We kick things off with the electrifying sound of a WWE broadcast.
Wade Barrett: Welcome back to the most anticipated event of the year, WRESTLEMANIA ULTIMATE!
Michael Cole: You said it, Wade! The crowd here is absolutely on fire, and with 200,000 fans in attendance, it's safe to say this is the moment everyone's been waiting for!
Wade Barrett: The excitement is absolutely off the charts, Michael. We've got a match tonight that will go down in history. And speaking of history, we're just moments away from our main event. Well, at least, I think we are!
Michael Cole: SHUT UP WADE! The reigning Champion is about to make his way down to the ring!
Wade: Meanie.
Suddenly, the arena lights dimmed, and a thunderous CRACK of lightning splits the sky, followed by another, and then another, each flash more intense than the last.
"IF YOU SMEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL…"
As the final lightning strike hits, the roar of the crowd peaks, and the unmistakable voice booms through the stadium:
"WHAT THE ROCK IS COOKING!"
The massive screen above the entrance erupts into a towering inferno of flames, illuminating the darkened arena, and through the thick smoke emerges The Rock. Dressed in his signature Brahma Bull tank top and trunks, he strides confidently to the center of the stage, the World Heavyweight Title draped proudly over his shoulder.
Wade Barrett: Now if that isn't aura, then I don't know what is!
Michael Cole: "He's defeated the best of the best to get here, Wade. But there's one more obstacle standing in his way, and tonight, it's make or break."
Wade Barrett: And here he comes, THE CHALLENGER!
KRRR AMADOU!
The unmistakable sound of Cena's entrance music fills the arena, and in an instant, John Cena bursts through the curtain, a ball of energy and excitement. He bounces around, feeding off the crowd's hype, running from one end of the ring to the other, slapping hands and soaking in the moment.
Cena: You ready, Cameraman Stu?
With adrenaline in his soul, Cena sprints down the walkway. And as he slides into the ring, the electricity in the air only intensifies, and the two behemoths of the WWE now stand face to face, ready to clash. Rock, without missing a beat, shoves a microphone right into Cena's chest, which only creates more insanity in the crowd.
Rock: It's one to one so far. And the Rock doesn't appreciate your pestering.
Cena: Well, I don't appreciate your constant ducking, asshole!
The arena erupts in chaos, the tension thick as the crowd belts out an overwhelming "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
Michael Cole: He can't say that! We're still PG!
But The Rock isn't phased. He stands tall, his jaw set, eyes locked on his victim.
Rock: IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU APPRECIATE. CAUSE I'M READY TO LAY THE SMACKDOWN ON YOUR STUPID CANDY ASS, RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW, ON THE BIGGEST STAGE OF THEM ALL!
The arena is shaking with anticipation, but Cena doesn't flinch. He stands his ground, his voice steady, dripping with confidence.
Cena: And I'm ready to show you just how beneath me you truly are.
As Rock turns and begins to walk to his corner, Cena isn't done. With a smirk, he tosses the microphone aside and delivers his parting shot, his voice booming throughout the stadium.
Cena: Jabroni.
The right side of his shades cracks. He takes them off and tosses them out completely, before delivering a trademark eyebrow raise.
Referee Ringmaster: ALRIGHT ALRIGHTY FOLKS! THIS WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH IS DUE FOR ONE FALL-
Rock: Ring the bell already.
Ringmaster: Ok, jeez.
FIGHT!
They immediately rush at each other, before locking arms in a test of power. They push each other back, neither gaining a true advantage over the other.
Cole: And here we go with this spectacle of a match!
Wade: A test of strength to start us off, but only one can reign supreme!
Then, Rock kicks him in the stomach, and delivers a perfect drop kick.
Cole: Great Dropkick by Rock!
Before Cena has a chance to recover, The Rock charges at him, plowing him with a devastating running lariat that leaves him spinning through the air. As he floats, disoriented, Rock springs off the ropes and nails him with a picture-perfect jumping clothesline, sending Cena crashing into the ropes.
When he returns, he's caught by Rock, who lifts him high before slamming him down with a Samoan Drop.
Wade: Samoan Drop!
He laughs triumphantly, and with a grin, he runs the ropes, gaining momentum as he flies in for a Flowing Snap DDT, driving Cena's rising face into the canvas.
Cole: The Rock seems to be getting really into rhythm here!
The impact is brutal, and Rock doesn't waste a second. As Cena lies groggy on the mat, Rock springs up, executing a picture-perfect kip-up, showing off his agility.
Wade: His athleticism at this age is IN-SANE.
Cole: Vintage Rocky for you.
Rock sets his sights on Cena, lifting him effortlessly into the air once again and slamming him down with a crushing Spinebuster. Cena writhes in pain as Rock stands over him, eyes gleaming. The Rock gives the crowd a knowing wink before strutting across the ring and slowly taking off his shoulder pad.
Rock: It's time for you to know your role.
Cole: Looks like it's time! For the most electrifying move in Sports Entertainment history!
The arena shakes as the electrified crowd gets ready. Rock signals for the move, bouncing off the ropes with power, before coming to a sliding halt in front of his opponent's downed body.
Cole: The people's elbow!
He drives the elbow down with force onto Cena's chest! The impact leaves Cena gasping for air, and Rock hooks the leg for the cover.
Wade: Count to a hundred!
Ringmaster: One… Two…
Cena kicks out just before the three-count, and the crowd is on the edge of their seats.
Cole: NOT against John Cena.
The Rock stands tall, pacing around Cena. He locks eyes with the audience, signalling that the end is near. The crowd rises to their feet, anticipation thick in the air. Cena, however, isn't done. Bloodied, beaten, but with sheer willpower, he staggers to his feet, proving the fire within him isn't extinguished.
Rock scoffs and punches him in the head, before Irish whipping him into the ropes again.
Wade: But the Rock still seems to be in total control here!
Cole: Are we sure?
But this time, when Cena returns, he catches Rock off guard, delivering a perfect Sunset Flip. This time, Cena rolls through, getting the quick pin attempt. Rock, in all of his selling glory, practically rolls back in shock, doing a full backwards roll and bouncing himself into the ropes. Unknowingly… he set himself up.
Cole: And here he goes again!
Shoulder Drop!
Shoulder Drop!
Rock gets up fast, but can only miss, as Cena performs a perfect protobomb, before standing up himself and raising his arm, much to the audience's cheer.
Wade: Jeez. Where did all the Cena sucks chants go?
Cole: Up your ass probably?
He bends over his opponent. "YOU CAN'T SEE ME!" they all say in unison, as he hops off the ropes, does his little shimmy, and Knuckles the Shuffle outta that Rock!
Cole: Cover here!
Ringmaster: One! Two!
Rock: SHAZAM!
A bolt of lightning strikes the arena with an electrifying crack. The camera pulls back, showing the bolt streaking down from the heavens, striking the stadium in a flash of brilliance.
Cole: WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING CHRIST ALL MIGHTY WAS THAT?
Wade: A Lightning Bolt, Michael. A strategic way to kick out.
Cole: What? What the hell are you talking about?
Camera pans, Cena's slumped in the corner, clutching the back of his head, the ring ropes sparking slightly.
Cole: In any case, that CLEARLY shouldn't be legal. And the Ref seems to agree with me.
Ringmaster: HEY! YOU CAN'T DO THAT! RING THE BELL!
Rock: You're fired.
Ringmaster: But- D'aww.
Ringmaster trudges off, just as the intern, Jocelyn, struts in.
Rock: Hey, you. You're hired.
Jocelyn: Cool!
Rock: And this is a No Holds Barred match, Right?
Jocelyn: Got it!
Cena: Fine by me.
They immediately stagger towards each other, clashing punches so hard that they end up underground.
Cole: What? How did they-
Wade: Looks like we're heading to the next stage here.
Cena's outfit transforms before our eyes into full combat gear, resembling a battle-hardened marine, while Rock's costume turns into fighting gear.
They quickly shoot at each other, and their bullets ricochet off each other.
Wade: Ok, that was pretty cool.
Cena and Rock stare each other down, their eyes locked over the barrels of their guns. They circle around each other.
Rock: The Rock doesn't see this ending well for you.
Cena: Disrespectfully disagree.
Both moved as one, diving behind a pair of massive, rusted generators that offered the only cover in the underground complex. The relative silence was shattered by the deafening crack of gunfire. Occasionally, bullets would even ricochet some more in the centre.
BANG! BANG-BANG!
Wade: Almost 12 rounds of constant gunfire here Cole!
Cole: I can't give a rundown on Gunfighting! This is obscene!
John Cena, back flat against the cold metal of the generator, popped out from cover just long enough to fire three precise shots. They sparked off the concrete where The Rock's head had been a microsecond before.
The Rock returned fire blindly from behind his own cover, as the bullets chewed chunks out of the generator shielding Cena. SPANG! SPANG! He wasn't aiming to hit yet; he was suppressing, controlling the space.
But Cena simply waited for a single lull. He pulled out a second gun from outta nowhere, and reloaded that, listening for an equal reaction.
In that half-second of silence, Cena pivoted out, his body a picture of controlled aim. BANG! BANG! Two shots. The first took The Rock's pistol clean out of his hand, sending it clattering across the floor. The second slammed into the generator right beside The Rock's head.
The third implant itself was straight in his shoulder, spinning him around with a grunt of pain. He imagines a cast around it and immediately crushes his way out of it, his arm looking good as new again.
But Cena had advanced, his service pistol held steady, aimed at the now-unarmed Rock. His voice echoed throughout the facility.
Cena: Looks like you're all out of options, Rocky
The Rock just smiled, a slow, dangerous grin. He didn't look at his discarded gun. Instead, his hand went to his back.
Rock: It doesn't matter…what gun you have.
In one fluid motion, he drew the ancient, wicked-looking Sword of Osiris, held only by The Scorpion King. In the same millisecond, Cena fired.
A sharp SHING! flew through the chamber as the blade met the .45 caliber round mid-air, slicing it in two. The two halves of the bullet whizzed harmlessly past his shoulders.
Cena's eyes widened in disbelief. He fired again. BANG!
SHING! Another bullet was cleaved in two.
The Rock began to advance, deflecting the next two shots with effortless swings as his Leather Armour materializes on top of him. The distance between them closed in seconds. With a final, mighty roar, The Rock brought the sword down in a devastating arc, not on Cena, but on the pistol in his hand, slicing it in two before kicking him back.
He charges,cutting a deadly arc through the dusty air. Cena stumbles backward, barely avoiding the first decapitating swing. The second blow comes horizontally, and he drops to a knee, the wind of the blade rustling his hair.
As The Rock raises the sword for a final, crushing overhead strike, Cena's hand snaps to his hip. In a flash of green light, a broad, Roman-style gladius materializes in his grip, the sword of a Gladiator Hulk.
PARRY!
The sound of the two blades meeting is loud. Sparks fly, illuminating Cena's face, now set in a determined grimace, his gladiator armour materializing over his shoulders.
He shoves upward, parrying The Rock's blade and forcing him back a step. The momentum shifts. Cena advances now, delivering a powerful, two-handed overhead chop. The Rock meets it, bracing himself as the impact shudders up his arms. They have a brief exchange.
Wade: Wow! Just look at them go! Such synergy.
Cole: It happens after this long in the industry, Wade.
Cena pants a little, as he continues to fight with all his might.
Cena: Not much of a swords guy.
Rock: Heh. I can tell.
He found it. As Cena overextended on a massive overhead chop, Rock deflected the blow to the side, stepped inside his guard, and slammed a powerful shoulder into his chest, knocking the wind from him and sending him stumbling back.
Rock: You hit like a Barbie doll.
Cena: Actually…
He opens up his gladiator outfit, revealing his raw, shiny chest. A concussive wave of pure, unadulterated KEN ENERGY shot forth, catching The Rock square in the torso, and sending him flying back with a grunt.
Cena: Do you think that was Kenough for you?
Wade: If that was anyone else, I'd rate that move a 10.
Cole: Sounds like a you problem, Wade.
Without another word, they break into a sprint towards each other with a leap, meeting in mid-air with a double-lightning infused clothesline. The sound is like a cannon shot. A visible shockwave erupts from the point of impact, warping the air around them. The camera spins dizzily.
The camera refocuses. Rock finds himself now standing, slightly dazed, on the hood of a massive, armored GURKHA LAPV. In the driver's seat, is the Miz.
The Miz: Hey! Do you mind baldy? I just got the pai-
He doesn't even let him finish. He reaches through the open window, grabs Hawkins by his vest, and unceremoniously yanks him out of the driver's seat. Hawkins lets out a yelp as Rock tosses him onto the highway shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then, he slides into the driver's seat like he owns it. You know. Cause he does.
In the next lane, R-Truth is behind the wheel of a classic Ford Mustang, one hand on the wheel, the other giving a triumphant thumbs-up.
Truth: Hey! Wassap Man!
Cena: Dude.
Truth: Fine.
He simply hops out of the car by himself, as Cena assumes driving position.
Cena grabs the wheel and slams his foot on the gas.
Cole: That's GTA!
Wade: All is fair in a battle like this!
Wade Barrett: And the battlefield evolves once again! This is no longer a wrestling match, it's a demolition derby with a full arsenal!
Michael Cole: I can't believe what I'm seeing! These two are piloting their own personal war machines!
Inside the Gurkha, Rock slams a fresh magazine into his custom M134 Minigun, a predatory grin on his face. In the Mustang, Jakob (Cena) grips the wheel with one hand, his other checking the chamber of his Grand Power X-Calibur pistol.
Rock: Time to see what that little go-kart of yours is made of, Toretto!
Cena: Bring it officer.
The Gurkha's passenger-side window rolls down. The minigun's barrels begin to spin with a terrifying WHIRRRRRR. Jakob doesn't wait. He yanks the handbrake, sending the Mustang into a controlled drift, just as a wave of lead shreds the asphalt where he was a second before.
Cole: GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY!
Wade: And Cena just made him waste about a thousand dollars' worth of ammunition! Beautiful defensive driving!
The two cars weave through the self-driving traffic. Rock lays down suppressive fire, chewing up the road behind Cena, forcing him to swerve dangerously. Cena responds not by running, but by attacking. He drops back, pulls alongside the heavier Gurkha, and fires three precise shots from his pistol.
BANG! BANG! PING!
The first two rounds spark off the Gurkha's armored plating. The third finds its mark, blowing out the passenger-side front tire.
Rock: Oh, you did not just scratch the paint.
The Gurkha lurches but remains stable on its run-flat tires. Hobbs retaliates not with the minigun, but by violently swerving his truck into the Mustang.
CRUNCH!
The sound of grinding metal screams through the night. Jakob fights for control, his door caved in. He answers by reaching into the backseat and coming up with a massive, futuristic-looking grenade launcher, the same one he used as Hunter Cain.
Cena: Try this on for size!
He fires a single plasma grenade. It slams into the Gurkha's hood and explodes in a burst of sizzling green energy. The armored vehicle rocks on its axles, smoke pouring from its engine bay, electrical systems shorting out.
Cole: PLASMA BEAM! HE'S PULLING OUT THE PLASMA BEAM! The Gurkha's armour might be tough, but you can't armour against that!
Wade: IS THERE ANYTHING THESE TWO DON'T HAVE?!
Rock, undeterred by the smoke filling his cabin, slams his fist on the steering wheel.
Rock: Enough!
In a move of sheer insanity, he stands up through the sunroof, minigun in hand. He braces the weapon on the roof and unleashes hell, walking the fire toward the Mustang.
Cena has nowhere to go. He slams on the brakes. The Mustang decelerates rapidly as the wall of bullets races toward it. At the last second, Cena makes his move. He doesn't try to outrun it; he uses it.
He yanks the wheel hard, letting the minigun's fire shred his back end, blowing out his tires, destroying his trunk, and severing his fuel line.
Rock: (laughing) That's what you get!
But Cena isn't finished. As the Gurkha speeds past him, its momentum carrying it forward, he brings his ruined Mustang back under control. He floors it.
Jakob: You first.
He rams the Gurkha square in its weakened rear quarter panel. The two vehicles, both critically damaged, become locked together.
They hurtle forward, uncontrollable, straight toward a dead end, a massive concrete barrier at the end of the pier.
Cole: THEY'RE NOT SLOWING DOWN! THEY'RE GOING OVER!
Wade: THIS IS IT! IT'S ALL OR NOTHING!
Inside the cars, the two titans share a final, grim look of mutual respect. There's no fear.
Hobbs: Not bad, Toretto.
Jakob: You either, Hobbs.
IMPACT.
The sound is cataclysmic. The Gurkha and Mustang compact into a single, unrecognizable disaster of twisted steel and broken glass against the concrete barrier. A fireball erupts, lighting up the entire port, followed by a wave of deafening silence.
Wade: There is absolutely no way they survived that. Someone call an ambulance!
Cole: Pan the camera forward, I hear something!
Rock, now in Falcon form, holds a Fish Hook far larger than him. Floating right beside him, is Cena, desperately holding on to his anti gravity Peacemaker helmet.
Without wasting anytime, Rock zooms forward, taking the helmet with him as Cena seemingly falls to his doom. Which is until the camera pans downwards, and Ferdinand the Bull is running across the highway, chasing right by. Bull Cena weaves between some lightning bolts, before the two screech to a halt and face each other, now in a sprawling, empty city. Rock slowly drops to the ground, transforming into a Herculian outfit, while Cena morphs into the most patriotic man the world has ever seen.
Cena: You wanted a war, Rock? You can't handle a war. You're looking at a one-man army.
He raises a fist, and behind him, the air shimmers with purple light. A massive, circular portal tears open, and row upon row of Peacehammers descend.
Cena: But just to be fair... I brought my own peace treaty.
The Rock: Finally! The Rock was getting bored playing with just one jabroni!
He slams the base of his Hercules mace onto the ground. The earth trembles as ancient, sand-scoured stone portals rip open from the pavement itself. The fearsome ANUBIS WARRIORS, with jackal heads and obsidian spears, rise in a silent, their eyes glowing with sinister red.
The Rock: But if you want an army... THE ROCK WILL GIVE YOU A DYNASTY!
Wade: UNBELIEVABLE! IT'S A FULL-SCALE INVASION!
Cole: THIS ISN'T A MATCH ANYMORE, WADE! THIS IS ARMAGEDDON!
They both point their armies forward.
Wade: No. It's WAR!
The battlefield devolves into pure, unadulterated chaos. Peacehammers and Anubis warriors rip each other apart in a whirlwind of futuristic steel and ancient stone. A robot delivers a punch so powerful it pulverizes a jackal-head into a cloud of dust and sand. Another Anubis warrior dives into a spear through a bot's chassis.
Wade Barrett: WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT!
Michael Cole: This is absolute carnage!
In a bizarrely beautiful display of anachronistic violence, one jackal-man locks up a struggling Peacehammer and delivers a picture-perfect Styles Clash, before tearing out its wiring.
Amidst the fray, The Rock is a whirlwind of destruction. He swings the massive Hercules mace in wide, devastating arcs, sending robots flying like scrap metal. He pauses, his eyes glowing with fiery energy, and unleashes Krypto's heat vision, carving a molten trench through the advancing robotic line.
Michael Cole: LASER EYES! SINCE WHEN DOES THE ROCK HAVE LASER EYES?!
Wade Barrett: He seems to be handling himself just fine!
Across the battlefield, Cena is a maestro of mayhem. A wave of his hand and his helmet's Fuck Beam erupts, blasting away platoon of jackal-men. He spins, and the helmet's standard laser cutter severs a dozen more at the waist in a glorious chain of explosions.
Cena: Prepare for mass destruction!
He unleashes a swarm of Baron Draxum's mutagenic mosquitoes. The insects strike true, causing several warriors to grotesquely sprout extra limbs and eyes where they shouldn't, collapsing under their own malformed weight.
Then, he switches to his most insidious weapon. The Scabies Emitter Helmet whirs to life. Instantly, the entire Anubis army seizes up, dropping their weapons to claw frantically at their stone hides, howling in a agony. One particularly afflicted warrior stumbles backward directly into an RKO from a waiting Peacehammer.
Wade Barrett: RKO! OUTTA NOWHERE! EVEN THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS AREN'T SAFE!
Michael Cole: This is so f***ing stupid.
Wade: What happened to PG?
The Rock, still clubbing and lasering robots, feels a single, irritating bump rise on his impeccably sculpted bicep. He glances at it, his face a mask of utter contempt.
The Rock: The Rock's immune system... DOESN'T SELL FOR SCRAPPY-DOO!
He flexes, and the bump instantly vanishes, vaporized by pure, concentrated willpower.
Cole: Are we- is he allowed to say that?
Wade: I wouldn't test it.
But the distraction cost him. Dozens of Peacehammers seize the opportunity, swarming over him in a metallic dogpile, threatening to bury him under their weight.
Cena turns away, confident.
Cena: Wrap him up, boys!
A split second later, a cataclysmic explosion of Black Adam's lightning erupts from the pile, shredding the robots into molten shrapnel. Standing in the epicenter, now clad in the full Black Adam suit, is The Rock, crackling with divine electricity. He rockets toward Cena with a lightning-charged fist.
Cena barely leaps back, the shockwave from the missed punch rattling his teeth. But the remaining Peacehammers, following some pre-programmed tactics, don't attack, they form. They create a living, shifting tower of metal, swarming over Black Adam and holding on just long enough to restrain him.
Cena: Stay put, will ya?
Rock: The Rock doesn't stay put for sh-
He switches his helmet to the Sonic Boom function. A visible wave of concussive force slams into The Rock, disorienting him long enough for the bots to collectively heave, throwing the electrified king back through the air.
Cena gives a satisfied nod to the nearest robot, patting its cold steel shoulder.
Cena: Well done, gang.
But The Rock stops his flight mid-air, hovering with rage. A grim smile appears on his lips. He taps a nearly invisible device on the temple of his Black Adam helmet, The Foundation's ECM Jammer.
The effect is immediate. The entire city block goes dark. Every single Peacehammer robot powers down instantly, their collective applause dying mid-celebration. Cena taps his own laser helmet twice. Nothing. He lets out a long, deep sigh, slumping his shoulders in profound disappointment.
Cena: Aww, dangit.
He is so busy sulking, He doesn't look up to see Whale "the Rock" Johnson.
CRAAAAAAAAASH!
The impact shakes the city to its foundations. John Cena is buried beneath several tons of demigod-turned-cetacean.
Wade: That oughta do it.
Cole: Maybe we're forgetting who's in there.
The colossal whale Rock shuddered suddenly. Its huge eye, the size of a car, widened as it felt its own immense weight being counteracted, then overcome.
From beneath the mountain of blubber and flesh, a voice, guttural and thick with strain, but unmistakably Cena's, roared out.
Cena: HULK!
The whale was lifted, its belly scraping the ruined asphalt. The titanic muscles in Hulk Cena's legs and back bulged, and he adjusted his grip, heaving with impossible strength.
Cena: CENA!
With a final, earth-shattering roar, Hulk Cena fully extended his arms, holding the entire leviathan above his head.
Cena: SMASH!!!!!!!!!
He didn't just drop it. He threw it. With a grunt of pure, unadulterated power, he launched the whale high into the air, sending it sailing end over end like a discarded toy. As it flew, the Demigod's Fishhook of Maui slipped from its mouth, tumbling down. Hulk Cena snatched it out of the air, looked at the powerful artifact with contempt, and with a single flex of his green fingers, SNAP! He broke it in two like a dry twig.
Wade: NOW THAT'S A SUPER CENA IF I'VE EVER SEEN ONE!
Cole: I guess that's the magic of wrestling folks. Anything can happen!
But the victory was momentary. A black and gold blur shot down from the sky like a thunderbolt. Black Adam, having shed the whale form, slammed into Hulk Cena with the force of a meteor, his fist crackling with divine lightning. The impact created a crater, and the two titans began trading blows so fast they became a blur of green and gold. Each collision warped the air around them, the very space distorting under the pressure until, with a final concussive clash, the scenery melted away, and they found themselves crashing through a wall into a vast, concrete-lined backstage area.
Wade: Now we're heading into a superpowered brawl here folks!
Black Adam created distance, hovering in the air. He thrust his hands forward, unleashing a blast of Zeus's lightning. Hulk Cena stood his ground, crossing his arms.
The electricity wreathed around him, absorbed into his green form until he glowed with pent-up energy. With a roar, he unleashed it all back in a single, concentrated blast. Black Adam merely sneered, swatting the returned lightning aside.
Then, he drew a deep breath and unleashed the full force of Krypto's super breath. The hurricane-force wind ripped equipment from the walls and threatened to peel the concrete from the floor. Hulk Cena planted his feet, leaning into the gale, trying to force his way.
Then, after waving his hand, thick, thorny vines erupted from the concrete behind Black Adam, snaking around his body and yanking him violently out of the air, slamming him into the ground right at Hulk Cena's feet. POW! A massive green fist met his face, sending the King of Kahndaq flying backward through several stacks of equipment cases.
Black Adam erupted from the rubble in a rage, shredding the vines with a burst of his power. He punched away two more that lashed out at him. His eyes glowing with furious energy, he gathered the magical electricity around his entire body, turning himself into a blinding, human flashbang. He shot into the air and then cannonballed into the ground, detonating in a sphere of pure white light that forced Hulk Cena to cover his eyes.
When the spots finally cleared from his vision, the area was silent. The Rock was gone.
Hulk Cena snarled, his head whipping around. Thinking quickly, he conjured a small portal just behind his shoulder. From it, the silver Vision of Peace helmet tumbled out. He caught it, and with a hiss, clamped it over his large, green head. The world dissolved into a wireframe scan of the environment.
Cole: Looks like Cena is doing the finding here.
Wade: That's a first!
...
Cena: I can see you.
He didn't turn. He simply threw his arm up, blocking a devastating sucker punch from his side. The Rock, now in the advanced armour of The Foundation, grunted in surprise as his cloak flickered and failed. Hulk Cena threw the arm off and delivered a thunderous kick to his chest, sending him skidding back. Before The Rock could fully steady himself, a brilliant white laser shot from the helmet's emitter. The Foundation braced, raising his armoured wrist, deflecting multiple blasts of hardlight.
He returned fire, a blue energy pulse from his own gun. The beams met in the center, clashing against each other, With his other hand, The Rock blindly fired his pistol, the bullets pinging harmlessly off Hulk Cena's hide. In a final, move, he adjusted his rifle and fired a rift projectile. Hulk Cena swatted at it, but the shot wasn't meant to harm, it connected, and with a BZZZT, Cena vanished, teleported away.
The Foundation slumped for a second, breathing heavily.
Rock: Phew. The Rock… needed a break.
The silence was brief. A new portal tore open directly above him, and Hulk Cena came crashing down like a green asteroid, aiming to squash him flat.
Wade: Looks like the Rock hasn't earned his sunset quite yet!
The Rock only just managed to throw himself sideways in a desperate roll, the impact of Cena's landing cracking the foundation of the building.
Cole: It's hard to do that in a battle like this!
Then, Hulk Cena began to wave his hand in front of his face in that iconic, taunting motion. But he did it with such impossible, superhuman speed that his arm became a blur, creating a vibrational field that bent light around him until he literally faded from view, turning completely invisible.
Cole: Wonder why he never did that in an actual match.
The Rock scoffed, grabbing a canister from his belt.
Rock: The Rock can play that game too, jabroni!
He sprayed himself with the Invisibility Spray from the Tooth Fairy, and he too vanished without a trace.
Wade Barrett: Quick, Cole! Get your meta vision glasses on! I can't see a thing!
Michael Cole: Way ahead of you, Wade!
Wade Barrett: What do you see?!
Michael Cole: It's a whirlwind! An uppercut from the shadows! Cena connected! Now a downward spiral kick! Oh! And that's a beautiful 1260 senton straight into a hurricanrana plant! Hey! Grab a pair!
Wade: But wait! The Rock is countering! He's caught the leg! He's going for a... a Rock Bottom! NO! He's adjusting his grip! It's a Michinoku Phoenix crossbody driver! Wonderful!
A lone metal kendo stick suddenly levitates mid-air. It wiggles menacingly for a second before it's violently seized by an unseen force and snapped in half with a thunderous CRACK. The two pieces are then tossed in opposite directions.
Cole: This is beyond wrestling here, Cole!
Wade: Brutal! Wait... what's that sound?
Cole: He's not done! By the gods, what is he doing now? He's... he's stacking tables! I can see them floating! One! Two! Three titanium-reinforced tables! Four! Five! SIX TABLES! He's created a tower of impending doom!
A massive stack of tables, the kind that would make the Dudley Boyz proud, wobbles precariously in the middle of the room. It's clearly held aloft by an invisible force.
Wade: He's got him! The Rock has Cena up on his shoulders! This is it! Is it the People's Elbow? Is it an Attitude Adjustment? The tension is unbearable!
Cole: IT'S A SUPERPLEX! HE'S GOING FOR A 2520 SUPERPLEX OFF THE TOP OF THE TABLES THROUGH THE-
BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!
A shockwave of pure destruction erupts. The entire stack of six tables is obliterated, not just broken, but seemingly atomized into a cloud of splinters and folded metal.
Michael Cole: This is the kind of sequence that could only be animated by God himself on a caffeine bender.
Wade Barrett: The brutality... it's beautiful.
Both titans flickered back into view, their forms shimmering like mirages before solidifying. They panted heavily. The Foundation tossed a water bottle he'd pulled from his gear. Hulk Cena caught it, and in unison, they cracked the caps and drained them in one go.
Then, without a word, they met in the center. One final, earth-shattering punch was thrown by each. The shockwave from their final punch rips a hole in reality itself, swirling into a vortex, which sucks them both in.
COLE: THE UNIVERSE CAN'T HANDLE THEIR POWER! IT'S FOLDING IN ON ITSELF!
WADE: NO, COLE! LOOK! IT'S NOT DESTRUCTION... IT'S RESETTING!
The chaotic maelstrom solidifies, the blinding light receding to reveal the familiar, harsh glare of stadium spotlights.
Their elaborate armour and transformations flicker and dissolve like mist in the wind. Cena detransforms, as the helmet fades away. While Rock's entire suit fades away. For a split second, as they plummet, Cena in red shorts and blonde hair and The Rock in hideous floral print and blue streamers.
COLE: WADE! I think I see them! It's... it's them!
The roar of the crowd hits them like a physical wave. They wake up. They are falling, tumbling through the air, but beneath them is the squared circle of a WWE ring.
With a final, primal roar of effort, they both ripped their very skin away, shredding it like paper. Now clad in trunks and jorts respectively, The Rock surged forward mid-air, his hand latching onto Cena's shoulder, twisting his body to set up for a devastating Rock Bottom. But in a blur of motion too fast to follow, the momentum shifted, Cena pivoted, and suddenly it was The Rock who was hoisted high, perched perfectly on Cena's shoulders for an Attitude Adjustment.
Wade: Neither has an advantage against each other!
They became a whirling dervish of contested finishers, with either holding the advantage mid-air for only a few seconds.
Cole: And now it's Cena! Rock! Cena! Rock! Cena! Rock!
Wade: CENAROCKCENAROCKCENAROCKCENAROCK-
CRASH!
The impact is seismic, as a cloud of dust and debris erupts from the point of impact. The entire arena holds its breath.
The dust slowly settles. The scene becomes clear.
The Rock is on his feet, standing over a fallen foe. One arm is raised to the roaring crowd. His other hand is gripping his own neck, a look of pure, stunned disbelief on his face. He had connected. He had hit the Rock Bottom on the way down.
Wade Barrett: ROCK BOTTOM! ROCK BOTTOM! HE GOT HIM! HE GOT ALL OF IT!"
Michael Cole: COULD THIS BE IT? AFTER ALL OF THAT... IS THIS HOW IT ENDS?!
The Rock drops to the mat, hooking the leg. The referee, Jocelyn, slides in, her hand slapping the mat.
ONE!
The crowd counts along.
TWO!
Cena's shoulders are pinned flat. It's over. It has to be over.
TH--
Cena's eyes snap open. With a final, universe-defying surge of willpower, his shoulder rockets off the mat. The kickout is so powerful it shoves The Rock off of him.
CENA KICKS OUT!
Wade Barrett: WHAAT. IN THE WORLD.
Michael Cole: THE GREATEST COMEBACK IN THE HISTORY OF OUR SPORT! AT 2.9! HE SURVIVED!
Rock: What? But-
Cena: Sorry, man. I NEVER. Give up.
The Rock stumbles backward, his face a mask of utter shock. He looks at his own hands, then at Cena, who is already pushing himself to his knees, fueled by nothing but the roar of the crowd.
The Rock's moment of shock is all the opening he needs.
Cena lunges forward, grabbing The Rock around the waist. He hoists the People's Champion onto his shoulders. The Rock struggles, but the energy is gone, siphoned away by the sheer impossibility of the kickout. And he leaps, rising higher and higher, until even the Milky Way looks far away. And then, they both turn polychromatic, and they drop!
Cena: HUSTLE! LOYALTY! AND RESPECT!
ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT!
Cena drives him down into the center of the ring with the final ounce of his strength. An invisible forcefield contains the shockwaves around the ring. He collapses atop him, as Jocelyn drops down, again.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
DING DING DING!
The bell rings. The arena explodes.
Michael Cole: HE DID IT! JOHN CENA HAS DONE IT! THE CHAMP IS STILL HERE!"
Cena rolls onto his back, chest heaving, staring blankly at the lights. The world slowly comes back into focus, the sound of his music, the roar of the crowd. He pushes himself to a sitting position as a referee hands him the championship title.
He staggers to his feet, holding the title belt high. The pyrotechnics explode around him. He is victorious.
But his celebration is short-lived. His eyes fall on the motionless form of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson lying in the center of the ring.
He drops the title belt to the canvas with a thud. He hesitates for a long moment, then reaches into his jorts' pocket. His hand closes around something cold and metallic, that he stole far earlier. He pulls out the Crown of Alcaman. It glows with a faint, ancient light in his palm, a piece of The Rock's own power.
He steps over to The Rock's still form, then, he gently, deliberately, places the crown upon The Rock's head.
The effect is immediate. A soft, golden light washes over his body. His eyes flutter open. He is groggy, battered, and utterly drained, but alive. His hand goes to the crown on his head.
He looks up the entrance ramp.
John Cena is already halfway up, the championship title slung over his shoulder. He stops. He turns back. Their eyes meet across the expanse of the arena. No words are needed.
Cena brings his hand to his brow in one last salute.
KO!