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Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match-winning pinfall occur immediately following a top-rope maneuver? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first to attempt a move from the top rope? Lita
2. World Tag Team Championships: Hardy Boyz (c) vs. The Dudley Boyz
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Hardyz
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will a table be broken at any point during this match? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will take the pinfall during this match? D-Von
3. Singles Match: Edge vs. Eddie Guerrero
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Edge
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will have the first pinfall attempt of the match? Eddie Guerrero
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will the referee be knocked down (incapacitated) at any point during the match? Yes
4. Singles Match: Big Show vs. Goldberg
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Goldberg
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will Goldberg successfully execute a Jackhammer on The Big Show? Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will this match go longer than 5 minutes (from bell to bell)? No
5. Tag Team Match: AJ Styles & Randy Orton vs. Batista & Ric Flair
Winner Prediction (2 pts): AJ and Orton
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will score the winning pinfall or submission for their team? Orton
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Ric Flair perform his signature "figure-four leglock" during the match? Yes
6. Cruiserweight Championship: Chavo Guerrero (c) vs. Jushin "Thunder" Liger
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Chavo Guerrero
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will this match be the shortest match on the main card? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Chavo Guerrero attempt to unmask Jushin Liger during the match? Yes
7. United States Championship: John Cena (c) vs. John "Bradshaw" Layfield
Winner Prediction (2 pts): John Cena
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the winner win the match using their primary finishing move? Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will John Cena use his steel chain as a weapon during the match? No
8. Last Man Standing Match: Christian vs. Chris Jericho
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Chris Jericho
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): What foreign object will be used to score the final 10-count? Table
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will either competitor be busted open (visibly bleed) during the match? Yes
9. WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar (c) vs. The Undertaker
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Brock Lesnar
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match end via a clean pinfall/submission (no interference, no foreign objects used in the finish)? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will a competitor be put through an announcer's table? No
10. World Heavyweight Championship: Kurt Angle (c) vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Kurt Angle
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will take the fall (be pinned or submit) to end the match? Shawn Michaels
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first competitor to break up a pinfall attempt on another opponent? Shawn Michaels
TIEBREAKER QUESTION
In the event of a tie, this question will determine the ultimate winner. Predict the total number of finishing moves (successful or not) attempted by Kurt Angle, Triple H, and Shawn Michaels in the main event.13
Looking forward to the show. Ten match feels like an overly stacked card for Backlash, to be honest, but in terms of buildup and ongoing angles, I'm pumped for it.
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match-winning pinfall occur immediately following a top-rope maneuver? (Yes/No) No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first to attempt a move from the top rope? (Lita/Gail Kim) Lita
2. World Tag Team Championships: Hardy Boyz (c) vs. The Dudley Boyz
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Hardyz
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will a table be broken at any point during this match? (Yes/No) No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will take the pinfall during this match? (Bubba Ray, D-Von, Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy) D-Von
3. Singles Match: Edge vs. Eddie Guerrero
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Eddie
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will have the first pinfall attempt of the match? (Edge/Eddie Guerrero) Edge
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will the referee be knocked down (incapacitated) at any point during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
4. Singles Match: Big Show vs. Goldberg
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Goldberg
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will Goldberg successfully execute a Jackhammer on The Big Show? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will this match go longer than 5 minutes (from bell to bell)? (Yes/No) No
5. Tag Team Match: AJ Styles & Randy Orton vs. Batista & Ric Flair
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Evolution
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will score the winning pinfall or submission for their team? (Styles/Orton/Batista/Flair) Batista
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Ric Flair perform his signature "figure-four leglock" during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
6. Cruiserweight Championship: Chavo Guerrero (c) vs. Jushin "Thunder" Liger
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Liger
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will this match be the shortest match on the main card? (Yes/No) No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Chavo Guerrero attempt to unmask Jushin Liger during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
7. United States Championship: John Cena (c) vs. John "Bradshaw" Layfield
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Cena
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the winner win the match using their primary finishing move (F-U for Cena, Clothesline From Hell for JBL)? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will John Cena use his steel chain as a weapon during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
8. Last Man Standing Match: Christian vs. Chris Jericho
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Jericho
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): What foreign object will be used to score the final 10-count? (e.g., Steel Chair, Championship Belt, Ring Bell, etc. - Be specific!) If you believe no foreign object will be used to determine winner just say "None" NONE
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will either competitor be busted open (visibly bleed) during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
9. WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar (c) vs. The Undertaker
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Lesnar
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match end via a clean pinfall/submission (no interference, no foreign objects used in the finish)? (Yes/No) - No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will a competitor be put through an announcer's table? (Yes/No) - Yes
10. World Heavyweight Championship: Kurt Angle (c) vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Angle
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will take the fall (be pinned or submit) to end the match? (Angle/Triple H/Michaels) - Triple H
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first competitor to break up a pinfall attempt on another opponent? (Angle/Triple H/Michaels) - Angle
TIEBREAKER QUESTION
In the event of a tie, this question will determine the ultimate winner. Predict the total number of finishing moves (successful or not) attempted by Kurt Angle, Triple H, and Shawn Michaels in the main event. (Ankle Lock, Pedigree, Sweet Chin Music). The closest prediction without going over wins. If all predictions go over, the closest prediction wins. 11
You've booked this really well, looking forward to the show!! Intrigued how the draft shapes up the future of your BTB.
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match-winning pinfall occur immediately following a top-rope maneuver? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first to attempt a move from the top rope? (Lita/Gail Kim) Lita
2. World Tag Team Championships: Hardy Boyz (c) vs. The Dudley Boyz
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Dudleys
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will a table be broken at any point during this match? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will take the pinfall during this match? (Bubba Ray, D-Von, Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy) Matt Hardy
3. Singles Match: Edge vs. Eddie Guerrero
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Edge
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will have the first pinfall attempt of the match? (Edge/Eddie Guerrero) Edge
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will the referee be knocked down (incapacitated) at any point during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
4. Singles Match: Big Show vs. Goldberg
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Goldberg
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will Goldberg successfully execute a Jackhammer on The Big Show? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will this match go longer than 5 minutes (from bell to bell)? (Yes/No) No
5. Tag Team Match: AJ Styles & Randy Orton vs. Batista & Ric Flair
Winner Prediction (2 pts): AJ/Randy
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will score the winning pinfall or submission for their team? (Styles/Orton/Batista/Flair) Orton
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Ric Flair perform his signature "figure-four leglock" during the match? (Yes/No) No
6. Cruiserweight Championship: Chavo Guerrero (c) vs. Jushin "Thunder" Liger
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Jushin Thunder Liger
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will this match be the shortest match on the main card? (Yes/No) No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Chavo Guerrero attempt to unmask Jushin Liger during the match? (Yes/No) No
7. United States Championship: John Cena (c) vs. John "Bradshaw" Layfield
Winner Prediction (2 pts): John Cena
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the winner win the match using their primary finishing move (F-U for Cena, Clothesline From Hell for JBL)? (Yes/No) Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will John Cena use his steel chain as a weapon during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
8. Last Man Standing Match: Christian vs. Chris Jericho
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Christian
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): What foreign object will be used to score the final 10-count? (e.g., Steel Chair, Championship Belt, Ring Bell, etc. - Be specific!) If you believe no foreign object will be used to determine winner just say "None" Steel Chair
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will either competitor be busted open (visibly bleed) during the match? (Yes/No) Yes
9. WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar (c) vs. The Undertaker
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Brock Lesnar
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match end via a clean pinfall/submission (no interference, no foreign objects used in the finish)? (Yes/No) - Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will a competitor be put through an announcer's table? (Yes/No) - Yes
10. World Heavyweight Championship: Kurt Angle (c) vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Kurt Angle
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will take the fall (be pinned or submit) to end the match? (Angle/Triple H/Michaels) - HBK
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first competitor to break up a pinfall attempt on another opponent? (Angle/Triple H/Michaels) - HHH
TIEBREAKER QUESTION
In the event of a tie, this question will determine the ultimate winner. Predict the total number of finishing moves (successful or not) attempted by Kurt Angle, Triple H, and Shawn Michaels in the main event. (Ankle Lock, Pedigree, Sweet Chin Music). The closest prediction without going over wins. If all predictions go over, the closest prediction wins. 7
Best of luck with this show. I've been meaning to drop by here for quite some time, and figured what better way to jump in than with a set of predictions!
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match-winning pinfall occur immediately following a top-rope maneuver? Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first to attempt a move from the top rope? Lita
2. World Tag Team Championships: Hardy Boyz (c) vs. The Dudley Boyz
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Hardy Boyz
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will a table be broken at any point during this match? Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will take the pinfall during this match? Bubba Ray
3. Singles Match: Edge vs. Eddie Guerrero
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Eddie Guerrero
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will have the first pinfall attempt of the match? Eddie Guerrero
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will the referee be knocked down (incapacitated) at any point during the match? Yes
4. Singles Match: Big Show vs. Goldberg
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Goldberg
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will Goldberg successfully execute a Jackhammer on The Big Show? Yes
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will this match go longer than 5 minutes (from bell to bell)? No
5. Tag Team Match: AJ Styles & Randy Orton vs. Batista & Ric Flair
Winner Prediction (2 pts): AJ Styles and Randy Orton
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will score the winning pinfall or submission for their team? Styles
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Ric Flair perform his signature "figure-four leglock" during the match? Yes
6. Cruiserweight Championship: Chavo Guerrero (c) vs. Jushin "Thunder" Liger
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Justin "Thunder" Liger
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will this match be the shortest match on the main card? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will Chavo Guerrero attempt to unmask Jushin Liger during the match? Yes
7. United States Championship: John Cena (c) vs. John "Bradshaw" Layfield
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Hardest match on the card to call imo. John Cena
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the winner win the match using their primary finishing move (F-U for Cena, Clothesline From Hell for JBL)? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will John Cena use his steel chain as a weapon during the match? Yes potentially causing a DQ or an excuse for JBL to set up a future match
8. Last Man Standing Match: Christian vs. Chris Jericho
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Christian
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): What foreign object will be used to score the final 10-count? (e.g., Steel Chair, Championship Belt, Ring Bell, etc. - Be specific!) If you believe no foreign object will be used to determine winner just say "None" Steel chair
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will either competitor be busted open (visibly bleed) during the match? Yes
9. WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar (c) vs. The Undertaker
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Brock Lesnar
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Will the match end via a clean pinfall/submission (no interference, no foreign objects used in the finish)? No
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Will a competitor be put through an announcer's table? No
10. World Heavyweight Championship: Kurt Angle (c) vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
Winner Prediction (2 pts): Kurt Angle
Bonus Question #1 (1 pt): Who will take the fall (be pinned or submit) to end the match? Triple H
Bonus Question #2 (1 pt): Who will be the first competitor to break up a pinfall attempt on another opponent? Angle
TIEBREAKER QUESTION
In the event of a tie, this question will determine the ultimate winner. Predict the total number of finishing moves (successful or not) attempted by Kurt Angle, Triple H, and Shawn Michaels in the main event. (Ankle Lock, Pedigree, Sweet Chin Music). The closest prediction without going over wins. If all predictions go over, the closest prediction wins. 9
[The screen is black. A heartbeat pulses.] NARRATOR (V.O.): "In three weeks... everything changed." [FLASH: Kurt Angle standing over Shawn Michaels and Triple H, holding the World Heavyweight Championship high.]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Three men. One championship. And a war that cannot be contained." [Quick cuts of chaos from Raw:]
Angle hitting an Angle Slam on Michaels through the announce table
Triple H delivering a Pedigree to Angle
Michaels connecting with Sweet Chin Music on both opponents
All three men brawling in the final confrontation
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Kurt Angle... the Wrestling Machine who made Triple H tap out at WrestleMania."
[Angle locked in the Ankle Lock on Triple H at WrestleMania XX]
ANGLE (V.O.): "I am genetically superior to both of you!"
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Triple H... The Game who claims the championship is his property to reclaim."
[Triple H on the TitanTron]
TRIPLE H (V.O.): "The World Heavyweight Championship belongs to me!"
NARRATOR (V.O.): "And Shawn Michaels... Mr. WrestleMania, the Showstopper who refuses to be denied."
[Michaels standing tall over both opponents, holding the title]
MICHAELS (V.O.): "Backlash will be the official coronation!"
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Tonight... in Toronto... one of these three warriors will walk out as champion. The other two? They'll just walk out broken." [HARD CUT TO BLACK]
[GONG] [The Undertaker appears in eerie purple light, staring into the camera]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "For months, Brock Lesnar has been The Beast... unstoppable... unbeatable... untouchable."
[Christian and Trish celebrating. Then turning on Jericho]
CHRISTIAN (V.O.): "Y2J is dead! At Backlash, I will exterminate what's left!"
[Christian's brutal assault on Jim Ross. The ten-count. Blood staining the mat]
[Jericho chasing Christian and Trish with a kendo stick]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "No pinfalls. No submissions. No disqualifications. Just two men... and a ten-count."
[Jericho's intense stare]
JERICHO (V.O.): "At Backlash, there will be no referee to save you from my righteous fury."
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Last Man Standing. For the Intercontinental Championship. Only one man will answer the count."
[FLASH CUT]
[Edge's theme hits]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "And in a battle born from betrayal..."
[Eddie Guerrero grinding Rey Mysterio's mask into the mat]
EDDIE (V.O.): "Lie, Cheat, Steal... it ain't just a t-shirt. It's who we are!"
[Edge confronting Eddie]
EDGE (V.O.): "You're pathetic! You're a COWARD!"
[The Guerreros' vicious assault on Edge. Chair shots to the ribs. Eddie pinning Edge with a boot on his chest]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Eddie Guerrero has targeted Edge's injured ribs... exploited every weakness... and left Edge broken."
[Edge hitting the Spear on Eddie in Montreal, then collapsing in pain]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "But tonight, in Toronto, in front of his countrymen... Edge gets his revenge."
[Edge's determined face]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Can he survive his own pain... to inflict it on Eddie Guerrero?"
[THE SCREEN GOES WHITE]
[Rapid-fire montage of all the matches:]
The Hardy Boyz vs. The Dudley Boyz
Randy Orton & AJ Styles vs. Batista & Ric Flair
Lita vs. Gail Kim
JBL vs. John Cena
Goldberg vs. Big Show
Jushin "Thunder" Liger vs. Chavo Guerrero
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Championships on the line. Rivalries exploding. Legends colliding."
[FINAL SHOT: The Backlash logo with "LIVE FROM TORONTO" underneath]
NARRATOR (V.O.): "Tonight... there is no tomorrow. Tonight... there is only..."
[BOOM - Pyro explodes on screen]
"BACKLASH!"
[CUT TO: The sold-out crowd in Toronto's Air Canada Centre, on their feet, as pyro erupts throughout the arena]
COMMENTARY: "WELCOME TO BACKLASH! LIVE FROM TORONTO, CANADA!"
[The video package ends with the Backlash logo exploding in flames]
[CUT TO: LIVE SHOT - Air Canada Centre, Toronto, Canada]
[MASSIVE PYROTECHNIC EXPLOSION erupts from the stage, lighting up the sold-out arena in brilliant gold and red. Fireworks cascade from the rafters as the crowd roars. The camera pans across 16,000 screaming fans holding signs: "EDGE COUNTRY," "UNDERTAKER'S GONNA BURY LESNAR," "HBK > ANGLE > HHH," and "JERICHO'S REVENGE."]
JERRY "THE KING" LAWLER (standing at ringside): "WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO BACKLASH! We are LIVE from the Air Canada Centre in Toronto, Canada, and what a night we have in store for you! I'm Jerry 'The King' Lawler, and folks, we've got championships on the line, we've got careers at stake, and we've got—"
[Lawler suddenly stops mid-sentence]
[The familiar, beloved theme of Jim Ross hits the speakers]
"BAH GAWD! BAH GAWD! THAT'S... THAT'S JIM ROSS'S MUSIC!"
[The crowd ERUPTS as JIM ROSS emerges from behind the curtain for the first time since Christian's vicious assault. He's wearing his signature black cowboy hat and a determined expression. There's still a faint mark on his forehead from the chair shot, but his eyes are full of fire.]
[The standing ovation is deafening as JR makes his way down the ramp, slapping hands with fans. He climbs into the ring and embraces Jerry Lawler.]
JIM ROSS (grabbing a microphone, voice cracking with emotion): "Thank you... THANK YOU, Toronto! God, it's good to be back!"
[Another huge pop]
JIM ROSS: "Folks, a few weeks ago, Christian tried to end my career with a steel chair and a sick, twisted message for Chris Jericho. Well, I've got a message for 'Captain Charisma' tonight: I survived. And tonight, in that Last Man Standing match, Chris Jericho is going to make Christian pay for every single sin he's committed!"
[Crowd chants: "JE-RI-CHO! JE-RI-CHO!"]
JIM ROSS: "But we're not just here for one match, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight is about BACKLASH! We've got the World Heavyweight Championship Triple Threat Match—Kurt Angle defending against Shawn Michaels and Triple H! We've got The Undertaker challenging Brock Lesnar for the WWE Championship! And right here in Toronto, Canada's own EDGE takes on Eddie Guerrero!"
[MASSIVE hometown pop]
JIM ROSS: "So buckle up, because tonight, alongside my broadcast partner Jerry 'The King' Lawler, we're calling ALL the action from the RAW brand! But first, let me send it over to my colleagues who'll be bringing you the SmackDown side of things tonight. Michael Cole, Tazz, take it away!"
[CUT TO: SmackDown announce table]
MICHAEL COLE: "Thank you, JR, and welcome back! What an ovation for Good ol' JR here tonight in Toronto! I'm Michael Cole, alongside the 'Human Suplex Machine,' Tazz, and folks, the SmackDown brand is ready to tear the roof off this building!"
TAZZ: "Cole, I got chills, baby! You got The Undertaker tryin' to bury The Beast, you got Goldberg and Big Show about to kill each other, you got Eddie Guerrero stirrin' the pot with Edge, and don't forget about the Cruiserweight Championship! Jushin 'Thunder' Liger versus Chavo Guerrero? That's gonna be OFF THE HOOK!"
MICHAEL COLE: "Not to mention JBL's hostile takeover attempt against United States Champion John Cena! Tazz, I don't know if I've ever seen this much hatred and intensity on one card!"
TAZZ: "Well, Jones, you better strap yourself in, because tonight, all hell is about to break loose! Toronto, are you READY?!"
[The crowd roars in approval]
MICHAEL COLE: "Alright, folks, without further ado, let's get Backlash started! Our opening contest is coming up RIGHT NOW!"
[The camera sweeps across the raucous Toronto crowd one final time before focusing on the entrance ramp]
MATCH 1: CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP
Jushin "Thunder" Liger vs. Chavo Guerrero (c)
The opening bell rang to a thunderous ovation as the legendary Jushin "Thunder" Liger and Cruiserweight Champion Chavo Guerrero Jr. circled each other in the center of the ring. Chavo Classic prowled at ringside, barking instructions to his son as the Toronto crowd firmly planted themselves behind the challenger. The two competitors locked up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up, with Chavo using his familiarity with lucha libre to transition into a standing side headlock. Liger shoved him off into the ropes, and Chavo rebounded with a shoulder block that barely budged the Japanese legend. Chavo ran the ropes again, but this time Liger leapfrogged over him with surprising agility, then dropped down as Chavo came back, before exploding upward with a lightning-fast arm drag that sent the champion scrambling to the outside to regroup with his father.
After a brief strategy session, Chavo re-entered the ring with renewed confidence. The champion attempted to ground the high-flying legend, grabbing a wrist lock and wrenching Liger's arm with technical precision. Liger rolled through, kipped up, and reversed the hold, twisting Chavo's arm behind his back before delivering a stiff kick to the spine that echoed through the arena. Chavo arched his back in pain as Liger transitioned seamlessly into a hammerlock, but the champion showcased his own technical prowess by spinning out and catching Liger with a crisp Japanese arm drag of his own. The two men faced off once more, and the crowd applauded the display of mutual respect and skill.
The pace quickened as Chavo shot in for a single-leg takedown, but Liger sprawled expertly and floated over into a front facelock. Chavo powered to his feet and backed Liger into the ropes, forcing a break. As the referee stepped between them, Chavo took advantage, raking Liger's eyes in a blatant display of the Guerrero family philosophy. With the legend momentarily blinded, Chavo unleashed a series of European uppercuts in the corner, each one snapping Liger's head back. He whipped Liger across the ring into the opposite turnbuckle and charged in with a running clothesline, but Liger exploded out of the corner with a devastating Shotei palm strike that caught Chavo flush on the jaw, sending him spinning to the mat.
Liger seized control, hauling the champion to a vertical base before delivering a picture-perfect suplex... He floated over for the cover, but Chavo's shoulder shot up at two. Undeterred, Liger maintained his advantage, sending Chavo rocketing off the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker... The legend ascended to the second rope... The referee's hand came down twice before Chavo powered out. Liger dragged Chavo to the center of the ring and set him up for a fisherman suplex, but Chavo blocked it by hooking his leg, then countered with a small package that nearly stole the match at 2.9.
Both men scrambled to their feet, and Chavo struck first with a desperation dropkick that caught Liger square in the chest and sent him tumbling through the ropes to the arena floor. Chavo Classic immediately pounced, grabbing Liger by the mask and slamming his head into the ring apron while the referee was distracted by his son's protests inside the ring. The elder Guerrero rolled Liger back in, and Chavo went to work, targeting the legend's back with a series of calculated stomps. He pulled Liger up and drove him down with a back suplex, then floated over into a Boston crab, sitting deep and wrenching back on Liger's spine. The Toronto crowd rallied behind the challenger, chanting his name as Liger clawed his way toward the ropes, his fingers finally grasping the bottom rope to force the break.
Chavo, sensing he had found a weakness, remained relentless. He dragged Liger to the center of the ring and delivered his signature Three Amigos rolling vertical suplexes—one, two, three consecutive suplexes that left both men down on the canvas. Chavo was up first, signaling to the crowd with Eddie's trademark shimmy before climbing to the top rope. He steadied himself, then launched into a beautiful Frog Splash, but Liger rolled out of the way at the last possible second! Chavo crashed chest-first into the canvas, the air driven from his lungs as he gasped for breath. Sensing a moment of desperation, Chavo instinctively rolled under the bottom rope to the floor, trying to create distance and catch his breath. But there would be no recovery time. Liger saw his opening, hit the opposite ropes to build momentum, and launched himself over the top rope with a breathtaking cannonball senton that crashed onto Chavo on the arena floor! The crowd exploded as both men were left in a heap outside the ring. The referee began his count..
At seven, both men stirred. At nine, they reached their feet simultaneously. Liger struck first with a blistering knife-edge chop that left a welt across Chavo's chest. Another chop. Then another. The crowd counted along as Liger unleashed a flurry of five consecutive chops that backed Chavo into the corner, his chest now a bright crimson. Liger grabbed Chavo's wrist and sent him across the ring, a slight wince crossing his face as his lower back flared in protest. He ignored the pain and followed in with a running Koppu Kick... Chavo stumbled out of the corner directly into Liger's grip. The legend took a deep breath, fighting through the pain in his spine as he hoisted the champion onto his shoulders, spinning him around before driving him down with a devastating Liger Bomb! The crowd erupted as Liger hooked both legs, but Chavo Classic reached in and placed his son's foot on the bottom rope, and the referee spotted it, stopping his count at two.
Liger, frustrated but focused, pulled Chavo up and whipped him into the ropes. He bent down for a back body drop, but Chavo countered with a sunset flip attempt. Liger rolled through and went for a low dropkick, but Chavo moved, causing Liger to crash into the mat. Chavo quickly capitalized, grabbing Liger's legs and attempting to turn him over into a Texas Cloverleaf. Liger fought desperately, kicking Chavo off and sending him stumbling into the ropes. As Chavo rebounded, Liger caught him with a picture-perfect powerslam that shook the ring, then immediately kipped up to a massive ovation. As Chavo rebounded, Liger caught him with a picture-perfect powerslam that shook the ring, then immediately kipped up to a massive ovation. The legend smelled blood in the water. He pulled a dazed Chavo to his feet, hooked him, and lifted him for his ultimate finisher—the vertical-drop Brainbuster! But as Liger held him aloft, Chavo began to fight, raining down fists on Liger's back. In a stunning display of core strength, Chavo flipped over Liger's back, landed on his feet, and immediately hooked Liger from behind into the Gory Special submission hold, threatening to stretch the legend in half! Liger refused to submit, desperately stomping on Chavo's instep to break the grip. As Chavo released the hold, Liger spun around and blasted him with a sudden, sharp spinning heel kick that sent the champion stumbling backward into the corner. The legend was in complete control now. He charged in with a running palm strike that rocked the champion. Liger hoisted Chavo up onto the top turnbuckle, climbing up to join him. The crowd rose to their feet in anticipation as Liger set Chavo up for a superplex, but Chavo fought back with right hands to the ribs, trying to knock Liger off. After a brief struggle on the top rope, Liger delivered a stiff headbutt that stunned Chavo, then grabbed him around the waist and executed a spectacular top-rope belly-to-belly superplex that sent both men crashing to the canvas with sickening impact. The entire arena shook as both competitors lay motionless in the center of the ring.
The referee checked on both men as they slowly began to stir. Liger was up first, feeding off the energy of the Toronto crowd. He pulled Chavo to his feet, but the champion had just enough wherewithal to thumb Liger in the eye once again, buying himself precious recovery time. As Liger recovered, Chavo stumbled to the corner, his desperation overriding his strategy. His hand dipped into his boot, and when it emerged, a metallic glint flashed under the arena lights. With the referee's back turned, Chavo Classic shouted instructions from the apron as his son palmed the brass knuckles and charged. He swung for the fences, a knockout blow intended to preserve his reign, but Liger—moving on pure instinct—sidestepped with impossible speed. The punch met nothing but air. But the champion's momentum was unstoppable. Time seemed to slow as Chavo's trajectory carried him toward the ropes, where his father was perched, ready to interfere. A sickening crack of metal on bone echoed through the arena—not Liger's, but Chavo Classic's. The elder Guerrero's eyes went blank as his son's loaded fist connected squarely with his jaw, sending him flying backward off the apron to the arena floor in a heap. The crowd let out a collective gasp, a sound somewhere between shock and morbid satisfaction.
Chavo froze. The brass knuckles slipped from his numb fingers and clattered to the mat. He turned, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated horror as he stared through the ropes at his fallen father. His hands flew to his head, his mouth agape. It was a fatal, dynasty-crushing mistake. That moment of stunned disbelief was all the weary legend needed. A predator sensing a fatal error, Liger surged forward, grabbing the catatonic champion from behind. He spun Chavo around, and with a final, defiant roar that channeled the energy of the entire building, hoisted him onto his shoulders. A second, definitive Liger Bomb drove the air from Chavo's lungs and shook the very foundation of the ring. Liger collapsed on top for the cover, hooking both legs for good measure. The referee's hand slapped the mat for the final time, a sound nearly drowned out by the explosion of joy from the Toronto crowd. One! Two! Three! A legend had done it.
Winner and NEW Cruiserweight Champion: Jushin Thunder Liger
The official slides the Cruiserweight title into his hands, and Liger sinks to one knee, clutching the gold to his chest and soaking in the roar of the fans. He gets to his feet and climbs the turnbuckle, thrusting the championship high into the air as the arena comes unglued for their new champion. Across the ring, a stunned Chavo Guerrero pushes himself up, the dazed look on his face saying it all. His eyes flick from the celebrating Liger to the absolute carnage at ringside where his father went down. The usual Guerrero arrogance vanishes, replaced by sheer panic. He scrambles under the bottom rope, nearly tripping as he rushes to the wreckage. Officials and paramedics are already swarming the area, where Chavo Classic lies completely still amidst the splintered wood and busted monitors.The cameras give us a split screen that tells two completely different stories. On one side, pure elation: Jushin "Thunder" Liger, the new Cruiserweight Champion, celebrating a legendary victory. And on the other, complete devastation: a frantic Chavo Guerrero kneeling beside his motionless father, his title reign over and his family's legacy shattered in a single, disastrous moment.
[The camera cuts backstage to the trainer's room. The atmosphere is quiet and focused, with medical equipment visible on shelves in the background. Edge sits shirtless on the examination table, his torso already showing the purple and yellow bruising from weeks of targeted attacks. A WWE trainer carefully wraps thick white athletic tape around his ribcage, layering it methodically while Edge grimaces with each breath. Edge stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched, eyes intense and focused.]
[After a moment, WWE interviewer Todd Grisham enters the frame, microphone in hand. He hesitates briefly, seeming almost reluctant to interrupt the tense scene.]
TODD GRISHAM: "Edge... if I could have a moment of your time?"
[Edge doesn't immediately respond, watching as the trainer pulls another strip of tape tight across his ribs. He winces but doesn't make a sound. Finally, he nods toward Todd, giving permission to continue.]
TODD GRISHAM: "Edge, in just a couple of hours, you'll be facing Eddie Guerrero one-on-one. For weeks now, Eddie and Chavo have systematically targeted your injured ribs—chair shots, two-on-one beatdowns, and last week on SmackDown, Eddie pinned you clean in the middle of the ring after another vicious chair attack to that same area. The question everyone is asking is... are you even physically capable of competing tonight?"
[The trainer finishes wrapping the tape and steps back, gathering his supplies. Edge slowly rotates his torso, testing the tightness, his face showing discomfort with every movement. He takes a deep breath—it clearly hurts—and finally looks directly at Todd.]
EDGE: "Am I capable? Todd... look at me."
[Edge gestures to his heavily taped midsection and the visible bruising that extends beyond the wrapping.]
EDGE: "Do I look like I'm at one hundred percent? No. I'm not gonna stand here and lie to you or to these people. Eddie did exactly what he set out to do. He found my weakness, and he exploited it. Week after week, he and his weasel nephew targeted these ribs, and yeah... it worked."
[Edge's voice grows harder, more intense.]
EDGE: "But you know what Eddie didn't count on? He didn't count on the fact that I don't care. I don't care about the pain. I don't care about the risk. Because tonight isn't about being healthy, Todd. Tonight is about retribution."
[Edge slowly slides off the examination table, standing to his full height. He's face-to-face with Todd now, and the intensity in his eyes is almost frightening.]
EDGE: "Eddie Guerrero stood in the ring and desecrated Rey Mysterio's mask—his family, his heritage, his SOUL—and he did it with a smile on his face. He called himself 'liberated.' He said 'Lie, Cheat, Steal' isn't just a t-shirt, it's who he IS. Well, congratulations, Eddie. You showed the whole world who you really are. A selfish, backstabbing coward who'll turn on anyone—even family—to get what he wants."
[Edge takes a step closer to the camera, his voice dropping lower, more personal.]
EDGE: "But here's what you forgot, Eddie. I'm not Rey Mysterio. I'm not gonna stand there and take your verbal abuse and your mind games. I'm Edge, and I've been through HELL to get where I am. You think a few chair shots are gonna stop me? You think targeting my ribs is gonna make me stay home?"
[Edge shakes his head, a dark smile crossing his face.]
EDGE: "Eddie, you made this personal when you put your hands on me. You made it personal when you and Chavo jumped me from behind like the cowards you are. And you REALLY made it personal when you thought you could walk into MY COUNTRY and disrespect me in front of MY PEOPLE!"
[The mention of Canada brings fire to Edge's voice, and he points toward the arena.]
EDGE: "This is Toronto, Eddie! This is MY HOMETOWN! These are sixteen thousand of MY people out there, and they didn't come here to watch me lie down and quit. They came here to watch me FIGHT! They came here to watch me make you PAY for every single cheap shot, every single chairshot, every single time you looked into that camera and smiled after you hurt me."
[Edge's breathing is heavier now, the emotion and intensity pouring out of him.]
EDGE: "So yeah, you can target my ribs all you want tonight. You can bring Chavo. You can bring your whole damn family if that's what it takes to make you feel like a man. But understand this, Eddie—I'm walking into that ring tonight, injured or not, because there is NO WAY I'm giving you the satisfaction of winning by forfeit. There's no way I'm letting you take the easy way out."
[Edge steps even closer to the camera, his face filling the frame.]
EDGE: "You wanted Edge? You wanted to poke the bear? Well, congratulations, Eddie. Tonight, you're gonna get exactly what you asked for. And when I Spear you into the middle of that ring and pin your shoulders to the mat—one, two, three—in front of my entire country, you're gonna realize that targeting my ribs wasn't strategy... it was the biggest mistake of your life."
[Edge's voice becomes almost a growl.]
EDGE: "Because a wounded animal is the most dangerous kind. And tonight, Eddie... you're gonna find out just how dangerous I can be."
[Edge turns and grabs his ring jacket off a nearby chair, slowly pulling it on with visible discomfort. He doesn't look back at Todd as he walks toward the door.]
TODD GRISHAM: "Edge, one final question—"
[Edge stops at the doorway, hand on the frame. He doesn't turn around.]
TODD GRISHAM: "What happens if the pain becomes too much? What happens if—"
EDGE (cutting him off): "Then I'll pass out in that ring with Eddie's shoulders pinned to the mat. But I'm NOT quitting. Not tonight. Not ever."
[Edge walks out of the frame, leaving Todd standing alone in the trainer's room.]
[The camera holds on the empty doorway for a moment before slowly panning down to show the discarded pieces of athletic tape on the floor and a bloodstained towel draped over the examination table—a visual reminder of the physical toll Edge has endured.]
TODD GRISHAM (to camera, almost in disbelief): "Ladies and gentlemen... Edge versus Eddie Guerrero. Later tonight. And after hearing that... I'm not sure ANYTHING is going to stop Edge from getting his revenge."
[The camera fades to black as we hear the muffled roar of the Toronto crowd in the distance.]
[CUT TO: Michael Cole and Tazz at the SmackDown commentary table]
MICHAEL COLE: "Folks, you just heard it from Edge himself. The pain, the determination, the sheer WILL to compete tonight in his hometown. Tazz, I've covered a lot of emotional moments in this business, but that... that was something else."
TAZZ: "Cole, I'm gonna be real with you—I got goosebumps, baby. That man is hurt. You can see it in his eyes, you can see it in the way he's movin'. But he's gonna go out there tonight and fight Eddie Guerrero anyway. That's what HEART looks like, Jones. That's what it means to be a WARRIOR."
MICHAEL COLE: "And speaking of warriors, Tazz, we are moments away from what can only be described as a clash of the titans. This is a rivalry that has gone beyond personal insults and has escalated into pure, unadulterated destruction. Let's take a look at the Tale of the Tape for our next contest."
[A graphic appears on the screen, showing both Goldberg and The Big Show side-by-side with their stats.]
TALE OF THE TAPE
GOLDBERG
THE BIG SHOW
HEIGHT
6'4"
7'0"
WEIGHT
285 lbs.
493 lbs.
FROM
Atlanta, GA
Tampa, FL
FINISHER
Spear / Jackhammer
Chokeslam
MICHAEL COLE: "Tazz, the numbers here are just staggering. A size and weight advantage that is almost unbelievable for The Big Show. We saw it on SmackDown at the weigh-in—a 208-pound difference between these two men."
TAZZ: "Forget the numbers, Cole, look at the recent history! We're talkin' about Big Show flipping a whole production truck with his bare hands! And then Goldberg answers by literally spearing the door off of Show's tour bus! This ain't about who's taller or who weighs more. This is about who can inflict the most damage, and both of these guys are experts in destruction."
GOLDBERG VS. BIG SHOW
The bell rang to begin what promised to be a collision of titans, and the two behemoths wasted absolutely no time, meeting in the center of the ring with a thunderous exchange of right hands that echoed throughout the Air Canada Centre. Goldberg, fueled by weeks of pent-up aggression, landed three consecutive strikes before Big Show used his massive palm to shove the challenger backward into the corner with shocking force. The World's Largest Athlete charged in like a freight train, crushing Goldberg with a massive corner splash that rattled the ring posts. As Goldberg stumbled out of the corner, gasping for air, Big Show grabbed him by the throat with both hands and hurled him across the ring like a ragdoll. Goldberg crashed into the opposite turnbuckles with such impact that the entire ring shook.
Big Show stalked his prey, pulling Goldberg up by the head and delivering a colossal headbutt that sent the hunter staggering. The giant grabbed Goldberg's wrist and sent him into the ropes with an Irish whip, but as Goldberg rebounded, he ducked under Big Show's attempted clothesline and hit the opposite ropes, building momentum. On the rebound, Goldberg launched himself with a flying shoulder block that actually staggered the 500-pound giant backward several steps, drawing a roar from the Toronto crowd. Goldberg immediately capitalized, hitting the ropes again and delivering a second shoulder block that backed Big Show into the ropes. Sensing an opportunity, Goldberg charged once more, but this time Big Show exploded forward with a massive big boot that caught Goldberg flush in the face, turning him inside out and sending him crashing to the canvas.
The giant immediately dropped down for a cover, his massive frame completely engulfing Goldberg's body, but the resilient challenger powered out at two with authority, throwing Big Show off him. Show pulled Goldberg to his feet and delivered a thunderous open-hand chop to the chest that left a bright red handprint and could be heard in the upper deck. He followed with a second chop, then a third, each one backing Goldberg further into the corner. Big Show grabbed Goldberg by the throat, squeezing with his vice-like grip, and lifted him high into the air, walking to the center of the ring to deliver a massive Chokeslam. But as Big Show prepared to drive him down, Goldberg desperately raked at the giant's eyes, forcing him to release his grip. Goldberg landed on his feet behind Big Show and immediately grabbed him around the waist, attempting a German suplex on the 500-pounder. The crowd gasped in disbelief as Goldberg strained with all his might, his face turning red from exertion, but Big Show was simply too massive to lift.
Big Show countered by throwing a back elbow that caught Goldberg in the temple, stunning him. The giant turned around and grabbed Goldberg by the throat once again, this time with both hands, lifting him high overhead in a military press position. Big Show held Goldberg there for a moment, displaying his incredible strength, before launching him over the top rope to the arena floor below. Goldberg crashed hard on the outside, landing awkwardly on his shoulder as the referee began his count. Big Show stepped over the top rope and dropped down to the floor, the impact of his landing reverberating through the ringside area. He grabbed Goldberg and drove him spine-first into the ring apron, then whipped him violently into the steel ring steps. Goldberg collided with the steps with a sickening crash, sending the top portion flying as his body folded over the bottom section.
At the count of seven, Big Show rolled back into the ring, content to take a count-out victory, but Goldberg, showing the intensity that defined his hunt, pulled himself up using the ring apron and rolled back in at nine. As soon as Goldberg was through the ropes, Big Show smothered him, wrapping his massive arms around Goldberg's torso and locking his hands to cinch in a monstrous Bear Hug. Show lifted Goldberg clean off his feet, squeezing the air from his lungs and attempting to crack his ribs. Goldberg's face turned crimson as the crowd tried to rally him. Instead of panicking, Goldberg began hammering the side of the giant's head with repeated clubbing fists—one, two, three—until Big Show's grip finally loosened enough for him to escape. Big Show, angered by the defiance, immediately scooped Goldberg up and drove him down with a massive sidewalk slam that shook the entire ring. The giant hooked the leg for what seemed like an academic cover, but somehow Goldberg kicked out at two, his shoulder shooting off the canvas. Big Show looked frustrated, sitting up and arguing with the referee about the count. He pulled Goldberg to his feet once more and positioned him for a second Chokeslam, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him into the air. But this time, as Goldberg was elevated, he brought his knee up and drove it into Big Show's face, breaking the giant's grip. Goldberg landed on his feet and immediately hit the ropes, building steam as the crowd began to buzz with anticipation.
As Goldberg charged back, Big Show turned to face him, but the hunter lowered his shoulder and drove it into Big Show's midsection with explosive force—SPEAR! The impact was tremendous, and for the first time in the match, the World's Largest Athlete went down, crashing to the canvas as the entire building erupted. Goldberg, feeding off the energy, immediately signaled for the end, slapping his fists together as he stalked the fallen giant. Big Show slowly began to rise, using the ropes to pull himself up to one knee, then to his feet. As he turned around, Goldberg kicked him in the gut, grabbed him around the waist, and with a primal roar that echoed through the arena, lifted all 500 pounds of Big Show off the canvas. The crowd was on its feet as Goldberg held the giant vertical for what seemed like an eternity before driving him down with a thunderous Jackhammer that caused the ring to literally bounce from the impact.
Goldberg hooked the leg, his body draped across Big Show's massive frame as the referee dropped down for the count. One! Two! Big Show's shoulder shot up just before three, and the Toronto crowd gasped in disbelief. Goldberg looked shocked, staring at the referee with wide eyes before pounding the mat in frustration. He rose to his feet, backing into the corner, and began shaking the ropes violently, his intensity reaching a fever pitch as he prepared for another Spear. Big Show slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself up using the ropes, his back to Goldberg. The moment the giant turned around, Goldberg exploded out of the corner like a missile—but Big Show caught him! In one fluid motion, the World's Largest Athlete grabbed the charging Goldberg by the throat with both hands, lifted him high into the air, and drove him down with a catastrophic Chokeslam that nearly put Goldberg through the canvas.
Both men lay motionless in the center of the ring as the referee began his count. The crowd was on its feet, chanting for both competitors. At five, Big Show began to stir, crawling toward Goldberg's body. At seven, he draped his massive arm across Goldberg's chest for the cover. One! Two! Goldberg's shoulder exploded off the mat at 2.9, and the building went absolutely insane. Big Show couldn't believe it, his face a mask of exhaustion and disbelief. He slowly pulled himself to his feet using the ropes, then bent down to grab Goldberg, pulling the smaller man up by his head. But as Big Show attempted to position Goldberg for another move, the hunter suddenly came to life, breaking free and delivering a series of rapid-fire right hands to the giant's midsection.
Goldberg backed into the ropes, building momentum one more time. Big Show, exhausted and moving slower now, turned to face his opponent. Goldberg charged across the ring with every ounce of energy he had left, lowered his shoulder, and drove it into Big Show's gut with a second, even more devastating Spear that folded the giant in half. This time, Big Show went down like a felled redwood, his massive body crashing to the canvas with seismic force. Goldberg, running on pure adrenaline and instinct, immediately grabbed Big Show's legs, struggling to turn the 500-pounder over. With the crowd rallying behind him, Goldberg somehow managed to deadlift the giant once more, holding him vertical in the Jackhammer position. His entire body trembled from the exertion as he held Big Show aloft for three full seconds before dropping to his knees and driving the World's Largest Athlete down with a second Jackhammer.
Goldberg hooked both of Big Show's massive legs, his body completely draped over the giant as the referee slid into position. One! Two! Three!
Winner: Goldberg
The bell goes absolutely nuts, signaling it’s finally over. Goldberg’s theme music hits the speakers and the entire Air Canada Centre just explodes. Goldberg himself just collapses on top of Big Show—he looks like he has nothing left in the tank. For a second, he doesn't move, just gasping for air before he manages to push himself to his knees, letting out this raw, guttural roar that's half exhaustion, half triumph. The ref grabs his arm and holds it high as the ring announcer makes it official: "Here is your winner... GOLDBERG!"
The roar from the crowd seems to be the only thing holding him up as he staggers over to the corner, pulling himself up the ropes to face the fans. Meanwhile, in the middle of all this, Big Show still hasn't moved an inch. A few officials slide into the ring to check on him, but he’s just staring blankly up at the lights, like he can't believe that even his best shot wasn't enough to put Goldberg away. Goldberg finally climbs down and makes his way back up the ramp, looking over his shoulder at the damage he left behind. He pauses at the top of the stage to take it all in one last time. Just an absolute war, but tonight, Goldberg was the one left standing.
The screen fades to black before the haunting strains of “Line in the Sand” echo. Highlights of Triple H, Ric Flair, and Batista strutting down the ramp play as a narrator growls: “For years, Evolution has dominated Raw. The Game, the Nature Boy, and the Animal—united by arrogance, fueled by power.” Brutal images of Batista planting Orton with a spinebuster and Flair raking eyes roll across the screen. “They vowed Randy Orton would be their first casualty.”
Cut to WrestleMania XX: the thunder of Madison Square Garden as Orton battles Batista. Batista hoists Orton for the Batista Bomb, but in a flash Orton counters with an RKO, then stalks his prey, delivering a venomous punt kick that silences The Animal and secures the three-count. Jim Ross’ voice roars: “Randy Orton just put down Batista!” The narrator cuts in: “On the grandest stage of them all, the Legend Killer proved that even Evolution could be killed.”
But the images turn dark. Evolution’s retaliation flashes—Batista spinebustering Orton through the mat, Flair yanking him out of the ring, Triple H sliding in the sledgehammer. The narrator growls: “They could not accept defeat… so they came for revenge.” Clips show the merciless beatdown weeks later, Orton bloodied but defiantly shouting: “I’m still standing… and I’m still fighting!”
Then the scene shifts—AJ Styles’ thunderous debut. Springboard forearms, Pele Kicks, the Houston crowd on its feet. “And then… the Phenomenal One arrived. A man with nothing to lose, and everything to prove.” We see Styles clearing the ring, flooring Flair and Batista before standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Orton. Styles’ voice echoes: “Orton—you need a partner at Backlash? You got one.”
The rivalry intensifies in quick cuts: Flair’s low blows, Batista blindsiding Styles, Orton charging the ring for the save. Then the shocking image: Styles countering Triple H’s Pedigree, connecting with a Pele Kick and drilling The Game with the Styles Clash. Jim Ross’ voice: “My God, Styles just beat Triple H!”
The narrator’s tone drops low: “Evolution… legends of the past. Orton and Styles… the future. At Backlash, two generations collide in a war for survival. Evolution will do whatever it takes to destroy the uprising. But together… the Legend Killer and the Phenomenal One are ready to carve their own legacy.”
The final montage is chaos: Orton punting Batista at WrestleMania, AJ hitting the Styles Clash, Flair chopping, Batista roaring, Orton striking with the RKO, and the four men brawling wildly. The screen fades to black as Orton’s voice echoes: “Evolution’s days are over.” Styles adds: “We are… phenomenal.”
The Backlash logo slams onto the screen with the match graphic: Randy Orton & AJ Styles vs. Ric Flair & Batista – This Sunday.
TAG TEAM MATCH - RANDY ORTON & AJ STYLES vs. BATISTA & RIC FLAIR
The bell rang to begin what would become an instant classic, and the tension was immediately palpable as all four men stood in their respective corners, eyes locked across the ring. After a brief discussion, AJ Styles started for his team while Ric Flair stepped through the ropes for Evolution. The two circled each other cautiously, the sixteen-time World Champion talking trash and doing his signature strut to intimidate the newcomer. They locked up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up, with Flair using his veteran savvy to transition into a side headlock. Styles immediately shoved him off into the ropes, and as Flair rebounded, the Phenomenal One leapfrogged over him, then dropped down as Flair hit the opposite ropes. On the third rebound, Styles caught Flair with a picture-perfect Japanese arm drag that sent the Nature Boy sliding across the canvas. Flair popped up quickly, his face showing surprise, and Styles responded with his signature pose, drawing a huge ovation from the Toronto crowd.
Flair, visibly frustrated, charged at Styles, but the younger competitor caught him with a drop toe hold, then immediately floated over into a front facelock, wrenching on the legend's neck. Flair worked his way to his feet and backed Styles into the ropes, forcing a break. As the referee stepped between them, Flair delivered a thumb to Styles' eye, then unleashed a blistering knife-edge chop that echoed through the arena. A second chop followed, then a third, each one backing Styles further into the corner. Flair grabbed Styles' wrist and attempted an Irish whip across the ring, but Styles reversed it, sending Flair into the opposite corner. The Nature Boy hit the turnbuckles and immediately did his famous flip over the top rope to the apron, but as he tried to run along the apron, Styles anticipated it and caught him with a dropkick that sent Flair crashing to the arena floor.
Styles hit the ropes and launched himself through the middle and top rope with a suicide dive that crashed into Flair on the outside, drawing a massive pop from the crowd. Both men were down on the floor as the referee began his count. At four, Styles pulled himself up and rolled Flair back into the ring. He followed him in and made the cover, hooking the leg, but Flair kicked out at two. Styles pulled Flair to his feet and whipped him into his corner, where Randy Orton stood with his hand extended. Styles tagged in the Legend Killer, and the crowd erupted as Orton finally entered the match. Orton immediately went to work, grabbing Flair and delivering a series of European uppercuts that backed the Nature Boy into the corner. He whipped Flair across the ring into the opposite corner and charged in with a running clothesline that connected flush.
As Flair stumbled out of the corner, Orton grabbed him and executed a perfect scoop slam in the center of the ring. Orton hit the ropes and dropped a jumping knee drop across Flair's forehead, then hooked the leg for a cover that got a two-count. Orton pulled Flair up and delivered his signature standing dropkick that sent Flair sprawling backward into the ropes. The Nature Boy bounced off and walked directly into Orton's grip, and the Legend Killer planted him with his signature backbreaker, holding Flair across his knee and pushing down on his chin and leg to maximize the pressure. Flair screamed in pain but refused to submit, eventually managing to slide off Orton's knee and roll toward his corner. Before he could make the tag, Orton grabbed his ankle and dragged him back to the center of the ring, then tagged in AJ Styles.
Styles entered through the top rope with a slingshot, driving both feet into Flair's midsection with a double stomp. He immediately went for a cover, but Flair kicked out at two. Styles pulled the legend to his feet and whipped him into the ropes, but Flair held onto the ropes to stop his momentum. As Styles charged in, Flair pulled down the top rope, causing Styles to tumble over and crash to the arena floor. Flair collapsed to one knee, exhausted from the sustained assault, and began crawling toward his corner where Batista had his massive arm extended, desperate for the tag. Just as Flair's fingertips were about to reach Batista's hand, Styles slid back into the ring and grabbed Flair's ankle, dragging him away from his corner. Flair turned onto his back and kicked Styles off with both feet, sending the Phenomenal One stumbling backward. Flair dove forward and finally made the tag to Batista.
The Animal exploded into the ring like a man possessed, and Styles immediately charged at him, only to be caught and driven down with a thunderous spinebuster that shook the entire ring. Orton entered to help his partner, but Batista caught him with a massive shoulder block that sent the Legend Killer flying backward through the ropes to the outside. Batista turned his attention back to Styles, pulling him up by his head and delivering a brutal headbutt that staggered the smaller man. The Animal whipped Styles into the corner with tremendous force, and Styles hit the turnbuckles so hard that he bounced out and collapsed to the mat. Batista dragged Styles to his feet and hoisted him onto his shoulder, walking to the center of the ring before driving him down with a running powerslam. He hooked the leg for a cover, but Styles kicked out at two, showing his incredible resilience.
Batista tagged Flair back in, and the Nature Boy had recovered enough to take advantage of Batista's dominance. Flair grabbed Styles' leg and delivered a series of knee drops directly to the knee joint, methodically working over the limb. He grabbed both of Styles' legs and stepped through, looking to apply his legendary Figure Four Leglock, but as he turned to complete the hold, Styles used his core strength to sit up and catch Flair with a small package. The referee dropped down: one, two, Flair barely kicked out. Both men scrambled to their feet, and Flair charged at Styles, who caught him with a perfectly-timed Pele Kick that connected flush with Flair's jaw. Both men were down, and the referee began his count as the Toronto crowd rallied behind both teams.
At seven, both competitors began crawling toward their respective corners. Flair reached Batista first, making the tag, but Styles dove and tagged in Randy Orton just a split second later. Orton exploded into the ring, ducking under a clothesline attempt from Batista and hitting the ropes. On the rebound, Orton leaped and connected with a flying forearm that staggered the much larger Batista. Orton immediately kipped up to his feet, feeding off the crowd's energy, and caught Batista with a series of right hands that backed him into the corner. Orton whipped Batista across the ring, but the Animal reversed it, sending Orton into the opposite corner instead. Batista charged in for a splash, but Orton moved at the last second, causing Batista to crash chest-first into the turnbuckles.
As Batista stumbled backward, Orton grabbed him and executed a beautiful bridging German suplex, holding it for the pin. One, two, Batista powered out, throwing Orton off him with authority. Both men got to their feet, and Batista swung wildly with a clothesline, but Orton ducked under it and caught Batista with a perfectly-executed powerslam that brought the crowd to their feet. Seeing Styles was back on the apron, Orton nodded and dragged Batista toward their corner. Orton hoisted the Animal up into a powerbomb lift as Styles springboarded off the top rope, connecting with a Phenomenal Forearm that knocked Batista backward, allowing Orton to drive him down with the powerbomb! A perfect combination! Styles, now the legal man, went for the cover! One! Two! Flair dove in at the last possible second to break up the pin!. This brought Styles into the ring, and he charged at Flair, clotheslining the Nature Boy over the top rope, with both men tumbling to the arena floor.
In the ring, Orton pulled himself to his feet using the ropes, and as he turned around, Batista caught him with a massive spear that nearly cut him in half. The Animal roared and signaled for the Batista Bomb, pulling Orton up and positioning him between his legs. He lifted Orton onto his shoulders, but the Legend Killer fought back, delivering a series of elbows to the top of Batista's head. Orton managed to slide down Batista's back and land on his feet behind him. As Batista turned around, Orton kicked him in the gut and grabbed him in a front facelock, looking for an RKO, but Batista shoved him off with his superior power, sending Orton crashing into the referee. The official went down hard, clutching his shoulder.
With the referee incapacitated, Flair slid back into the ring with a steel chair. He swung it at Orton's head, but the Legend Killer ducked, and the chair bounced off the top rope, ricocheting back into Flair's face. Flair dropped the chair and stumbled backward, dazed. Styles, seeing the opening, springboarded off the top rope and caught Flair with a phenomenal forearm that sent the Nature Boy crashing to the mat and rolling out of the ring. Meanwhile, Batista had recovered and charged at Orton, but the Legend Killer sidestepped and pushed Batista chest-first into the corner. As the Animal stumbled backward, Orton grabbed him and planted him with a massive RKO in the center of the ring. The crowd erupted, but there was no referee to make the count.
Orton tried to revive the official as Styles re-entered the ring. Flair, bleeding from a cut on his forehead where the chair had hit him, slowly pulled himself onto the apron. Styles saw him and charged, hitting the ropes and launching himself with a slingshot plancha that caught Flair on the apron, sending both men crashing to the floor once again. In the ring, a second referee sprinted down the entrance ramp and slid into the ring. Orton covered the still-motionless Batista. One, two, Batista's shoulder shot up just before three, and the Toronto crowd couldn't believe it.
Orton, exhausted and frustrated, pulled himself to his feet and began stalking Batista, dropping to the mat and pounding it with both fists, measuring the Animal for another RKO. As Batista slowly rose to his feet, clearly on dream street, Orton charged forward. But at the last second, Flair reached up from the outside and grabbed Orton's ankle through the ropes, tripping him and causing him to fall face-first to the canvas. Batista, given a momentary reprieve, shook the cobwebs loose and grabbed Orton, pulling him up between his legs. This time, he successfully lifted Orton onto his shoulders and drove him down with a thunderous Batista Bomb.
Before Batista could make the cover, AJ Styles was back in the ring. He leaped onto the top turnbuckle with cat-like agility and launched himself with a spectacular Spiral Tap that crashed down onto Batista's back, breaking up what would have been a certain pinfall. All four men were now down in and around the ring, completely spent. Flair crawled along the outside, using the apron to pull himself up. Inside the ring, Styles grabbed Batista and pulled him to his feet, delivering a series of rapid-fire strikes—forearms, chops, and kicks—that had the Animal reeling. Styles hit the ropes and charged at Batista, but the Animal caught him and spun him around into a spinebuster position. However, Styles countered mid-move, using his momentum to swing his body around and catch Batista with a headscissors takedown that sent the Animal tumbling through the ropes to the arena floor.
Styles saw Flair trying to enter the ring on the opposite side and charged at him, but Flair dropped down and pulled the top rope with him, causing Styles to tumble over and crash to the floor. Inside the ring, Orton had recovered and was back on his feet. Batista climbed onto the apron, still groggy from the accumulated punishment. Flair slid back into the ring and charged at Orton, but the Legend Killer caught him with a snap scoop powerslam that planted the Nature Boy in the center of the ring. As Orton rose to his feet, Batista stepped through the ropes to re-enter the ring. Orton saw him coming and charged, leaping and catching Batista with a jumping RKO as the Animal's feet touched the canvas.
With Batista down, Orton turned his attention to Flair, who was using the ropes to pull himself up in the corner. Orton grabbed Flair, turned him around, and positioned him for the RKO, but Flair shoved him off toward the ropes. As Orton rebounded, Styles made a blind tag by slapping Orton's back as he passed by the corner. Orton continued forward and ducked under Flair's attempted clothesline. As Flair spun around, Styles springboarded off the top rope and caught Flair in mid-air with a forearm to the face, knocking Flair to the mat. Styles then swiftly proceeded to grab him and drive him down with his devastating Styles Clash finisher. The impact was brutal, and Flair lay motionless as Styles hooked both legs. The referee dropped into position: one, two, three! The bell rang at 18:03 as the Toronto crowd exploded in celebration.
Winners: Randy Orton and AJ Styles
Orton and Styles' music hit as both men embraced in the center of the ring, exhausted but victorious. They had done it—they had defeated Evolution. The referee raised both of their arms as they climbed the turnbuckles to celebrate with the crowd. Batista rolled out of the ring, clutching his head, furious at the loss. Inside the ring, Ric Flair slowly began to stir, completely unaware of where he was or what had happened.
As Orton and Styles celebrated on the entrance ramp, the camera cut back to the ring where Ric Flair was using the ropes to pull himself to his feet. He was bleeding from the earlier chair shot, his hair matted with blood, and his legs were shaking from exhaustion. Batista, still seething on the outside, suddenly rolled back into the ring. Flair turned to face his partner, expecting sympathy or solidarity, and extended his hand for help.
Instead, Batista's face twisted into a mask of pure rage. Without warning, the Animal grabbed Flair by the throat with both hands and hurled him backward into the corner with shocking violence. The Nature Boy's eyes went wide with confusion and fear as Batista charged in and crushed him with a devastating corner clothesline that sent Flair crumpling to the mat. The Toronto crowd, which had been celebrating just moments earlier, fell into a stunned silence.
Batista pulled Flair up by his hair and positioned him between his legs, lifting him high onto his shoulders before driving him down with a catastrophic Batista Bomb that shook the entire ring. Flair's body folded like an accordion, and he lay completely motionless. But Batista wasn't finished. His face contorted with years of pent-up frustration, the Animal pulled Flair up once more, the Nature Boy's legs completely unable to support his weight. Batista hoisted him up and delivered a second Batista Bomb, this one even more vicious than the first.
The crowd began to boo as Batista stood over his fallen mentor, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with emotion. He looked down at Flair's broken body with no remorse, only cold satisfaction. Officials and referees sprinted down the entrance ramp, sliding into the ring to check on Flair and to separate Batista from his victim. The Animal shoved past them, stepping over Flair's motionless form without a second glance, and walked up the entrance ramp alone to a chorus of deafening boos. The camera focused on Ric Flair lying unconscious in the ring, medics now surrounding him, as Backlash went to a commercial break with one of the most shocking betrayals in WWE history hanging in the air.
When Backlash returned from commercial break, the camera cut backstage to a chaotic scene. Batista was walking through the corridor, still in his ring gear, sweat dripping from his body, when suddenly Triple H stormed into the frame from the opposite direction. The Game's face was crimson with rage, his eyes blazing as he got directly in Batista's face.
TRIPLE H: "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO?!"
Batista didn't back down, standing nose-to-nose with his former leader.
BATISTA: "What I should have done a LONG time ago."
TRIPLE H: "You just attacked Ric Flair! You just attacked OUR partner! We built this together, Dave! EVOLUTION is—"
BATISTA (cutting him off): "Evolution is DEAD, Hunter. It died the second you couldn't get the job done. It died when you tapped out at WrestleMania. It died when that kid Orton was RIGHT about us!"
Triple H's face went from red to purple, his fists clenching at his sides.
TRIPLE H: "Right about what?!"
BATISTA: "That you're holding me back! That Flair is washed up! That Evolution isn't about the FUTURE—it's about protecting YOUR past!"
TRIPLE H (stepping closer, voice low and dangerous): "You better watch your mouth—"
BATISTA (shoving Triple H backward): "Or what? You gonna do something about it? Because I HOPE you win that World Title tonight, Hunter. I REALLY do."
Triple H looked confused for a moment, his anger mixing with surprise.
TRIPLE H: "Why would you—"
BATISTA: "Because the next step in MY career is winning the World Heavyweight Championship. And I would LOVE... absolutely LOVE... to take it from YOU."
The two men stood in tense silence, the air thick with the threat of violence. Batista took a step forward, getting right back in Triple H's face.
BATISTA: "You want to know the truth? Randy was right. Evolution WAS an anchor. But not anymore. Because I just cut it loose."
TRIPLE H (seething): "You just made the biggest mistake of your life."
BATISTA: "No, Hunter. Staying in your shadow for two years was the biggest mistake of MY life. But that's over now."
Batista deliberately bumped shoulders with Triple H as he walked past him, not looking back. Triple H stood there, his entire body shaking with rage, his fists still clenched, staring daggers into Batista's back as the Animal disappeared around the corner. The Game's eyes narrowed as he processed what had just happened—Evolution had imploded, and a new threat to his championship aspirations had just emerged from within.
TRIPLE H (to himself, barely audible): "You're gonna regret this..."
The camera held on Triple H's furious face as the scene faded to black, the shockwaves of Batista's betrayal and declaration rippling through the entire landscape of Monday Night Raw.
WOMEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP - LITA (c) vs. GAIL KIM
The bell rang to begin what would become an instant classic in women's wrestling, and the contrast in styles was immediately apparent. Gail Kim stood in her corner with cold, calculated focus, her eyes locked on the heavily-taped midsection of champion Lita, who bounced on her toes trying to shake off the obvious discomfort. The two women circled each other cautiously before locking up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up. Gail immediately used her technical prowess to transition into a side headlock, but Lita shoved her off into the ropes. As Gail rebounded, Lita leapfrogged over her, but as she landed, a visible wince crossed her face as her ribs protested the movement. Gail hit the opposite ropes and came back with a shoulder block that sent Lita down to the canvas. Gail hit the ropes again, stepping over Lita as she rolled onto her stomach, but as the challenger came back on the third pass, Lita exploded up with a hip toss that sent Gail across the ring.
Both women scrambled to their feet simultaneously, and Gail charged forward, only to be caught with a deep arm drag from the champion. Gail popped up again, and Lita hit a second arm drag, this time holding onto the arm and transitioning into an armbar, wrenching on Gail's shoulder. The challenger worked her way to her feet, but Lita maintained control of the arm, twisting it and delivering a short-arm clothesline that took Gail down. Lita held onto the wrist and delivered a second short-arm clothesline, then a third, each one showing the champion's fighting spirit despite her injury. Lita pulled Gail to her feet and whipped her into the corner, charging in with a running clothesline that connected flush. As Gail stumbled out of the corner, Lita grabbed her and executed a beautiful snapmare, then hit the ropes and connected with a low dropkick to Gail's face. Lita hooked the leg for the cover, but Gail kicked out at one.
Lita pulled Gail up and delivered a series of forearm strikes to the face, backing the challenger into the ropes. She grabbed Gail's wrist and attempted an Irish whip, but Gail reversed it, sending Lita into the ropes instead. As the champion rebounded, Gail dropped down to her stomach, forcing Lita to jump over her. Lita hit the opposite ropes, and as she came back, Gail leaped up and caught her with a perfectly-timed dropkick that connected squarely with Lita's taped ribs. The champion immediately collapsed to the mat, clutching her midsection as pain shot through her body. Gail's expression remained cold and emotionless as she immediately pounced on the injury, delivering a calculated stomp directly to Lita's ribcage. Gail pulled Lita to her feet and drove a knee into her injured ribs, doubling the champion over. She grabbed Lita around the waist from behind and executed a picture-perfect German suplex, bridging for the pin. One, two, Lita kicked out, but the damage to her ribs was evident as she rolled to the corner, trying to create distance. Gail stalked her prey methodically, pulling Lita up in the corner and delivering a series of shoulder thrusts directly into the taped midsection. One, two, three, four consecutive shoulder blocks drove the air from Lita's lungs as the referee warned Gail about the corner. Gail backed off momentarily, then charged in with a running knee strike that caught Lita in the ribs, causing the champion to slump in the corner.
Gail dragged Lita to the center of the ring and delivered a gutbuster, dropping to one knee and driving Lita's midsection across her extended leg. Lita rolled away in agony, and Gail covered her immediately. One, two, Lita's shoulder came off the mat, showing the heart that had made her champion. Gail showed no frustration, simply continuing her systematic assault. She pulled Lita up and hooked her arms, delivering a double underhook backbreaker that once again targeted the injured ribs. Gail floated over into a lateral press: one, two, another kickout from the champion. Gail transitioned smoothly, grabbing Lita's legs and stepping through, looking to apply a Boston crab. As she turned Lita over, the champion screamed in pain as the hold bent her spine and compressed her injured ribs. Lita clawed desperately toward the ropes, the Toronto crowd rallying behind her with chants of "Let's go Lita!" The champion inched closer and closer, her fingertips finally grasping the bottom rope. The referee called for the break, and Gail released the hold at the count of four, showing a slight hint of frustration for the first time. Lita used the ropes to pull herself up, still favoring her ribs, and as she turned around, Gail charged at her with a clothesline intended to send her over the top rope. However, Lita ducked at the last second, pulling down the top rope, and Gail's momentum carried her tumbling over and crashing to the arena floor.
With Gail on the outside, Lita took a moment to catch her breath and assess her injury. As the challenger pulled herself up using the barricade, Lita hit the ropes and launched herself through the middle and top rope with a suicide dive that crashed into Gail, sending both women into the barricade. The high-risk move took as much out of Lita as it did Gail, and the champion clutched her ribs immediately after impact, having sacrificed her body to shift momentum. Both women lay on the arena floor as the referee began his count. At five, Lita stirred first, rolling Gail back into the ring before climbing onto the apron. As Lita prepared to re-enter through the ropes, Gail recovered and charged, delivering a baseball slide dropkick that caught Lita in the ribs and sent her flying off the apron, crashing back-first into the barricade.
Gail rolled out to the floor and grabbed Lita, ramming her spine into the ring apron before rolling her back inside. Gail climbed to the top turnbuckle, measuring the fallen champion. As Lita slowly rose to her hands and knees, Gail launched herself with a missile dropkick that caught Lita flush in the side, sending her sprawling. Gail crawled into the cover, hooking the leg aggressively. One, two, Lita kicked out at 2.7, and the crowd erupted. Gail sat up, running her hands through her hair, beginning to show cracks in her emotionless facade. She pulled Lita to her feet and positioned her for a vertical suplex, lifting her high into the air and holding her there, allowing gravity to work on the champion's injured ribs. After a full five seconds, Gail drove Lita down, but instead of going for a cover, she floated over and pulled Lita back up, delivering a second vertical suplex. Again, she held Lita inverted, letting the blood rush to her head before driving her down.
Gail went for the cover: one, two, Lita's shoulder shot up just before three. The challenger pulled Lita to her feet once more and whipped her into the corner. She charged in with a handspring back elbow, her signature move, but at the last second, Lita moved out of the way. Gail crashed back-first into the turnbuckles and stumbled backward directly into Lita's grip. The champion, running on pure adrenaline, grabbed Gail and drove her down with a Russian legsweep. Both women were down, and the referee began his count. At six, both competitors started to stir. At eight, they reached their feet simultaneously, though Lita was noticeably slower due to her injury. Gail struck first, charging at Lita, but the champion caught her with a back elbow that staggered the challenger. Lita hit a forearm strike, then another, building momentum despite the pain. She grabbed Gail's wrist and whipped her into the ropes, and as the challenger rebounded, Lita caught her with a tilt-a-whirl headscissors takedown that sent Gail tumbling across the ring. The crowd was fully behind Lita now as she fed off their energy. Gail got to her feet and charged again, but Lita caught her with a drop toe hold that sent her face-first into the middle turnbuckle. As Gail staggered backward, Lita grabbed her from behind and executed a snap German suplex, bridging for the pin. One, two, Gail kicked out.
Lita pulled herself to her feet, signaling to the crowd that she was going for her signature move. She grabbed Gail and positioned her for the Twist of Fate, hooking her head and arm. But just as Lita prepared to spin and drive Gail down, the challenger shoved her off, sending Lita stumbling into the ropes. As Lita rebounded, Gail caught her with a spinning back kick that connected directly with the taped ribs. Lita doubled over in agony, and Gail immediately grabbed her, hooking her arms and lifting her into the air before driving her down with a devastating dragon suplex. Gail held the bridge: one, two, Lita barely got her shoulder up. Gail slapped the mat in frustration and pulled Lita up, positioning her for her finishing move, the Happy Ending. She hooked Lita's head and lifted her into the air in a reverse suplex position, but as she prepared to sit out and drive Lita's face into the canvas, the champion shifted her weight and managed to slip out behind Gail, landing on her feet. Lita immediately grabbed Gail from behind and pushed her chest-first into the corner. As Gail staggered backward, Lita rolled her up with a schoolgirl pin, grabbing a handful of tights for leverage. One, two, Gail kicked out with authority, sending Lita rolling across the ring.
Both women scrambled to their feet, and Gail charged with a clothesline, but Lita ducked under it. As Gail spun around, Lita grabbed her and finally connected with the Twist of Fate, driving Gail's face into the canvas. The crowd erupted, but Lita was too exhausted and injured to make an immediate cover. After several seconds, she draped her arm across Gail's chest. One, two, Gail's shoulder came off the mat at 2.9, and the Toronto crowd couldn't believe it. Lita lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, trying to will her body to move despite the screaming pain in her ribs. Using every ounce of remaining energy, Lita crawled to the corner and began climbing the turnbuckles, moving slowly due to her injury. She reached the top rope and steadied herself, looking down at the still-motionless Gail Kim. The crowd rose to their feet in anticipation as Lita stood tall on the top turnbuckle, then launched herself into the air with her signature moonsault. But Gail, showing her ring awareness, rolled out of the way at the last possible second. Lita crashed and burned, landing hard on her injured ribs. She immediately rolled onto her side, writhing in agony as Gail slowly pulled herself to her feet.
Gail grabbed Lita and positioned her once more for the Happy Ending. She lifted Lita into the air in the reverse suplex position, but as she sat out to complete the move, Lita used her core strength to counter mid-move, rotating her body and landing on her feet. Before Gail could react, Lita grabbed her head and arm and spun, driving her down with a second Twist of Fate. This time, Lita immediately draped her arm over Gail for the cover. One, two, three! The bell rang at 9:47 as Lita's music hit and the crowd erupted.
Winner and Still Womens Champion: Lita
As Lita’s music filled the arena, the victorious champion remained on the canvas, too exhausted and hurt to celebrate immediately. While a furious Gail Kim stormed out of the ring in disbelief, the referee helped the battered Lita to her knees and handed her the Women's Championship. Clutching her injured ribs with one hand, Lita used the ropes to pull herself to her feet, raising the title high in the air with the other to a thunderous standing ovation from the Toronto crowd. The image was clear as she slowly made her way up the ramp: the champion was battered, bruised, and in agony, but she was leaving with her title, having earned it through sheer force of will.
EDGE/GUERRERO VIDEO PACKAGE
The screen opens on a cold montage of WrestleMania XX — Edge limping down the aisle of Madison Square Garden, ribs bound, his comeback story drenched in grit. He dives through Lesnar’s fury, blood staining his face, every spear delivered like a scream of defiance. The narrator’s voice cuts in, solemn yet sharp: “At WrestleMania, Edge’s return was supposed to be redemption. But in a night built on legacies, survival came at a price.” Brock Lesnar looms, still champion, but the footage shifts sharply—Eddie Guerrero, smiling through the storm, holding Rey Mysterio’s sacred mask high in the air.
The boos rain down in echo as Eddie sneers: “Lie, Cheat, Steal… it ain’t just a t-shirt. It’s who we are!” Clips flash of him grinding Rey’s mask into the canvas, stomping it beneath his boot. His words cut deep—“Rey was dead weight. Blood is thicker than water. And Mysterio, you ain’t blood.” The image lingers: Eddie clutching the mask like a crown of treachery.
Suddenly, the crowd roars as Edge interrupts. Bruised, battered, but unbroken, he storms the ring, voice raw with disgust: “You’re pathetic, Eddie. You’re a coward.” Their first brawl unfolds in a fury of fists, Edge’s righteous anger colliding with Eddie’s venom. Guerrero escapes, mask in hand, smirk etched across his face. The music dips darker. “For Eddie Guerrero, betrayal isn’t weakness. It’s power. For Edge, vengeance became the only way forward.”
The story builds. SmackDown footage shows Guerrero lurking in shadows, joined by Chavo Jr., blindsiding Edge backstage. They slam him into steel, driving chairs into his taped ribs, exploiting every scar from WrestleMania. Eddie’s voice echoes through the assault: “We are united. We are family. And Edge… you are nothing.” Edge writhes on the ground, the camera closing on Guerrero’s eyes, burning with cruelty.
From there, the chaos boils over. Teddy Long announces a blockbuster main event: Edge & John Cena against Brock Lesnar & Eddie Guerrero. The footage cuts in rhythm with the music—Edge throwing Spears with reckless fury, Eddie breaking pins, Brock glaring at his partner, tension splitting the ring in half. The turning point plays in slow motion: Lesnar, enraged, hoisting Eddie up and planting him with a thunderous F-5. The Beast storms out, leaving Guerrero lifeless. The crescendo hits—Edge exploding with one last Spear, pinning Eddie to the roar of the crowd.
But victory doesn’t end wars. The narrator’s tone sharpens: “For Guerrero, every defeat is just another chance to deceive. For Edge, every victory is only fuel for the fire.” The screen splits—Eddie clutching Rey’s desecrated mask with twisted pride, Edge clutching his ribs but pointing straight into the camera, eyes blazing with vengeance.
The final minute swells with rapid cuts—Eddie’s smirks, Edge’s Spears, the Guerreros’ ambushes, Edge crawling back to his feet every time. Eddie’s words echo: “Family first.” Edge counters, his voice defiant: “I will not stop until you’re finished.” The music erupts into its peak, images colliding like thunder—mask torn, chair swung, spear delivered, blood spilled.
And then silence. A slow-motion replay of Edge standing over Eddie Guerrero, chest heaving, eyes locked not in celebration, but in war. The narrator delivers the final line: “One fueled by lies. The other by vengeance. Eddie Guerrero. Edge. This is not about victory. This is about survival.”
The screen slams to black. A final boom. The logo strikes the silence: “Edge vs. Eddie Guerrero.”
EDGE vs. EDDIE GUERRERO
The bell rang to begin what would become an instant classic, and the electricity in the Air Canada Centre was palpable as hometown hero Edge stared across the ring at Eddie Guerrero. The Toronto crowd was deafening in their support for Edge, who stood in his corner with his heavily-taped ribs visible beneath his ring gear. Eddie, sensing the hostile environment, smirked and did his signature shimmy, drawing nuclear heat from the Canadian faithful. The two men slowly approached each other in the center of the ring, neither breaking eye contact, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Eddie extended his hand for a handshake, playing to his "Lie, Cheat, Steal" mantra, but Edge immediately slapped it away and unloaded with a series of right hands that backed Eddie into the corner.
Edge unleashed his fury, delivering punch after punch to Eddie's face as the crowd roared their approval. The referee warned Edge about the closed fists, but Edge was beyond caring, his quest for revenge overriding any adherence to the rules. He grabbed Eddie's wrist and whipped him across the ring into the opposite corner, then charged in with a running clothesline that connected flush. As Eddie stumbled out of the corner, Edge grabbed him and executed a perfect scoop slam in the center of the ring. Edge hit the ropes and attempted a jumping elbow drop, but Eddie rolled out of the way, causing Edge to crash elbow-first into the canvas. Both men scrambled to their feet, and Eddie immediately went on the attack, delivering a dropkick that caught Edge square in the chest and sent him stumbling backward into the ropes.
Eddie charged at Edge, but the hometown hero ducked down and back-body-dropped Eddie over the top rope. However, Eddie's veteran instincts kicked in, and he landed on the ring apron rather than the floor. As Edge turned around, Eddie grabbed the top rope and launched himself, connecting with a springboard shoulder block that took Edge down. Eddie immediately went for a cover, hooking the leg. One, two, Edge powered out emphatically. Eddie pulled Edge to his feet and delivered a knife-edge chop that echoed through the arena, then a second, then a third, each one backing Edge further into the corner. Eddie grabbed Edge's wrist and attempted an Irish whip, but Edge reversed it, sending Eddie into the corner instead. Edge charged in, but Eddie got his boot up, catching Edge flush in the jaw and staggering him backward.
Eddie hoisted himself onto the second turnbuckle and launched himself with a diving crossbody, but Edge caught him in mid-air, showcasing his strength despite his injury. Edge adjusted Eddie's position on his shoulder and drove him down with a running powerslam that shook the ring. Edge hooked the leg for the cover: one, two, Eddie kicked out. Edge pulled Eddie to his feet and whipped him into the ropes, and as Eddie rebounded, Edge caught him with a picture-perfect flapjack that sent Eddie crashing face-first into the canvas. Edge rolled Eddie over and hooked the leg again: one, two, another kickout from Latino Heat.
Edge, feeling the adrenaline of performing in his hometown, pulled Eddie up and positioned him for an early Edgecution DDT. He hooked Eddie's head, but before he could execute the move, Eddie grabbed Edge's taped ribs and squeezed with both hands, his fingers digging into the injured area. Edge immediately released the hold, crying out in pain as Eddie shoved him backward into the corner. Eddie charged in and drove his shoulder directly into Edge's taped midsection, then delivered a second shoulder thrust, then a third. Each impact drove the air from Edge's lungs as the targeted assault on his pre-existing injury began in earnest. Eddie pulled Edge out of the corner and delivered a gutbuster, dropping to one knee and driving Edge's ribs across his extended leg. Edge rolled away, clutching his midsection, but Eddie was relentless, immediately stomping on the injured area repeatedly.
Eddie dragged Edge to the center of the ring and delivered a vertical suplex, holding Edge inverted in the air for several seconds to let gravity work on his ribs before driving him down. Eddie floated over for the cover: one, two, Edge got his shoulder up. Eddie pulled Edge to his feet and whipped him into the corner, then charged in with a running clothesline that sandwiched Edge against the turnbuckles. As Edge stumbled forward, Eddie grabbed him from behind and executed a German suplex, bridging for the pin. One, two, Edge kicked out, but the pain in his ribs was becoming more evident with each passing moment. Eddie transitioned smoothly, pulling Edge up and hooking him for a second German suplex. He bridged again: one, two, another kickout from the resilient Edge.
Eddie, sensing he had found the key to victory, continued his systematic assault. He pulled Edge to the center of the ring and locked in a deep abdominal stretch, grapevining his leg around Edge’s to add pressure. As the referee's view was obstructed, Eddie brazenly grabbed the top rope for extra leverage, wrenching back on Edge's already-injured torso. The crowd screamed in protest as Edge’s face contorted in agony. After several agonizing seconds, the referee caught the infraction and forced the break. Eddie argued with the official, but the damage was done, leaving Edge gasping for air on the canvas.
The referee began his count. At six, Edge stirred, using the ropes to pull himself up as Eddie met him. They met in the center of the ring and began exchanging right hands—Edge, Eddie, Edge, Eddie—the crowd counting along with each of Edge's punches. Edge began to get the better of the exchange, backing Eddie into the ropes. He grabbed Eddie's wrist and whipped him across the ring, and as Eddie rebounded, Edge caught him with a spinning heel kick that sent Eddie crashing to the mat. Edge, feeding off the energy of his hometown crowd, pulled Eddie to his feet and whipped him into the corner. He charged in with a running forearm that connected flush, then grabbed Eddie and executed a running bulldog out of the corner, driving Eddie's face into the canvas.
Edge crawled to the cover, draping his arm across Eddie's chest. One, two, Eddie kicked out at 2.5. Edge pulled himself to his feet and grabbed Eddie, positioning him for Edgecution DDT. He hooked Eddie's head and prepared to spin, but Eddie blocked it, hooking his leg around Edge's to prevent the move. Eddie delivered a series of punches to Edge's taped ribs, forcing the hometown hero to release the hold. Eddie then grabbed Edge and drove him down with a back suplex that targeted the ribs once again. Both men were down, the toll of the match evident on both competitors' faces.
Eddie was first to his feet, and he immediately went to the outside of the ring, reaching under the apron. The crowd booed as Eddie pulled out a steel chair, the same weapon he had used to injure Edge in recent weeks. Eddie slid back into the ring with the chair, but the referee immediately grabbed it, trying to pull it away from him. As the official struggled with Eddie over the chair, Chavo Guerrero sprinted down the entrance ramp and slid into the ring behind Edge, who was using the ropes to pull himself up. Chavo grabbed Edge from behind and drove him down with a reverse DDT, then quickly rolled out of the ring before the referee could turn around. The crowd was incensed as Eddie finally released the chair to the referee, who tossed it out of the ring, completely unaware of what had transpired.
Eddie turned around and saw Edge down, a wicked smile crossing his face. He pulled Edge to the center of the ring and covered him, hooking both legs. One, two, Edge's shoulder shot up just before three, and the building nearly exploded with relief. Eddie couldn't believe it, arguing with the referee and holding up three fingers, insisting it was a three-count. He pulled Edge to his feet and positioned him for a vertical suplex, but as he lifted Edge into the air, Edge shifted his weight and landed on his feet behind Eddie. Edge immediately grabbed Eddie in a waistlock and executed a German suplex of his own, bridging for the pin. One, two, Eddie kicked out.
Both men struggled to their feet, the physical and emotional toll of the match evident on both their faces. Edge struck first with a right hand, then Eddie fired back with one of his own. They exchanged blows in the center of the ring, each man refusing to back down. Edge began to get the better of the exchange, backing Eddie toward the ropes with a series of consecutive punches. He grabbed Eddie's wrist and whipped him into the ropes, but Eddie reversed it, sending Edge into the ropes instead. As Edge rebounded, Eddie bent down for a back body drop, but Edge stopped short and grabbed Eddie's head, driving him down with a swinging neckbreaker. Both men were down again as the crowd willed their hometown hero to his feet.
Edge crawled to the corner and used the ropes to pull himself up, his face showing the pain radiating from his ribs with every breath. Eddie slowly got to his feet on the opposite side of the ring. Edge charged across the ring, building momentum despite his injury, and caught Eddie with a running clothesline that turned Eddie inside out. Edge pulled Eddie up immediately and whipped him into the corner, then charged in with a Stinger splash that connected flush. As Eddie stumbled out of the corner, Edge grabbed him and drove him down with a reverse DDT. Edge hooked the leg for the cover: one, two, Eddie got his foot on the bottom rope, breaking the count.
Edge, frustration beginning to show on his face, pulled Eddie away from the ropes to the center of the ring. He grabbed Eddie's legs and attempted to turn him over into his modified Sharpshooter submission, a tribute to his fellow Canadian Bret Hart. Eddie fought desperately, kicking at Edge with his free leg, but Edge finally managed to step through and turn Eddie over, sitting back and applying pressure to Eddie's back and legs. The crowd was on its feet, sensing victory for their hometown hero. Eddie screamed in pain, reaching desperately for the ropes, but he was too far away. Just when it seemed Eddie might tap, Chavo Guerrero appeared on the ring apron, distracting the referee and preventing him from seeing if Eddie submitted.
Edge, seeing Chavo on the apron, released the hold and charged at him, delivering a big boot that sent Chavo flying off the apron and crashing to the arena floor. As Edge turned back around, Eddie had recovered and caught him with a drop toe hold that sent Edge face-first into the middle turnbuckle. Eddie immediately rolled Edge up with a schoolboy pin, grabbing a handful of tights for leverage. One, two, Edge kicked out with authority. Both men scrambled to their feet, and Eddie charged at Edge, but Edge caught him and drove him down with a spinebuster that shook the entire ring. Edge immediately collapsed afterward, clutching his ribs, the move having taken as much out of him as it did Eddie.
The referee began his count as both men lay motionless in the center of the ring. At seven, Edge began to stir, crawling toward the ropes. At nine, both men were on their feet, using opposite sets of ropes to pull themselves up. They met in the center of the ring once more, and Eddie swung wildly with a clothesline, but Edge ducked under it. As Eddie turned around, Edge kicked him in the gut and grabbed him, finally connecting with Edgecution DDT, driving Eddie's head into the canvas with authority. The crowd erupted as Edge crawled to the cover. One, two, Eddie's shoulder came off the mat at 2.9, and the building collectively gasped in disbelief.
Edge couldn't believe it, staring at the referee with wide eyes before pounding the mat in frustration. He pulled himself to his feet and retreated to the corner, dropping to one knee and beginning to stalk Eddie, measuring him for the Spear. The entire arena was on its feet, sensing the end was near. Eddie slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself to his feet using the ropes, his back to Edge. The moment Eddie turned around, Edge exploded out of the corner, charging across the ring with the Spear—but Eddie leapfrogged over him at the last second! Edge's momentum carried him into the corner, where he crashed shoulder-first into the ring post. The impact was devastating, and Edge stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder in addition to his already-injured ribs.
Eddie immediately capitalized, grabbing Edge from behind and driving him down with a back suplex. Eddie then climbed to the top turnbuckle, signaling for the Frog Splash once more. He steadied himself and launched into the air with perfect rotation, coming down directly onto Edge's taped ribs. But instead of immediately going for the cover, Eddie clutched his own chest from the impact of the move, both men down in the center of the ring. After several seconds, Eddie draped his arm across Edge's chest. One, two, Edge's shoulder shot up just before three, and the Toronto crowd exploded with relief and awe.
Eddie sat up, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration, running his hands through his hair. He looked down at Edge's motionless form, then at his own hands, a calculating look crossing his face. Eddie rolled out of the ring and reached under the apron once more, this time pulling out a second steel chair. The crowd booed mercilessly as Eddie slid back into the ring with the weapon. The referee immediately tried to take it away, but Eddie shoved him aside with one hand, his focus entirely on Edge. He stood over the fallen Edge, raising the chair high above his head, preparing to deliver the same sickening chair shot that had injured Edge in recent weeks.
But just as Eddie prepared to swing the chair down, Edge's survival instincts kicked in. He brought his boot up and drove it into Eddie's gut, causing Latino Heat to drop the chair and double over in pain. Edge grabbed Eddie's head and drove him face-first into the dropped steel chair with a DDT. The crowd erupted, but the referee had no choice but to call for the disqualification. However, before the referee could signal for the bell, Edge immediately rolled out of the ring, grabbed the timekeeper, and demanded he not ring the bell. Edge screamed at the referee that if this match ended in a DQ, he wanted it to be when he was the one using the weapon, not Eddie.
The referee, seeing Edge's desperation and the will of the Toronto crowd, chose to let the match continue, kicking the chair out of the ring instead. Both men were down once again, the chair shot having taken its toll on Eddie while the exertion had drained what little energy Edge had remaining. The crowd began a deafening "EDGE! EDGE! EDGE!" chant that shook the building to its foundation. At eight, both men stirred. At nine, they reached their feet simultaneously, both men running on pure instinct and adrenaline at this point. They met in the center of the ring and began exchanging right hands once more, each punch slower and more labored than before.
Edge began to get the better of the exchange, backing Eddie toward the ropes once more. He grabbed Eddie's wrist and attempted an Irish whip, but his strength was failing, and Eddie reversed it, sending Edge into the ropes. As Edge rebounded, Eddie bent down for a back body drop, but Edge leapfrogged over him. Edge hit the opposite ropes and came charging back, but Eddie caught him with a drop toe hold that sent Edge crashing throat-first across the middle rope. Eddie immediately went to the outside and grabbed Edge's head, choking him across the middle rope while the referee counted. Eddie released at four and backed away, then charged forward and drove his knee into the back of Edge's head, guillotining him across the middle rope.
Eddie rolled back into the ring and pulled Edge to the center, covering him and hooking both legs. One, two, Edge kicked out, but it was noticeably weaker than before. Eddie pulled Edge to his feet and positioned him for the Three Amigos once more. He executed the first vertical suplex, held on and rolled through, delivered the second vertical suplex, then rolled through one final time. But as Eddie attempted to lift Edge for the third suplex, Edge blocked it, hooking his leg around Eddie's. Edge then countered with a small package roll-up, surprising Eddie completely. One, two, Eddie barely kicked out.
Both men scrambled to their feet, and Eddie swung wildly with a clothesline, but Edge ducked under it. As Eddie turned around, Edge grabbed him and drove him down with a desperation Edge-O-Matic, using every ounce of remaining strength. Both men were down, and the referee began his count once more. At seven, Edge began crawling toward the corner, using the ropes to pull himself to his feet. By nine, Eddie was also up, both men swaying on their feet, barely able to stand. Edge retreated to the corner one more time, dropping to one knee and measuring Eddie for the Spear, pounding the mat with both fists as the crowd reached a fever pitch.
Eddie turned around, completely exhausted and disoriented, just as Edge exploded out of the corner. But before Edge could connect with the Spear, Chavo Guerrero—who had recovered on the outside—slid a steel chair into the ring. Eddie grabbed the chair and held it in front of his body like a shield. Edge, unable to stop his momentum, speared Eddie, but drove his own shoulder directly into the steel chair that Eddie was holding. The impact was devastating to both men—Edge's shoulder collided with the steel while the force of the Spear drove the chair back into Eddie's face. Both men collapsed to the mat, the chair falling between them.
The referee looked at the situation, saw the chair in the ring, but realized neither man had actually used it as a weapon in the traditional sense—it was simply there when Edge executed a legal move. He chose not to call for a disqualification, instead beginning his ten-count as both men lay motionless in the center of the ring. The crowd was chanting Edge's name, trying to will their hometown hero to his feet. At six, Edge began to stir, shaking his head and trying to clear the cobwebs. At eight, he rolled over and draped his arm across Eddie's chest. The referee dropped down: one, two, Eddie's shoulder came off the mat at 2.99, and the building nearly exploded.
Edge couldn't believe it, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, his face showing complete disbelief. He slowly, painfully, pulled himself to his feet using the ropes, every movement an agony. Eddie was also stirring, blood now trickling from his forehead where the chair had been driven into his face. Chavo Guerrero climbed onto the ring apron once more, screaming at the referee and creating a distraction. Edge, seeing Chavo, charged at him and delivered a forearm that sent Chavo flying off the apron for the second time. But as Edge turned back around, Eddie had grabbed the steel chair and was charging at him with it raised above his head.
Edge, operating on pure instinct, dropped to the mat and rolled out of the way. Eddie's momentum carried him forward, and he nearly hit the referee with the chair, stopping just inches from the official's face. As the referee and Eddie Guerrero engaged in a desperate tug-of-war over the steel chair, the official finally ripped the weapon from Eddie’s grasp and tossed it out of the ring. During the struggle, however, Chavo Guerrero sprinted down the ramp and slid into the ring behind the referee’s back. Edge, still pulling himself up in the corner, was a sitting duck. Chavo charged forward and delivered a vicious chop block to the back of Edge’s knee, sending the hometown hero crumbling back to the canvas in agony. Chavo immediately rolled out of the ring and scurried away, his deed done before the referee turned around.
Eddie, seeing his opportunity, pounced. He began stomping relentlessly on Edge’s injured leg, then dragged him to the center of the ring and locked in a painful STF, wrenching back on Edge’s neck and applying excruciating pressure to the damaged knee. The Toronto crowd screamed for their hero to fight, and Edge, feeding off their energy, clawed his way across the canvas, inch by agonizing inch, finally reaching the bottom rope to force the break. Eddie held the submission until the referee’s count of four before arrogantly releasing the hold.
He dragged Edge back to the middle of the ring and delivered his signature Three Amigos—three consecutive vertical suplexes that further drained the life from his opponent. The crowd booed mercilessly as Eddie did his signature shimmy, then slowly ascended to the top turnbuckle. He pointed to the sky, steadied himself, and launched into a picture-perfect Frog Splash, crashing down directly onto Edge’s injured ribs. Eddie hooked both legs for what seemed to be the final pinfall.
One!
Two!
Edge’s shoulder shot off the mat at 2.9, and the Air Canada Centre exploded with a sound that was equal parts relief and disbelief.
Eddie was apoplectic. He got in the referee’s face, screaming that it was a three-count, his eyes wide with frustration. The argument gave Edge precious seconds to recover. He stirred on the mat, pushing himself up to his hands and knees. Eddie, finally giving up on the official, turned his attention back to his opponent and charged, but Edge, operating on pure instinct, caught him with a desperate spinebuster that shook the ring. Both men were down, the physical toll of the brutal contest leaving them completely spent.
The referee began his ten-count as the crowd chanted "EDGE! EDGE! EDGE!", trying to will their hero to his feet. At the count of eight, both men began to move, using the ropes on opposite sides of the ring to pull themselves up. They met in the center, swaying on their feet, and began trading exhausted but heavy right hands. Edge landed a shot, Eddie fired back. The exchange became a pure test of will, with both men refusing to go down. Edge finally gained the upper hand, backing Eddie into the ropes with a final, desperate flurry. He attempted to whip Eddie across the ring, but Eddie reversed it. As Edge rebounded off the ropes, Eddie bent down for a back body drop, but Edge countered with a kick to the chest. He grabbed Eddie’s head, looking for the Edgecution DDT, but Eddie shoved him off, sending him staggering backward.
Chavo Guerrero, seeing another opportunity, jumped onto the ring apron, distracting the referee. Eddie charged at Edge, but Edge sidestepped him at the last second, and Eddie ran directly into the referee, sending the official tumbling to the outside. With the referee down, Chavo slid into the ring with the steel chair. He and Eddie advanced on Edge, ready to deliver a two-on-one assault. But Edge, running on pure adrenaline, ducked a wild chair swing from Eddie and delivered a big boot to Chavo, sending him flying out of the ring.
Eddie, stunned, swung the chair again, but Edge ducked a second time. As Eddie turned, Edge kicked him hard in the midsection, causing Eddie to double over. Edge grabbed him and finally connected with the Edgecution DDT, driving Eddie's head into the hard canvas.
Edge, completely exhausted, crawled to the corner. He pulled himself up, his eyes locked on Eddie’s stirring form. He knew this was his last chance. As Eddie slowly, unsteadily got to his feet, disoriented and unaware of where he was, Edge let out a final, primal roar. He exploded out of the corner, charging across the ring with every last ounce of strength in his body and driving his shoulder deep into Eddie’s midsection with a devastating, match-ending SPEAR!
Edge collapsed on top of Eddie as a second referee sprinted down the ramp and slid into the ring for the count.
One!
Two!
Three!
Winner: Edge
The bell rings, and the arena erupts as Edge’s music fills the air, but the hometown hero is in no condition to celebrate. He collapses onto the mat, every ounce of strength gone, his face a mask of pure exhaustion and agony as he instinctively clutches his heavily-taped ribs. The war is over, and he has survived. Across the ring, Eddie Guerrero pushes himself up to his knees, his face showing the disbelief of a man who was sure he had the match won.
Slowly, deliberately, Eddie gets to his feet and walks to the center of the ring. Instead of the venomous hatred that has defined him for weeks, his face holds a look of what appears to be exhausted respect. He extends his hand to Edge. The sold-out Air Canada Centre, which had been roaring in victory, falls into a confused, suspicious murmur. They know Eddie’s creed: Lie, Cheat, Steal. This gesture feels like a lie.
With the help of the ropes, Edge painfully pulls his battered body upright. He stares at Eddie’s outstretched hand, his eyes searching for the deceit he knows so well. He remembers the betrayal of Rey Mysterio , the desecration of the sacred mask, and the weeks of torment. Yet, a part of him wants to believe. He takes a hesitant step forward, his own hand slowly rising.
The moment their fingers are inches from clasping, the sincerity on Eddie’s face vanishes, replaced instantly by a triumphant, venomous sneer. In a single fluid motion, he yanks his hand back and drives his other fist hard into Edge’s groin.
A collective groan of disgust fills the arena as Edge collapses, all the air rushing from his lungs as he crumbles to the mat. As if on cue, Chavo Guerrero Jr. slides into the ring, and the two-on-one assault begins. It is a merciless symphony of destruction. They unleash a torrent of stomps, specifically targeting Edge’s already damaged midsection. "Get him up!" Eddie screams. Chavo hauls Edge to his knees, holding him in place as Eddie retrieves a steel chair, the same weapon used in their previous brutal encounters. He raises it high, a sadistic grin on his face, ready to deliver a sickening, undefended blow.
But just as he’s about to bring the steel crashing down, the arena is plunged into absolute darkness.
For a split second, there is only silence. Then, a sound cuts through the blackness, a sound so familiar and so unexpected it sends a shockwave of pure electricity through every person in the building.
"BOOYAKA 619!"
Rey Mysterio’s iconic entrance music blasts through the speakers, and the Air Canada Centre explodes in an atomic eruption of sound. The lights flash back on to reveal REY MYSTERIO at the top of the entrance ramp. He is without his mask, his face bare for the world to see—a face consumed by months of pain, betrayal, and an unquenchable thirst for righteous vengeance. He sprints down the ramp, a blur of motion fueled by pure fury.
Inside the ring, Eddie and Chavo are frozen, their faces pale with shock. The chair falls from Eddie’s trembling hands, clattering to the canvas as he stares in disbelief at the ghost of the friendship he murdered. Rey slides into the ring with blistering speed. Chavo reacts first, charging forward, only to be met with a lightning-fast series of kicks and a spinning heel kick that sends him stumbling into the corner.
Eddie, still paralyzed by the sight of Rey, is a sitting duck. Rey hits the ropes and comes back with a thunderous dropkick to Eddie’s knees, sending him lurching forward so that his head is draped perfectly over the middle rope. The crowd roars as Rey hits the opposite ropes—619!—his legs connecting flush with Eddie’s head. As Eddie staggers back to the center of the ring, dazed, Rey springs to the top rope, leaps, and connects with a picture-perfect West Coast Pop, driving his betrayer hard into the canvas.
The Guerreros have been completely neutralized. Eddie rolls out of the ring, grabbing Chavo as they retreat up the ramp, their expressions a mixture of fury and utter shock. In the ring, a vengeful Rey Mysterio stands tall, his chest heaving with adrenaline. He turns and helps a beaten and battered Edge to his feet. There are no words, no celebration—only a silent, intense nod of mutual respect between two men who had been wronged by the same family, their separate wars now forged into a single, powerful alliance.
WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP - THE HARDY BOYZ (c) vs. THE DUDLEY BOYZ
The bell rang to begin the highly-anticipated collision between two of the most decorated tag teams in WWE history, and the contrast in styles was immediately apparent. Matt Hardy started for the champions while Bubba Ray Dudley stepped through the ropes for the challengers. The two veterans circled each other cautiously before locking up in a traditional collar-and-elbow tie-up. Bubba Ray used his significant size and power advantage to shove Matt backward into the corner, then followed up with a hard overhand chop to the chest that echoed through the Air Canada Centre. Bubba Ray grabbed Matt's wrist and whipped him across the ring into the opposite corner, then charged in with a running avalanche splash. However, Matt moved at the last second, causing Bubba Ray to crash chest-first into the turnbuckles.
As Bubba Ray stumbled backward out of the corner, Matt caught him with a running clothesline that barely staggered the bigger man. Matt hit the ropes and attempted a second clothesline, but Bubba Ray caught him and drove him down with a sidewalk slam. Bubba Ray went for an immediate cover: one, two, Matt kicked out. Bubba Ray pulled Matt to his feet and delivered a scoop slam in the center of the ring, then hit the ropes and dropped a big elbow across Matt's chest. He hooked the leg for another cover: one, two, Matt kicked out again. Bubba Ray tagged in D-Von Dudley, and the brothers immediately began their trademark double-team offense. D-Von held Matt's arms behind his back while Bubba Ray delivered a series of punches to Matt's midsection before the referee forced Bubba Ray back to his corner.
D-Von took over, grabbing Matt in a side headlock and grinding down on the champion's head. Matt fought his way to his feet and shoved D-Von off into the ropes, but as D-Von rebounded, he caught Matt with a shoulder block that sent the smaller man down to the canvas. D-Von hit the ropes again, stepping over Matt as he rolled onto his stomach, then came back on the return. Matt leapfrogged over D-Von, who hit the opposite ropes once more. This time, Matt caught D-Von with a hip toss, then immediately followed up with a dropkick that sent D-Von stumbling backward into the ropes. Matt charged at D-Von, but the Dudley veteran pulled down the top rope, causing Matt to tumble over and crash to the arena floor.
D-Von rolled out of the ring and grabbed Matt, ramming his back into the ring apron before rolling him back inside. D-Von tagged in Bubba Ray, and the larger Dudley brother entered with authority, pulling Matt up and whipping him into the ropes. As Matt rebounded, Bubba Ray caught him with a massive back body drop that sent Matt crashing down hard on his spine. Bubba Ray made the cover: one, two, Matt kicked out. Bubba Ray pulled Matt to his feet and positioned him for a vertical suplex, lifting him high into the air and holding him there for several seconds before driving him down. Bubba Ray floated over for another cover: one, two, Matt got his shoulder up.
Bubba Ray tagged D-Von back in, and the Dudleys executed a double-team Irish whip, sending Matt into the ropes. As he rebounded, both Dudleys caught him with a double flapjack that sent Matt face-first into the canvas. D-Von immediately covered: one, two, Matt kicked out again, showing his resilience. D-Von pulled Matt up and delivered a snap suplex, then tagged Bubba Ray back in. The Dudleys were clearly working a methodical strategy, keeping Matt isolated from his corner and cutting the ring in half. Bubba Ray grabbed Matt and whipped him into the corner, then tagged D-Von without releasing Matt. Bubba Ray held Matt in place while D-Von climbed to the second turnbuckle and delivered a diving clothesline. D-Von made the cover: one, two, Matt kicked out once more.
D-Von pulled Matt to his feet and attempted an Irish whip, but Matt reversed it, sending D-Von into the ropes instead. As D-Von rebounded, Matt caught him with a desperation clothesline that took both men down. The crowd began to rally behind the champions as Matt crawled toward his corner where Jeff Hardy had his arm extended, desperate for the tag. D-Von grabbed Matt's ankle, trying to prevent the tag, but Matt rolled onto his back and kicked D-Von off with both feet, sending him stumbling backward. Matt dove forward and made the hot tag to Jeff Hardy.
Jeff exploded into the ring like a house on fire, catching D-Von with a series of right hands that backed him into the corner. He whipped D-Von across the ring into the opposite corner and charged in with a running clothesline that connected flush. As D-Von stumbled out, Jeff caught him with a spinning heel kick that sent him down. Bubba Ray entered the ring to help his brother, but Jeff caught him with a dropkick that sent the bigger man through the ropes to the outside. Jeff turned his attention back to D-Von, pulling him to his feet and whipping him into the ropes. As D-Von rebounded, Jeff caught him with a flying forearm that took him down again.
Jeff signaled to the crowd and climbed to the second turnbuckle, measuring D-Von. As the Dudley started to rise, Jeff launched himself with a diving crossbody that caught D-Von perfectly. Jeff hooked the leg: one, two, D-Von kicked out. Jeff pulled D-Von up and whipped him into the Hardy corner, then tagged Matt back in. With D-Von positioned in the corner, Matt grabbed him and sat him on the top turnbuckle. Jeff charged across the ring and Matt launched him into the air, with Jeff connecting with Poetry in Motion, driving both feet into D-Von's chest. D-Von slumped in the corner as Matt dragged him to the center of the ring for the cover: one, two, Bubba Ray broke it up with a stomp to Matt's back.
This brought Jeff back into the ring, and all four men began brawling. The referee tried to restore order as Jeff and Bubba Ray exchanged punches near the ropes. Jeff got the better of the exchange and clotheslined Bubba Ray over the top rope, with Jeff's momentum carrying him over as well. Both men crashed to the arena floor and continued brawling on the outside. Inside the ring, D-Von had recovered and caught Matt with a clothesline. D-Von pulled Matt to his feet and positioned him for the Dudley Dog, running toward the corner, but Matt shoved him off, sending D-Von chest-first into the turnbuckles.
As D-Von staggered backward, Matt grabbed him and drove him down with his signature Side Effect. Matt made the cover, but there was no referee—the official was on the outside trying to separate Jeff and Bubba Ray. Matt got up and tried to get the referee's attention. As he turned back around, D-Von had recovered enough to catch him with a kick to the gut. D-Von grabbed Matt and attempted to lift him for a powerbomb, but Matt countered with a hurricanrana that sent D-Von rolling across the ring.
Both Matt and D-Von got to their feet simultaneously, and Matt caught D-Von with the Twist of Fate, driving his face into the canvas. Matt immediately crawled to the cover as the referee finally slid back into the ring. One, two, D-Von's shoulder came up at 2.5. Matt, exhausted, pulled himself to his feet and tagged Jeff back in. Jeff climbed to the top turnbuckle as Matt positioned D-Von in the center of the ring. Jeff launched himself with the Swanton Bomb, his body rotating perfectly through the air before crashing down across D-Von's chest. Jeff hooked both legs as the referee counted: one, two, three!
Winner and Still World Tag Team Champions: The Hardy Boyz
As the referee's hand slapped the mat for the third and final time, Jeff Hardy rolled off the motionless body of D-Von Dudley, clutching his own chest from the impact of the victorious Swanton Bomb. The bell rang, signaling the end of the grueling championship encounter, and the crowd erupted for the victorious Hardy Boyz. A weary Matt Hardy, who had absorbed the brunt of the Dudleys' methodical offense throughout the match, climbed to his feet and embraced his brother in the center of the ring, a mix of exhaustion and triumph etched on their faces. On the arena floor, Bubba Ray Dudley slowly rose, his face a mask of frustration as he watched the referee raise the champions' arms high in victory, his partner D-Von still down on the canvas from the decisive combination of the Twist of Fate and Swanton Bomb. An official handed the Hardys their World Tag Team Championship belts, and with the last of their energy, they ascended the turnbuckles in opposite corners, hoisting the titles in the air and basking in the adoration of the crowd, having survived a war with their legendary rivals to remain at the top of the tag team division.
The package opens on Madison Square Garden, WrestleMania XX. The roar of the crowd is deafening as John Cena, chain swinging around his neck, stares down the colossal Big Show. The voice of Michael Cole cuts in: “Can Cena do the impossible? Can he topple the giant?” Quick cuts show Big Show’s dominance—chops, slams, sheer power—before cutting to Cena rallying, feeding off the crowd. In slow motion, Cena hoists the nearly 500-pound monster onto his shoulders, the crowd exploding as he delivers the F-U. The three-count echoes, and we see Cena clutching the United States Championship for the first time, holding it high to the Garden’s thunderous ovation. His words follow: “This is the Ce-Nation’s Championship.”
But that triumph fades to black, the celebration replaced by the screech of limousine brakes. JBL steps out, pristine suit, cowboy hat, smug smirk. His venom drips as he calls Cena a “street punk” unworthy of carrying tradition. The footage grows darker—JBL’s shocking parking garage ambush, the steel tire iron, Cena’s arm slammed in the limo door, his blood staining the concrete. JBL sneers: “This was a market correction. Cena’s blood… the receipt.” The image lingers on the handkerchief stained with Cena’s blood before cutting back to the champion’s broken body.
The screen shifts—Cena’s defiance at its core. We see his ambulance return, taped ribs, sling on his arm, the crowd exploding as he limps to the ring. His voice is raw, burning: “You didn’t finish the job.” The fists fly, the fight erupts, but JBL’s ruthlessness prevails—smashing the U.S. Title into Cena’s skull, leaving him motionless once again.
The arrogance of JBL follows—his boasts of hostile takeovers, raising his arms in front of his limousine, mocking Cena as a failed investment. And then, the fire flips. Cena’s chain wrapped tight around his fist, smashing the limo’s windows, denting the hood, spray-painting “WORD LIFE” across the wreckage. The crowd chants, Cena’s rage is unrelenting, and his voice cuts through: “At Backlash, I’m coming to collect.”
The final montage builds—Cena’s WrestleMania triumph, the F-U to Big Show, spliced with JBL’s brutal Clothesline from Hell. JBL’s voice echoes: “I am a Wrestling God.” Cena spits defiance: “I’m just a kid from the streets you couldn’t finish.”
The screen fades to black. The last image—Cena and JBL, face-to-face, U.S. Title between them. One line fades in: Backlash: Survival of the Streets vs. the Wrestling God.
United States Championship Match
John "Bradshaw" Layfield vs. John Cena (c)
The bell rang, and John Cena immediately charged across the ring at JBL, the weeks of brutal attacks and mind games exploding into pure, unfiltered violence. The champion didn't wait for a collar-and-elbow tie-up or any semblance of technical wrestling—he simply unleashed a barrage of right hands that backed the "Wrestling God" into the corner. Each punch landed with the force of pent-up rage, Cena's fists battering JBL's face as the crowd roared their approval. The referee tried to pull Cena back for the corner break, but the Doctor of Thuganomics was beyond reason, continuing his assault until JBL raked his eyes to create separation.
The challenger stumbled out of the corner, momentarily blinded, but Cena's anger wouldn't allow him to slow down. He grabbed JBL by his expensive suit jacket and yanked him back, spinning him around and delivering a massive clothesline that sent Layfield crashing to the mat. Cena immediately mounted JBL and delivered a series of mounted punches, each one connecting with sickening thuds as JBL tried desperately to cover up. The referee's count reached four before Cena finally backed off, but he immediately grabbed JBL by his perfectly styled hair and pulled him to his feet.
Cena grabbed JBL and whipped him hard into the ropes. As the challenger rebounded, Cena caught him with a perfectly timed hip toss that sent JBL flying through the air before crashing hard on his back. The champion didn't go for a cover; instead, he pulled JBL up and delivered another hip toss, then a third, each one driving the air from JBL's lungs. Cena pulled JBL up once more and hooked him for a fisherman suplex, lifting the 290-pound challenger and driving him down on his back with authority. This time, Cena held on for the bridge—one, two—but JBL kicked out forcefully, shoving Cena off him.
JBL rolled to the outside to regroup, adjusting his suit and trying to catch his breath. The "Wall Street Wolf" walked around the ring, pointing at his head to indicate his superior intelligence, but Cena wasn't about to give him a moment's rest. The champion slid out of the ring and charged at JBL, but this time the challenger was ready. Layfield sidestepped Cena's charge and shoved him forward, sending the champion crashing shoulder-first into the steel ring post. Cena's body wrapped around the post before he collapsed to the floor, clutching his shoulder in pain.
JBL immediately seized the opportunity, his demeanor shifting from panicked to calculated. He grabbed Cena by the injured shoulder and slammed it into the ring post again, then a third time, each impact eliciting a cry of pain from the champion. JBL then rolled Cena back into the ring and followed, immediately targeting the weakened shoulder with a series of stomps. The challenger pulled Cena up and delivered a short-arm clothesline, but he held onto Cena's wrist, pulling him back up and delivering a second clothesline, then a third. Each impact jarred Cena's injured shoulder, and JBL's sadistic smile grew wider with each strike.
The challenger pulled Cena to his feet and hooked him for a vertical suplex, but instead of dropping straight back, JBL held Cena in the air for several seconds, letting all the blood rush to the champion's head while also putting pressure on his injured shoulder. Finally, JBL dropped back, driving Cena's spine into the canvas. Layfield floated over for the cover—one, two—but Cena kicked out at two, his fighting spirit still intact despite the pain.
JBL pulled Cena up and immediately locked in a fujiwara armbar, wrenching back on the injured shoulder with clinical precision. Cena's face contorted in agony as JBL hyperextended the arm, trying to force a submission. The champion reached desperately for the ropes, his fingers stretching for salvation. After nearly thirty seconds in the hold, Cena finally managed to hook his foot on the bottom rope, forcing the break. JBL held on until the referee's count of four, maximizing the damage before finally releasing the hold.
The challenger pulled Cena away from the ropes and immediately grabbed the injured arm, delivering a single-arm DDT that spiked Cena's shoulder into the mat. The champion rolled onto his back, clutching his arm, as JBL stood over him with an arrogant smirk. Layfield pulled Cena up and whipped him into the corner, following closely behind with a running shoulder block that drove his massive frame into Cena's injured shoulder. The champion collapsed to his knees, and JBL immediately locked in a hammerlock, wrenching the arm behind Cena's back at a painful angle.
Cena fought to his feet, and with one desperate burst of energy, delivered a series of back elbows with his good arm that caught JBL in the face and forced him to break the hold. The champion spun around and delivered a desperation clothesline that sent both men crashing to the mat. Both competitors lay on the canvas as the referee began a standing ten-count. At the count of seven, Cena was first to his feet, followed closely by JBL at eight.
The two men met in the center of the ring and began trading right hands, though Cena's strikes were noticeably weaker due to his injured shoulder. JBL gained the advantage, backing Cena into the ropes and attempting an Irish whip. Cena reversed it, sending JBL into the ropes instead. As the challenger rebounded, Cena caught him with a flying shoulder tackle that sent JBL crashing to the mat. The champion immediately followed up with a second flying shoulder tackle as JBL got back to his feet, the momentum beginning to shift.
JBL staggered up once more and swung wildly at Cena, but the champion ducked under the clothesline attempt and caught JBL with a spinning side slam, planting the challenger hard into the canvas. The crowd erupted as Cena signaled for his signature "You Can't See Me" taunt. He bounced off the ropes, waved his hand in front of his face, and dropped the Five Knuckle Shuffle fist drop across JBL's face. The impact connected perfectly, and Cena immediately went for the cover—one, two—but JBL kicked out just before three.
Cena, feeling the momentum fully on his side, grabbed JBL and positioned him for the F-U. The champion struggled to lift the 290-pound challenger onto his injured shoulder, grimacing in pain as he hoisted JBL up. But before he could execute the move, his shoulder gave out, and JBL slipped down behind him. The challenger immediately capitalized, grabbing Cena's injured arm and delivering another single-arm DDT that sent shockwaves of pain through the champion's body.
JBL pulled Cena up and delivered a massive short-arm clothesline that turned the champion inside out. Layfield immediately signaled for the Clothesline from Hell, his devastating finishing move. He measured Cena as the champion slowly staggered to his feet, and as Cena turned around, JBL charged and swung his massive arm with murderous intent. But Cena, showing incredible ring awareness despite his injuries, ducked under the clothesline at the last possible second. As JBL's momentum carried him forward, Cena caught him with a drop toe hold that sent the challenger face-first into the middle turnbuckle.
JBL's head snapped back from the impact, and he stumbled backward into Cena's waiting arms. The champion, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder, hoisted JBL onto his shoulders for the F-U. Cena's face showed the agony he was in, his injured shoulder screaming in protest, but he refused to give up. With one massive effort, Cena lifted JBL fully onto his shoulders and spun him around, driving the challenger down with the F-U. Both men crashed to the mat, and Cena, completely spent, draped an arm over JBL's chest. The referee counted—one, two—but JBL somehow kicked out just before three, his hand reaching up and grabbing the bottom rope.
The crowd couldn't believe it, and neither could Cena. The champion pulled himself up using the ropes, his shoulder clearly compromised, as JBL rolled to the outside once more. Cena followed, refusing to let the challenger escape. On the outside, the two men exchanged strikes, with Cena gaining the advantage. He grabbed JBL and attempted to whip him into the steel steps, but the challenger reversed it, sending Cena crashing into the unforgiving steel instead. The champion's injured shoulder absorbed the brunt of the impact, and he collapsed to the floor in agony.
JBL grabbed Cena and rolled him back into the ring, following quickly behind. The challenger pulled Cena to his feet and positioned him for a powerbomb. JBL lifted Cena high into the air and drove him down with tremendous force, the champion's spine slamming into the canvas. JBL immediately hooked both legs for the cover—one, two—but Cena kicked out just before three, showing the heart of a champion.
The challenger couldn't believe it. He pulled Cena up and delivered a massive boot to the face that sent the champion sprawling. JBL then grabbed Cena's injured arm and locked in a crossface, wrenching back on both the neck and the injured shoulder simultaneously. Cena's face turned red as he struggled against the submission hold, his free arm reaching desperately for the ropes. The crowd began chanting "Let's go Cena!" as the champion crawled inch by inch toward salvation. After what seemed like an eternity, Cena finally grasped the bottom rope, and JBL was forced to break the hold.
JBL, showing visible frustration, pulled Cena to the center of the ring and signaled for the Clothesline from Hell once more. He backed into the corner, measuring the champion as Cena slowly, painfully pulled himself to his feet. As Cena turned around, JBL charged with everything he had, his massive arm extended for the finishing blow. But Cena, summoning every ounce of his remaining strength and ring awareness, ducked under the clothesline for a second time. As JBL's momentum carried him forward into the ropes, he bounced back off the cables and charged toward Cena. The champion, despite his injured shoulder and exhausted state, dug deep and caught the charging JBL in mid-stride. In one fluid motion, Cena hoisted the 290-pound challenger onto his shoulders in the fireman's carry position. JBL barely had time to react as Cena, running purely on adrenaline and the roar of the crowd, spun him around and drove him down with the F-U in the center of the ring. The impact was devastating, JBL's body crashing into the canvas with tremendous force.
Cena immediately collapsed across JBL's chest, hooking both legs and leaning all his weight forward for the pin. The referee slid into position—one, two, three! The bell rang at 15:15.
Winner and STILL United States Champion: John Cena
John Cena's music hit, and the crowd erupted in celebration. The champion collapsed onto his back, clutching his injured shoulder but unable to contain his smile. The referee retrieved the United States Championship and handed it to Cena, who clutched it to his chest with his good arm. Cena slowly pulled himself to his feet and raised the title high above his head, tears of pain and relief streaming down his face.
JBL rolled out of the ring, his face a mask of shock and rage. He had failed in his hostile takeover, and the "common street punk" had proven that he belonged at the top of the mountain. Cena celebrated in the ring, climbing to the second turnbuckle and raising the U.S. Championship high as the crowd chanted his name. Despite the damage to his shoulder, despite the weeks of brutal attacks, John Cena had survived and retained his championship, proving that the Doctor of Thuganomics was far more than just a rapper—he was a fighting champion who would not be denied.
The screen fades from black to grainy WrestleMania XX footage. The narrator’s voice cuts in: “It all began on the grandest stage of them all.” We see slow-motion highlights of Chris Jericho and Christian’s heated battle in Madison Square Garden — a friendship torn apart by betrayal, twisted further by Trish Stratus’ shocking double-cross. The final image from that night lingers: Trish raising Christian’s hand, the two united in cruel triumph as Jericho lies broken in the ring, the crowd stunned silent.
From there, the music darkens. Footage from RAW shows Jericho, battered but vengeful, storming arenas in pursuit of his former friend. “Y2J is dead,” his voice echoes over images of him tearing through security, his rage unchecked. Christian and Trish, meanwhile, revel in their new partnership. Clips roll of them mocking Jericho, flaunting their relationship, and humiliating him week after week — each insult fueling Jericho’s transformation.
The tone sharpens as we see Jericho’s retaliation. Steel chairs, wild brawls, and bloodied faces paint the screen as the feud escalates. A chilling highlight plays: Jericho charging the ring to unleash a savage assault on both Christian and Trish, a moment the commentary calls “the night Jericho snapped.” Christian’s voice overlays, calling Jericho “an obsessed maniac” while Trish sneers that he “was never the hero the fans thought he was.”
The package slows to the infamous April 5th Raw, where Christian and Trish confronted Jim Ross. Their words drip with venom, Christian vowing to “end Jericho permanently” at Backlash. The footage grows more disturbing as Christian brutalizes JR, splitting him open with a steel chair. His maniacal count — “One… two… three…” up to “TEN!” — is shown in haunting slow motion, intercut with Jericho watching from backstage, fury in his eyes.
The narration swells: “What began as betrayal has become obsession. What started as jealousy has turned to blood. At WrestleMania, Christian won the battle. At Backlash, the war will end.”
The screen cuts to split shots: Christian, smug with Trish at his side, declaring himself the Intercontinental Champion and the better man; Jericho, pacing like a caged animal, snarling into the camera, promising to leave Christian in a heap.
The music reaches its peak as bold white text slams onto the screen:
“CHRIS JERICHO vs. CHRISTIAN — LAST MAN STANDING.”
The final images fade to black-and-white: Jericho delivering a furious chair shot, Christian sneering with Trish, and the haunting echo of Christian’s words: “At Backlash, you won’t be able to stand ever again.”
The screen goes black. The Backlash logo explodes onto the screen in fire.
Last Man Standing Match
Chris Jericho vs. Christian (c) - Intercontinental Championship
The bell rang, and there was no feeling-out process, no technical exchange—just pure, unbridled hatred exploding into violence. Jericho charged across the ring like a man possessed, driving Christian backward into the corner with a rapid-fire series of knife-edge chops that echoed through the arena like gunshots. Each strike left a crimson welt across the champion's chest as the crowd counted along. Christian tried to cover up, but Jericho was relentless, switching to closed fists that battered Christian's face. The referee could do nothing but watch; there were no disqualifications in a Last Man Standing match. Christian finally escaped by raking Jericho's eyes and stumbling toward the ropes, but Jericho recovered instantly, grabbing Christian by the back of the head and hurling him over the top rope to the floor below.
Jericho didn't wait. He slid under the bottom rope and immediately grabbed Christian by the hair, dragging him toward the steel ring steps. Christian fired back with a desperate elbow to Jericho's midsection, doubling him over momentarily. The champion seized the opportunity, grabbing Jericho by the back of the neck and driving his face directly into the unforgiving steel steps with a sickening thud. Jericho crumpled to the floor as the referee began his count. "One! Two! Three!" But Jericho was already stirring, pushing himself up to his hands and knees by four, and standing fully by six, his forehead already showing the first signs of blood.
Christian, seeing the crimson beginning to seep from Jericho's hairline, smiled sadistically. He grabbed Jericho and whipped him hard into the steel barricade, the impact rattling the entire structure. Jericho's back arched in pain as he collapsed against the barrier. Christian measured him and charged, delivering a running knee lift that caught Jericho flush in the face, snapping his head back violently. Jericho slumped to the floor as Christian backed away, arms raised in arrogant triumph. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" The count reached five before Jericho used the barricade to pull himself up, his face now fully masked in blood from a gash above his right eye.
Christian's confidence grew. He rolled into the ring briefly, retrieving a steel chair from beneath the apron before returning to the floor. Jericho was barely standing, leaning against the announce table for support. Christian raised the chair high and swung it down with vicious intent, but Jericho moved at the last possible second. The chair smashed against the announce table with a metallic crash. Jericho immediately capitalized, driving a boot into Christian's gut and ripping the chair from his hands. Without hesitation, Jericho swung the chair in a wide arc, cracking it across Christian's skull with a shot so devastating it bent the chair in half. Christian collapsed in a heap, his body twitching from the impact.
The referee began counting as Jericho stood over his fallen rival, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his face onto Christian's prone form. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" The crowd was silent, unsure if the champion could possibly recover. "Six! Seven!" Christian's hand moved, a slight twitch. At eight, he rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself up with trembling arms. At nine, using the bottom rope as an anchor, Christian dragged his body upright, his eyes glazed over and unfocused. He was standing, but he was barely there.
Inside the ring, Jericho continued his assault. He lifted Christian and planted him with a vertical suplex, holding him in the air for several seconds to let the blood rush to his head before driving him down hard onto the canvas. Jericho didn't go for a pin—there were no pins in this match—but instead backed into the corner, waiting for Christian to rise. As the champion staggered to his feet, Jericho charged and leveled him with a running forearm smash that sent Christian sprawling. The referee counted again, but Christian was up by five, his survival instinct refusing to let him stay down.
Jericho's intensity only increased. He Irish-whipped Christian into the ropes and caught him on the rebound with a perfectly executed dropkick that sent the champion tumbling through the ropes to the outside. Jericho followed immediately, springboarding over the top rope and connecting with a plancha that drove both men crashing into the barricade. The crowd erupted as both competitors lay in a tangled heap on the floor. The referee began counting both men. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" Jericho was first to his feet at six, while Christian struggled up at eight, using the ring apron for support.
Jericho, sensing an opportunity, cleared off the Spanish announce table, ripping away monitors and throwing them aside. He grabbed Christian and dragged him toward the table, attempting to position him for a powerbomb through the wood. Christian, however, fought back desperately, raining down right hands on top of Jericho's already bleeding head. He slipped down behind Jericho and shoved him forward, sending him crashing face-first into the ring post. Jericho's body went limp as he collapsed to the floor, the blood now flowing more freely from multiple cuts on his forehead.
Christian, seeing Jericho dazed from the ring post, didn't hesitate. With his opponent struggling on the floor, the champion saw his opening for the ultimate statement. He hit the ropes, building a head of steam, and launched himself over the top rope with a breathtaking suicide dive that speared Jericho off his feet and sent both men crashing backward. Jericho's body absorbed the impact, and he went back-first into the Spanish announce table. The referee began his count. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!" The camera zoomed in on Jericho's face, which was now a crimson mask, his eyes barely open. At eight, his hand moved, grabbing a piece of broken table. At nine, he pushed himself to his knees. And at nine-and-three-quarters, Chris Jericho stood, swaying but upright, as the crowd exploded in approval. Christian's face contorted in rage and disbelief.
Christian rolled out of the ring and grabbed Jericho by the hair, dragging him toward the steel ring steps. He positioned Jericho's head on the bottom step and climbed to the second step, clearly intending to deliver a sickening stomp to the back of Jericho's skull. But as Christian prepared to leap, Jericho suddenly came alive, pushing himself off the steps and driving his shoulder into Christian's midsection, spearing him off the steps and sending both men crashing to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs.
Both men lay motionless as the referee began counting. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!" At six, both men began to stir. At seven, Jericho was on his hands and knees. At eight, both were standing, though barely, leaning on each other for support. They began trading wild, exhausted punches in the middle of the floor, neither man willing to give an inch. Jericho blocked a right hand and responded with a European uppercut that staggered Christian. He followed with a running bulldog, driving Christian's face into the floor with a sickening thud.
Jericho, sensing momentum shifting, grabbed Christian and rolled him back into the ring. He reached under the ring and produced a kendo stick, the same weapon he had used to chase Christian and Trish from the ring weeks earlier. Jericho slid into the ring, kendo stick in hand, as Christian crawled toward the corner, trying to create distance. Jericho stalked him like a predator, measuring his shot. As Christian turned around, Jericho swung the kendo stick with brutal force, cracking it across Christian's ribs. The sound echoed through the arena as Christian screamed in pain. Jericho swung again, and again, and again—each shot more vicious than the last. He struck Christian's back, his chest, his arms, leaving welts with each devastating impact.
Suddenly, the crowd's reaction shifted as Trish Stratus appeared at ringside, steel chair in hand, her face twisted in desperation. She slid into the ring behind Jericho, who was focused entirely on Christian. Trish raised the chair high and charged at Jericho's back, but the battle-hardened veteran sensed her coming. At the last possible moment, Jericho spun around and caught Trish with a boot to the midsection, doubling her over. Without hesitation, Jericho grabbed Trish by the waist and, in one swift motion, launched her over the top rope with a back body drop. Trish sailed through the air, her body rotating, before crashing through a table that had been set up at ringside earlier in the match. The wood exploded on impact, and Trish disappeared into the wreckage, completely motionless. The crowd erupted in shock as officials immediately rushed to check on her.
Christian, seeing his girlfriend's broken body in the wreckage, screamed in horror and rage. He charged at Jericho, but his emotional state made him reckless. Jericho sidestepped and grabbed the kendo stick once more, delivering one final, devastating swing across Christian's skull. The kendo stick shattered into pieces, and Christian collapsed face-first onto the mat.
The referee began counting as Jericho stood over Christian, breathing heavily, his entire upper body covered in blood. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" At eight, Christian's body convulsed, and he somehow pushed himself up to his knees. At nine, he grabbed the ropes and pulled himself upright, his eyes glazed over, running purely on instinct and stubbornness.
Jericho, showing visible frustration, grabbed Christian and attempted to set him up for the Walls of Jericho. He turned Christian over and sat back, applying the devastating Boston Crab variation. Christian screamed in agony, but there was no submission in a Last Man Standing match—the only way to win was to render your opponent unable to answer the ten-count. Jericho wrenched back with everything he had, pouring weeks of betrayal and rage into the hold. Christian's hand reached out, clawing at the mat, trying to pull himself toward the ropes, but Jericho sat back further, pulling Christian away from safety.
For nearly a full minute, Jericho kept the hold locked in as Christian's screams grew more desperate. Finally, Jericho released the hold, stepping back to allow the referee to count. Christian lay motionless in the center of the ring, his lower back and legs clearly damaged. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" At eight, Christian's hand moved. At nine, he rolled onto his stomach. And just before the referee's hand hit the mat for ten, Christian pushed himself up to his hands and knees, then to his feet, barely able to stand.
Jericho's face was a mixture of disbelief and respect, but there was no mercy in his eyes. He grabbed Christian and whipped him into the ropes, but Christian somehow found the wherewithal to reverse the momentum. As Jericho bounced off the ropes, Christian caught him with a desperation clothesline that sent both men crashing to the mat. Both competitors lay sprawled on the canvas as the referee began counting both men. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" At five, both men began to stir. At seven, Jericho was on his knees. At eight, both were standing, though swaying like trees in a hurricane.
Christian, running on pure survival instinct, staggered toward the corner and reached down, pulling out a steel chair that had been wedged between the turnbuckles earlier in the match. He turned, chair in hand, just as Jericho charged. Christian swung with everything he had, but Jericho ducked under the chair shot and countered with a dropkick that sent the chair flying back into Christian's face. Christian went down hard, the chair bouncing away. Jericho immediately grabbed the chair and positioned it in the center of the ring. He lifted Christian to his feet and planted him with a double-arm DDT directly onto the open chair. The impact was sickening, and Christian's body went completely limp.
The referee counted as Jericho rolled out of the ring, searching for more weapons. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" Christian's hand twitched. At nine, he rolled onto his side, and just before ten, he somehow, impossibly, pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet, using the ropes as support. The crowd was in absolute disbelief at Christian's resilience, while Jericho, standing on the outside with a table in his hands, looked genuinely shocked.
Jericho slid the table into the ring and set it up near the corner. He grabbed Christian, who was barely conscious, and positioned him on the table. Jericho then climbed to the second turnbuckle, signaling for a high-risk maneuver. The crowd rose to their feet in anticipation as Jericho leaped off the second rope, attempting a diving elbow drop through the table. But at the last possible second, Christian rolled off the table, and Jericho crashed through the wood alone, his body exploding through the table in a shower of splinters. The impact was devastating, and Jericho lay motionless in the wreckage.
Christian, seeing his opportunity, crawled toward the corner where another steel chair was positioned. He grabbed it and, using it as a cane, pulled himself to his feet. The referee began counting Jericho. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!" At six, Jericho's eyes opened. At seven, he began pushing debris off himself. At eight, he was on his knees. At nine, he was standing, though clearly hurt. Christian, chair in hand, charged at Jericho with a wild swing, but Jericho caught the chair mid-swing and delivered a brutal kick to Christian's midsection. The chair fell from Christian's hands, and Jericho immediately grabbed it.
With Christian doubled over, Jericho raised the chair high and brought it crashing down across Christian's back with a two-handed overhead swing. Christian collapsed to the mat, and Jericho hit him again, and again, the chair denting with each successive blow. After the fifth shot, Jericho threw the mangled chair aside and dropped to his knees, exhausted. The referee counted Christian. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine!" At nine-and-a-half, Christian's body convulsed, and he somehow found the strength to push himself up, rolling toward the ropes and using them to stand at nine-and-three-quarters.
Jericho, his face showing a mixture of exhaustion and determination, grabbed Christian and dragged him toward the corner. He hoisted Christian onto the top turnbuckle, clearly setting up for something devastating. Jericho climbed to the second rope, hooking Christian's arm over his shoulder for a superplex. The crowd sensed something massive was coming. Jericho lifted Christian, but the champion fought back, delivering short punches to Jericho's ribs. The two men battled precariously on the turnbuckles, trading shots, until Christian managed to shove Jericho off the second rope. Jericho fell backward, crashing to the mat below.
Christian, perched on the top turnbuckle and barely able to maintain his balance, steadied himself. He looked down at Jericho, who was slowly getting to his feet. Christian leaped off the top rope, going for a flying crossbody, but Jericho caught him in mid-air and, in one fluid motion, transitioned it into a powerslam. The impact shook the ring, and both men lay motionless once again.
The referee began counting both men. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!" At six, Jericho began to move. At seven, he was on his knees. At eight, he was standing, while Christian was still down. The count continued. "Nine!" Christian's eyes opened, and he grabbed the bottom rope, pulling himself up just before the referee's hand hit the mat for ten.
Jericho, visibly frustrated and exhausted, his face still covered in dried blood, grabbed Christian and signaled for the end. He hooked Christian's arms and lifted him for the Breakdown, his signature double-arm backbreaker. Jericho dropped to one knee, driving Christian's spine across his extended knee with brutal force. Christian's body went limp as Jericho shoved him off and stood back, allowing the referee to count. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" At eight, Christian stirred. At nine, he grabbed the ropes. And at nine-and-nine-tenths, Christian pulled himself upright, his body functioning purely on autopilot.
Jericho's eyes widened in disbelief. He charged at Christian with a clothesline, but Christian ducked and countered with a desperation Reverse DDT, spiking Jericho's head into the mat. Both men collapsed, and the referee counted both. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!" At seven, both men began crawling toward opposite corners. At eight, both grabbed the ropes. At nine, both pulled themselves upright simultaneously.
The two former best friends met in the center of the ring, both barely able to stand, and began exchanging exhausted right hands. Jericho blocked a punch and delivered a European uppercut. Christian stumbled backward but responded with a slap across Jericho's face. Jericho answered with a second slap. Christian fired back with a wild haymaker that Jericho ducked, and Jericho immediately transitioned behind Christian, grabbing him around the waist. He lifted Christian for a German suplex, but Christian blocked it by hooking his leg around Jericho's. Christian countered with a back elbow that caught Jericho in the jaw, stunning him. Christian ran toward the ropes, but Jericho recovered quickly and caught him on the rebound with a spinning heel kick that sent Christian tumbling through the ropes to the outside.
Jericho followed Christian to the floor, and the two continued their war in the aisleway. Jericho grabbed Christian and attempted an Irish whip toward the steel barricade, but Christian reversed it, sending Jericho crashing into the barrier instead. Christian charged, but Jericho moved at the last second, and Christian crashed shoulder-first into the unforgiving steel. Jericho immediately grabbed Christian and delivered a thunderous bulldog, driving Christian's face into the floor.
The referee counted as Jericho leaned against the barricade, trying to catch his breath. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven!" At seven, Christian pushed himself up. At nine, he was standing, though using the barricade for support. Jericho grabbed Christian and began dragging him up the entrance ramp, away from the ring. The crowd buzzed with anticipation as the fight moved to the stage area.
On the stage, Jericho grabbed Christian and attempted to whip him into one of the large equipment cases, but Christian reversed it, sending Jericho crashing into the steel structure instead. The impact was thunderous, and Jericho crumpled to the ground. Christian, seeing an opportunity, climbed on top of the equipment case, which was approximately eight feet high. He looked down at Jericho, who was slowly getting to his feet, and signaled for something huge. Christian leaped off the case, attempting a diving clothesline, but Jericho caught him in mid-air and countered with a spinebuster, driving Christian's back into the steel stage with devastating impact.
Both men lay motionless on the stage as the referee counted. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" At eight, Jericho rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up. At nine, he was standing, while Christian remained down. "Nine!" Christian's hand moved. "Nine-and-a-half!" Christian pushed himself to his side. "Nine-and-three-quarters!" Christian somehow, impossibly, got to his knees and then to his feet just before ten, the crowd roaring in appreciation of both men's incredible toughness.
Jericho, running on pure adrenaline and fury, grabbed Christian and dragged him toward the edge of the stage, where multiple tables and equipment were set up below. Jericho positioned Christian dangerously close to the edge and hooked him for a vertical suplex, clearly intending to drop him off the stage and through the tables below. Christian sensed the danger and fought back desperately, delivering short punches to Jericho's ribs and finally managing to break free. Christian spun behind Jericho and attempted to shove him off the stage, but Jericho grabbed Christian's arm and both men teetered on the edge, struggling for position.
In a shocking moment, both men tumbled off the stage together, falling approximately twelve feet and crashing through multiple tables stacked below. The impact was absolutely sickening, and both men disappeared into the wreckage in a heap of broken wood and twisted metal. The crowd erupted in chants of "Holy shit! Holy shit!" as medical personnel rushed to the scene.
The referee, looking genuinely concerned, began counting both men as EMTs and officials surrounded the wreckage. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine!" At nine, incredibly, Jericho's hand emerged from the debris, grabbing onto a piece of broken table. "Nine-and-a-half!" Jericho pushed himself to his knees, wood and metal falling off his body. "Nine-and-three-quarters!" Jericho stood, swaying violently. The referee looked at Christian, who was still motionless in the wreckage. "Ten!" The referee called for the bell.
Winner and NEW Intercontinental Champion: Chris Jericho
After thirty-four minutes and forty-four seconds of absolute warfare, Chris Jericho had won. He had kept Christian down for the ten-count after the catastrophic fall through the tables. Jericho collapsed to his knees, then fell forward onto his hands, completely unable to stand and celebrate. His music hit, but he remained on the stage floor, his body finally giving out after enduring unimaginable punishment.
Medical personnel swarmed the scene, attending to both competitors. Christian remained motionless in the wreckage of broken tables and equipment, EMTs carefully placing a neck brace on him and loading him onto a stretcher. The crowd, having witnessed something truly extraordinary, rose to their feet in a sustained standing ovation, chanting "Holy shit! Holy shit!" and "This is awesome!" in appreciation of both men's incredible toughness and the war they had just waged.
Jericho, with assistance from two officials, was helped to his feet. Blood covered his face, arms, and chest, his body visibly shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline. An official handed him the Intercontinental Championship belt—his championship, reclaimed through vengeance and suffering. Jericho clutched the title to his chest with both hands, and as the weight of his victory finally hit him, tears began streaming down his blood-soaked face, mixing with the crimson mask he wore.
He raised the championship high above his head with trembling arms, his face a portrait of pain, exhaustion, relief, and vindication. The crowd's ovation grew louder as Jericho stood at the top of the stage, championship held high, while behind him, Christian was being carefully wheeled away on a stretcher, still not moving. Jericho staggered forward, using every ounce of remaining strength to walk himself toward the backstage area, refusing a stretcher of his own despite the officials' protests.
As he reached the curtain, Jericho turned back one final time, looking out at the capacity crowd who continued their standing ovation. He raised the Intercontinental Championship one more time, his eyes still streaming tears, before disappearing through the curtain. The camera focused on the wreckage left on the stage—broken tables, twisted metal, scattered debris—a testament to the brutality both men had endured. The commentators sat in stunned silence, struggling to find words to describe what they had just witnessed.
The final image showed Christian being loaded into an ambulance in the backstage area, still on the stretcher and surrounded by medical staff, while in the distance, Jericho sat slumped against a wall, the Intercontinental Championship across his lap, his head down, finally allowing his body to rest after the most brutal match of his career. He had achieved his revenge, but both men had left pieces of themselves on that stage, in a match that would be remembered as one of the greatest Last Man Standing matches in WWE history.
“At Backlash, the rivalries explode… but in just weeks, destiny awaits. The battlefield shifts from chaos to coronation as WWE presents King of the Ring! Sixteen warriors will step into the tournament, but only one will wear the crown. One night. One throne. One shot at glory. For the first time ever, the winner not only claims the crown, but earns a World Championship opportunity at SummerSlam! Who will rise above the rest, ascend to royalty, and etch their name in history? The road to the throne begins… at King of the Ring 2004! Only on Pay-Per-View.”
The screen fades to black, and a deep gong echoes. A narrator’s voice cuts in: “For months, Brock Lesnar has ruled SmackDown as an unstoppable WWE Champion… but the Deadman has returned to remind him that dominance has consequences.”
Clips roll of Lesnar standing tall over challengers, his reign of destruction cemented with the WWE Title raised high. He calls himself “the most dominant champion in history”, boasting that no one can stop him. Then the lights cut out — the gong hits — and Undertaker’s chilling presence fills the arena. The crowd erupts as he steps through the smoke for the first time since WrestleMania XX, eyes locked on the Beast.
The music darkens as the footage shifts. On SmackDown, Undertaker issues his warning: “Brock, your time is up. You’re looking at your reckoning.” Lesnar smirks, but when he swings the first punch, Undertaker answers with thunderous rights of his own, driving the champion from the ring.
The narrator continues: “What followed was chaos.” Highlights show Lesnar ambushing Taker backstage, targeting his ribs with steel chairs, leaving him gasping for breath. Commentary overlays scream, “Lesnar is trying to cripple the Deadman before Backlash!” We see Lesnar snarling, clutching the WWE Title, yelling, “This is my yard now!”
Cut to Undertaker’s eerie responses — lightning striking the stage as Lesnar’s face twists in shock, the lights flickering to black mid-promo, Brock shouting in frustration as Taker’s mind games intensify. The Deadman makes his message clear, chokeslamming A-Train through a table, destroying anyone in his way as an example of what awaits the Beast.
The video slows for a brutal brawl on SmackDown: Lesnar and Undertaker tearing each other apart, officials and security swarming, but neither man backing down. Undertaker lunges through the crowd of guards just to get his hands on the champion, Brock roaring in fury as they’re dragged apart. The crowd’s chants echo — “TAKER! TAKER! TAKER!” — the feud boiling over into all-out war.
The narrator’s tone rises: “Two unstoppable forces, one WWE Championship. At Backlash, the Deadman returns to reclaim his yard… but the Next Big Thing has vowed to bury the legend for good.”
The closing montage shows Undertaker’s throat-slash taunt, eyes rolled back in haunting defiance, intercut with Brock hoisting the WWE Title and snarling into the camera. The final shot splits their faces down the middle, text flashing in flames across the screen:
“WWE Championship: Brock Lesnar vs. The Undertaker. Backlash.”
WWE Championship Match
Brock Lesnar (c) vs. The Undertaker
The bell rang, and the capacity crowd erupted as two of the most dominant forces in WWE history stood across from each other. Brock Lesnar, the WWE Champion and self-proclaimed "Next Big Thing," stared across the ring at The Undertaker, The Phenom who had haunted his nightmares with mind games for weeks. There was no posturing, no stalling—both men charged toward the center of the ring and immediately began trading thunderous right hands. Each punch landed with bone-jarring force, the sound echoing through the arena. Lesnar, the younger and slightly quicker of the two, gained the early advantage, backing The Undertaker into the corner with a barrage of shoulder thrusts to the midsection. Each drive of Lesnar's powerful shoulder drove the air from The Deadman's lungs, but The Phenom responded by grabbing Lesnar by the throat and shoving him backward with frightening ease.
The Undertaker took control, grabbing Lesnar by the wrist and delivering his signature Old School maneuver. The Deadman walked the top rope with perfect balance, his arm extended upward as the crowd counted along. He came down with a massive overhand chop that sent shockwaves through Lesnar's trapezius muscles, dropping the champion to one knee. The Undertaker immediately followed up, grabbing Lesnar's arm and wrenching it with an arm wringer that twisted the champion's shoulder at a painful angle. Lesnar grimaced but used his raw power to roll forward, kip up to his feet, and reverse the hold, twisting The Undertaker's arm instead. But The Phenom was too experienced, reversing the reversal with a short-arm clothesline that nearly decapitated Lesnar, sending the champion crashing to the mat.
The Undertaker pulled Lesnar to his feet and whipped him into the ropes with tremendous force. Lesnar bounced off the cables and was met with a massive big boot that caught him flush under the chin, snapping his head back violently. Lesnar's body went horizontal in mid-air before crashing to the canvas. The Undertaker made the first cover of the match, hooking Lesnar's leg deeply. The referee slid into position—one, two—but Lesnar powered out with authority, throwing The Undertaker off him before the two-count was complete. The champion rolled to the outside to regroup, shaking the cobwebs loose, but The Phenom would give him no respite. The Undertaker followed, stepping over the top rope with his long stride and pursuing Lesnar around the ring.
Lesnar, showing his intelligence and amateur wrestling background, waited for the perfect moment. As The Undertaker approached, Lesnar exploded forward and caught The Deadman with a textbook double-leg takedown, driving him backward into the steel ring apron. The impact was sickening, The Undertaker's spine colliding with the hardest part of the ring. Lesnar didn't relent, immediately mounting The Phenom and delivering a series of brutal ground-and-pound punches, mixing in hammer fists that battered The Undertaker's face. The referee began his count from inside the ring, but Lesnar ignored it, continuing his assault before finally grabbing The Undertaker by his long hair and hurling him shoulder-first into the steel ring steps. The steps exploded apart from the impact, the top section flying several feet away as The Undertaker clutched his shoulder in pain.
Lesnar, sensing blood in the water, grabbed The Undertaker and rolled him back into the ring, following quickly behind. Brock Lesnar pulled The Deadman to his feet and hoisted him up for a massive belly-to-belly overhead suplex. Lesnar's freakish strength was on full display as he launched The Undertaker across the ring, The Phenom's 300-pound frame flying through the air before crashing down with tremendous impact. The ring shook from the landing, and Lesnar immediately crawled over for the cover, hooking both legs. The referee counted—one, two—but The Undertaker kicked out with force, his legendary resilience already evident.
Lesnar stayed on the attack, pulling The Undertaker up and driving a knee into his midsection before positioning him for a gutwrench suplex. Lesnar locked his hands around The Undertaker's waist and lifted, but The Phenom blocked it by dropping his weight and delivering a series of elbows to the back of Lesnar's head. The champion's grip loosened, and The Undertaker capitalized, spinning around behind Lesnar and planting him with a huge German suplex. The crowd erupted as Lesnar's head and shoulders spiked into the mat, but The Undertaker couldn't hold the bridge for a pin attempt, his own body too damaged from the earlier assault.
Both men lay on the canvas for several seconds before beginning to stir. They got to their feet simultaneously, and The Undertaker struck first, delivering a massive uppercut that rocked Lesnar backward into the ropes. The Undertaker charged and clotheslined Lesnar over the top rope, but the athletic champion held onto the ropes and landed on the apron. As The Undertaker turned around, Lesnar grabbed him by the head and dropped down, guillotining The Phenom's throat across the top rope. The Undertaker staggered backward, clutching his throat, and Lesnar springboarded over the top rope, catching The Undertaker with a flying clothesline that sent both men crashing to the mat.
Lesnar was first to his feet, and he immediately went back to his amateur wrestling roots. He grabbed The Undertaker's leg and delivered a vicious dragon screw leg whip, wrenching the knee with torque that made the veteran grimace in pain. Lesnar held onto the leg and delivered another dragon screw, then a third, systematically breaking down The Undertaker's base. The Beast then wrapped his massive arms around The Undertaker's leg and applied a brutal single-leg Boston crab, sitting back with all his 295 pounds of muscle pressing down on The Phenom's lower back and knee. The Undertaker's face contorted in agony as he clawed toward the ropes, his fingers stretching for salvation. After a struggle that lasted nearly thirty seconds, The Deadman finally grasped the bottom rope, forcing the break.
Lesnar released the hold but immediately dragged The Undertaker back to the center of the ring by his boot. He dropped a massive elbow directly onto The Undertaker's injured knee, then another, and another. The targeted assault was clinical and brutal. Lesnar pulled The Undertaker up, hooked him, and delivered a massive fisherman suplex, bridging for the pin. The referee counted—one, two—but The Undertaker kicked out, his shoulder shooting off the mat with authority. Lesnar, showing frustration for the first time, slapped the mat and pulled The Undertaker up once more.
The champion positioned The Undertaker against the ropes and delivered a series of devastating shoulder blocks to the midsection, each one driving deeper into The Phenom's ribs. Lesnar then grabbed The Undertaker and attempted an Irish whip, but The Deadman reversed it, sending Lesnar into the ropes instead. As Lesnar rebounded, The Undertaker caught him with a massive sidewalk slam, using Lesnar's own momentum against him. The impact rattled the ring, and The Undertaker held on for the cover—one, two—but Lesnar kicked out at two, his own resilience now being tested.
The Undertaker, despite his injured knee, began to build momentum. He pulled Lesnar up and delivered a series of heavy right hands, each one pushing the champion backward. The Undertaker whipped Lesnar into the corner and followed with a massive clothesline that crushed Lesnar against the turnbuckles. The Undertaker then grabbed Lesnar's wrist, stepped up to the second rope, and walked along the top rope once more, preparing for another Old School. But this time, Lesnar was ready. As The Undertaker came down with the chop, Lesnar caught him in mid-air, adjusted his position, and planted The Phenom with a massive spinebuster that drove all the air from The Undertaker's lungs. The crowd gasped at the counter, and Lesnar immediately hooked both legs for the cover. The referee counted—one, two—but The Undertaker kicked out just before three.
Lesnar, sensing his opportunity, signaled for the F-5. The crowd buzzed with anticipation and dread as The Beast pulled The Undertaker to his feet and hoisted him onto his shoulders in the fireman's carry position. Lesnar spun around once, twice, and then launched The Undertaker off his shoulders, letting him rotate in mid-air before The Phenom crashed face-first into the mat with devastating impact. The entire arena shook from the force of the F-5. Lesnar immediately hooked The Undertaker's leg deeply, and the referee slid into position. One... two... but at two-and-three-quarters, The Undertaker's shoulder shot off the mat. The crowd exploded in disbelief, and Lesnar sat up, staring at the referee in complete shock, holding up three fingers in protest.
The champion couldn't believe it. He grabbed The Undertaker and pulled the nearly unconscious Phenom to his feet, setting him up for a second F-5 to finish him once and for all. But as Lesnar hoisted The Undertaker onto his shoulders, The Deadman came alive, delivering brutal elbow strikes to the side of Lesnar's head. The champion's grip loosened, and The Undertaker slid down behind him. Before Lesnar could turn around, The Undertaker grabbed him by the throat with both hands. The supernatural strength of The Phenom was on full display as he lifted the 295-pound champion high into the air and drove him down with a thunderous Chokeslam. The ring shook from the impact, and The Undertaker collapsed across Lesnar's chest for the cover. The referee counted—one, two—but somehow, incredibly, Lesnar kicked out just before the three-count. The crowd erupted in disbelief at Lesnar's resilience, and even The Undertaker looked shocked.
The Deadman pulled himself to his feet, feeding off the energy of the crowd. He grabbed Lesnar by the throat once more and hoisted him up for a second Chokeslam, but as he lifted, Lesnar countered in mid-air, wrapping his legs around The Undertaker's arm and transitioning into a triangle choke. The submission hold was perfectly applied, and The Undertaker's face began to turn red as Lesnar squeezed with all his might. The Phenom struggled, his arm trapped, but he used his size and power to lift Lesnar off the mat while still caught in the hold. With one massive effort, The Undertaker powerbombed Lesnar into the canvas, forcing him to break the submission.
Both men lay on the mat, completely spent. The Undertaker was first to his feet, and he signaled for the Last Ride. The crowd roared in anticipation as The Deadman grabbed Lesnar and positioned him between his legs. The Undertaker hooked Lesnar's arms and, with tremendous effort, lifted the champion high into the air in the crucifix powerbomb position. The Undertaker held him there for a moment before driving him down with the Last Ride, Lesnar's back slamming into the mat with sickening force. The Undertaker stayed on his knees and hooked both of Lesnar's legs, leaning all his weight forward for the pin. The referee counted—one, two—but at the absolute last millisecond, Lesnar kicked out. The crowd gasped, and The Undertaker fell backward, his face a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief.
The Phenom, running on pure determination, pulled Lesnar up once more. He grabbed the champion and positioned him between his legs, hooking his arms for the Tombstone Piledriver, his most feared finishing move. The Undertaker lifted Lesnar up into the Tombstone position, The Beast's body inverted and his head dangerously close to the canvas. The Undertaker dropped to his knees, driving Lesnar's head into the mat with devastating impact. The champion's body went completely limp, and The Undertaker crossed Lesnar's arms over his chest in his signature pin. The referee counted—one, two—but somehow, impossibly, Lesnar's shoulder rolled off the mat just before three. The crowd erupted in absolute pandemonium, chanting "This is awesome!" as The Undertaker stared at the referee in complete disbelief.
The Deadman sat up, his legendary sit-up, and rolled his eyes back in his head, signaling that the end was near. He grabbed Lesnar once more, pulling the nearly unconscious champion to his feet and positioning him for a second Tombstone. But Lesnar, using every ounce of his remaining strength and flexibility, managed to slide down The Undertaker's back. Lesnar immediately grabbed The Phenom from behind and delivered a massive German suplex, bridging perfectly for the pin. The referee counted—one, two—but The Undertaker kicked out, rolling his shoulder off the mat.
Both men lay on the canvas, completely exhausted from the war they were waging. The referee began a standing ten-count as the crowd chanted "This is awesome!" At the count of seven, both competitors began to stir. At eight, they were on their knees, trading weak punches from their kneeling positions. At nine, they were on their feet, and they began exchanging heavy right hands once more, neither man willing to give an inch. The Undertaker gained the advantage, delivering a series of strikes that backed Lesnar into the corner. The Phenom grabbed Lesnar and whipped him across the ring into the opposite corner with tremendous force. Lesnar's back hit the turnbuckles hard, and The Undertaker charged, looking for a running clothesline.
But Lesnar moved at the last second, and The Undertaker crashed chest-first into the turnbuckles. As The Phenom staggered backward, Lesnar grabbed him from behind, lifted him, and planted him with a massive back suplex. Both men were down again, the toll of the match evident on their faces. Lesnar, showing the first signs of desperation, looked toward the corner. His eyes locked on the top turnbuckle, and slowly, painfully, he began to pull himself up. The crowd buzzed with anticipation and confusion as Lesnar climbed to the second rope, then the third, standing on the top turnbuckle and looking down at The Undertaker's prone form.
Lesnar steadied himself, his face a mask of determination and exhaustion. The entire arena held its breath as Brock Lesnar measured the distance. This was it—the Shooting Star Press, the move that had nearly ended his career at WrestleMania XIX against Kurt Angle, a move he had not attempted since that fateful night over a year ago. Lesnar crouched, then launched himself backward into the air, his 295-pound frame rotating in a perfect shooting star motion. The crowd gasped in awe at the athleticism, but The Undertaker, sensing the danger through sheer veteran instinct, rolled out of the way at the last possible second.
Lesnar crashed chest-first into the canvas with catastrophic impact. The sound of his body hitting the mat echoed through the arena, and Lesnar immediately grabbed his ribs, rolling onto his back in agony. The high-risk gamble had failed, and now both men lay motionless on the mat, the physical toll of the match reaching its peak. The Undertaker, using the ropes, slowly pulled himself to his feet. He looked down at Lesnar, who was clutching his chest and gasping for air, the failed Shooting Star Press having knocked the wind completely out of him.
The Undertaker sensed his opportunity. He grabbed the dazed Lesnar and pulled him into a seated position. The Deadman positioned himself behind the champion and immediately locked in his devastating Hell's Gate submission—a modified dragon sleeper combined with a body scissors. The Undertaker's arm wrapped tightly around Lesnar's throat while his legs scissored around the champion's torso, squeezing the already-injured ribs. Lesnar's face immediately turned red as the blood flow to his brain was restricted, and his hands frantically clawed at The Undertaker's arm, desperately trying to break the hold.
The crowd erupted, sensing the end was near. Lesnar's struggling became more frantic, his movements growing weaker as the seconds ticked by. His arm reached out toward the ropes, but they were too far away. The Undertaker wrenched back harder, his eyes rolled back in his head, the submission locked in with supernatural intensity. Lesnar's hand began to waver, rising and falling as if he was about to tap out. The referee positioned himself to check if the champion was still conscious, lifting Lesnar's arm once—it fell. He lifted it a second time—it fell again. The referee prepared to lift it a third time, which would signal the end of the match and the championship.
But before the referee could complete the third arm drop, Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin, The World's Greatest Tag Team, stormed down the entrance ramp at full speed. They slid into the ring, and before the referee could react, both men began stomping on The Undertaker, forcing him to release the Hell's Gate. The referee immediately called for the bell, signaling a disqualification. Lesnar rolled to the corner, gasping for air and clutching his throat and ribs, having been seconds away from losing his championship.
Winner: The Undertaker by Disqualification (Brock Lesnar retains the WWE Championship)
Lesnar stepped back and signaled for another F-5, clearly looking to destroy The Undertaker completely. Haas and Benjamin released The Undertaker, and Lesnar hoisted him onto his shoulders. But before he could execute the move, the arena suddenly plunged into darkness. A familiar, terrifying sound filled the building—the explosive pyrotechnic burst followed by the unmistakable theme of Kane. The crowd erupted in absolute pandemonium as red lights began to flicker throughout the arena.
When the lights came up, standing at the top of the entrance ramp was Kane—but not the unmasked monster the WWE Universe had known for the past year. He wore his classic mask from the Brothers of Destruction days, the red and black leather covering his face, his eyes burning through the eyeholes with unholy fire. His presence was otherworldly, terrifying, a throwback to the most dominant period of his career. Kane marched to the ring with purpose, his massive frame moving with frightening speed.
Haas and Benjamin, realizing the danger, immediately bailed from the ring and began backing up the ramp. Lesnar, caught between his fallen opponent and the returning monster, stood his ground for a moment, but as Kane stepped over the top rope into the ring, even Brock Lesnar decided discretion was the better part of valor. Lesnar grabbed his WWE Championship and rolled out of the ring, joining The World's Greatest Tag Team in retreat.
Inside the ring, Kane stood tall, flames erupting from all four ring posts as his pyro hit. The Undertaker, battered and bruised, slowly pulled himself to his feet using the ropes. The two brothers locked eyes for the first time in months, the tension palpable. But then, in a moment that sent chills through every member of the audience, The Undertaker extended his fist toward Kane. Kane, after a moment's hesitation, bumped his fist against his brother's. The Brothers of Destruction were reunited.
As Lesnar, Haas, and Benjamin stood on the entrance ramp, their faces a mixture of shock and concern, The Undertaker and Kane stood side by side in the ring. The Deadman raised his arm, and Kane mirrored the gesture. Flames exploded from the ring posts once more as Backlash went off the air with the haunting image of the reunited Brothers of Destruction standing tall, ready to unleash hell on Brock Lesnar and anyone who stood with him.
(Video opens with a slow, majestic, sweeping aerial shot of the arena for Backlash. The World Heavyweight Championship is superimposed, glittering under a single spotlight. A deep, cinematic orchestral score begins, filled with tension and prestige.)
Narrator (V.O., deep and gravelly): "Three men. Three legends. Three destinies intertwined by a singular obsession: the World Heavyweight Championship. At Backlash, the war for supremacy reaches its violent, inevitable conclusion. This is not just a match for a title. This is a battle for the soul of Monday Night Raw."
(The screen cuts to grainy, black-and-white footage of Kurt Angle in physical therapy after his neck surgery. The music becomes somber, more intimate. We hear the faint sounds of a heart monitor.)
Narrator (V.O.): "For Kurt Angle, the journey here was forged in a crucible of pain. A broken neck that should have ended his career became the bedrock of his resurrection. He returned not just as a man, but as a machine, driven by a singular purpose. At WrestleMania XX, he achieved the impossible, forcing the unbeatable Triple H to tap out, reclaiming the gold that defined his very existence. He proved that integrity and intensity could conquer a corrupt empire."
(Cut to footage of Angle standing tall at WrestleMania, confetti falling as he holds the title. Then, quick cuts from Raw: Angle declaring he will make his opponents tap out. )
Kurt Angle (archival audio): "He's hidden behind Evolution long enough. At WrestleMania, there’s nowhere to run.”
Narrator (V.O.): "But in the kingdom of the World Heavyweight Champion, peace is a fleeting luxury. The king he dethroned refuses to accept exile."
(The music shifts, becoming the menacing, grinding guitar riff of Motörhead's "The Game." Footage explodes onto the screen: Triple H in his prime, flanked by Evolution, dripping in arrogance and gold. We see him delivering Pedigrees, his reign seemingly endless.)
Narrator (V.O.): "For over a year, Triple H was more than a champion; he was a tyrant. His empire, Evolution, was built to protect his throne, dismantling any and all threats. But the foundation cracked from within. Betrayed by his protégé and defeated by his rival, The Game found himself, for the first time, utterly alone. Now, the championship he calls his 'property' is in the hands of the one man he couldn't break."
(Footage of Triple H on the TitanTron, coolly informing Angle and Michaels of the main event he arranged. Then, a hard cut to him delivering a Pedigree to a distracted Angle to win their match on Raw. )
Triple H (archival audio): "The bickering between Angle and Michaels was merely a squabble over my property. The World Heavyweight Championship belongs to me."
Narrator (V.O.): "But while a dethroned king plots to reclaim his kingdom, another legend, lost in his own obsession, seeks to burn it all down."
(The music shifts again. A sudden, jarring superkick sound effect hits as the screen cuts to Shawn Michaels. The score becomes more dramatic, almost unhinged. We see footage of HBK's bitter low blow to Angle at No Way Out and his venomous promo declaring, "I AM WrestleMania!")
Narrator (V.O.): "Shawn Michaels, 'Mr. WrestleMania,' a man defined by the grandest stage. But when his path to glory was denied, the Showstopper transformed into the ultimate opportunist. He didn't earn his way into this war; he forced it. Driven by a narcissistic rage, he declared that the main event belonged to him, attacking both champion and challenger with a stunning Sweet Chin Music, injecting himself into a rivalry he had no part of."
(Fast-paced cuts of the chaos from Raw: Michaels hitting Angle with Sweet Chin Music after his backstage brawl with Triple H , then standing over both men after their main event match , before grabbing the title and hitting them both with it as Raw goes off the air. )
Shawn Michaels (archival audio): "The lasting image from the previous week... was not a moment of chance, but a preview of the inevitable."
Narrator (V.O.): "The road to Backlash became a treacherous game of psychological warfare. In a series of 'Pick Your Poison' matches, each man sought to weaken the others, but only succeeded in fanning the flames of hatred. Alliances were temporary, trust was non-existent, and the violence became uncontrollable. From backstage brawls that crashed through steel walls to ringside ambushes that shattered announce tables, their animosity could not be contained. The war consumed them, leaving a trail of wreckage week after week."
(A chaotic montage of the final Raw confrontation: security swarming the ring, Angle locking Triple H in the Ankle Lock , Triple H hitting a Spinebuster , Michaels delivering Sweet Chin Music to both men , and Angle getting the final, torturous Ankle Lock on Michaels as officials desperately try to pry them apart. The music reaches a thunderous crescendo.)
Narrator (V.O.): "Now, there are no more mind games. No more partners. No more places to hide. Three icons, locked in a violent triangle of ambition, vengeance, and obsession. Kurt Angle fights to legitimize his reign. Triple H fights to reclaim his throne. And Shawn Michaels fights for the spotlight he believes is his birthright. At Backlash, a champion will be crowned..."
(Final, dramatic, slow-motion shots of each man: Angle screaming as he grapevines the Ankle Lock. Triple H snarling as he lifts an opponent for the Pedigree. Michaels, eyes wild, tuning up the band. The screen fades to black, with the Backlash logo burning in the center.)
Narrator (V.O., low and menacing): "...but no one will leave the same."
World Heavyweight Championship Triple Threat Match
Kurt Angle (c) vs. Triple H vs. Shawn Michaels
The bell rang, and for a brief moment, all three men stood in their respective corners, eyes locked on each other in a triangle of mutual hatred and ambition. The tension was suffocating. Triple H, The Game and former World Heavyweight Champion, glared at Kurt Angle, the man who made him tap out at WrestleMania XX. Shawn Michaels, Mr. WrestleMania himself, stared daggers at both men, determined to reclaim the championship that had eluded him. Kurt Angle, the Olympic Gold Medalist and current champion, stood with the Big Gold Belt around his waist, his eyes darting between his two challengers, knowing that either man could end his reign at any moment.
The stalemate broke when Triple H and Shawn Michaels exchanged a glance—a momentary understanding between former best friends—and simultaneously charged at Kurt Angle. The champion tried to defend himself, but the two-on-one assault was overwhelming. Triple H delivered a hard right hand while Michaels drove a boot into Angle's midsection. They worked in tandem, whipping Angle into the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a double back elbow that sent the champion crashing to the mat. The crowd roared as the former Evolution partners continued their assault, with Triple H holding Angle in place while Michaels delivered a series of knife-edge chops that left crimson welts across the champion's chest.
But the alliance was short-lived. As Michaels wound up for another chop, Triple H shoved him aside and delivered his own strike to Angle. Michaels immediately shoved back, and the two former friends began arguing over who would take control. The argument escalated quickly, and within seconds, they were exchanging right hands, their temporary truce forgotten. Angle, ever the opportunist, recovered in the corner and watched as his two challengers tore into each other. Triple H gained the advantage, backing Michaels into the ropes with a series of heavy strikes before attempting an Irish whip. Michaels reversed it, sending Triple H into the ropes instead. As The Game rebounded, Michaels leapfrogged over him, but Angle had positioned himself perfectly. As Triple H bounced off the opposite ropes, the champion caught him with a massive overhead belly-to-belly suplex that sent The Cerebral Assassin flying across the ring.
Michaels immediately went after Angle, but the champion was ready. Angle ducked a clothesline attempt and caught Michaels with a German suplex, bridging beautifully for the first pin attempt of the match. The referee slid into position—one, two—but Michaels kicked out with authority. Angle maintained his grip and pulled Michaels up, delivering a second German suplex with even more force. The back of Michaels' head bounced off the canvas, but Angle wasn't done. He pulled Michaels up once more and completed the hat trick with a third German suplex, this time releasing Michaels at the apex and sending him crashing down on his neck and shoulders.
Triple H, having recovered, charged at Angle from behind, but the champion sensed him coming. Angle ducked and executed a drop toe hold that sent Triple H face-first into the middle turnbuckle. The Game's head snapped back from the impact, and Angle immediately capitalized, grabbing Triple H's legs and attempting to turn him over for the Ankle Lock. Triple H, knowing the danger of Angle's signature submission, kicked frantically and managed to shove Angle off with his free leg, sending the champion stumbling backward into a recovering Shawn Michaels. Michaels immediately grabbed Angle and planted him with an inverted atomic drop, then followed with a scoop slam in the center of the ring.
With both his opponents down, Michaels scaled the turnbuckles, his signature high-risk maneuver imminent. The crowd rose to their feet as The Showstopper reached the top rope and launched himself into the air, crashing down onto Angle with his flying elbow drop. The impact drove all the air from Angle's lungs, and Michaels immediately popped up, retreating to the corner to tune up the band. His boot began rhythmically stomping the mat as the crowd clapped along, anticipating Sweet Chin Music. Angle staggered to his feet, completely dazed, turning directly into the path of Michaels' superkick. But before Michaels could deliver the devastating blow, Triple H exploded into frame and clotheslined Michaels inside out, completely blindsiding him.
The Game immediately went to work on his former best friend, mounting Michaels and delivering a series of mounted punches that battered The Showstopper's face. Triple H pulled Michaels up and whipped him hard into the corner, following closely behind with a running high knee that caught Michaels flush in the jaw. As Michaels slumped in the corner, Triple H grabbed him and delivered a massive vertical suplex, holding Michaels in the air for several seconds to let the blood rush to his head before driving him down with authority. Triple H hooked the leg for the cover—one, two—but Angle broke it up with a double axe handle to the back of Triple H's head.
Angle pulled Triple H to his feet and the two began exchanging strikes in the center of the ring. Triple H's brawling style clashed with Angle's technical precision, but it was The Game who gained the upper hand, backing Angle into the ropes. Triple H attempted an Irish whip, but Angle reversed it and caught Triple H on the rebound with a picture-perfect powerslam. Angle immediately floated over for the cover—one, two—but Triple H kicked out at two. The champion pulled Triple H up and positioned him for an Angle Slam, but as he lifted, The Game slipped down behind him and shoved Angle forward into the ropes. As Angle bounced back, Triple H caught him with a massive spinebuster that shook the ring. The crowd groaned at the impact as Angle's spine slammed into the canvas.
Triple H signaled for the Pedigree, his devastating finishing move. He positioned Angle between his legs and hooked both arms, but before he could execute the move, Shawn Michaels had recovered. HBK charged and delivered a chop block to the back of Triple H's knee, causing The Game to collapse and release his grip on Angle. Michaels immediately grabbed Triple H's legs and attempted to turn him over for the Figure Four Leglock, but Triple H kicked him off with both feet, sending Michaels crashing into the corner.
All three men were down, the early frenetic pace taking its toll. The referee began a standing ten-count as the capacity crowd urged their favorites on. At the count of five, Angle was the first to stir, using the ropes to pull himself up. At six, Michaels was on his knees. At seven, Triple H had rolled to the apron. Angle charged at Michaels, but The Showstopper caught him with a drop toe hold that sent the champion's throat crashing across the middle rope. Michaels immediately followed up with a baseball slide dropkick that sent Angle tumbling to the outside.
With Angle temporarily eliminated from the equation, Michaels turned his attention to Triple H, who was pulling himself up on the apron. Michaels charged, but Triple H dropped down, pulling the top rope with him and sending Michaels tumbling over the top rope to the floor. The Game slid back into the ring, taking a moment to catch his breath as both his opponents were down on the outside. But Triple H wasn't content to wait. He ran across the ring, bounced off the ropes, and launched himself through the ropes with a suicide dive that took out both Angle and Michaels, all three men crashing into the barricade in a heap of bodies.
The crowd erupted in chants of "This is awesome!" as all three competitors lay sprawled on the arena floor. Triple H was the first to recover, and he grabbed Angle, slamming the champion's face into the steel ring post. Angle crumpled to the ground, blood beginning to trickle from a small cut above his eyebrow. Triple H then turned his attention to Michaels, grabbing him and whipping him shoulder-first into the steel ring steps. The steps exploded apart from the impact, and Michaels clutched his shoulder in agony.
Triple H rolled Michaels back into the ring and followed, immediately going for the cover. The referee counted—one, two—but Michaels kicked out. The Game pulled Michaels up and delivered his signature knee facebuster, driving HBK's face into his knee with tremendous force. Michaels' head snapped back, and Triple H immediately hooked him for the Pedigree once more. This time, he successfully hooked both arms and prepared to drive Michaels' face into the mat, but Kurt Angle had recovered. The champion slid into the ring and caught Triple H with a low dropkick to the face just as he was about to execute his finisher. Triple H's grip on Michaels broke, and all three men were down once again.
Angle was the first to his feet, and he grabbed Triple H, pulling him up and delivering a snap suplex. Angle held on and rolled through, pulling Triple H up for a second snap suplex. He rolled through again and completed the trio with a third snap suplex, a tribute to Eddie Guerrero that drew a mixed reaction from the crowd. Angle popped up and immediately targeted Michaels, who was using the ropes to pull himself up. The champion grabbed Michaels from behind and delivered a picture-perfect German suplex, but this time he held on, pulling Michaels up for a second, then a third, then a fourth German suplex in succession. Each one drove Michaels' head and neck into the canvas with sickening force.
With both opponents down, Angle felt the momentum shifting in his favor. He grabbed Triple H and attempted to lock in the Ankle Lock, but The Game was aware of the danger. Triple H quickly grabbed the ropes, forcing Angle to break the hold. The champion pulled Triple H to the center of the ring and tried again, but this time Triple H kicked him off, sending Angle stumbling into the corner. Triple H got to his feet and charged, but Angle moved and Triple H crashed chest-first into the turnbuckles. As The Game staggered backward, Angle grabbed him from behind and delivered an Angle Slam, planting Triple H in the center of the ring. The champion hooked the leg—one, two—but Shawn Michaels broke up the pin with a perfectly timed elbow drop to the back of Angle's head.
Michaels pulled Angle up and delivered a flying forearm smash that sent the champion down. In one fluid motion, Michaels kipped up to his feet, drawing a massive ovation from the crowd. The Heartbreak Kid was in his element now, feeding off the energy of the audience. He grabbed Angle and delivered an inverted atomic drop, followed by a scoop slam. Michaels then headed to the corner, scaling the turnbuckles once more. He reached the top rope and launched himself into the air, connecting with another picture-perfect flying elbow drop that drove his elbow into Angle's heart.
Michaels popped up immediately and retreated to the corner, tuning up the band once more. His boot stomped the mat rhythmically as Angle slowly staggered to his feet, completely dazed and vulnerable. The champion turned around, and Michaels lunged forward, his leg extending for Sweet Chin Music. But at the last possible second, Angle ducked under the superkick. The momentum carried Michaels forward, and he nearly collided with the referee. As Michaels stopped himself and turned around, Angle was ready, grabbing him and planting him with a massive Angle Slam. The champion immediately hooked both legs—one, two—but Triple H dove in at the last possible second to break up the pin.
The Game pulled Angle off Michaels and immediately went to work, delivering a series of right hands that backed the champion into the corner. Triple H unleashed a barrage of shoulder thrusts to Angle's midsection, each one driving deeper into the champion's ribs. Triple H then pulled Angle out of the corner and positioned him for a powerbomb. The Game lifted Angle high into the air and drove him down with tremendous force, but instead of going for the cover, Triple H held on and pulled Angle back up, delivering a second powerbomb. The crowd was on their feet as Triple H lifted Angle for a third powerbomb, but this time, as he lifted, Angle countered with a hurricanrana that sent Triple H flying across the ring.
Both men scrambled to their feet, and they met in the center of the ring, exchanging strikes once more. Angle gained the advantage with a European uppercut that rocked Triple H, followed by a series of rapid-fire right hands. Angle grabbed Triple H and whipped him into the ropes, catching him on the rebound with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker that drove all the air from The Game's lungs. Angle immediately transitioned, grabbing Triple H's leg and locking in the Ankle Lock. The crowd erupted as Angle sat back, wrenching the ankle with devastating torque.
Triple H's face contorted in agony as he clawed desperately toward the ropes. Angle pulled him back to the center of the ring, sitting back even further and grapevining the leg to make escape impossible. Triple H's hand hovered above the mat, ready to tap out, just as he had at WrestleMania XX. But before he could submit, Shawn Michaels, who had been down in the corner, charged across the ring and delivered a perfectly placed superkick—Sweet Chin Music—that caught Angle flush on the jaw. The champion's grip on Triple H's ankle immediately broke, and Angle collapsed to the mat, completely unconscious.
Michaels immediately collapsed on top of Angle for the cover. The referee slid into position—one, two—but Triple H, showing incredible awareness despite the pain in his ankle, dove and broke up the pin just before the three-count. All three men lay on the canvas, completely exhausted, as the crowd gave them a standing ovation. The referee began another standing ten-count. At seven, Michaels was the first to stir. At eight, Triple H was on his knees. At nine, Angle had rolled to the ropes. All three men pulled themselves up just before the count of ten.
They met in the center of the ring, all three standing on wobbly legs, and began exchanging weak punches from their exhausted positions. Michaels struck Angle, Angle struck Triple H, Triple H struck Michaels, and the rotation continued, each man too tired to mount a sustained offense. Finally, Michaels blocked a punch from Angle and delivered a desperation enzuigiri that caught the champion on the side of the head. Angle staggered but didn't fall. Michaels charged for a clothesline, but Angle ducked and caught Michaels with a release German suplex that sent The Showstopper crashing into the corner.
Triple H, seeing both opponents down, attempted to capitalize. He grabbed Angle and positioned him for the Pedigree once more, successfully hooking both arms. But as he prepared to drop down, Angle countered, straightening his body and launching Triple H over his head with a back body drop. The Game crashed to the mat, and Angle immediately pounced, grabbing his ankle and locking in the Ankle Lock once more. This time, however, Triple H was ready. He rolled through the hold, using his momentum to send Angle stumbling forward into the corner.
As Angle turned around, Shawn Michaels had recovered. HBK charged and delivered Sweet Chin Music to Angle, the superkick connecting perfectly with the champion's jaw. Angle's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed backward. But before Michaels could go for the cover, he turned directly into Triple H, who kicked him in the gut and delivered a thunderous Pedigree, driving Michaels' face into the mat with devastating impact. The crowd was in pandemonium as Triple H crawled toward Michaels for the cover, but Kurt Angle, running on pure instinct, grabbed Triple H's boot and locked in the Ankle Lock once more.
Triple H screamed in agony, trapped in the submission hold for the third time in the match. Angle wrenched back with everything he had, sitting back and grapevining the leg. Triple H's hand raised, ready to tap out, but he fought through the pain, desperately crawling inch by inch toward the ropes. After what seemed like an eternity, The Game's fingers finally grasped the bottom rope. The referee called for the break, and Angle reluctantly released the hold.
The champion, frustrated, pulled Triple H back to the center of the ring and attempted to lock in the Ankle Lock yet again, but Triple H kicked him off with his free leg. Angle stumbled backward into the ropes and bounced back toward Triple H. The Game pulled himself up and attempted a clothesline, but Angle ducked under it and caught Triple H from behind, delivering another Angle Slam. The champion immediately hooked the leg—one, two—but somehow, impossibly, Triple H kicked out just before three.
Angle couldn't believe it. He sat up, staring at the referee in disbelief. The champion pulled himself to his feet and signaled for another Angle Slam, this time targeting Shawn Michaels, who was beginning to stir. Angle grabbed Michaels and lifted him for the Angle Slam, but as he spun, Michaels countered in mid-air, landing on his feet behind Angle. Michaels immediately grabbed Angle and attempted a roll-up—one, two—but Angle kicked out. Both men scrambled to their feet, and Michaels lunged forward with Sweet Chin Music, but Angle caught his boot in mid-air. Holding Michaels' leg, Angle spun him around and, as Michaels completed the rotation, caught him with a massive clothesline that turned HBK inside out.
With both opponents down, Angle pulled the straps of his singlet down, his signature sign of intensity. The crowd roared as the champion grabbed Triple H and locked in the Ankle Lock once more, this time in the center of the ring with no hope of reaching the ropes. Triple H screamed and clawed at the mat, but there was nowhere to go. Just as The Game's hand was about to tap the mat, Shawn Michaels recovered and delivered a superkick to Angle's jaw. The champion released the hold immediately and collapsed.
All three men were down once again, the match having pushed them all to their absolute limits. The referee began yet another standing ten-count as the crowd chanted "This is awesome!" repeatedly. At eight, Michaels draped an arm over Angle. The referee counted—one, two—but Angle kicked out. At nine, all three men were on their knees in the center of the ring, and they began trading weak punches once more, none of them able to generate significant power.
Michaels struck first, hitting Angle with a weak right hand. Angle responded with a European uppercut. Triple H delivered a punch to Michaels. The three-way exchange continued until Michaels suddenly found a second wind, delivering a series of rapid-fire chops to both opponents. The crowd counted along as Michaels lit up both men's chests with knife-edge chops. He then grabbed Angle and whipped him into the corner, following with a clothesline. He immediately turned and did the same to Triple H, clothesling him in the opposite corner.
Michaels grabbed Triple H and delivered a scoop slam in the center of the ring, then did the same to Angle, positioning both men side by side. The Showstopper headed to the corner once more, scaling the turnbuckles to a deafening ovation. He reached the top rope and launched himself into the air, but as he came down with the flying elbow drop aimed at Angle, both The Game and the champion moved at the last second. Michaels crashed into the canvas, his elbow striking nothing but mat. He immediately clutched his arm in pain, the high-risk move having backfired.
Triple H and Angle both got to their feet at the same time, locking eyes across the ring. The two men who had started the match exchanging strikes once more charged at each other. They met in the center of the ring with a simultaneous double clothesline that sent both men crashing to the mat. All three competitors were down once again as the match approached the twenty-five-minute mark.
Kurt Angle was the first to recover, using the ropes to pull himself up. He grabbed Shawn Michaels and delivered another German suplex, but this time he held on, rolling through and pulling Michaels up for a second. He completed the sequence with a third German suplex, then a fourth, then a fifth, each one driving Michaels into the canvas with increasing force. The crowd counted along as Angle delivered a sixth, then a seventh, then an eighth German suplex. Michaels was completely limp, his body ragdolling with each suplex. Angle finally released him after the eighth and immediately turned his attention to Triple H.
The champion grabbed The Game and attempted an Angle Slam, but Triple H slipped down behind him and shoved Angle forward into the ropes. As Angle bounced back, Triple H caught him with a devastating spinebuster. The Game immediately stood up and signaled for the Pedigree, pulling Angle to his feet and positioning him between his legs. This time, Triple H successfully hooked both arms without interference. He smirked, knowing he had Angle right where he wanted him. But just as he was about to drop down and execute the move, Kurt Angle summoned every ounce of his remaining strength and straightened his body, launching Triple H over his head with a back body drop for the second time in the match.
Triple H landed hard on his back and immediately scrambled to his feet, but he was met with a boot to the gut from Kurt Angle. The champion immediately hooked Triple H and lifted him for the Angle Slam. Angle spun and drove Triple H down with thunderous impact. The crowd was on their feet as Angle hooked both legs—one, two, thr—but Shawn Michaels broke up the pin at the absolute last possible millisecond, diving across the ring to break up the count.
Michaels and Angle both got to their feet, and they began trading strikes in the center of the ring once more. Angle gained the advantage with a headbutt that stunned Michaels, then grabbed him and delivered a belly-to-belly overhead suplex that sent The Showstopper flying across the ring. Angle immediately targeted Michaels' leg, grabbing his ankle and attempting to lock in the Ankle Lock. But Michaels, using his speed and ring awareness, rolled through and kicked Angle off, sending the champion stumbling into the corner.
Michaels kipped up to his feet once more, and the crowd erupted. He charged at Angle in the corner, but the champion moved at the last second and Michaels crashed chest-first into the turnbuckles. As Michaels staggered backward, Angle grabbed him and delivered yet another Angle Slam. The champion immediately hooked the leg—one, two—but this time Triple H broke up the pin, pulling Angle off Michaels by his foot.
The Game pulled Angle up and delivered a knee facebuster, followed immediately by a Pedigree setup. Triple H hooked both arms and this time successfully executed the move, driving Angle's face into the mat with devastating force. The crowd gasped as Triple H rolled Angle over and hooked both legs for the cover. The referee slid into position—one, two—but Kurt Angle, showing the heart of a champion, kicked out just before three.
Triple H couldn't believe it. He slammed his fists on the mat in frustration and immediately pulled Angle up for another Pedigree. But as he hooked the arms, Shawn Michaels had recovered. Michaels grabbed Triple H from behind and delivered a bridging back suplex that folded The Game up like an accordion. Michaels held the bridge—one, two—but Triple H kicked out.
All three men were completely spent, moving on pure instinct and adrenaline. Michaels pulled himself up using the ropes and tuned up the band once more, his boot stomping the mat as the crowd reached a fever pitch. Kurt Angle staggered to his feet, turning directly into Michaels' path. Shawn lunged forward with Sweet Chin Music, but Angle, with veteran ring awareness, caught Michaels' boot in mid-air. Holding the leg, Angle immediately transitioned into the Ankle Lock, wrenching back with desperate intensity.
Michaels screamed in agony, his face a mask of pain as Angle sat back and grapevined the leg. The Showstopper clawed toward the ropes, but Angle pulled him back to the center of the ring. Michaels' hand hovered above the mat, ready to tap out, when suddenly Triple H, who had recovered on the outside, slid a steel chair into the ring. The referee was focused on Michaels' potential submission and didn't see it.
Angle maintained the Ankle Lock, but he noticed the chair out of the corner of his eye. He released Michaels and grabbed the chair, but before he could use it, Triple H slid into the ring and delivered a chop block to the back of Angle's knee, causing the champion to drop the chair and collapse. The referee kicked the chair out of the ring, unaware of how it had gotten there. Triple H immediately grabbed Angle and delivered another Pedigree, this time in the center of the ring with no one to break it up. The Game hooked both legs—one, two—but Shawn Michaels, showing incredible resilience, dove and broke up the pin at the last possible moment.
The match had now crossed the twenty-seven-minute mark, and all three men were operating on fumes. Michaels and Triple H, the two former best friends, slowly got to their feet and stood face-to-face in the center of the ring. They began trading weak right hands, each strike slower and less impactful than the last. Finally, Michaels blocked a punch and delivered a desperation enzuigiri that caught Triple H on the side of the head. The Game staggered but didn't fall.
Michaels, summoning everything he had left, tuned up the band one final time. Triple H turned around, and Michaels lunged forward with Sweet Chin Music. The superkick connected perfectly with Triple H's jaw, and The Game's body went completely limp as he collapsed to the mat. Michaels immediately fell on top of him for the cover—one, two—but Kurt Angle, showing the instincts of a true champion, grabbed Michaels' leg and pulled him off Triple H, immediately transitioning into the Ankle Lock.
The crowd was in absolute pandemonium as Angle wrenched back on Michaels' ankle with everything he had left. Michaels screamed and clawed desperately toward the ropes, but Angle pulled him back to the center of the ring and grapevined the leg, making escape virtually impossible. Michaels' hand raised above the mat, trembling, ready to tap out. The pain was unbearable, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. After several agonizing seconds, Shawn Michaels had no choice. His hand came down and slapped the mat three times in rapid succession.
Winner and STILL World Heavyweight Champion: Kurt Angle (Shawn Michaels submitted to the Ankle Lock)
Kurt Angle immediately released the hold and collapsed to the mat, completely exhausted. The referee grabbed the World Heavyweight Championship and handed it to the champion as Angle slowly pulled himself up. His music hit, and the crowd gave all three men a standing ovation for the incredible war they had just witnessed. Angle clutched the Big Gold Belt to his chest, tears of exhaustion and relief streaming down his face as he raised the championship high above his head.
Triple H rolled out of the ring, clutching his jaw and staring at the ring in frustration and disbelief. Shawn Michaels lay in the center of the ring, holding his ankle and looking devastated, knowing he had come so close to victory. Kurt Angle stood on the second turnbuckle, championship held high, having survived the greatest challenge of his career and proven that he was truly the best in the world.
Backlash Goes off the air
(Will get to calculating the prediction contest winners shortly. Thanks to those who sent predictions)
