit the ring, the APA look furious, Bradshaw kicking the steel steps in frustration. Rikishi checks on Scotty, but the focus is now on The World’s Greatest Tag Team, who have just secured their chance to reclaim the gold at No Way Out!

The camera cuts to the SmackDown parking lot, where the deep roar of an engine echoes through the arena. A black muscle car screeches to a halt, its tires smoking as the crowd buzzes with anticipation. The driver’s side door swings open with force, and out steps Goldberg, his signature intensity written all over his face. Dressed in his leather jacket and wrestling gear, he marches toward the backstage area, his fists clenched, his eyes burning with purpose. As Goldberg storms through the corridor, he’s abruptly cut off by Rey Mysterio. The masked high-flyer steps right into Goldberg’s path, standing firm despite the obvious size difference. The crowd erupts as Rey, a close friend of Eddie Guerrero, glares up at Goldberg, unafraid. "Yo, Goldberg," Rey says, voice filled with conviction. "What you did to Eddie at the Royal Rumble? That was way out of line, homes. That wasn’t just some match—Eddie fought his heart out, and you blindsided him like a coward." Goldberg tilts his head, a smirk forming on his lips as he stares down at Mysterio like he’s barely worth his time. With a scoff, Goldberg takes a step closer, towering over Rey. "Listen, little man… My plan tonight was to go out there and call out Eddie. But if you’re dumb enough to get in my way, I’ll be happy to demolish you instead," Goldberg snarls. "You wanna stand up for Eddie? Fine. But just know this—if you step in that ring with me, I won’t just beat you. I’ll end your damn career." Rey doesn’t back down. He steps right up to Goldberg’s chest, staring straight into his eyes. "You think size is everything, Goldberg?" Rey says, his voice unwavering. "That just proves you don’t know a damn thing about lucha libre. About heart. You wanna pick a fight? Then I say let’s do it. Let’s see what happens when your strength goes up against my speed, because size don’t mean shit." The crowd inside the arena is buzzing as the tension crackles between them. Goldberg clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring, before scoffing and brushing past Rey, roughly shoulder-checking him as he walks away. Rey remains standing tall, fists clenched, breathing heavily—but he doesn’t back down.

Coming back from the commercial, the SmackDown graphic flashes onto the screen, the arena buzzing as a huge match is made official. Bold white letters appear over a dramatic blue and silver backdrop:

TONIGHT’S MAIN EVENT: GOLDBERG vs. REY MYSTERIO

Michael Cole’s voice carries the excitement. “Moments ago, Paul Heyman made it official! After a heated confrontation backstage, Rey Mysterio will step up to the monstrous Goldberg in our main event! The ultimate underdog against the most destructive force in WWE!”

Tazz lets out a low whistle. “Man, I gotta respect Rey’s guts, but this ain’t just a mismatch, Cole—this is a damn near death wish! Goldberg ain’t exactly known for holding back!”

The camera shifts back to the arena, where John Cena’s music hits, and the crowd roars to life. The familiar opening beat of "Basic Thuganomics" echoes through the arena as Cena steps out onto the stage, throwing up his hands in signature fashion. Sporting his throwback jersey and chain, the rising star nods his head to the music before making his way down the ramp, full of energy and confidence. As he slides into the ring, he leans against the ropes, hyping up the crowd as they chant along with him.

Cena barely has a moment to soak in the reaction before the arena shakes with the arrival of Rhyno. The Man-Beast storms onto the stage, his eyes locked on Cena as he pounds his chest before stomping toward the ring. His no-nonsense demeanor contrasts sharply with Cena’s playful swagger, but Cena remains unfazed, nodding as if telling Rhyno, “Let’s go.”

John Cena vs. Rhyno

The bell rings, and both men waste no time locking up. Rhyno immediately uses his power to shove Cena backward, sending him stumbling into the ropes. Cena smirks, dusting himself off before stepping forward again, showing no fear. The two engage in another tie-up, but this time, Cena ducks under and fires off with rapid right hands, stinging Rhyno with jabs to the face and ribs. Rhyno swings wildly, but Cena ducks, bouncing off the ropes and nailing a leaping shoulder block that staggers the powerhouse. Rhyno quickly shakes it off and charges, looking to bulldoze Cena, but the Doctor of Thuganomics is one step ahead, dodging at the last second and sending Rhyno crashing chest-first into the turnbuckle! As Rhyno stumbles backward, Cena capitalizes with a spinning back suplex, slamming Rhyno to the mat with authority before popping back up and throwing his hands in the air, earning a loud reaction from the crowd. Rhyno, however, is no pushover. As Cena goes to grab him, Rhyno rakes the eyes, momentarily blinding him before lowering his shoulder and driving Cena into the corner with brute force! Cena winces as Rhyno buries his shoulder into his midsection repeatedly, each thrust knocking the wind out of him. With a fierce yell, Rhyno yanks Cena out of the corner and delivers a snap belly-to-belly suplex, sending him crashing hard into the mat. The momentum shifts as Rhyno stalks his opponent, waiting for the right moment. The crowd senses what’s coming as Rhyno lowers his stance—he’s calling for the Gore! Cena groggily pulls himself up, turning just as Rhyno charges full speed ahead—BUT CENA LEAPS OVER HIM! Rhyno crashes into the turnbuckle shoulder-first, the impact shaking the ring! Cena quickly takes advantage, hooking Rhyno’s arms and lifting him high into the air. The crowd explodes as Cena spins him onto his shoulders. With a cocky grin, Cena yells, “You can’t see me!” before planting Rhyno into the mat with a devastating FU! He hooks the leg—

1… 2… 3!

Winner: John Cena

Cena pops up to his feet, raising his hands in victory as the crowd erupts. He dusts off his shoulder, signaling that another win is in the books. As Cena celebrates, the commentary team hypes up his momentum heading toward No Way Out, where he’ll have the chance to step inside the Elimination Chamber. Meanwhile, Rhyno rolls out of the ring, clutching his ribs in frustration as Cena continues to bask in the spotlight, proving once again why he’s one of SmackDown’s fastest-rising stars.

The screen fades to black before an eerie, sepia-toned video package begins to play. Ominous bells toll as flashes of Kane and The Undertaker’s violent history flicker across the screen—The Brothers of Destruction standing together, then tearing each other apart in brutal matches. The moment Kane buried The Undertaker alive at Survivor Series replays in slow motion, the dirt cascading down, sealing Taker’s fate. Kane’s twisted laughter echoes as the screen turns to static. The footage then cuts to a dark, fog-covered cemetery. A cold wind howls through the leafless trees, and the sound of crows cawing in the distance adds to the chilling atmosphere. Standing among the gravestones, illuminated by the pale glow of a flickering lantern, is Kane—his masked face expressionless, yet his body radiating fury. "You want to play mind games, Deadman? You want to send your little signs, your tricks, your smoke and mirrors? It’s over, Undertaker. You’re done." Kane growls, his deep voice laced with venom. The camera zooms out, revealing Kane standing over a massive, freshly dug grave. The tombstone at its head bears a simple engraving: R.I.P. The Undertaker – 1965-2003. Kane grips the edges of the tombstone, his breathing heavy as he glares into the camera. "I put you in the ground with my own two hands! I buried you alive! You are DEAD, and yet you STILL try to haunt me?!" Kane seethes, his voice rising in intensity. He kneels beside the grave, running a gloved hand through the loose dirt before clenching his fist. "No more tricks, no more games. I will NOT let you come back. I AM the monster now. I AM the one they fear. And if, by some miracle, you dare show your face again… I will personally put you six feet under once and for all." Suddenly, a low rumbling sound fills the air. The camera pans to the side as a bolt of lightning strikes a distant tree, causing it to crash to the ground. Kane freezes for just a second, his face twitching in anger—but instead of fear, a twisted smirk spreads across his lips.

"Go ahead, Taker. Keep trying. But at No Way Out, if you want to come back… I’ll be waiting to send you straight back to HELL!"

Kane lets out a sinister laugh before the camera fades to black, leaving only the image of the ominous grave behind. Commercial break follows the scene.

Brock Lesnar vs. Orlando Jordan – Non-Title Match

The unmistakable sound of Brock Lesnar’s entrance theme hits, sending shockwaves through the arena as the WWE Champion steps onto the stage. With the championship draped over his massive shoulders, Lesnar smirks at the booing crowd before cracking his neck and marching toward the ring with calculated intensity. He hops onto the apron, causing the ropes to shake violently, before stepping inside, his eyes locked on the entrance ramp.

Orlando Jordan’s music plays, and the young upstart makes his way out, clearly hyped up but also visibly aware of the battle ahead. He shakes his arms loose and bounces on his toes, trying to psyche himself up. Jordan slides into the ring, staring down the beast across from him, trying to prove that he belongs.

The bell rings, and Lesnar wastes no time.

Jordan rushes forward, attempting to use his speed to land some quick shots, but Lesnar catches him mid-strike, hoisting him up and SLAMMING him down with a thunderous belly-to-belly suplex! The crowd gasps as Jordan writhes on the mat, clutching his back. Lesnar, completely unfazed, stalks his opponent with a sadistic grin. Jordan struggles to his feet, throwing a desperate right hand, but Lesnar absorbs it like a tank, shaking his head before DECAPITATING Jordan with a devastating clothesline. The impact sends Jordan flipping inside out before he crashes to the mat in a heap. Lesnar circles him, barking at him to “GET UP!” before effortlessly hoisting him onto his shoulders. With raw power, Lesnar takes his time, marching around the ring, letting the crowd soak in the inevitable destruction before launching Jordan into the air and drilling him with the F-5! Lesnar doesn’t even bother hooking the leg—he simply places his forearm across Jordan’s chest as the referee drops for the count.

1… 2… 3!

Winner: Brock Lesnar (Dominant Squash Match)

As Orlando Jordan lies motionless on the mat, Brock Lesnar snatches a microphone from ringside, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wipes the sweat from his brow before stepping to the center of the ring, WWE Championship gleaming over his shoulder. The crowd showers him with a mix of boos and murmurs of awe, but Lesnar doesn’t care—he thrives on dominance.

"You see that?!" Lesnar bellows, pointing down at Jordan’s lifeless body. "That is exactly what’s going to happen to whoever wins the Elimination Chamber at No Way Out!"

He paces the ring, rolling his shoulders as he glares toward the hard camera.

"Paul Heyman made it official—six men are stepping inside that steel structure, putting their bodies through hell, all for the chance to face me at WrestleMania. Big Show, John Cena, Rhyno, Eddie Guerrero, Goldberg, and the returning Edge—every single one of them is fighting for a dream." Lesnar scoffs, shaking his head. "But dreams? They don’t come true when Brock Lesnar stands in your way. Because this?" He slaps the WWE Championship draped over his shoulder. "This is staying right where it belongs."

The crowd starts a faint "Eddie!" chant, but Lesnar smirks, ignoring it as he continues.

"And as for No Way Out? Before I even get to WrestleMania, I have one little detour… Triple H."

Lesnar pauses, his smirk widening.

"Monday night, I walked onto RAW, right into Evolution’s backyard, and I laid Triple H out like the fraud he is!" He chuckles, gripping the top rope as if restraining himself from unleashing more destruction. "Hunter, you like to call yourself 'The Game,' but at No Way Out, you’re stepping into my world. You’re not just another name in my way—you’re another victim waiting to be conquered."

Lesnar tosses the mic aside as his music hits, glaring into the camera with a predator’s confidence before stepping out of the ring, his dominance over SmackDown undisputed. Lesnar lifts the WWE Championship high above his head as smackdown goes into the final commercial break of the evening.

A highlight reel of the Basham Brothers, the reigning WWE Tag Team Champions, plays, showcasing their dominance over SmackDown’s tag team division. The video kicks off with footage of Doug and Danny Basham, alongside their cunning manager Shaniqua, using underhanded tactics and twin deception to outmaneuver opponents. Clips flash through their title victory, controversial defenses, and their ruthless in-ring style—double-team maneuvers, blind tags, and brutal assaults that have left challengers in their wake. Shaniqua’s intimidating presence is highlighted, as she commands the Bashams with an iron fist, ensuring their reign remains untouchable. The package ends with a bold message: "The Basham Brothers – SmackDown’s Most Dangerous Tag Team." As the video package fades out, the camera cuts to the backstage area, where Doug and Danny Basham, alongside Shaniqua, are watching the screen with smug expressions. Doug smirks, crossing his arms, while Danny nods in approval. Doug Basham: "Look at that, Danny. Dominance. Week after week, we prove why we’re the WWE Tag Team Champions. And now... Shelton Benjamin and Charlie Haas think they’re ready to step up?"
Danny chuckles, shaking his head. Danny Basham: "The so-called ‘World’s Greatest Tag Team’? Please. They may have the name, but we’ve got the gold. And at No Way Out, we’re gonna show them exactly why these titles belong to us." Shaniqua steps forward, her icy glare cutting through the room. Shaniqua: "Haas and Benjamin are talented, no doubt… but talent means nothing against brute force and superior strategy. The Bashams are my champions, and at No Way Out, they will do whatever it takes to make sure those titles stay around their waists." Doug and Danny nod in agreement, their confidence unwavering. The camera lingers on the trio as they exchange smirks, before cutting away to the next segment.

Main Event: Goldberg vs. Rey Mysterio

The SmackDown arena rumbles with anticipation as the lights dim. A moment of silence lingers before—BOOM! Flames shoot up from the stage as Goldberg’s music hits. The crowd erupts in a mix of cheers and boos as the powerhouse emerges from the back, his body covered in sweat, steam billowing from his nose like a raging bull. He pounds his chest, shadowboxing before stepping through the sparks of his pyro. His expression is as cold as steel—he’s here for a fight, and he doesn’t care about the size of his opponent. Goldberg marches to the ring, the intensity in his eyes burning a hole through the entrance stage. A moment later, “Booyaka 619!” blasts through the arena, and the atmosphere completely shifts. The energy of the crowd transforms into excitement as Rey Mysterio bursts onto the stage. The high-flying underdog bounces side to side before pointing toward the fans, feeding off their energy. As he sprints down the ramp, he slaps hands with fans before sliding into the ring, immediately locking eyes with his towering opponent.

The bell rings.

Mysterio moves quickly, circling Goldberg, darting in and out, trying to find an opening. He rushes in, throwing a series of low kicks to Goldberg’s leg, but the powerhouse barely flinches. Mysterio backs up, building momentum, then dashes toward Goldberg—only to be flung across the ring like a ragdoll with a monstrous shoulder block! Goldberg shakes his head, smirking as Mysterio writhes in pain. He yanks Rey up by the mask, easily tossing him into the corner. Goldberg lunges, but Rey ducks! The former World Champion collides with the turnbuckles, and Mysterio quickly takes advantage, hitting a springboard dropkick to the back of Goldberg’s head! The big man stumbles forward, shaking off the impact. Rey wastes no time—he rushes the ropes and springboards again, this time looking for a moonsault—but Goldberg catches him midair! With freakish strength, Goldberg swings Mysterio onto his shoulders, pressing him high above his head with a gorilla press slam before dropping him onto the mat with a sickening thud! The crowd gasps as Rey arches his back in agony. Goldberg lets out a roar, backing into the corner, eyes locked onto his fallen opponent. He pounds his chest—he’s setting up for the Spear.

Goldberg charges forward—BUT WAIT! The crowd erupts as Eddie Guerrero slides into the ring!

Eddie Guerrero Attacks Goldberg – No Contest

Eddie doesn’t waste a second—he launches himself at Goldberg, hammering him with right hands! The match is thrown out as the referee calls for the bell, but Eddie doesn’t care. He’s throwing wild fists, years of pent-up anger and frustration spilling out as he takes the fight to Goldberg. Goldberg, momentarily caught off guard, shoves Eddie back with a mammoth push, sending him crashing into the mat. But Eddie rolls through, pops up, and CHARGES AGAIN! This time, he ducks a lariat and dropkicks Goldberg’s knee, sending the powerhouse stumbling! The crowd is on fire as Eddie bounces off the ropes, delivering another dropkick to the knee, forcing Goldberg to a knee!

Eddie scrambles to the top rope, Frog Splash incoming—NO!

Goldberg springs to his feet, catching Eddie off guard! He lunges for Eddie—but before he can grab him, security and officials flood the ring! The SmackDown locker room spills out, pulling the two apart before the fight can escalate further. The two men scream at each other, Eddie being held back by referees as he spits venom toward Goldberg, while the former WCW Champion struggles against a wall of officials. The crowd is electric as the tension between them reaches a boiling point. Goldberg finally shoves off the officials, his chest rising and falling with fury as he glares at Eddie, shaking his head. Guerrero, being dragged up the ramp, shouts, “Come on, ese! You want a fight?! Let’s go!” As the dust settles, the show looks like it’s winding down… but backstage, another storm is brewing.

Backstage, Brock Lesnar is seen leaving the arena, his WWE Championship slung over his shoulder, looking satisfied with his night’s work. As he steps through the parking lot, heading toward his car, the sound of quick footsteps echoes through the corridor.

Before Lesnar can react—BAM!

Randy Orton, Ric Flair, and Batista blindside him from behind! Lesnar stumbles forward, his title slipping off his shoulder as the three Evolution members swarm him like a pack of wolves. Fists fly as Batista drives heavy shots into Lesnar’s midsection while Orton and Flair stomp him down against the concrete floor.

Lesnar tries to fight back, throwing wild elbows, but the numbers game is too much. Batista grabs Lesnar and launches him into a steel garage door! The impact echoes through the parking lot as Lesnar crumbles to a knee, dazed.

And then…

Triple H steps into view.

Dressed in a leather jacket, the World Heavyweight Champion strolls toward the fallen Lesnar, a smug smirk stretched across his face. He slowly kneels down, grabbing Lesnar’s face, forcing him to look up.

"You should’ve stayed out of my way, Brock."

With that, Triple H yanks Lesnar up, tucks his head under his arm, and jumps— PEDIGREE ON THE CONCRETE!

Lesnar’s skull bounces off the unforgiving floor, his body going limp. The SmackDown locker room bursts onto the scene, but Evolution backs away, satisfied with their message.
The camera zooms in on Lesnar, his eyes barely open, blood trickling from his forehead as he lays motionless.

The last image of the night?

Evolution standing tall. Triple H, Orton, Flair, and Batista raise their fists, smug satisfaction on their faces as SmackDown fades to black…

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Winner faces Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at Wrestlemania XX
EDDIE GUERRERO vs. GOLDBERG vs. RHYNO vs. THE BIG SHOW vs. EDGE vs. JOHN CENA

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (C) vs. WGTT

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

WrestleWizard · Apr 8, 2025

AD_4nXcJ8jK1P82lPLxHc63BUNeI1gjYUEXqVhBAkgSP0_c_LfNVTKHQagbN_AQTp2LLO13JVCpyv8ReCICteYz8-jHCuIEIwwyI50FPHsA1Cuhw-5bSTo4w_f-W8CT79XKul_F2mJNARw

MONDAY FEBRUARY 2, 2004
Penn State University

Raw opens with a high-impact video package recapping the chaos of the past two weeks, starting with the Royal Rumble’s brutal Last Man Standing match between Shawn Michaels and Triple H, where both men collapsed in exhaustion, leaving the World Heavyweight Title picture uncertain. It then shifts to last week’s Raw, where Kurt Angle made his shocking decision, choosing to face Triple H at WrestleMania XX for the World Heavyweight Championship. But the stakes got even higher when Shawn Michaels put his name into the hat in the World Title picture. Eric Bischoff announced that HBK would face Angle at No Way Out, with a Triple Threat WrestleMania main event on the line if Michaels won, and if he lost Michaels won’t get another shot at the World Heavyweight Championship EVER AGAIN!!! The package then highlights Brock Lesnar’s stunning attack on Raw, storming enemy turf to demolish The Game with a thunderous F5, making it clear that Triple H has a war on multiple fronts. The video ends with Lesnar standing tall, HBK and Angle in a tense staredown, and Triple H battered but still clinging to his championship, setting the stage for an explosive Monday Night Raw on the road to WrestleMania XX.

The video package fades into the sight of Evolution stepping out of a sleek black limousine in the parking lot, all dressed to the nines in tailored suits, exuding confidence. Triple H, still feeling the effects of last week's attack from Brock Lesnar, winces slightly as he steps onto the concrete but maintains his usual smug demeanor. He immediately pulls aside security, making it crystal clear that Lesnar is not to be allowed anywhere near the arena tonight. As the cameras transition to the arena, the show officially kicks off with the entrance of Kurt Angle, who makes his way down to the ring with intensity, the crowd giving him a mixed reaction. Angle wastes no time, grabbing a microphone and addressing his monumental decision last week to challenge Triple H for the World Heavyweight Championship at WrestleMania XX. He speaks with conviction, stating that he chose Triple H not just because he wants to be the top guy on Raw, but because he thrives on competition, and at WrestleMania, he will take the title and prove why he is the greatest in-ring competitor of all time. However, before he can continue, Angle shifts gears, bringing up the added wrinkle in his road to WrestleMania—his match at No Way Out against Shawn Michaels. Angle acknowledges that Michaels has a valid claim to a World Title match but not at Wrestlemania. He warns him not to interfere in his destiny, boldly claiming that at No Way Out, he will make Michaels tap out and erase any doubt about who truly deserves to headline WrestleMania. The moment Angle finishes his sentence, the familiar sound of ‘Sexy Boy’ blasts through the arena, and Shawn Michaels strides out, microphone in hand, locking eyes with Angle as he steps into the ring. Michaels wastes no time firing back, telling Angle that while he respects him as a competitor, he has just as much right to the main event of WrestleMania as anyone. He reminds Angle that he is ‘Mr. WrestleMania’ and has fought tooth and nail to remain at the top, and at No Way Out, he will do whatever it takes to beat Angle, earn his spot in the main event, and leave WrestleMania as World Heavyweight Champion. The two stare each other down, the tension rising, but before the situation can boil over, Evolution’s music hits, and Triple H, Batista, Randy Orton, and Ric Flair saunter down the ramp with cocky smirks, basking in the boos from the audience. Triple H, with a microphone in hand, sarcastically applauds the exchange before mocking both Angle and Michaels, saying that they’re wasting their breath because neither of them is getting his championship. He reminds Angle that winning the Royal Rumble doesn’t guarantee success at WrestleMania and taunts Michaels by saying that he’s already failed to beat him before, so what makes him think this time will be any different? Angle steps up, standing toe-to-toe with Triple H, telling him that he’s all talk and that at WrestleMania, he will rip the title from his waist, just like he’s ripped through everyone else in his career. Michaels, never one to be outdone, steps between them and reminds both men that they’re getting ahead of themselves because first, they have to deal with him at No Way Out, and he plans to kick Angle’s teeth down his throat and punch his ticket to WrestleMania. Before things escalate further, the music of Raw General Manager Eric Bischoff hits, and he steps out onto the stage, looking fed up with the constant bickering. Bischoff announces that since there’s so much tension in the ring, tonight’s main event will see Kurt Angle and Shawn Michaels forced to team up against Evolution’s Randy Orton and Batista. and Triple H will go one on one with Rob Van Dam. The crowd roars in approval as the match is made official, with Evolution smirking at the potential dysfunction between their opponents, while Angle and Michaels exchange wary glances, knowing they’ll have to work together—at least for one night.

Back from break, the arena erupts with energy as the unmistakable sound of bombastic pyro and sirens fills the air, signaling the arrival of La Résistance. Sylvain Grenier and Rob Conway step onto the stage, adorned in their signature red-and-white attire, waving the French flag with smug grins as the crowd showers them in deafening boos. They walk to the ring with arrogance, sneering at the hostile audience, exuding confidence as they pose in the center, fists raised in defiance as Raw heads to commercial. The jeers soon turn to a thunderous roar as the iconic opening beats of the Dudley Boyz’ theme music hit. Bubba Ray and D-Von Dudley storm onto the stage, eyes locked on their opponents, the crowd feeding off their intensity. Bubba, fired up, points towards the ring while shouting trash talk, while D-Von nods in approval, cracking his knuckles. They march down the ramp, sliding into the ring with purpose, immediately getting in the faces of La Résistance, who backpedal cautiously as the referee steps in to prevent an early brawl.

TAG TEAM MATCH
THE DUDLEY BOYZ vs. LA RESISTANCE

As the bell rings, Bubba Ray and Sylvain Grenier start things off, circling each other before locking up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. Bubba quickly asserts his strength, shoving Grenier down to the mat, flexing his arms as the crowd cheers. Grenier scrambles to his feet, looking flustered, and tries for a cheap shot, but Bubba catches him with a stiff right hand, sending him reeling into the corner. Bubba follows up with a flurry of clubbing blows before whipping Grenier hard across the ring, causing him to crash back-first into the opposite turnbuckle. Bubba charges forward, but Grenier gets a boot up, stunning him momentarily before tagging in Rob Conway. Conway rushes in, attempting a clothesline, but Bubba ducks, spins him around, and plants him with a textbook body slam. He then tags in D-Von, who immediately goes to work with rapid-fire punches before dropping Conway with a spinning back elbow. D-Von stays aggressive, hitting a diving shoulder tackle and following up with a snap suplex, floating into a cover—only for Grenier to break it up. The referee orders Grenier back to his corner as La Résistance regroups, luring D-Von into their corner where they double-team him behind the official’s back. They isolate D-Von, using quick tags and underhanded tactics, stomping him down and choking him against the ropes, drawing heat from the crowd. Just when it seems like D-Von is fading, he ducks a double clothesline, bounces off the ropes, and explodes with a double shoulder block, taking both men down! Crawling toward his corner, the crowd rallies behind him, and with one final lunge, he tags in Bubba Ray! Bubba storms in like a wrecking ball, flattening both Grenier and Conway with clotheslines before hoisting Grenier up for a sidewalk slam. He then calls for D-Von as the crowd erupts—“WASSUP!”—D-Von climbs to the top and delivers the diving headbutt below the belt on Grenier! With the crowd chanting for tables, Bubba signals for the 3D. Conway charges in to save his partner, but Bubba catches him with a back body drop over the ropes, sending him crashing to the floor. D-Von then hoists Grenier up, and with perfect timing, Bubba delivers the devastating 3D in the center of the ring! The referee slides in for the count—one, two, three! The Dudley Boyz stand tall as their music hits, celebrating with the roaring crowd, while La Résistance lies in a heap, stunned and humiliated.

WINNERS: THE DUDLEY BOYZ

Moving to a video package recaps last week’s shocking betrayal, beginning with Christian’s accidental steel chair shot that knocked Trish Stratus off the apron, leaving Jericho frozen in horror as he rushed to her side. As Jericho ignored the match, Christian was left vulnerable, allowing Booker T and RVD to capitalize with a Scissors Kick and Five-Star Frog Splash for the win. Afterward, a heated argument erupted between Jericho and Christian, with Christian insisting it was an accident before frustration boiled over. Jericho shoved Christian, turning his back—only for Christian to strike from behind, leveling Jericho with an Unprettier. The footage darkens as Christian slides two chairs into the ring, setting up the brutal Con-Chair-To. The sickening CRACK echoes as Jericho’s body goes limp, the camera lingering on his unconscious form against the dented steel while Christian stares down at him with no remorse. The video ends with Christian backing up the ramp, his face cold, while officials rush to tend to Jericho, leaving the audience in stunned silence.

Christian strides into Eric Bischoff’s office with his usual smug confidence, a cocky grin stretched across his face as he nonchalantly adjusts his wrist tape. "Eric, last week was the start of a new era—the Christian Era," he declares, leaning against Bischoff’s desk, his tone dripping with arrogance. "No more tag teams, no more dead weight, no more so-called friends holding me back. It’s all about me now." Bischoff listens, arms crossed, as Christian continues, his smirk growing wider. "And now that I’m standing on my own, I want to make a statement at No Way Out… I want a match that will have the whole world talking. So I’m challenging—no, demanding—to face Trish Stratus." Bischoff raises an eyebrow, visibly caught off guard. "You want to fight Trish? Are you serious?" Christian scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Think about it, Eric! A once-in-a-lifetime match! The buyrate would be huge. And let’s be honest, I’d love to shut Jericho up again at No Way Out, but after that Con-Chair-To last week? He won’t be medically cleared in time." Christian laughs to himself, proud of the damage he inflicted. Bischoff, still hesitant, exhales before finally nodding. "Alright, Christian—you’ve got your match against Trish at No Way Out." Christian’s smirk grows, but before he can bask in his victory, Bischoff leans forward. "But tonight, you’re going one-on-one with Matt Hardy." Christian’s smirk briefly falters before he scoffs, straightening up. "Matt Hardy? Please. Consider it a warm-up." With that, he spins on his heels and struts out, leaving Bischoff shaking his head as the scene fades. As Christian steps out of Bischoff’s office, he barely gets a moment to himself before Lita storms up to him, fire in her eyes. “You’re absolutely pathetic,” she snaps, standing inches from his face. “What you did to Trish last week was disgusting, and you know it!” Christian scoffs, shaking his head. “Oh, please. That was an accident, and if anyone’s to blame, it’s Jericho.” Lita glares at him, seething. “You really think challenging Trish at No Way Out makes you a man? You’ve completely lost it.” Christian chuckles darkly, leaning in. “See, last week? That was unfortunate. But what happens at No Way Out? That’s going to be something truly unforgettable.” Before he can finish, Lita slaps him hard across the face, the sound ringing through the hallway. Christian stumbles slightly, his head jerking from the impact. Slowly, he turns back, running his tongue over his lip and smirking as he wipes away a trickle of blood. “That’s cute,” he murmurs before walking off, leaving Lita fuming in the corridor. The show heads to a break following the heated backstage confrontation between Christian and Lita. When Raw returns, the energy in the arena shifts as the focus turns to the Women’s Division, with a high-stakes triple threat match about to unfold.

Stacy Keibler is the first to make her way down the ramp, exuding confidence as she struts toward the ring, her long legs drawing admiration from the crowd. Though not the most technical competitor, her resilience and athleticism have earned her opportunities. Ivory follows, a veteran of the division, storming to the ring with intensity, eager to remind everyone why she’s one of the most tenacious women in WWE history. Finally, Victoria’s theme music blares through the arena, and she storms out, laser-focused, her wild intensity evident as she power-walks down the ramp, ready to unleash her aggression on her opponents. As the bell rings, commentary emphasizes the importance of this match—whoever emerges victorious will move on to No Way Out, where they’ll face the winner of next week’s triple threat match. The winner at No Way Out will then go on to WrestleMania to challenge Molly Holly for the Women’s Championship, making this a pivotal moment in the division.

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
STACY KEIBLER vs. VICTORIA vs. IVORY

The action kicks off fast and furious, with Victoria immediately overpowering Stacy, shoving her into the corner before turning her attention to Ivory. The two veterans trade stiff forearm shots in the center of the ring, with Ivory showing no fear against the stronger Victoria. Stacy tries to get involved, but Victoria catches her mid-kick and flings her over the top rope, sending her crashing to the floor. With Stacy momentarily out of the equation, Victoria and Ivory go head-to-head, exchanging hard-hitting strikes. Ivory manages to ground Victoria with a snap DDT and goes for the first cover of the match—only a two-count. Ivory keeps the pressure on, wrenching Victoria into a submission hold, trying to wear down the powerhouse. But Victoria fights back, powering to her feet and hoisting Ivory onto her shoulders for a brutal backbreaker. As Victoria goes for the cover, Stacy slides back into the ring and breaks up the pinfall. Using her speed, Stacy lands a series of quick kicks, targeting Victoria’s legs in an attempt to chop down the powerhouse. She then hits the ropes and leaps for a spinning heel kick, but Victoria sidesteps at the last second, sending Stacy tumbling to the mat. Ivory capitalizes, grabbing Victoria from behind and rolling her up in a surprise pin attempt—Victoria just kicks out at the last second! Frustrated, Ivory pulls Victoria up, looking for a suplex, but Victoria reverses, lifting Ivory high into the air before dropping her with a devastating Widow’s Peak! Stacy, realizing she’s running out of time, tries to intervene, but Victoria swats her away and covers Ivory.

1… 2… 3!

Winner: Victoria

Victoria rises to her feet, breathing heavily as her hand is raised in victory. She lets out a victorious scream, sending a clear message that she is coming for championship gold. As she stands tall in the ring, commentary reminds the audience that she has punched her ticket to No Way Out—one step closer to a potential WrestleMania showdown with Molly Holly. Meanwhile, Stacy rolls out of the ring, disappointed, while Ivory remains down, recovering from the brutal finishing maneuver. Victoria soaks in the moment, determined to reclaim her spot at the top of the division.

As the screen flickers to life back from break, last week’s brutal confrontation between Randy Orton and Mick Foley plays out in all its vicious detail. It begins with Orton standing in the center of the ring, his smirk dripping with arrogance as he questioned Foley’s legacy, mocking him for being a shell of his former self. The footage cuts to Foley’s expression shifting from amused to furious as he fired back, challenging Orton to a steel cage match for the Intercontinental Championship in two weeks. Orton scoffed at the idea, dismissing Foley as unworthy—only for Foley to answer with a thunderous right hand, sending Orton reeling! The crowd erupted as Foley tackled Orton to the mat, throwing wild punches, but the moment of triumph was short-lived as Evolution stormed the ring. Batista and Ric Flair blindsided Foley, pummeling him into submission before Flair struck with a low blow, setting him up for Batista’s devastating spinebuster. Orton, slowly rising to his feet, watched with an icy grin before delivering the exclamation point—a sickening punt to Foley’s skull, leaving him motionless on the canvas. As the final moments played, the last image was Orton standing over Foley, whispering mockingly, "Have a nice day." The package fades to black, leaving an eerie silence before Raw transitions to backstage.

Backstage, Randy Orton stands with the Intercontinental Championship slung over his shoulder, his usual cocky smirk firmly in place as the interviewer approaches. "Randy, last week, after accepting Mick Foley’s challenge, you delivered a vicious assault. Do you have any concerns heading into next week’s steel cage match?" Orton scoffs, shaking his head. "Concerns? You think I’m concerned about Mick Foley? I don’t even know if he’ll make it to next week! Did you see what I did to him? That punt kick wasn’t just a message—it was a career-ending warning. If Foley steps inside that cage with me, he’s not leaving under his own power." The interviewer hesitates before bringing up tonight’s tag team match. "Before next week, though, you team with Batista to take on Shawn Michaels and Kurt Angle. How do you feel heading into that matchup?" Orton chuckles, rolling his eyes. "How do I feel? I feel like Evolution is about to dominate—again. Michaels and Angle? They’re too focused on themselves to be a real team. Meanwhile, I’ve got The Animal by my side. Tonight, we send them a message. And next week… next week, Mick Foley finally learns what happens when you cross the Legend Killer." With a final smirk, Orton throws his title over his shoulder and walks off, leaving the interviewer speechless as Raw continues.

As the arena lights dimmed and the first notes of One of a Kind blasted through the speakers, Rob Van Dam emerged onto the stage, the crowd erupting with cheers. He made his way down the ramp with his signature swagger, pointing his thumbs toward himself to the familiar "R-V-D" chants. The energy shifted as The Game by Motörhead growled through the arena, signaling the arrival of Triple H. With Ric Flair strutting beside him, the World Heavyweight Champion methodically made his way to the ring, his eyes locked on Van Dam with calculated intensity.

NON-TITLE MATCH
RVD vs. TRIPLE H

As the bell rang, Triple H and Rob Van Dam circled each other, the tension thick in the air. They locked up, but The Game quickly used his strength advantage to shove RVD back into the corner, pressing his forearm against Van Dam’s face. The referee forced a break, and RVD responded with a sharp kick to Triple H’s thigh, followed by another, keeping him off balance. Triple H lunged forward, but Van Dam ducked under and hit the ropes, rebounding with a spinning wheel kick that sent The Game sprawling to the mat. RVD stayed on the offensive, delivering a series of stiff forearm shots before sending Triple H into the corner. He followed up with a monkey flip, launching The Game across the ring. As Triple H staggered to his feet, Van Dam took him down again with a running dropkick. The momentum was firmly in RVD’s favor as he delivered a rolling thunder, crashing down on The Game’s chest for a near fall. Van Dam wasted no time, dragging Triple H up and looking for a suplex, but The Game countered, shifting his weight and drilling RVD with a quick DDT. Both men lay on the mat as the referee started a count, the crowd rallying behind RVD. Triple H was the first to his feet, shaking off the cobwebs before methodically targeting Van Dam’s back, driving his knee into RVD’s spine before locking in a punishing sleeper hold. RVD fought against the hold, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and eventually powered up, hitting a series of elbows to Triple H’s midsection before breaking free with a kick to the head. Van Dam exploded with energy, hitting a spinning heel kick, followed by a step-over enzuigiri that knocked The Game loopy. The crowd roared as RVD climbed to the top rope, ready to seal the match with the Five-Star Frog Splash—but just as he took flight, Ric Flair hopped onto the apron, shouting at the referee. The distraction gave Triple H just enough time to recover, rolling out of the way as RVD crashed to the mat. Wasting no time, The Game pulled Van Dam up and hooked his arms, driving him into the mat with a devastating Pedigree. The referee dropped for the count—one… two… three!

Winner: TRIPLE H

Triple H had stolen the victory, but he wasn’t finished. As Flair slid into the ring, the two began stomping away at RVD, looking to add insult to injury. Suddenly, Booker T’s music hits, and he sprints to the ring, sending Flair and Triple H scurrying. With a fire burning in his eyes, Booker grabbed a mic and made it clear—next week, he wanted Flair one-on-one, and at No Way Out, he and RVD were coming for the tag team titles. Triple H smirked from the ramp, holding his championship high, but the message was clear—the war was far from over.

As Raw returned from commercial, the cameras followed an intense Booker T and Rob Van Dam storming through the backstage area, clearly fired up after the blatant interference in RVD’s match. Booker shoved aside a production crate, his eyes darting around as he growled, “Where they at, man? We ain't waiting ‘til next week!” RVD, bouncing on his heels, nodded in agreement, scanning the hallways. “Yo, Evolution! You wanna jump people? Come do it face-to-face!” he shouted. Before they could take another step, Batista and Ric Flair blindsided them from behind! Batista rammed Booker T into a nearby stack of equipment, sending him crashing to the ground, while Flair grabbed RVD by the hair and slammed him headfirst into a concrete wall. The Nature Boy cackled, raining down stiff chops across Van Dam’s chest, but RVD fought back, firing off a spinning kick that sent Flair stumbling. Meanwhile, Booker T recovered and rocked Batista with a flurry of punches before sending the big man careening into a pile of steel chairs. The brawl raged on, officials scrambling to separate the two teams as the chaos intensified. Flair, clutching his chest, yelled, “You two are in over your heads!” but Booker wasn’t having any of it. “Nah, Ric! We just getting started!” he fired back. The fight was eventually broken up, but the message was loud and clear—this war between Evolution and Booker T & RVD was far from over.

The camera focused on the entrance ramp as the familiar beat of Matt Hardy’s theme music hit. The crowd erupted in cheers as Version 1 made his way down the ramp, cocky smirk intact, accompanied by his signature entrance graphics displaying tonight’s Matt Facts: “Matt enjoys long walks on the beach” and “Matt always sleeps on the left side of the bed”. Hardy confidently strode to the ring, pointing to himself and throwing up the V1 hand gesture, feeding off the energy of the crowd. He hopped onto the apron, stepping through the ropes as he posed on the second turnbuckle, mouthing, “This is MY night!” But before he could soak in the moment, the mood shifted. Christian’s theme blared, and the atmosphere turned hostile as the arrogant, self-proclaimed “new era” of Raw strutted onto the stage. Still feeling the effects of Lita’s earlier slap, Christian rubbed his jaw, smirking at the faint trickle of dried blood on the corner of his mouth. He ignored the chorus of boos, his demeanor smug as he sauntered to the ring. With each step, his confidence grew—he had made his declaration last week, brutalized Chris Jericho, and now was out to prove he was untouchable. As he stepped through the ropes, he locked eyes with Hardy, muttering something under his breath that only Matt could hear. Hardy just grinned, unphased, knowing this was his chance to humble the egotistical Christian.

SINGLES MATCH
MATT HARDY vs. CHRISTIAN

As the bell rang, Matt Hardy and Christian circled the ring, eyes locked, the tension thick between them. They lunged into a collar-and-elbow tie-up, both men jockeying for position, but Christian quickly transitioned into a side headlock, wrenching down hard. Hardy struggled but managed to push Christian off, sending him into the ropes. On the rebound, Christian ducked a clothesline, bounced off the opposite side, and charged back—only to be caught by a deep arm drag from Hardy! Christian popped up, only to eat a second arm drag. Frustrated, Christian swung wildly, but Hardy ducked and leveled him with a stiff right hand, sending him stumbling back into the corner. Hardy charged in, leaping onto the second rope and raining down a series of mounted punches as the crowd counted along—one, two, three, four, five, six… but before Hardy could continue, Christian shoved him off, sending him crashing to the mat. Christian smirked, shaking off the attack before stomping down on Hardy’s ribs, grounding him. The cocky Canadian wasted no time in taking control, dragging Hardy up and delivering a stiff backbreaker, holding him over his knee for a moment to gloat before shoving him down with force. Christian covered—One… Two… Kickout! Hardy wasn’t going down that easy. Christian sneered as he lifted Hardy by the hair, talking trash before whipping him hard into the turnbuckles. Hardy crashed chest-first into the corner and staggered backward, right into a vicious reverse DDT! Christian, now fully in control, stood over Hardy, grinning as he mocked the V1 hand gesture before dropping a disrespectful slap across Hardy’s face. The slap only fired Hardy up, and when Christian went to pull him up again, Hardy exploded with a jaw-jacking right hand, staggering Christian! Hardy followed up with a clothesline, then another, before scooping Christian up and planting him with a running powerslam! He hooked the leg—One… Two… Kickout! Hardy quickly pressed the advantage, pulling Christian up and signaling for the Side Effect. He lifted Christian—but Christian elbowed out of it mid-air, landing on his feet and driving Hardy back into the corner. With a sly smirk, Christian went for a sneaky roll-up, but Hardy kicked out at two. Both men scrambled to their feet—Hardy struck first, landing a boot to the gut and nailing The Side Effect! The crowd roared as Hardy climbed to the second rope, rallying the fans. He jumped off for his signature leg drop—but Christian rolled out of the way! Hardy landed hard, clutching his tailbone, and Christian wasted no time—grabbing Hardy and drilling him with the Unprettier! Hardy’s face slammed into the mat as Christian rolled him over, hooking the leg deep. One… Two… Three!

Winner: Christian

The bell rang, and Christian rose to his feet, grinning arrogantly as the crowd showered him with boos. He mockingly dusted his hands off, sneering down at Hardy before raising his arms in victory. As he exited the ring, he wiped the dried blood from his lip, flashing a wicked smirk—his message was clear. Chris Jericho was down, Matt Hardy was down, and at No Way Out, Trish Stratus would be next.

As Monday Night Raw returned from commercial, the atmosphere inside the arena was electric. The fans erupted as the unmistakable sound of “Sexy Boy” blasted through the speakers, signaling the arrival of Shawn Michaels! The Heartbreak Kid stepped onto the stage, dressed in his signature red and black tights, his chaps swaying with each movement. With his arms outstretched and his signature cocky smirk, Michaels spun around before dropping to his knees, flexing as pyro exploded behind him. The fans sang along with his theme, their voices filling the arena, as Michaels made his way down the ramp, slapping hands with excited fans. His eyes remained locked on the ring, his expression shifting from playful to serious—he knew tonight wasn’t just about showboating, it was about proving he still belonged in the main event picture. Sliding into the ring, Michaels hopped to his feet and climbed the turnbuckle, throwing his arms out as flashbulbs lit up the arena.

The cheers only intensified when Kurt Angle’s music hit, and the arena instantly transitioned into a deafening chant of “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” as The Wrestling Machine emerged onto the stage. Dressed in his patriotic red, white, and blue singlet, the Olympic Gold Medalist marched to the ring with laser focus, his intensity radiating off of him. Angle stood at the top of the ramp, raising his arms as pyrotechnics shot into the air behind him. He then made his way down the ramp, cracking his neck from side to side as he ignored the chants, completely locked in on the task at hand. Once inside the ring, Angle removed his gold medals and handed them to the timekeeper, shaking out his arms as he exchanged a brief but intense glance with Michaels—two men who would be bitter enemies in just a few weeks, but tonight, they were forced to work together.

The mood shifted drastically as the powerful sounds of Evolution’s theme hit, ushering in the arrival of Batista and Randy Orton. The lights dimmed slightly, replaced with golden hues, as the young, cocky Legend Killer Randy Orton strutted onto the stage first, the Intercontinental Championship slung over his shoulder. Dressed in his signature blue and gold trunks, Orton exuded confidence, smirking at the hostile crowd before slowly making his way down the ramp. Behind him, the monstrous Batista emerged, a towering powerhouse with an animalistic intensity. Clad in black trunks and a leather vest, Batista stomped onto the stage before letting out a primal roar, flexing his massive arms as a burst of pyro exploded behind him. The two Evolution members walked in unison down the ramp, completely unfazed by the overwhelming boos. Orton and Batista climbed onto the apron, staring down their opponents before stepping inside the ring. Orton smirked as he locked eyes with Michaels, while Batista cracked his knuckles, his gaze shifting to Angle. As the referee checked both teams, the tension in the ring was palpable—the main event was about to begin.

TAG TEAM MATCH
RANDY ORTON & BATISTA vs. KURT ANGLE & SHAWN MICHAELS

The bell rang, and the match kicked off with Kurt Angle and Randy Orton squaring off. Angle wasted no time, immediately shooting in for a takedown, but Orton scrambled backward, gripping the ropes to force a break. The cocky Legend Killer smirked, mocking Angle’s intensity, but the Olympic Gold Medalist wasn’t in the mood for games. Angle lunged forward, grabbing Orton in a tight waistlock and hurling him across the ring with a massive German suplex! Orton writhed in pain, clutching his back as Angle pounced, applying a front facelock to keep control. Orton managed to power himself to his feet and drove Angle into the corner, where Batista tagged himself in. The powerhouse of Evolution stepped through the ropes, cracking his neck before launching into Angle with a series of brutal shoulder thrusts to the midsection. Batista then whipped Angle into the opposite corner with such force that Angle’s back bounced off the turnbuckles violently. Batista charged for a clothesline, but Angle sidestepped, causing Batista to crash into the post. Seeing his opening, Angle tagged in Shawn Michaels, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Michaels came in like a house of fire, landing a flying forearm smash on Batista before kipping up in signature HBK fashion! As Batista stumbled, Michaels chopped him across the chest with stinging knife-edge chops, each strike echoing throughout the arena. Batista shoved Michaels away, but HBK rebounded off the ropes and delivered a swinging neckbreaker. Michaels then climbed to the top rope, looking for his patented Elbow Drop, but Orton jumped onto the apron, causing HBK to lose balance and crash down hard onto the mat. Batista capitalized, dragging Michaels to Evolution’s corner, where he and Orton took turns stomping him down. Michaels absorbed heavy punishment for several minutes, with Orton applying a sleeper hold while taunting the crowd. The Heartbreak Kid refused to fade, though, battling back with sharp elbows to Orton’s ribs before countering into a back suplex! The crowd roared as both men lay motionless, desperately reaching for their partners. Just as Michaels was about to make the hot tag to Angle, Triple H suddenly stormed down the ramp with a sinister grin. He climbed onto the apron, distracting the referee as Orton and Batista double-teamed Michaels behind the official’s back. Angle tried to intervene, but the referee forced him out of the ring, allowing Evolution to continue their assault. But before Triple H could get further involved—BROCK LESNAR CAME CHARGING THROUGH SECURITY! The arena exploded as Lesnar bulldozed through the barricade of security guards and slid into the ring like a madman! Lesnar clotheslined Batista over the ropes before tackling Orton to the mat and hammering away with brutal punches! Triple H’s face turned from cocky confidence to sheer panic as Lesnar locked eyes with him. The Game immediately bailed from the ring, sprinting up the ramp as Lesnar gave chase, leaving Evolution in complete disarray! With the chaos unfolding, Angle managed to tag back in and suplexed Orton across the ring before tagging Michaels for the final blow. As Orton staggered to his feet, Michaels tuned up the band, stomping in rhythm as the crowd reached a fever pitch. Orton turned around—BOOM! SWEET CHIN MUSIC! Michaels dropped Orton flat and covered! 1… 2… 3! Shawn Michaels and Kurt Angle WIN!

Winners: Kurt Angle & Shawn Michaels

As the referee raised Michaels and Angle’s hands in victory, the tension between them was still thick. Angle extended his hand to Michaels, seemingly offering a rare moment of respect, but Michaels instead swung his boot for another Sweet Chin Music! Angle barely ducked in time, catching Michaels’ leg and in one swift motion, countered into a thunderous belly-to-belly suplex that sent HBK flying over the ropes to the floor! Angle stood tall, breathing heavily, while Michaels lay on the outside, clutching his ribs. The show closed with Kurt Angle standing defiantly in the ring, sending a clear message—at No Way Out, Michaels would have to survive The Wrestling Machine if he wanted a shot at WrestleMania.

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Winner faces Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at Wrestlemania XX
EDDIE GUERRERO vs. GOLDBERG vs. RHYNO vs. THE BIG SHOW vs. EDGE vs. JOHN CENA

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (C) vs. WGTT

KANE CALLS OUT THE UNDERTAKER

CHRISTIAN vs. TRISH STRATUS

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

NEXT WEEK'S RAW
2.9.04
**CONFIRMED

STEEL CAGE MATCH
INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP
MICK FOLEY vs. RANDY ORTON

BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR

WrestleWizard · Apr 12, 2025

THURSDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN
FEBRUARY 5th, 2004

SmackDown – February 5, 2004, opened with Paul Heyman standing smugly in the center of the ring, declaring this night the official Elimination Chamber Summit. With No Way Out looming and the promise of a WrestleMania XX main event on the line against the WWE Champion Brock Lesnar, Heyman introduced the six warriors who would step inside the steel structure: Edge, Goldberg, Eddie Guerrero, John Cena, Rhyno, and Big Show. One by one, they made their entrances, each man with fire in his eyes and something to prove. Edge arrived first, speaking passionately about his long road back from injury and his refusal to let anything or anyone deny him his moment. His speech was cut short by the thunderous arrival of Goldberg, who dismissed Edge’s struggles, declaring the Chamber was made for monsters like him. Eddie Guerrero joined the fray next, playing mind games with Goldberg as he reminded everyone that smarts would trump strength in the Chamber. John Cena followed, mic in hand, dropping rhymes and insults in equal measure as he called out Edge’s emotions, Goldberg’s brute-force mentality, and Eddie’s tendency to cheat. Rhyno wasn’t interested in talking—he came out ready to tear heads off, snarling about the violence he planned to unleash. Finally, the arena went dark, and The Big Show entered last, an imposing shadow casting over the rest. As tensions escalated and insults flew, it didn’t take long for chaos to erupt. Fists flew, bodies collided, and security had to rush the ring to pull the six men apart. Amid the mayhem, a furious Heyman announced the night’s main event: a blockbuster six-man tag—Edge, Eddie, and Cena vs. Big Show, Goldberg, and Rhyno.

In the opening contest, Shelton Benjamin faced Doug Basham in a tightly contested bout with both men flanked by their respective partners—Charlie Haas for Shelton, and Danny Basham with Shaniqua for Doug. Shelton’s amateur wrestling background gave him the early edge with crisp takedowns and arm drags, but Doug took a shortcut with a thumb to the eye and targeted Shelton’s back. The action escalated when Shaniqua tried to slip Doug a chain, only for Shelton to intercept and retaliate with a superkick. With Haas neutralizing Danny at ringside, Shelton sealed the deal with a picture-perfect T-Bone Suplex for the victory.

The cruiserweight division took center stage next with Chavo Guerrero vs. Tajiri in a #1 Contender’s Match for the Cruiserweight Title. Rey Mysterio joined commentary to scout his potential challenger. The match was an electrifying mix of speed and brutality—Tajiri struck fast with spinning kicks and springboard elbows, but Chavo grounded him with backbreakers and methodical offense. A well-timed counter led to Chavo planting Tajiri with the Gory Bomb to punch his ticket to No Way Out. After the match, Chavo took a mic and berated Rey for choosing Eddie over him, calling him a traitor to the Guerrero legacy. Rey calmly fired back, calling Chavo the real disgrace for turning on family, and promised that their clash at No Way Out would be about respect—and redemption.

Tag team action followed as The APA battled Scotty 2 Hotty and Rikishi, and the crowd was hot for this clash of brawling powerhouses versus crowd favorites. The APA dominated early, isolating Scotty with heavy-hitting moves, but a desperate tag to Rikishi shifted momentum. Rikishi cleaned house and tagged Scotty back in for the W-O-R-M, but Bradshaw interrupted with a Clothesline from Hell. Chaos reigned until Scotty rolled up Farooq in a small package for a shocking upset. But the celebration was short-lived. In a stunning and disturbing turn, Bradshaw snapped. He assaulted Scotty and Rikishi post-match with brutal chair shots, then turned his rage toward his own partner. When Farooq tried to calm him down, Bradshaw responded with a vicious Clothesline from Hell and mounted his former ally, beating him down until Farooq bled. Bradshaw capped off the assault by smashing steel steps into Farooq’s skull, leaving him unconscious in a pool of blood. As medics arrived, Bradshaw stood on the ramp with no remorse in his eyes, the APA partnership violently shattered.

A Lesnar video package aired next, showing the reigning WWE Champion in dominant fashion, dispatching foes and issuing a warning to whoever survives the Elimination Chamber—he would be waiting at WrestleMania XX, and he wouldn’t be beaten.

Then came a haunting spectacle as Kane faced Zach Gowen. The one-legged underdog showed incredible heart, launching himself at Kane with high-risk offense, including a top-rope moonsault that nearly earned him a shocking win. But Kane rose from the mat like something out of a nightmare and decimated Gowen with a chokeslam followed by a brutal Tombstone. Kane wasn’t finished—he placed Gowen in a ringside casket, drenched it in gasoline, and lit it on fire. Flames engulfed the casket as Kane stood before it, arms raised, bathed in infernal light. The image was chilling—Kane, consumed by evil, leaving a path of destruction in his wake.

Hardcore Holly and Jamie Noble were scheduled for action, but the match never even officially began. As Holly made his way to the ring, Noble ambushed him from behind with a steel pipe, laying waste to Holly’s knee and back. Officials pulled Noble off, but the damage was done—this wasn’t about wins for Noble anymore. This was about making a statement through pain.

The six-man tag team main event—Edge, Eddie Guerrero & John Cena vs. Big Show, Goldberg & Rhyno—was a wild, combustible clash from the jump. John Cena and Rhyno started the match with pure intensity, trading strikes and takedowns before Cena gained the upper hand with a spinning side slam. Edge and Goldberg soon collided in a stiff exchange that had the crowd on edge, while Eddie Guerrero outwitted the monstrous Big Show with low strikes and quick evasion. Midway through the match, chaos reigned as all six men began brawling at once, the referee struggling to restore order. Goldberg launched Edge over the announce table, Cena dove onto Rhyno with a crossbody off the top rope, and Eddie ducked a Chokeslam from Big Show and countered with a dropkick to the knee. The end came in shady fashion. With the referee distracted trying to pull Goldberg and Cena apart on the outside, Rhyno slid into the ring with a steel chain, wrapping it around his fist and cold-cocking Eddie Guerrero behind the ref’s back. Eddie crumpled, and Big Show tagged in, dragging Eddie to the center and delivering a devastating Chokeslam for the pin. 1-2-3. The crowd booed loudly as the heels stood tall, smirking and mocking the fallen babyfaces. But the post-match chaos was only just beginning. Cena stormed back in, brawling with Rhyno while Edge slid in and tackled Goldberg through the ropes. As Eddie slowly pulled himself up, Cena turned to check on him—only for Edge to accidentally spear Cena as he turned around trying to hit Rhyno but Rhyno moved at the last second. Cena clutched his ribs in agony as Edge looked horrified at what he’d done. Before Edge could even apologize, Rhyno came charging across the ring and GORE’d Edge out of his boots, folding him in half. The camera zoomed in on Rhyno’s snarling face as he stood tall over Edge’s broken body. SmackDown ended with bodies strewn across the ring, confusion and betrayal in the air, and Rhyno standing ominously over Edge, yelling, “See you in the Chamber!”

Fade to black.

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

**10 DAYS TILL NO WAY OUT

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Winner faces Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at Wrestlemania XX
EDDIE GUERRERO vs. GOLDBERG vs. RHYNO vs. THE BIG SHOW vs. EDGE vs. JOHN CENA

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (C) vs. WGTT

KANE CALLS OUT THE UNDERTAKER

CHRISTIAN vs. TRISH STRATUS

CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
REY MYSTERIO vs. CHAVO GUERRERO

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

WrestleWizard · Thursday at 2:12 PM

AD_4nXebSDgYfJvLQuOgswyKVU5fps2MnaODNdIRUmW5sTNXaFqGJ-tGbiHP3ZJKPT4VTW0_G7Jo_nKyEZsIIUj-nBOPgh9-kI3SL3KCW0w-KFw04Q6XgHT5tDA5SQLz_pZfla8Bh5JbCQ

MONDAY FEBRUARY 9, 2004

A Clash of Champions: Brock Lesnar and Triple H Sign the Contract for No Way Out

As Raw opened, the energy inside the arena was volatile, crackling with anticipation. The ring had been transformed into a battleground for business—a table covered in black linen sat in the center, flanked by two leather chairs. Eric Bischoff stood at the head of the table, his expression proud yet cautious, knowing full well the danger of what he was about to oversee. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice cutting through the noise, “tonight, history is made. For the first time ever, it will be Raw’s World Heavyweight Champion vs. SmackDown’s WWE Champion—The Game vs. The next BIG Thing—at No Way Out, Champion versus Champion. This is about legacy, about supremacy, about WrestleMania.” The arena erupted as Brock Lesnar’s music hit like a war drum. Lesnar emerged from the curtain with calculated fury, dressed in a black hoodie, jeans, and boots, his WWE Championship slung over his shoulder. His stare was icy, jaw clenched, and each stride down the ramp radiated power. Lesnar stepped into the ring without hesitation, threw his title onto the table, and immediately began pacing like a predator ready to strike. Then, with a blinding spotlight and signature arrogance, “The Game” echoed through the building. Triple H strutted onto the stage in a tailored suit, the World Heavyweight Title gleaming on his shoulder, Ric Flair trailing behind him clapping and nodding. Triple H didn’t rush—he soaked in the moment, stared down Lesnar with a smirk, and finally stepped into the ring, adjusting his jacket before setting his title down across from Brock’s. Bischoff tried to set the tone, but neither champion was interested in moderation. Lesnar grabbed the mic first, not even sitting down. His voice was cold and sharp. “I didn’t come to Raw for handshakes or politicking. I came to conquer. I’m not here to play The Game—I’m here to end it.” He paused, lifting the WWE Title. “This is the championship. The one that main-evented WrestleMania. The one that made names like Austin, Rock, Hogan. What you carry is a knock off—a vanity belt passed around between your friends in suits. And at No Way Out, I’m going to expose you, Triple H. I’m going to break you down, piece by piece. Then I’m walking into WrestleMania into THE MAIN EVENT with the WWE Championship and walking out STILL WWE Champion.” Triple H slowly picked up the mic, his expression unimpressed. “You want to talk about history?” he said, chuckling as he unbuttoned his jacket. “Brock, you’re big. You’re strong. You’ve been dominant—on SmackDown. But let me remind you: I’m not just ‘The Game.’ I’m the whole damn system. While you were suplexing the likes of Hardcore Holly and Big Show, I was building an empire. I’ve gone to war with Shawn Michaels, Kevin Nash, Chris Jericho. I’ve bled, broken bones, and I’m still here. You may be a beast, but I’m a cerebral assassin. And No Way Out? It’s not your crowning moment. It’s your funeral.”

The crowd roared, sensing the storm rising in the ring. Lesnar stepped closer to the table, jaw tight. “You think you’re untouchable because you’ve got suits backing you. You think your throne is secure because you surround yourself with lapdogs and legends past their prime.” Lesnar’s voice grew deeper, more venomous. “But at No Way Out, I’m not showing up to prove I’m the best. I’m showing up to hurt you. I’m going to F5 you through that mat and leave your legacy in shambles.” Triple H stood now, nose-to-nose with Brock. “You better bring every ounce of rage you’ve got, because I promise you—when it’s over, you’ll lose your aura. Your mystique. You’ll go back to SmackDown exposed for what you are—just muscle with no brain.” Flair clapped behind Triple H, but the tension in the ring reached a fever pitch. With no more words needed, Triple H signed the contract with slow, deliberate strokes, never taking his eyes off Brock. Lesnar grabbed the clipboard and scrawled his name with force, then hurled the pen across the ring. Bischoff stepped in, attempting to raise their arms for a photo op—but Lesnar flipped the table violently, sending it crashing into Triple H’s gut. Security rushed the ring, trying to separate them, but Lesnar broke through, slamming Flair with a belly-to-belly suplex before going straight for Triple H. The Game fought back, trading stiff punches with Lesnar as the crowd screamed, but Lesnar suddenly scooped him up for an F5. Triple H slipped out, grabbed his title, and cracked Brock across the back, staggering him—Triple H quickly scurried out of the ring as Brock was staggering from the title shot. Standing tall with his own title, Lesnar regains his composure and glares across at The Game, chest heaving, eyes burning, as the World Heavyweight Champion flanked by Flair walks up the ramp and taunts Lesnar.

Evolution Erupts: Triple H Demands Loyalty—And Gets Rebellion

As Raw came back from commercial break we cut to the backstage area, the camera followed a storming Triple H, his long strides fueled by fury, the World Heavyweight Championship still clutched in his hand. His jaw was clenched, his face flushed with rage, and Ric Flair struggled to keep up, nursing his ribs after being suplexed by Brock Lesnar just moments earlier. The pair marched through the corridor like royalty returning from a failed campaign—angry, embarrassed, and demanding answers. Without knocking, Triple H shoved open the door to Evolution’s private locker room with a loud bang, startling both Randy Orton and Batista, who were seated inside. Orton was casually lacing up his boots, looking focused but not frazzled, while Batista leaned against a wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

Triple H threw the championship onto a nearby bench and exploded. “Where the hell were you two?!”

Ric Flair hobbled in behind him, his voice adding fuel to the fire. “That animal just manhandled me out there! You saw what happened—he flipped the damn table into Hunter!”

Batista remained silent, arms still folded, his massive frame radiating tension.

Orton, on the other hand, looked up from his boots, unfazed. “I’ve got a steel cage match tonight,” he said calmly, brushing his hand back through his hair. “With Mick Foley. Tonight I end Foley’s career. You think I’ve got time to play bodyguard while you two square off with SmackDown?” Triple H stepped forward, teeth gritted. “Bodyguard? Is that what you think this is? You’re part of Evolution because I made you. And when I get jumped in that ring by Brock Lesnar and that wild animal suplexes Ric across the mat, I expect my backup to show up.”

Orton stood eye to eye with Triple H now, his voice still calm but with a subtle edge. “I am backing Evolution. I’m going out there tonight to make sure we still have all the gold—that’s my priority. What happens with you and Lesnar? That’s your war.”

The tension crackled in the air.

Triple H looked at Batista next. “And you? You were just gonna sit back and watch that happen?”

Batista finally spoke, his voice deep and deliberate. “I didn’t know you needed help. Looked like you had it all under control, ‘champ.’”

The word champ rolled off his tongue like a challenge, not a compliment. Ric Flair immediately tried to defuse it. “Come on, Dave. Randy. We’re Evolution! We dominate, we don’t divide.”

Batista pushed off the wall and stepped past Triple H, locking eyes with him for just a second longer than necessary. “I’ve got my eyes on the bigger picture. Just like Randy. You should too.” With that, Batista walked out, leaving a silence in the room heavier than the titles they all wore.

Triple H watched him go, his expression caught somewhere between betrayal and fury. Orton went back to tying his boots, smirking slightly. Ric Flair paced nervously, muttering something about unity. But the seeds had been planted — Evolution wasn’t splintering. Not yet. But the cracks were showing. And the pressure of Brock Lesnar wasn’t just threatening Triple H’s championship… it was threatening his empire.

Three Warriors, One Road: Women’s Division Battle Sets Stage for No Way Out

The stakes were sky-high on Monday Night Raw as the Women’s Division took center stage in a fast and furious Triple Threat Match. With a prized match at No Way Out on the line—and a potential path to WrestleMania XX—Lita, Jazz (accompanied by Theodore Long), and Jacqueline threw down in a bout that showcased grit, athleticism, and heart from bell to bell.

The moment the bell rang, the intensity was palpable. Jazz wasted no time establishing dominance, leveling Jacqueline with a thunderous clothesline before focusing her fury on Lita. The high-flying redhead responded with a flurry of forearms and a daring springboard crossbody—only to be caught and bent backward over Jazz’s knee. But this was just the beginning of a wild, whirlwind affair. Jacqueline re-entered the fray with fierce determination, targeting Jazz’s leg with a dropkick before unleashing a flurry of offense on both opponents. A missile dropkick to Jazz nearly sealed the win, but the action only escalated from there. Lita flew around the ring with precision, connecting on a hurricanrana and a snap suplex, but her first attempt at the Lita Moonsault ended in disaster as Jazz shoved her crashing to the canvas. The power game belonged to Jazz, who hurled Jacqueline across the ring with a German suplex and nearly locked Lita in the debilitating Jazz Stinger. But Lita wasn’t done—not by a long shot. She countered with a swinging DDT, and the match devolved into a flurry of near-falls and signature maneuvers. At one point, Lita hit a double spear on both of her rivals, drawing a roar from the crowd. The closing moments were pure chaos. Jazz nearly cinched in the STF, Jacqueline almost stole the victory with a roll-up, but it was Lita who found the final gear. Evading a punch from Jacqueline, she connected with a Twist of Fate, then ascended the ropes and nailed a picture-perfect Lita Moonsault. Three seconds later, it was official.

With the crowd on its feet, Lita celebrated her hard-earned victory, her eyes locking onto the No Way Out logo. But her celebration was short-lived.

Victoria’s music hit, and the former Women’s Champion marched down the ramp, her stare intense and focused. Inside the ring, Lita stood her ground, and the two fierce competitors came nose-to-nose. Respect was evident, but so was the tension—each woman knowing full well that WrestleMania glory could be just one win away.

Then, a familiar theme brought everything to a screeching halt.

Molly Holly, the reigning Women’s Champion, stepped onto the stage with a microphone in hand and arrogance in her eyes.

“Oh, how inspiring,” Molly scoffed. “Two underachievers pretending this match next week means something. Let me remind you both—I am the Women’s Champion.”

The jeers poured in as Molly continued. “Whether it’s the unstable has-been or the reckless little daredevil, the result at WrestleMania will be the same—you’ll be lying flat on your back, staring up at the lights while I walk out still champion!”

Victoria wasn’t about to let that slide. “Why don’t you come down here and prove it?” she barked.

To the surprise of many, Molly did just that, confidently entering the ring. She ran her mouth as she confronted her two challengers—until she made the mistake of putting her hands on Victoria. In an instant, fists flew. Lita rocked Molly with a right hand, Victoria followed up with a spinning backfist, and before long, the champion found herself flattened by a double clothesline and tumbling to the outside. Lita and Victoria stood tall, side by side, as the crowd roared with approval. Molly clutched her Women’s Title on the ramp, seething, but there was no mistaking it:

Her reign is in serious jeopardy.

And come No Way Out, the road to WrestleMania gets a whole lot more dangerous.

Tensions Explode as Michaels and Angle Collide in Volatile No Way Out Showdown Preview

One ring. Two icons. Zero restraint.

The WWE audience witnessed a volatile collision course reach its boiling point Monday night on Raw, as Shawn Michaels and Kurt Angle stood face to face in a searing confrontation ahead of their highly anticipated showdown at No Way Out. In a segment that began with sharp words and ended in a full-scale brawl, both superstars made it clear—this is about more than pride. This is about destiny.

It began with the Olympic Gold Medalist standing center ring, stone-faced, as the crowd unleashed a chorus of boos. Unshaken, Angle raised the mic.

“You all saw it,” he began, his tone measured but icy. “You saw what I did to Shawn Michaels last week. Just like you saw what I did at the Royal Rumble. Everyone’s calling this a dream match… but let’s be honest—it’s only a dream for him. For me? It’s just another chance to expose a so-called legend for what he is: broken and desperate.”

Angle's words drew venom from the crowd, but the former World Champion pressed on.

“Shawn Michaels wants to talk about legacies? About stealing shows? Look, I don’t need to be called ‘Mr. WrestleMania’—because I don’t rely on the past to define me. I’m not the one clinging to memories. I’m here because I’m the best. Faster, stronger, more dangerous than I’ve ever been. And I don’t need to prove I belong—I know I do.”

Just as the tension in the arena crested, the unmistakable opening notes of “Sexy Boy” cut through the arena, and the roof nearly blew off.

But this was no showboating entrance.

There were no fireworks, no posing—just a focused, determined Shawn Michaels stepping onto the stage in street clothes, his expression hard and serious. The Heartbreak Kid walked to the ring with purpose, slid inside, and stared Angle down without flinching.

“You talk a lot, Kurt,” Michaels began, his voice calm but firm. “But all I hear in all that noise… is fear.”

The crowd erupted behind HBK as he continued.

“You’re afraid. Not of me—not exactly. But afraid that maybe the aura you’ve built for yourself isn’t as invincible as you think it is. You think I’m here to relive glory days? To steal your spotlight? No. I’m here because I still have something left. I still have fight left. One more chapter. One more mountain to climb. And that mountain is WrestleMania XX.”

Michaels stepped closer, eyes burning with intensity.

“You want to talk about reality, Kurt? Here it is. If I want to go to WrestleMania’s main event, I have to beat you. That’s it. I’m not looking for shortcuts. I’m not begging for a handout. I’m here to earn it. Just like I always have.”

Angle shook his head, unimpressed.

“You want to earn it?” he snapped. “Then earn it by beating someone who’s still at the top. Someone who doesn’t need nostalgia to keep himself relevant. You’ve had your chances, Shawn. And you’ve come up short. You want a front-row seat at WrestleMania? Go buy a ticket.”

The back-and-forth had the crowd at a fever pitch, split chants of “HBK!” and “Angle!” echoing through the rafters. But Michaels didn’t blink.

“If you beat me at No Way Out,” he said plainly, “maybe you’re right. Maybe this ride is over. But if I beat you… it means I’ve still got it. And it means I earned my way to the Garden. And I’m not going there just to be in the match. I’m going there to steal the show. Like I’ve always done.”

The two men stood nose to nose now, the energy in the air reaching a breaking point.

“You won’t beat me,” Angle whispered coldly. “Not now. Not ever. I’m not one of your greatest hits, Shawn. I’m the most dangerous wrestler on the planet. And I’m going to make you tap out. And when I do, your little comeback ends. Forever.”

Michaels nodded slowly, stepping even closer.

“You better hope so, Kurt. Because if I win… I’m going to WrestleMania. And I’m walking out with the World Heavyweight Championship. There’s nothing you—or Triple H—can do to stop me.”

The staredown crackled with intensity… and then it all fell apart.

Angle snapped, striking first with a vicious forearm to Michaels’ jaw! HBK fired back with a stiff right of his own, and the ring erupted into chaos as the two legends traded wild, furious blows. Angle attempted a takedown, but Michaels countered, peppering his rival with sharp elbows. Referees and officials sprinted from the back, but neither man would be restrained. Angle burst free and tackled Michaels into the corner. HBK shoved two men away and landed a hard shot that sent Angle staggering. More security poured in, physically dragging both men apart as the crowd roared.

“I’M GONNA END YOU AT NO WAY OUT!” Angle screamed, his voice hoarse and raw.

Michaels, bloodied but unbowed, spat to the mat and shouted back, “Good luck with that! See you Sunday!”

As WWE officials barely managed to restore order, the final image was etched in the minds of fans worldwide—two combustible forces, impossible to contain.

This Sunday, No Way Out won’t be a match.
It’ll be a war.
And only one man will walk the Road to WrestleMania.

Booker T Stands Tall Over a Legend—But Pays the Price

In the first of two explosive encounters, Booker T went one-on-one with the self-proclaimed “Wrestling God” Ric Flair. But make no mistake—this wasn’t just a match between two decorated veterans. This was about respect, momentum, and sending a message to Evolution just six days before No Way Out. Ric Flair, dressed in a gleaming red-and-gold robe, strutted to the ring with trademark arrogance, proudly calling himself the measuring stick of this business. Booker T, however, was all business. With Evolution constantly lurking and the World Tag Team Championship in his sights alongside Rob Van Dam, the five-time WCW Champion knew a victory over Flair wouldn’t just be symbolic—it would be crucial. From the opening bell, it was a classic clash of eras: Flair’s cerebral game plan and dirty tactics vs. Booker T’s power, speed, and fire. The Nature Boy tried everything—eye pokes, chop blocks, even a grueling Figure Four Leglock—but Booker’s resilience couldn’t be denied. Battling through immense pain, Booker fought back with thunderous strikes and ultimately landed the Book End to secure a hard-fought victory.

But celebration would be short-lived.

Before Booker could even rise to his feet, Batista charged to the ring like a wrecking ball, leveling Booker T with a devastating clothesline. The Animal, clearly furious over the disrespect shown to his Evolution mentor, brutalized Booker with vicious shoulder thrusts and looked to end the night with a thunderous spinebuster… until Rob Van Dam made the save. The Whole Dam Show exploded onto the scene with pinpoint strikes, sending Batista reeling to the outside. Ric Flair dragged his enforcer away, but the damage had been done—lines were drawn, and battle lines were set.

All of this in ring chaos turned into official action during the commercial break, when WWE officials sanctioned an impromptu match between Rob Van Dam and Batista—right here, right now!

Van Dam Flies High—But Evolution Stacks the Deck

What followed was nothing short of a war. Batista and RVD clashed in an electric encounter that tested the limits of both men. RVD used every ounce of agility and ring awareness to keep the powerhouse off balance—leg kicks, springboards, and a near-decisive Rolling Thunder had the crowd on its feet. Batista, however, absorbed the punishment and delivered his own brand of destruction, including a brutal bearhug and suplex combination that nearly sealed the deal. Just when it seemed RVD might be closing in on the upset—prepping for the Five Star Frog Splash—Ric Flair made his presence known once again. Distracting the referee just long enough to shake the ropes, Flair’s interference cost Van Dam his balance, and moments later, Batista capitalized with a crushing Batista Bomb for the emphatic three-count. The crowd rained down boos as Flair raised Batista’s hand in victory, Evolution once again proving that they’ll stop at nothing to control Raw’s narrative. But the fight wasn’t over. Booker T stormed back to the ring, hobbling but unrelenting, throwing hands with Batista as officials flooded the ring. The scene was pure chaos—referees trying to hold the peace, Flair shouting from the ramp, and Booker and Batista glaring at each other with unfiltered intensity. With the road to No Way Out narrowing, the stage is now set for an explosive confrontation between two men who refuse to back down.

Christian Debuts “Christian’s Corner”… and Instantly Regrets It

If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then Christian might just be the most backhanded flatterer in WWE history. With a smug grin and an ego too big to fit in the arena, the self-proclaimed "Instant Classic" debuted his own talk segment this week on Raw—“Christian’s Corner”—a twisted, egocentric spin on Chris Jericho’s Highlight Reel. The ring was redecorated in signature Christian flair: sleek black carpeting, a gaudy faux-leather chair, and a golden “Christian’s Corner” sign awkwardly hanging above the stage like a monument to delusion. The spotlight hit center ring just as “Just Close Your Eyes” blared through the speakers. Out sauntered Christian, dressed to offend in a blazer with no shirt underneath and sunglasses that screamed midlife crisis meets Hollywood flop. The boos were instant—and Christian soaked in every second, arms outstretched, basking in the hate like it fueled him.

With a microphone in hand and arrogance dripping from every word, Christian leaned against the chair and smirked.

“Welcome to Christian’s Corner… the show that’s got more charisma than The Rock, more edge than Edge, and way more relevance than Chris Jericho. Last week, I shocked the world. No more tag teams. No more best friends. No more ‘CLB.’ This is the Christian Era. And at No Way Out? I break the internet. For the first time ever... Christian vs. Trish Stratus.”

The crowd erupted with a mix of jeers and shocked gasps. Some were disgusted. Others were confused. Everyone was dialed in. Christian just smiled wider.

“Yeah, yeah, boo me. I don’t care. I don’t discriminate—I hand out beatdowns to anyone. Trish wanted to stick her nose in my business? Now she gets to find out what happens when you cross the new king of Raw.”

Cue the music.

Trish Stratus’s theme hit like a lightning bolt. The crowd flipped from rage to elation as the former Women's Champion marched down the ramp in jeans and a leather jacket, fury in her eyes and a mic in her hand. She stepped into the ring with purpose, keeping her distance but never blinking as she confronted the maniacally grinning Christian.

“You’re seriously pathetic,” she spat. “Jericho dumped you out of his life, and now you’re lashing out at me? Making a match against a woman? Wow, Christian. Real brave. Real tough. You want headlines? I’ll give you one: Trish Stratus shuts your mouth.”

SLAP!
The first slap cracked across Christian’s face like thunder. The crowd exploded.

“That’s for being a coward.”

SLAP!
A second slap snapped his head to the side, wiping the smirk right off his face.

“And that’s for thinking I wouldn’t fight back.”

Trish reared back for a third, but this time Christian caught her wrist. The reaction was instant: boos poured in like a tidal wave as the moment turned dark. Christian’s grin returned—now cold, twisted, and full of venom.

“No, no, no… you don’t get three, sweetheart. You wanted this spotlight? You got it. And now… it’s my turn.”

He yanked her closer, circling like a shark tasting blood. Trish yanked at her arm, struggling to break free—but Christian leaned in close, eyes gleaming with malice.

“You wanna be taken seriously? Fine…”

And then—in one of the most vile, disrespectful acts in recent memory—Christian forcefully kissed her.

The arena erupted into nuclear heat. Trish flailed in revulsion, shoving at his chest, trying to tear away as Christian laughed cruelly. But his domination lasted only a second longer.

BAM!
Trish delivered a devastating knee—right between the legs. Christian’s grin dissolved into a mask of pain as he crumpled to his knees, groaning in agony. The crowd lost their minds in a tidal wave of cheers as Trish stood tall, breathing hard but defiant.

She leaned down, snarling with fire in her eyes.

“See you at No Way Out… jackass.”

Trish dropped the mic and stormed out of the ring as Christian writhed on the canvas, his "corner" reduced to ruins, his ego shattered. The crowd roared behind her, giving Trish Stratus the hero’s ovation she deserved for putting the arrogant loudmouth in his place.

A Cage of Carnage – Mankind Returns for Vicious War with Randy Orton in Steel Cage Showdown for the Intercontinental Championship

For weeks, Randy Orton tormented Mick Foley, calling him a coward, a disgrace, a relic unworthy of stepping into the ring with the so-called “Legend Killer.” Orton went further than just words—three weeks ago on Raw, he punted Mick Foley in the skull, driving him off television and out of consciousness. Orton mocked Foley’s absence, declared him “washed up,” and proclaimed himself the future of WWE.

But tonight… Orton didn’t get Mick Foley.

Tonight, he got Mankind.

No smiles. No laughter. No cheap pops.

What Orton got was darkness—violence personified.

The steel cage was lowered under dim lights. There were no flashy entrances, no triumphant heroism—just a cold, chilling sense of vengeance in the air. Orton entered first, Intercontinental Championship in hand, attempting to maintain his cocky composure—but even he couldn’t hide the tension in his eyes. And then the haunting squeal of Mankind’s theme played. From the shadows emerged the deranged alter ego of Foley—mask tight, eyes wide, and dragging behind him a duffel bag that promised unspeakable violence.

The bell rang, and the nightmare began.

Orton struck first with a right hand to the jaw, but Mankind absorbed it like a man possessed, firing back with wild, clubbing fists that drove the young champion into the corner. Mankind’s offense was unhinged from the start—he smashed Orton’s head into the steel mesh over and over, brutalizing him with hair-pulling, biting, and raking the eyes. Orton tried to scramble up the cage, but Mankind yanked him down, driving him hard to the canvas and following with a knee drop across the face. Orton, bleeding early from the forehead, tried to regain his footing, landing a dropkick that dazed Mankind and gave him space to breathe. Orton followed with a back suplex, and for a moment, the champion took control. He ground Foley’s face into the steel, shouted taunts about retirement, and tried a quick climb—but Mankind, like a horror movie monster, popped up and slammed Orton’s face into the cage until he collapsed.The tide shifted again when Orton used desperation to his advantage—catching Foley with a low blow and bouncing his head off an exposed turnbuckle. He stomped him into the mat, then spotted the duffel bag and hesitantly opened it… only to recoil in horror. Mankind seized the moment. With a cackling laugh, he untied the bag and spilled thousands of thumbtacks across the ring. The arena ignited. Orton, panic-stricken, tried to climb—but Mankind followed. The two brawled on the ropes, high above the thumbtacks. Orton attempted an RKO off the ropes, but Mankind blocked it and countered with a swinging neckbreaker from the second rope that left both men wrecked on the canvas. Crawling to the tacks, Mankind began slapping his face, entering a psychotic trance. As Orton stumbled toward him, Mankind snatched him by the tights—and spinebustered him right into the tacks! Orton’s scream was inhuman. He flailed, his back littered with metal, rolling to safety. Mankind went for the cover—1… 2… no! Orton survived, but barely. The match slowed, exhaustion setting in. Mankind tried a piledriver into the tacks, but Orton countered with another low blow and followed with a DDT on the steel-reinforced mat. Both men were down. Orton, body shaking, began climbing again.

Mankind followed.

On top of the cage wall, they brawled, fists flying through blood and desperation. Mankind unleashed a series of sickening headbutts, knocking Orton off the ropes—sending him crashing to the mat. But rather than escape, Mankind dropped back inside the ring. He wasn’t done. He reached into his waistband and pulled out barbed wire. He wrapped it around his arm like a sick sleeve—his own twisted version of Mr. Socko.

Barbed-Wire Mandible Claw.

Orton rose, dazed, and Mankind lunged—driving the barbed wire-covered fingers into Orton’s mouth. Blood poured. Orton thrashed like a wounded animal, eyes wide, trying to fight off the searing pain. In one last act of desperation, Orton mule-kicked Foley low and shoved him backwards into the tacks, then snatched him for an RKO—RIGHT INTO THE TACKS.

It was over. Both men were still. The crowd was losing its mind.

Orton crawled toward the cage door, dragging his shredded body along the canvas. Mankind reached… fingertips away… but Orton slammed the door into his skull, knocking him out cold. With the last of his strength, Randy Orton rolled out of the cage.

The bell rang. Randy Orton had survived.

But this wasn’t a victory. Not in any real sense.

Officials poured to ringside, helping Orton up the ramp—his back a horror show of blood and metal. In the ring, Mankind sat up slowly. His mask was soaked red. Thumbtacks embedded in his arms, his legs, his back. Barbed wire still clung to his wrist.

And he was smiling.

Orton may have walked out Intercontinental Champion… but Mankind took something far more permanent. A piece of his pride. A shard of his soul.

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

**THIS SUNDAY**

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Winner faces Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at Wrestlemania XX
EDDIE GUERRERO vs. GOLDBERG vs. RHYNO vs. THE BIG SHOW vs. EDGE vs. JOHN CENA

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (C) vs. WGTT

KANE CALLS OUT THE UNDERTAKER

CHRISTIAN vs. TRISH STRATUS

CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
REY MYSTERIO vs. CHAVO GUERRERO

WINNER FACES MOLLY HOLLY AT WRESTLEMANIA XX FOR THE WOMEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP
LITA vs. VICTORIA

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

WrestleWizard · Thursday at 2:29 PM

SmackDown Results – February 12, 2004
The Final Stop Before No Way Out Explodes in Chaos

With just 72 hours until No Way Out, SmackDown delivered a high-stakes night of chaos, competition, and confrontation. From the six-man Beat the Clock Challenge to escalating rivalries across the board, the final SmackDown before the Elimination Chamber set the stage for war in Daly City.

Here’s everything that went down:

The Beat the Clock Challenge Dominates the Night

In a blockbuster announcement, General Manager Paul Heyman revealed that all six Elimination Chamber competitors would each compete in a Beat the Clock Challenge throughout the evening. The man who wins his match in the shortest time would earn the advantage of entering the Chamber last—a coveted edge in the brutal battle set to decide the No. 1 Contender for the WWE Championship at WrestleMania XX.

The matches played out in intense bursts throughout the night, with the titantron constantly updating the leaderboard:

Edge def. Nunzio – 4:23
Edge opened the night against Nunzio and came out like a man possessed. Despite Nunzio’s slipperiness, Edge blitzed through him with a Spear after a flurry of offense, setting a strong time to beat. The Rated-R Superstar sent a message to everyone watching: he was ready for Sunday.
Rhyno def. Billy Gunn – 6:05
Rhyno’s brute strength clashed with Billy Gunn’s veteran savvy. A thunderous Gore sealed the win, but not fast enough to overtake Edge. Rhyno stormed off, shouting “I’m not done yet!”—perhaps foreshadowing something more this Sunday.
Eddie Guerrero def. Jamie Noble – 5:01
In one of the most technically sound matches of the night, Latino Heat dazzled the crowd—but his flair cost him. After a series of counters and lucha-style exchanges, Eddie nailed the Frog Splash, but a few seconds too late to take the top spot. Guerrero smirked through the disappointment, hinting that on Sunday, he’s playing the long game.
John Cena def. A-Train – 4:38
A-Train brought the size and fury, but Cena brought heart. In a gutsy performance, Cena lifted A-Train for a massive FU and scored the pinfall—barely missing Edge’s mark. Frustration briefly flared in Cena’s eyes, but the crowd’s deafening chants of “Let’s go Cena!” reminded him there’s still a Chamber to conquer.
Big Show def. Orlando Jordan – 4:59
Orlando Jordan got thrown to the wolves. The World’s Largest Athlete manhandled his young opponent, planting him with a Chokeslam from hell. The clock didn’t favor Show, but the image of him standing over Jordan’s broken body might haunt his Chamber rivals more than any timer.
Goldberg def. Hardcore Holly – 2:17
The main event. The exclamation point.
The moment Goldberg stormed the ring, the energy shifted. In a demolition unlike anything seen all night, Goldberg Speared Holly out of his boots and delivered a devastating Jackhammer. One… two… three. The arena erupted.
2 minutes and 17 seconds.
The fastest time of the night.
And just like that, Goldberg earns the right to enter the Elimination Chamber last.

Rey and Chavo Reach the Boiling Point

The bitter rivalry between Rey Mysterio and Chavo Guerrero turned from personal to downright venomous. Earlier in the night, Rey was scheduled to take on Tajiri in a singles contest, but as Mysterio made his entrance, Chavo Sr. appeared on the ramp to distract him. The momentary lapse allowed Chavo Jr. to blindside Rey from behind—slamming him headfirst into the steel post and ripping off his mask in a symbolic act of ultimate disrespect. Mysterio, bleeding from the forehead, scrambled to cover his face as Chavo taunted him with the mask in hand, shouting, “You’re nothing without this! You’re not of Guerrero blood!”

Kane Sends a Message from the Flames

In a chilling video package aired midway through the night, Kane—now Raw’s twisted juggernaut—addressed the WWE Universe from within a dark, flame-lit boiler room. His voice dripped with menace as footage rolled of Kane burning Zach Gowen alive last week, inside the casket.

“Zach was the beginning. A warning.
But Taker… Taker is the end.
I’m ready for you. I’ve been waiting in the fire. Breathing it.
You think you’re some spirit? Some undead force?
I’m what death becomes.

At No Way Out… come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

The screen cut to black with Kane’s guttural laughter echoing as flames engulfed the screen. Sunday, he calls out The Undertaker. And Kane looks ready for Hell itself.

Tempers Flare in Tag Team Scene Just Days Before No Way Out

With championship gold hanging in the balance this Sunday, SmackDown featured a crucial one-on-one showdown between Charlie Haas and Danny Basham—a match designed to give both teams a taste of what’s to come at No Way Out. Haas, representing the technically sound World’s Greatest Tag Team, showcased his signature grappling ability early, grounding Danny with crisp chain wrestling and near-falls that kept the Basham Brother scrambling. But as expected, underhanded tactics weren’t far behind. Midway through the match, the Bashams attempted one of their classic twin-switches—swapping Danny out for Doug behind the referee’s back in an effort to steal a win. But this time, the referee was ready. Catching Doug mid-swap, the official ejected him from ringside to a chorus of cheers, leveling the playing field. With Danny distracted by the fallout, Haas pounced—snatching a tight inside cradle for the three-count. Post-match, Haas quickly retreated up the ramp, pointing to his head, while Shelton Benjamin joined him. Shaniqua and Doug rejoin Danny as both brothers are handed their tag team gold. Having Doug beat by Shelton last week and Danny beat this week, the momentum isn’t on the side of the Tag Team champions, the Basham Brothers.

NO WAY OUT CARD
February 15th, 2004
Cow Palace - Daly City

**THIS SUNDAY**

CHAMPION vs. CHAMPION
BROCK LESNAR vs. TRIPLE H

ELIMINATION CHAMBER
Winner faces Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship at Wrestlemania XX
EDDIE GUERRERO vs. GOLDBERG vs. RHYNO vs. THE BIG SHOW vs. EDGE vs. JOHN CENA

SHAWN MICHAELS vs. KURT ANGLE
**IF Michaels wins he is added to HHH/Angle World Title Match at Wrestlemania XX

WWE TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
THE BASHAM BROTHERS (C) vs. WGTT

KANE CALLS OUT THE UNDERTAKER

CHRISTIAN vs. TRISH STRATUS

CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
REY MYSTERIO vs. CHAVO GUERRERO

WINNER FACES MOLLY HOLLY AT WRESTLEMANIA XX FOR THE WOMEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP
LITA vs. VICTORIA

WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS
RVD & BOOKER T vs. RIC FLAIR & BATISTA

Will be away for Wrestlemania Weekend in Vegas so won't post for a bit, wanted to get Smackdown and Raw out before the trip. Posting regarding No Way Out is below no specific dates just the content to be expected.

- No Way Out Countdown Show
- No Way Out PPV
- No Way Out Post-Show/Press Conference w/Vince McMahon & Various other WWE Superstars

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~ WWE: The Blueprint ~ NWO GO HOME RAW & SMACKDOWN RECAPS POSTED

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