K-Jammin goes for another tie up, but Jman snap kicks him in the gut. Applying a front headlock, Jman slowly rotates K-Jammin over and drops him in a neckbreaker. Jman gets to his feet and drops a jumping elbow on Jammin’s chest followed by a quick kip up. Jman points to the turnbuckle and heads that way. The crowd goes nuts as the warfare star climbs to the top rope. Raising his arms above his head, Jman leaps into the air and drop a flying elbow right on K-Jammin’s face. He goes for the cover.
Pat: One! Two! And there goes the ref! Rome just pulled the Ref out of the ring!
Rome walks around the corner post as the Ref berates him, Jman staring him down from the middle of the ring. Rome slowly climbs onto the apron and ducks under the top rope, Jman focusing in on him. K-Jammin wraps his arms around Jman’s waist, throwing him backwards with a German Suplex, holding tight as he goes for the bridge pin. The Ref counts to 1 by the time Rome double stomps Jammin’s gut, breaking it up. Rome pulls K-Jammin by the head, double underhooks the arms, and lifts the champion up into a powerbomb position. He then turns and chucks his former tag partner into the turnbuckle.
Jman gets to his feet, but Rome pops a high kick and floors the champion. The crowd boos as the masked man wraps his arms around Jman’s legs, twisting him over into a cloverleaf. Rome cranks the legs back high into the air, dropping his knee on the back of Jman’s head, bending him into a bow-like shape. The ref drops to ask Jman if he wants to submit. The crowd cheers as K-Jammin fishhooks Rome by the lip, breaking the submission. As Rome turns, K-Jammin pops him with a left and right, a back elbow followed by a jumping knee to knock Rome to the ground.
Pat: Twenty-Five minutes! These men have been going at it for almost half an hour!
Jman pulls himself up in a corner, his chest heaving. K-Jammin runs over and throws a clothesline, but Jman ducks under. He turns Jammin around and back elbows him. He lifts K-Jammin onto the top rope and starts to climb the turnbuckle. He gets to the second rope as K-Jammin headbutts him once—twice! Jammin turns and grabs Jman, lifting him into a fireman’s carry on the top rope. K-Jammin stands up on the second rope as the crowd cheers in anticipation. K-Jammin bends his knees and thrusts back up and throws Jman out of the ring with a takeover slam (F-U), sending the champion crashing to the mat as the crowd chants "Holy Shit!".
K-Jammin staggers off the turnbuckle and grabs Rome by the hair. He lifts his former tag partner to his feet and draws back. He swings a big right hand, but Rome ducks under. Rome grabs K-Jammin from the back and lifts him into a back suplex. At the apex of the lift, Rome swings around and side slams the Mayhem World Champion into the mat. Rome hooks the leg as the ref counts the pin and the crowd chants along.
One! Two! THREE!
Pat: IT'S ALL OVER! ROMANFLARE HAS PINNED K-JAM! ROME IS THE NEW MAYHEM AND WARFARE WORLD CHAMPION!
Dudley: He looked out of it from the beginning--like he was tired! JMan and K-Jam dominated most of the match!
Pat: But all he needed was that second wind to prove he's the greatest wrestler in the business today!
The Ref hands Rome the titles as he stares at them before kissing them both. He holds them up to a roar of boos from the crowd. Rome smiles and yells "HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?" at them. After a few seconds his lowers his arms, his smile contorting into a smirk as he soaks in the crowd. He motions to a ring worker, who hands him a microphone.
Rome: Here, take these while you're at it.
Rome hands the titles down to the man and walks into the center of the ring, facing the stage.
Rome: I'm not done yet--oh no. I'm only just beginning. CAESAR! Get your arrogant, smug face down here. I'm taking your title tonight!
Seconds go past as silence echoes from the stage.
Rome: I'm not kidding. Don't make me go back there and drag you out by your hair. YOU AND ME, ONE ON ONE! ALL THE MARBLES!
Pat: I think Caesar's already left the building!
Rome: Don't fuck with me, Caesar. Get--
Rome tosses the mic down and crouches, waiting.
And waiting.
Almost thirty second go by, just music.
Then something starts lowering from the rafters. A solo spotlight appears in the middle of the ring, as Caesar's music continues to play.
Dudley: It's.. It's..
Pat: IT'S THE SHOWDOWN! HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!
Dudley: WHAT?!
Rome stares up at the title, watching it lower. It stops, hanging at eye level with him. He slowly reaches up and unhooks it. He stares at the title and begins to buckle it around his waist as the hook goes back up.
Pat: What's the meaning of this!?
Dudley: I think Caesar knew he couldn't win! RomanFlare is unstoppable!
Rome looks down at the title around his waist and then up to the crowd. The crowd is absolutely stunned.
Pat: What a gross misuse of conduct! RomanFlare probably paid off Caesar!
Rome takes a lap around the ring, arms in the air, celebrating his "win". He jumps into the center of the ring and falls to his knees. He raises his arms to the ceiling as the spotlight shines down upon him. Then he slowly reaches back behind his head and...
Pat: RomanFlare is removing his mask!
Dudley: Finally we get to see face!
Rome unties his mask and holds it against his face for a few seconds as the crowd stares in wonderment. He slowly peels it off and shakes his head.
Pat: IT's CAESAR! ROMANFLARE WAS CAESAR!
Dudley: You mean Caesar is RomanFlare!
Pat: It doesn't matter--they're one in the same!
Rome smiles to the crowd as he tosses his mask aside. He grabs the nearby mic and holds it to his lips, smiling.
Rome: Guess who, peasants! IT WAS THE ROMAN ONE!
Rome rises to his feet and walks forward, leaning on the ropes.
Rome: Two title matches--back to back. Two matches in one night, almost no break in between. Do you know how fast I had to hustle to my locker room to change? But it doesn't matter. What does matter--Rome has finally proven himself the greatest wrestler in the world. There is NO DENYING my ability at this point. The man you see before you has competed on two different brands for months--often pulling double duty at pay-per-views. All the while--while RomanFlare was dominating the Mayhem brand, Caesar was skyrocketing up the Showdown Brand. Then it happened--the very time I had proclaimed for myself. I had a shot at not one, not two but THREE world titles on one night!
And I did what no mortal man could do--I WON! THE MAN YOU SEE BEFORE YOU IS YOUR UNDISPUTED WORLD CHAMPION! No man in this business has the talent, the charisma, or the endurance to stand toe-to-toe with me. Not one man in that locker room had the where-with-all to understand the wool I was pulling over their eyes. Not a single one of you peasants at ringside or watching on your boobtube could tell the difference. I worked two different styles for months—the bruising Caesar and the technical wizard that is RomanFlare. Not one man in this company could’ve stopped either—and now they are one. The man who stands before you is the alpha AND the omega. I. AM. ROME.
Rome motions to a ring-side assistance for his titles. He sets the mic down and takes the titles, climbs the nearest turnbuckle, and holds the Warfare and Mayhem World Titles high above his head. The arena fills with half-hearted booing as must of the crowd sits in stunned silence. Rome jumps off the turnbuckle, slings the Warfare title over his shoulder, and grabs the mic.
Rome: Now every single brand comes through one man. A solo man sits atop the hill, striking down the mortal peasants that claw at his feet, jabbering nonsense about "how they deserve the titles". Not one other man could do what I just did and that, knuckledraggers, is why I will not be moved from his perch. You see, anyone can proclaim to be the "best in the world" and then go on and knock off the top man in the company. It has happened before, it’ll happen again. But no man has ever backed up that claim by beating the best three opponents this business has to offer on the same night—until I. After my world shaking night, after I send you all home with much more than you deserve for the ticket prices, and after I go into the back and receive a whirlwind of death threats and insults—I’m going to leave you with some final, parting words. Now, do yourself a favor, shut up, hit the blabbering kid next to you, and—this goes especially for all the mules in the back—open your ears.
The Emperor has arrived and he won’t let his empire crumble before him. Before you challenge me, ask yourself this one question: "Am I willing to wrestle a God?"
Pat: Wow. Ladies and gentlemen, I guess we're back... with a bang! God I love JBW
Pat: One! Two! And there goes the ref! Rome just pulled the Ref out of the ring!
Rome walks around the corner post as the Ref berates him, Jman staring him down from the middle of the ring. Rome slowly climbs onto the apron and ducks under the top rope, Jman focusing in on him. K-Jammin wraps his arms around Jman’s waist, throwing him backwards with a German Suplex, holding tight as he goes for the bridge pin. The Ref counts to 1 by the time Rome double stomps Jammin’s gut, breaking it up. Rome pulls K-Jammin by the head, double underhooks the arms, and lifts the champion up into a powerbomb position. He then turns and chucks his former tag partner into the turnbuckle.
Jman gets to his feet, but Rome pops a high kick and floors the champion. The crowd boos as the masked man wraps his arms around Jman’s legs, twisting him over into a cloverleaf. Rome cranks the legs back high into the air, dropping his knee on the back of Jman’s head, bending him into a bow-like shape. The ref drops to ask Jman if he wants to submit. The crowd cheers as K-Jammin fishhooks Rome by the lip, breaking the submission. As Rome turns, K-Jammin pops him with a left and right, a back elbow followed by a jumping knee to knock Rome to the ground.
Pat: Twenty-Five minutes! These men have been going at it for almost half an hour!
Jman pulls himself up in a corner, his chest heaving. K-Jammin runs over and throws a clothesline, but Jman ducks under. He turns Jammin around and back elbows him. He lifts K-Jammin onto the top rope and starts to climb the turnbuckle. He gets to the second rope as K-Jammin headbutts him once—twice! Jammin turns and grabs Jman, lifting him into a fireman’s carry on the top rope. K-Jammin stands up on the second rope as the crowd cheers in anticipation. K-Jammin bends his knees and thrusts back up and throws Jman out of the ring with a takeover slam (F-U), sending the champion crashing to the mat as the crowd chants "Holy Shit!".
K-Jammin staggers off the turnbuckle and grabs Rome by the hair. He lifts his former tag partner to his feet and draws back. He swings a big right hand, but Rome ducks under. Rome grabs K-Jammin from the back and lifts him into a back suplex. At the apex of the lift, Rome swings around and side slams the Mayhem World Champion into the mat. Rome hooks the leg as the ref counts the pin and the crowd chants along.
One! Two! THREE!
Pat: IT'S ALL OVER! ROMANFLARE HAS PINNED K-JAM! ROME IS THE NEW MAYHEM AND WARFARE WORLD CHAMPION!
Dudley: He looked out of it from the beginning--like he was tired! JMan and K-Jam dominated most of the match!
Pat: But all he needed was that second wind to prove he's the greatest wrestler in the business today!
The Ref hands Rome the titles as he stares at them before kissing them both. He holds them up to a roar of boos from the crowd. Rome smiles and yells "HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?" at them. After a few seconds his lowers his arms, his smile contorting into a smirk as he soaks in the crowd. He motions to a ring worker, who hands him a microphone.
Rome: Here, take these while you're at it.
Rome hands the titles down to the man and walks into the center of the ring, facing the stage.
Rome: I'm not done yet--oh no. I'm only just beginning. CAESAR! Get your arrogant, smug face down here. I'm taking your title tonight!
Seconds go past as silence echoes from the stage.
Rome: I'm not kidding. Don't make me go back there and drag you out by your hair. YOU AND ME, ONE ON ONE! ALL THE MARBLES!
Pat: I think Caesar's already left the building!
Rome: Don't fuck with me, Caesar. Get--
Rome tosses the mic down and crouches, waiting.
And waiting.
Almost thirty second go by, just music.
Then something starts lowering from the rafters. A solo spotlight appears in the middle of the ring, as Caesar's music continues to play.
Dudley: It's.. It's..
Pat: IT'S THE SHOWDOWN! HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!
Dudley: WHAT?!
Rome stares up at the title, watching it lower. It stops, hanging at eye level with him. He slowly reaches up and unhooks it. He stares at the title and begins to buckle it around his waist as the hook goes back up.
Pat: What's the meaning of this!?
Dudley: I think Caesar knew he couldn't win! RomanFlare is unstoppable!
Rome looks down at the title around his waist and then up to the crowd. The crowd is absolutely stunned.
Pat: What a gross misuse of conduct! RomanFlare probably paid off Caesar!
Rome takes a lap around the ring, arms in the air, celebrating his "win". He jumps into the center of the ring and falls to his knees. He raises his arms to the ceiling as the spotlight shines down upon him. Then he slowly reaches back behind his head and...
Pat: RomanFlare is removing his mask!
Dudley: Finally we get to see face!
Rome unties his mask and holds it against his face for a few seconds as the crowd stares in wonderment. He slowly peels it off and shakes his head.
Pat: IT's CAESAR! ROMANFLARE WAS CAESAR!
Dudley: You mean Caesar is RomanFlare!
Pat: It doesn't matter--they're one in the same!
Rome smiles to the crowd as he tosses his mask aside. He grabs the nearby mic and holds it to his lips, smiling.
Rome: Guess who, peasants! IT WAS THE ROMAN ONE!
Rome rises to his feet and walks forward, leaning on the ropes.
Rome: Two title matches--back to back. Two matches in one night, almost no break in between. Do you know how fast I had to hustle to my locker room to change? But it doesn't matter. What does matter--Rome has finally proven himself the greatest wrestler in the world. There is NO DENYING my ability at this point. The man you see before you has competed on two different brands for months--often pulling double duty at pay-per-views. All the while--while RomanFlare was dominating the Mayhem brand, Caesar was skyrocketing up the Showdown Brand. Then it happened--the very time I had proclaimed for myself. I had a shot at not one, not two but THREE world titles on one night!
And I did what no mortal man could do--I WON! THE MAN YOU SEE BEFORE YOU IS YOUR UNDISPUTED WORLD CHAMPION! No man in this business has the talent, the charisma, or the endurance to stand toe-to-toe with me. Not one man in that locker room had the where-with-all to understand the wool I was pulling over their eyes. Not a single one of you peasants at ringside or watching on your boobtube could tell the difference. I worked two different styles for months—the bruising Caesar and the technical wizard that is RomanFlare. Not one man in this company could’ve stopped either—and now they are one. The man who stands before you is the alpha AND the omega. I. AM. ROME.
Rome motions to a ring-side assistance for his titles. He sets the mic down and takes the titles, climbs the nearest turnbuckle, and holds the Warfare and Mayhem World Titles high above his head. The arena fills with half-hearted booing as must of the crowd sits in stunned silence. Rome jumps off the turnbuckle, slings the Warfare title over his shoulder, and grabs the mic.
Rome: Now every single brand comes through one man. A solo man sits atop the hill, striking down the mortal peasants that claw at his feet, jabbering nonsense about "how they deserve the titles". Not one other man could do what I just did and that, knuckledraggers, is why I will not be moved from his perch. You see, anyone can proclaim to be the "best in the world" and then go on and knock off the top man in the company. It has happened before, it’ll happen again. But no man has ever backed up that claim by beating the best three opponents this business has to offer on the same night—until I. After my world shaking night, after I send you all home with much more than you deserve for the ticket prices, and after I go into the back and receive a whirlwind of death threats and insults—I’m going to leave you with some final, parting words. Now, do yourself a favor, shut up, hit the blabbering kid next to you, and—this goes especially for all the mules in the back—open your ears.
The Emperor has arrived and he won’t let his empire crumble before him. Before you challenge me, ask yourself this one question: "Am I willing to wrestle a God?"
Pat: Wow. Ladies and gentlemen, I guess we're back... with a bang! God I love JBW

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