Editorials WWE

Undertaker and Other Magical Creatures – Fantasy Booking WrestleMania Part 2

Shane McMahon vs. The Undertaker

Shane McMahon has been absent from the WWE for years. The official story is that he has been exploring business expansion opportunities in China, but the true story is much darker. Uncovering Shane’s true journey these past few years is integral to knowing the outcome of the likely main event of WrestleMania.

It’s true that Shane has been in China these past few years, but his time was not spent in highrises, conference rooms and board meetings. Instead, he found himself in dark back alleys and mysterious mountain villages, following clues and here say wherever they led. He looked for answers within himself, and often wondered aloud if his search would be fruitless. In a small farming village that looked to be another dead-end, a sense of calm and completion washed over him. Just as he was about to take out his cell phone and call for his private jet to take him back to Connecticut, the distant laughter of a child caught his attention. He forgot about his phone and followed the sound, which danced lyrically and mysteriously in front of him, leading him towards a faint light on the outskirts of the farms and fields. Finally finding himself at the mouth of a cave, Shane paused. Although he didn’t know why, Shane knew that if he crossed that threshold, his search would end. He knew not when he would emerge, but if and when he did, he would be changed completely. He stepped toward the light.

In that cave, Shane trained with a master who never spoke his name. He was cold and taciturn but also in a way another father to Shane. He fed him, he comforted him during his failures and looked down approvingly at his minor successes. For years, Shane assisted and studied and slowly began unravelling the ancient secrets of Chinese mysticism. He learned which herbs heal and which kill. He learned to change his skin and walk undetected among the wild animals. He delved within the hidden recesses of his mind and soul and learned deeper, darker secrets. He valiantly resisted the siren’s call of the dark arts, but the nature of a man always wins out. Shane was above all a McMahon, and above all a McMahon craves power.

Shane left the cave years later for the final time. His hands bore the callouses of labor and his beard told the tale of his age even if his face remained boyish. As he made his way back to civilization, Pete Gas, Rodney and Joey Abs met him at their favorite bar and told him of the events of the past few years. He found he no longer cared for their vacuous and material concerns. A great empty space grew inside him, and he briefly considered returning to the cave for good. The thought was short-lived as the conversation turned to the events of his father’s company. His lust for power overtook him. It gave him purpose. As his father decided his champion in this battle would be the Undertaker, Shane felt strangely at peace. He had dark work to do if he was going to win. That night, he invited the Mean Street Posse to his home to celebrate his television appearance. Shane told them that he would need them in order to defeat his greatest foe to date. They readily agreed. Their families would report them missing the next day.

As the cell locked behind Shane and he found himself face to face with the zombie wizard for the first time, the noise from the crowd briefly overwhelmed him. He wanted to please them like he used to in his twenties. He wanted to dance around and dive off of high places. For a moment he forget his training and became himself as he was all those years ago. That moment was brief. The Undertaker landed punch after punch, and the crowd reached a deafening fever pitch. All seemed lost, but as the Undertaker lifted the ring apron to find a weapon to use, Shane once again heard that young boy’s laughter from all those years ago. He remembered his training. He remembered who he was now. Slowly he began chanting under his breath.

The Undertaker, as you might have guessed from his name, is no stranger to bones, but the ones that floated up before him were larger than any he’d ever seen. As they found their way in to place, an almost inhumanly large skull sat atop a frame that towered above the phenom. A skeleton that large could only belong to one man, thought Undertaker. Taker had no use for feelings like fear or awe, but they briefly passed through his mind as he stood toe to toe with the giant ghost skeleton of Andre the Giant. Flash bulbs went off in earnest as the two supernatural beings traded punches.

They waged war for what felt like an eternity. As the fight wore on, Taker was losing ground and the crowd was losing hope. The skeleton seemed like an unstoppable wrestling machine, showing no signs of feeling anything resembling pain. Undertaker had to find another way. As a bony arm threw him against the ropes for an Irish Whip, Taker caught a glimpse of his true opponent, chanting and rocking on the outside. With a final burst of energy, Undertaker ducked an almost assuredly fatal clothesline and hit his over the top rope swan dive on Shane O Mac, momentarily breaking his concentration. Andre the Skeleton stumbled and looked shaken for the first time. Undertaker knew his moment was brief and capitalized, hitting a tombstone piledriver that shattered the bones of the former 8th Wonder of the World.

As Undertaker stalked towards Shane like the villain in an 80s horror movie, Shane was glad not only for his training at the hands of that ancient nameless mystic, but for the many traits he inherited from his father. The one he thought of now was often referred to as testicular fortitude, as Shane once again mumbled incantations and prepared to do something only talked about in whispers. He finished casting the spell and the Undertaker was upon him. For a brief moment, he thought he had failed, and prepared himself for the dull thud of being punched. Instead his body screamed and groaned and tore itself apart. The last thing he would remember as a human was the feeling of triumph.

Undertaker had seen many things in his days. He’d been a biker, a wizard, a lich, and an actual Undertaker. He’d been around. What he’d never seen, he thought to himself, was an honest to god actual in the flesh, mother fucking dragon. Like seriously. Remember Liu Kang’s animality from Mortal Kombat II? It looked like that, but real. It was the first time in his life he knew he wouldn’t be able to out punch his opponent. He would have to dodge, and be clever and quick. He thought of his childhood, centuries ago. Shane was still getting used his Dragon body, and more importantly, was having trouble moving around inside Hell in a Cell. The Undertaker quickly hid under the ring to buy himself some time. If he could only get out of the cage, he would be able to put some distance between himself and the mythical creature that stood before him.

Watching from the monitor in the back, a newly retired Mark Henry watched his fellow Texan running for his life. He couldn’t believe what was happening, but he felt a rage building up inside him. Dragons, you see, are not exempt from paying their air bills. Somebody was indeed about to get they ass kicked. Henry knew he had one last feet of strength in him. He ran down to the ring as the Dragon turned to face him. Knowing his end was imminent, a hush fell over the crowd as Mark Henry spoke in a quiet but commanding voice:

“We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it’s fate that today is WrestleMania, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom… Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution… but from annihilation at the hands of Shane McMahon, who has apparently turned in to a dragon. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, WrestleMania will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight!  We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive! Today we celebrate WrestleMania!”

Trash talking til his final breath, he was able to pull the cage door off its hinges the moment before dragon fire incinerated his body and what was left of the first few rows of fans.

In the chaos, inspired by this rousing speech that Mark Henry came up with on the spot and totally didn’t copy from Bill Pullman in Independence Day, The Undertaker made his way to the top of the ramp. The Dragon realized too late that he could not follow, trapped in a cage like a song bird. Undertaker’s eyes rolled back in his head, and from the heavens he called down the dark powers bestowed upon him. Lightning struck the cage and dragon from all sides. Sparks showered the arena. People hundreds of miles away would later claim they could see the light in the Texas sky, wondering if a storm was on the horizon. When it was over, a prone and charred Shane McMahon lay in the center of the ring. He still managed to kick out of the first two tombstone piledrivers, but tapped shortly after to the Hell’s Gate. The crowd erupted in cheers. The show fades out as dueling chants start up for CM Punk and Randy Savage. As the crowd remembers Mark Henry’s sacrifice and stirring final words, the hold hands and unite their voices:

“We are awesome. We are awesome. We are awesome.”

Happy WrestleMania week everyone! I hope you have fun watching even if only a few of my ideas happen.

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