Text By Jed Shaffer

What if...CM Punk took the Ring Of Honor World Title to WWE??

(Author's note: This story requires you, Loyal Reader, to allow one minor suspension of disbelief with me: a working relationship between WWE and Ring Of Honor. If you can get past that caveat, then we should be fine.)

Our story begins on August 13th, 2005, at Ring Of Honor's "Punk: The Final Chapter" event. CM Punk, the reigning ROH World Champion, put the promotion in a state of panic two months prior, when he won the company's top prize, then promptly announced his intentions to sign with WWE and take the ROH World Title with him. Punk has bested all challengers, including a four-way elimination match the night before with Christopher Daniels, James Gibson and former champ Samoa Joe. The aptly titled event is, indeed, Punk's final date, and his former friend, Colt Cabana, is the only thing standing in his way of leaving the company championless ...

Aug. 13, '05: Ring Of Honor's "Punk: The Final Chapter":

For 25 minutes, Colt Cabana has raged and fought and bled to defend Ring Of Honor's sanctity. He has tried to rescue the ROH World Championship from a living oblivion. For 25 minutes, he has kicked and clawed and suplexed and poured everything he has and then some into stopping CM Punk from leaving the ring, the arena, and the company, with their top prize. With their best-of-three-falls match tied at a fall apiece, and the entire locker room peering out from the back or on the ramp, Colt nails a Shining Wizard; Punk is knocked stupid. Colt, fired up from a crowd that senses the Summer Of Punk, the long, dark nightmare perpetrated by this "icon" of the company, is about to draw to a close, bends over to pick up Punk.

But Punk is playing possum; he reaches up and pulls Colt into a small package. Colt rolls through and reverses the pin attempt, but before the ref can count to two, Punk shifts his weight and, out of the referee's line of sight, hooks a foot on a rope for leverage. There is no reversal. And there is no kickout.

The crowd deflates instantaneously. Every wrestler watching feels their jaw hit the floor. Everyone waits for the decision to be reversed on a technicality, or for the ref to restart the match. Even a WrestleMania IX ending ... there's been rumors of the return of Bryan Danielson, and now would be the optimum time for the American Dragon to step up to the plate. Anything.

But none of these pipe dreams come to fruition.

CM Punk, who realized his dream of becoming ROH World Champion not two months beforehand, is now about to keep his promise to himself. He is not contractually bound to Ring Of Honor anymore. He has made it perfectly clear he has no compulsion to honor the company where honed his game enough to get his WWE deal. He has made no promises, save that one most despicable vow: to deliver the belt to Vince McMahon live on Raw.

Seeing that more then one of the wrestlers standing by the entranceway and the back of the crowd are getting itchy--and that not a single one of them isn't midway into thermonuclear meltdown--Punk scoops up the belt and runs in the opposite direction, shoving resistant audience members out of the way as he books for the front door to the arena. Homicide, the man who would have the next title shot, starts to give chase, but Punk has too much of a lead. When cameras catch up, he is jumping in his rental car and tearing out of the parking lot, leaving Homicide, and Ring Of Honor, in his rearview mirror ... leaving Ring Of Honor without a champion ... and a perhaps-unanswerable question: now what?

Aug. 15 and 18, '05: WWE Raw/Smackdown:

As The Heartthrobs make their way to the ring for a handicap match against Big Show, a commotion in the crowd causes cameras to swing around and track the happenings. Dressed in a fine suit, with hair slicked back and eyes shrouded by stylish sunglasses, a young man makes his way to an open seat in the front row. On his shoulder, he carries a championship belt, in the center of which is emblazoned three red letters: ROH. Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler make mention of this young man obviously being a wrestler from another organization, trying to get himself over at the expense of the WWE, like ECW had done eight years prior. Neither Show nor the Heartthrobs pay him any mind; the young man, to his credit, does nothing to disturb the match, although he does chuckle at the in-ring action, shaking his head as if in disdain.

As Raw winds through Eugene's problems with Kurt Angle, the Diva Search and a second handicap match (this one with John Cena, Chris Jericho and Carlito), the young man continues to watch with bemused detachment. It isn't until Rob Conway comes to the ring to face The Hurricane that he finally makes a move; he stands up, vaults over the barricade and starts towards the ring. Security swarms to prevent him from entering the ring, but Vince McMahon surprises everyone by coming out and telling security to back off. Vince gestures for the young man to enter the ring, but Hurricane gets a microphone and protests.

"Mr. McMahon," says the super-hero wannabe, "this citizen, this man, he isn't even a member of the Raw roster! You cannot simply allow an outsider to--"

With a nod from McMahon, CM Punk blasts Hurricane in the back of the head with the ROH World Championship belt. Conway cheers and extends a hand to Punk; instead of a handshake, he gets a face full of Punk's belt. Vince applauds and enters the ring, extending a hand in Punk's direction. Punk half-heartedly returns the gesture and nearly gets his arm shaken out of socket by an enthusiastic Vince. "Ladies and gentlemen," Vince boasts, "may I present to you, the newest signee of World Wrestling Entertainment ... CM Punk!"

The music of Raw General Manager Eric Bischoff stops any further discussion. The GM comes down to the ring and gets a microphone. "Mr. McMahon," says Bischoff, trying to sound as conciliatory as possible, "is there a reason I wasn't informed of this? I am the General Manager of Raw. I should have some say in the booking of my show, especially in regards to new, unproven talent."

Punk eyes Bischoff suspiciously at this last statement, but Vince gets his thoughts in before Punk can say anything. "Eric, I didn't mean to step on your toes. This--"

"I think I can speak for myself, Vince," says Punk with more then just a little attitude. Vince's head whips around, looking Punk dead in the eyes. "And as far as what I got to say, after watching the show tonight ... seeing big, lumbering idiots like Big Show, and handicap matches and whatnot, I gotta say I'm already regretting my WWE contract. I came here with the intent of facing the very best. This is the WWE, after all; the global leader in this industry. It's like 'PlayStation' and video games, or 'Kleenex' and bathroom tissue; World Wrestling Entertainment is synonymous with wrestling, world-wide." Punk holds up the belt on this shoulder. "This belt here in my hand says I'm the world's greatest wrestler. I'm elite. I'm better then every single one of you. I won this in some piss-ant, two-bit, circus-tent promotion, a promotion I dominated from the day I entered it. They didn't have a single wrestler who could take this belt off my waist before I walked out their front door, to come here and work for you, a job that you came and offered me, I might add. That means you recognized my superiority ... and you bring me here, and you show me this garbage? You waste my time, showing me this pedantic garbage?"

"Listen, boy--"

Punk's glare is enough to silence Bischoff. "Why you don't go get Verne a warm-up on his coffee?" snaps Punk. "This show sucks, from top to bottom, and the buck stops with you. I have no more interest in signing with Raw then I do going back to that sweat-shop, hellhole company I took this belt from." Punk looks Vince dead in the eyes. "I'm giving you another chance, Vince. I'll be at Smackdown. I'm willing to forgive this horrible first impression you showed me tonight. But I better see one hell of a better show on Smackdown, if you want this belt I have to go in your trophy case."

Before Bischoff and Vince can say a word, Punk drops out of the ring, hops over the barricade and leaves the arena through the crowd, leaving the Raw GM and the WWE Chairman--along with the gathered crowd--in a state of shock.

Punk's arrival on Smackdown stands apart from his arrival on Raw; instead of being a nameless invader, he is given the five-star treatment from the word go. A limo drops him off, and he is escorted, via WWE security, to his luxury suite, where Smackdown GM Teddy Long is waiting for him.

"What's up, playa?" Long says enthusiastically, grasping Punk's hand for a shake. "Welcome to Smackdown, the real A-show of the WWE! If there's anything you need, just ask and I'll--"

"Yes, I need to see one good reason why I should commit myself to your show, Teddy," says Punk with a sneer.

"Playa, you gonna get way more then one reason! Smackdown's got the best wrestlers, the finest Divas, the best--"

"I'll be the judge of that." Punk takes a seat in a luxurious recliner, the ROH Championship sitting in his lap. "I assume I can get something to drink here."

"Of course! What kind of beer do ya drink?"

Punk's blank stare makes Teddy take a step back. "I'm straight-edge."

"I can see that, playa! That's a damn close shave you got going--"

"No, you idiot. Straight-edge. No booze. No drugs. Totally clean and sober. You know what? Just leave and run your show." Teddy tries to speak, but Punk says again; "Leave." Teddy nods and leaves Punk to watch Smackdown.

Over the course of the next two hours, cameras return to catch Punk's reactions to the night's matches and happenings; from Eddie Guerrero's vow to reclaim custody of his son, Dominic, in a ladder match at SummerSlam, to a new Legion of Doom crushing two prelim workers, a preposterous fight between Funaki and #1 contender JBL, and an interview segment with Christian and the Mexi-cools, everything hits Punk with the same weight. He shows no interest, no excitement, no anything. Finally, the main event, a match between Randy Orton and Chris Benoit, bows; Punk actually begins to show interest as the master technician takes it to the cocky youngster. But Benoit falls sucker to a distraction from recent nemesis Orlando Jordan, allowing Orton to nail his RKO finisher for the pinfall victory. The lights black out, and when they come out, The Undertaker is in the ring with Orton, and proceeds to lay waste to the third-generation star.

As The Undertaker decimates Orton, Teddy Long opens the door to Punk's luxury suite. "CM Punk! My man!" he says with exuberance. "Now that was a show, was it not?"

Punk raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, that was a 'show', alright." Punk starts to walk past Long, heading for the door. "If you'll excuse me--"

"But ... I mean, do we got a deal? Are you ready to join the winning team, the A-show, here on Smackdown?"

Punk eyes Long for a few seconds. His lip is curled in disdain, the look in his eyes one of disgust that he can't be bothered to even thinly disguise. "You'll be hearing from me on Monday," he says and exits the suite.

Aug 20, '05: Ring Of Honor's "Night Of The Grudges 2":

The week leading up to Night Of The Grudges 2 is one of great anticipation and nervousness for both Ring Of Honor fans and wrestlers alike. Articles on ROH's website question the future of the company having a champion in another promotion, and if the value of the ROH World Title could survive a break in continuity if Punk is stripped. There is open speculation on if Punk might return to defend, but only the most naive believe he'd deign his former promotion with his presence.

Nevertheless, ROH marches forward and advertises a Punk vs. Homicide title match as the main event if Punk shows up ... and a Pure Title match of Samoa Joe vs. Christopher Daniels if he doesn't (with Homicide taking on James Gibson and Spanky in a three-way under the same circumstances). When the triple-threat, scheduled to be the last match before the intermission, takes place, the hopes of everyone in the building come crashing down.

When the lights go down for the second half of the show, the crowd is noticeably restrained in their reaction. Ring announcer Bobby Cruise's enthusiastic welcome-back fails to get the crowd riled like it normally would; the loss of the ROH Championship, and perhaps the lifeblood of the company, is too much for everyone to cope with.

However, the crowd comes alive for some very familiar, if out of place, music; the screech of whitewalls precedes a crunchy power chord, ushering in former WWF Champion and hardcore legend Mick Foley. Foley politely lets the crowd wear through their chants of "welcome back" and "he's hardcore", and runs through a couple cheap pop statements before getting down to brass tacks.

"I didn't come here to hear you guys cheer my name, though, much as I appreciate it. I asked the owner, Cary, if I could have a few minutes of time tonight to address a little problem. You see, I've worked for a lot of wrestling promotions in my life, and the number of promotions that I can honestly say didn't leave me feeling beat up, worn down, disrespected and just ... well ... pardon my French, but downright shit on. For every Paul Heyman, who treated me like a man, there's been Eric Bischoffs, and Vince McMahons, and the IWA; people taking advantage of me, raping my wallet, and grinding my self-respect into the dirt. But this company, Ring Of Honor ... there's none of that. This is a company of honorable men, from the bottom to the top. I came out here a while back and gave my endorsement to this company, because it's how a wrestling promotion should be run, and I still believe it. This is the best wrestling company on Earth, they have the best wrestlers on Earth, and dammit, you people are the best fans on Earth!" The audience applauds vigorously and gives Foley another chant; this one, however, Foley waves quiet. "Hang on, I really need your guys' attention right now, because I'm making a point here, and it's important. See, everything I said was true, even when I did some things that people didn't agree with a few months ago ... but there was one person that didn't show this company, or you fans, the same respect, and that person is CM Punk. I came here on official business from the WWE, as Vince McMahon's representative, and he did everything he could to weasel out of defending this company's championship belt. Vince McMahon, you see, doesn't want wrestlers to come to his company with baggage from their old employer, and that's what CM Punk has brought to World Wrestling Entertainment. He brought baggage, and he did it by stabbing everyone in this building in the back. So two days from now, live on Monday Night Raw, I'm going to do this company a favor; I am going to confront CM Punk, and if I have to drag him back by his ear and make him defend that title until he loses it, dammit, I--"

Foley's words are drowned out by the entrance music of the leader of The Rottweilers, Homicide. The fiery street fighter wastes no time in getting right in Foley's face, making Foley take a step back. "Who the fuck you think you are?" Homicide barks out. "Dis here was s'pose to be my night. That piece of shit coward runs off to your WWE, and he hides behind Vince's skirt ... he don't want a piece of the Notorious 187 ... and neither do you!"

Foley puts his hands up in surrender. "Hey, listen ... I'm not here to start anything, especially not with you. I'm just here to help out Ring Of Honor in their time of--"

"Ring Of Honor don't need your fucking help, fat-boy! Dis is Ring Of Honor's problem, not yours. If anyone's gonna take care of ROH's business, that's gonna be me, not some sucka from WWE pretending to be down! So take your fat ass, jump in your limo, and go back to suckin' off McMahon before I open you up!" Homicide reaches in his waistband and pulls out a fork. Foley immediately backs off. "What, I thought you was hardcore! I thought you was extreme! C'mon, ya tubby son of a bitch! Stick your nose in my business. I'm beggin' ya, make me fu--"

Before Homicide can finish his threat, Matt Hardy races out and starts brawling with Homicide. Foley hangs back as Hardy and Homicide, no strangers to each other, trade blows until Hardy snap off a Side Effect. Before Hardy can use the captured fork, though, he's speared almost clean out of his boots by a new invader, having run through the crowd: Edge. Edge helps Homicide get up and grabs a microphone.

"This is your precious Ring Of Honor, Matt? This is how you paid the bills after Vince fired your ass?" Edge picks up the fork and tosses it to Homicide; Foley tries to step in, but Edge is a step ahead, and drops Foley with a DDT. "Where's your brother, Matt? Where's your friends, Matt? Where's your woman?" Edge gets in Matt's face as Homicide pulls him to his feet. "Your brother's slumming it in Orlando, and I stole your woman! And friends ... in this company, Matt, you don't have friends! You're an outsider! You're not wanted here! This is what you're so proud of?" Edge grabs Matt and turns him to face Homicide. Homicide comes off the ropes and jams the fork into Matt's head, tearing open his skin. "After I beat your ass tomorrow night and send you packing again, this is what you have to look forward to, Matt! A lifetime on the outside! Welcome home, Matt!" Edge turns to Foley and adds a couple stomps, then says; "Do yourself a favor, Foley: stay home with your ugly little accidents you call children. It's already bad enough to see how much you've pissed on your legacy with your yearly comebacks that you always lose. Don't make it worse by starting a war you can't finish." Edge tosses away the microphone and leaves through the crowd again, leaving Homicide to do a little more damage to the prone Matt Hardy and Mick Foley before security comes in and drags Homicide away.

Aug. 21, '05: WWE SummerSlam:

Wincing in pain with every step, Mick Foley enters Vince McMahon's office. Vince regards Foley with visible contempt and holds up a hand to cut off Foley before he can even get out a syllable. "Give me one good reason, Mick, why I shouldn't call security and have you tossed out on your ass for that stunt you pulled. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't tear your contract in half for that stunt you pulled last night." Mick opens his mouth, but Vince steamrolls over him. "Yeah, I heard. You went to another promotion--another promotion, Mick. You went there, as a contracted WWE performer, and acted on your own behalf, sticking your nose in another promotion's business. Do you realize how many lawsuits I could've faced if you injured one of their performers? Do you realize I could sue you for breach of contract? You didn't get my clearance to go there! We're trying to impress this man, not inspire him to leave! Their title situation is none of our business, Mick!"

Finally, Mick manages to silence Vince by stabbing a finger in his chest. "That's where you're wrong, Vince," he says, his voice as stern and lethal as a blade. "You have a responsibility. You ordered CM Punk to defend his title while he was still in Ring Of Honor when he balked. You hired him, and he still holds their belt. You can't allow him to be on your show and bury that championship!" Vince waves off Mick, but Mick grabs Vince's arm and spins him around. "Isn't that why you screwed Bret Hart, to keep him from doing to the WWE Championship what Punk is doing to Ring Of Honor's? Do you forget how it felt when Alundra Blayze did it on Nitro?"

If Vince has heard a word Mick said, he doesn't show it. Vince rips his arm away, fuming mad, getting in Mick's face. "You do not lay your hands on me."

"If I have to beat some sense into you, Vince, dammit, I will!" says Mick, looking just as furious as Vince. "You're about to allow an employee to denigrate another company's championship belt--a company that's no threat to you--and the worst part of all is, CM Punk is just using you! If he doesn't have respect for that championship, what makes you think he has respect for you or this company? What makes you think that, if he wins a championship here, he won't turn around and take it to another company?"

Vince glares at Mick, but says nothing. Finally, after a few long, tense seconds, Vince spits through clinched teeth; "This is none of your concern, Mick. I will handle it."

Mick eyes Vince for a moment, measuring whether the fight is worth the effort. "I'll be at Raw tomorrow, Vince," Mick finally promises. "You can't stop me from doing the right thing." Mick turns and leaves.

Vince's methods of impressing the controversial Punk is booking him in a triple threat with two former champions for a debut match at SummerSlam. Unfortunately for Punk, the two former champions are not nearly as impressive as their status would indicate, as his opponents are Scotty 2 Hotty and Rob Conway. Before the referee can signal the timekeeper to ring the opening bell, Punk grabs the announcer's microphone and shocks the audience by announcing the match will be for the Ring OF Honor World Championship. Punk then proceeds dissect both men, setting a WWE record for the fastest victory in a triple-threat match. Vince strides down the aisle to meet Punk in the ring, but Punk sneers at Vince's hand and walks down the aisle, passing by Mick, who glares at the ROH Champion as he walks by.

Aug. 22, '05: WWE Raw:

Both Teddy Long and Eric Bischoff join Vince McMahon in the ring in anticipation of CM Punk and his decision on what show he will sign with. Vince takes to the microphone and gives Punk an intro worth of royalty; "Ladies and gentlemen, General Managers Teddy Long and Eric Bischoff, along with myself, are thrilled to be able to present to you the hottest free agent in sports entertainment today ... CM Punk!"

Punk, decked out in a new pinstripe suit and sunglasses, strolls down the ring, his Ring Of Honor gold thrown across his shoulder. But instead of exchanging handshakes with the leaders, Punk snatches the microphone out of Vince's hand, leaving the Chairman perplexed. "You don't mind if I have this, right?" says Punk. "You're not here to get on me with cocktail party pleasantries." Vince motions to Punk that he has the floor.

"When I was a kid," Punk begins, "the WWE was the center of the wrestling world. If you wanted to be a wrestler, and God knows I did, your goal was to get to Stamford, Connecticut. It was the epicenter, the pinnacle. To wrestle in a WWE ring meant you were among the very best the industry had to offer ... and by proxy, that meant you were among the industry's very best, too. My entire career has been directed at achieving that childhood dream, to set foot in a WWE ring ... to walk among the elite. To stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the industry's strongest and best. To wrestle against the industry's most skilled athletes, because, after all, Vince, this is still the wrestling industry, is it not? That's what I do. That's why you hired me; because I am the very best wrestler this industry has to offer. This belt"--Punk holds up the ROH Championship--"is the proof. You see, this belt here, it represents a company that is true wrestling." Punk turns to Vince and whips off his sunglasses. "The garbage that you peddle week in, week out ... this sports entertainment crap ... it's poison. Don't try and throw these two clowns under the bus, either, Vince; when it all comes down, the buck stops at your desk. I aspired to be the best wrestler on Earth, in the best company on Earth ... and now, now I see that the best company on Earth is a hollow, rotten shell, a parody. You promise me two former champions in a debut match, and you give me a Rick Martel wannabe and some simpleton who thinks he's Vanilla Ice? I even gave them a shot at this belt, and they couldn't even give me two minutes! Is this what I have to look forward while I'm stuck in this prison?" Vince's jaw is hanging between his knees; he tries to get something out, but Punk cuts him off. "Don't even try. You'll embarrass yourself. You already do that enough on a daily basis, running this farce of a wrestling promotion. Don't make yourself look dumber then Eugene. You wanna know what I'm gonna do? Here, let me lay out my plan for you, Vince. It's real simple: step one? I'm not signing with either of your shows. I wrestle when I choose, where I choose. Step two? I'm serving notice to your top 'wrestlers' that a real wrestler, a real champion, the only champion that matters, is coming for them and their tin title belts. Step three? I'm running every one of your BS 'sports entertainers' out of this company, and I'll make you replace them with real wrestlers. I may not give a rat's ass what happens to the company that I took this belt from, but I'll be damned if I have to spend the rest of my career surrounded by morons doing dance routines in the middle of their wrestling moves. You murdered my dream by dragging me into this nightmare, and now, I'm gonna murder your comp--"

Mick Foley's music cuts into Punk's tirade. Punk flashes a humorless smile as Mick enters the ring. Vince tries to get in between Punk and Mick, but surprisingly, Punk pushes Vince back. "No, let him have his say," says Punk with a phony grin. "This could be the best thing I've seen on WWE television since I signed that stupid contract."

Mick raises a skeptical eyebrow, but dismisses Punk's comments by getting right to the point. "I gotta say, I'm surprised, Punk. I honestly thought you'd come out and give Vince that belt. I can't say I agree with everything you say about this company, but it's nice to see you've matured enough to see that you can't stab Ring Of Honor in the back after all they did for you." Mick extends a hand and says; "So, when can we all expect you to go back to Ring Of Honor and defend that belt until you lose it?"

Punk's disingenuous smile melts into a mask of astonishment. "Go ... back?" Punk looks at Mick, down at his hand, then back at Mick and laughs. "You're ... you're joking, right? You want me to go back to that pathetic little one-ring circus and wrestle? Mick, I've moved on. I won this belt straight-up, and no one they could put me in the ring with could get it off me. I don't owe them, or this belt a damn thing." Punk leans in, his nosetip almost touching Mick's. "You and Ring Of Honor can kiss ... my ... ass."

For a few long moments, Punk and Mick hold their glares against one another, shooting daggers back and forth. Punk finally breaks the stare, turning away, only to come roaring back, swinging the ROH Title; Mick ducks and starts to unload on Punk with rights until security, along with several wrestlers--including Big Show, Shelton Benjamin and a very injured Matt Hardy--pull Foley off Punk. Foley escapes their hold and rushes Punk as he leans against the ropes, nailing the patented Cactus Jack clothesline, spilling to the floor before security and the wrestlers get between the two and break up the fight. Foley yells over the shoulders of the mob that he'll teach Punk a lesson in honor and respect as he's being led away. Punk rips off his jacket and dares Foley to come back, but nobody buys it as anything more then a tough-guy act.

Vince chooses this time to grab the microphone off the mat and go into domineering-boss mode. "Wait just a minute! Security, you keep Foley right where he is, cause I got something to say to the both of you." Vince looks over at Mick first and says; "Foley,       I don't know how you got it in your head to wage this little campaign of yours, but I can see that you're not gonna let this rest. You want my permission to chase this disrespectful punk from one company to another? Fine. As long as you don't damage the WWE's reputation or injure my personnel doing it, I don't give a damn what you do. And as for you," Vince adds, turning to Punk, "if you want a nightmare, I can give you a nightmare: unless you pick a show to sign with right here and now, I will terminate your contract and send you back to that 'hellhole' you're so fond of."

Punk throws his arm around, a tantrum worthy of a diaper and a binky, but Vince ignores it. "Pick a show, or you're fired," he says flatly. Punk levels a lethal glare at the Chairman, then turns to Bischoff and grabs his hand. "Good, glad you're willing to pl--"

Before Vince can finish, Punk yanks Bischoff in, doubles him over and snaps off a DDT on the Raw GM. Punk snatches the microphone out of Vince's hand, bends down to Bischoff's ear and says, "See you at work next Monday."

Aug. 27, '05: ROH's "Dragon's Gate Invasion":

With articles on Ring Of Honor's website pondering the fate of the Ring Of Honor Championship and Mick Foley's campaign to rescue it from CM Punk, it comes as no surprise when Mick shows up. The crowd greets him enthusiastically, but tonight, he is all business.

"I appreciate the applause, but I'm here tonight for a very specific reason, and I need to get to that right now." Mick opens his flannel shirt to reveal a Ring Of Honor t-shirt underneath. "I'm here because of this," says Mick, pointing to his shirt. "If you saw me on Monday Night Raw, or you heard about it from a friend, you know why I'm here; to pledge to every fan, every wrestler back there, and to the owner of this great company, that I am scouting every wrestler in the WWE to find the guy I think wi--"

The music of Samoa Joe comes across the PA, sending the crowd into overdrive and making Mick swallow nervously. Looking tired and beaten, having wrestled earlier in the night, Joe comes into the ring, grabbing a microphone and pacing back and forth for a few seconds as the crowd chants his name. Joe stops pacing, looks at Mick and scratches his head. "You know, Foley, I'm having trouble here. See, I just wrestled my ass off earlier tonight, and I kinda got my bell rung, so I got a wicked headache. Maybe you can clear something up for me: exactly how is our World Championship your business?" Mick goes to talk, but Joe puts a hand in Mick's face. "I'm not interested in what you have to say, Foley. See, one thing I do remember is you bashing a chair over my head, so you'll pardon me when I say I don't trust you. And I sure as hell don't appreciate the idea that you're gonna comb through the WWE locker room lookin' for someone to be our savior. I've beaten Punk. Hell, Jimmy Rave's beaten Punk. He's not as good as likes to think he is, Foley ... and neither are you. You're no saint, no great hero. Or was that someone else who spit on the WCW Tag Titles, insulted the ECW audience and tried to convince Tommy Dreamer to go to WCW? The only interest you serve in sticking your nose in this is your own. So my advice to you is to pack up your sock, waddle on back to Connecticut and let us take care of our own business."

"For once," a familiar voice says, echoing through the hall, "I agree with you!" All eyes turn to the front door; surrounded by a phalanx of security--all wearing WWE shirts with a circle-and-slash written over the logo in Sharpie--is none other then erstwhile ROH Champion CM Punk. Punk approaches the ringside area, his team of security clearing a wide berth through the audience. "I figured you'd show up here, trying to drum up support for your campaign. I don't know what bug flew up your ass, Mick Foley," says Punk as he rolls into the ring, "or where you get off being some kind of noble crusader. Every word Joe said was true--well, maybe not that part about me not being as good as I think I am." Punk hops in the ring and gets right in Mick's face. "You don't belong here, you're not wanted here, and if you don't get out, I'm gonna take you ou--"

Joe grabs Punk's arm and spins him around; Punk glares at Joe, but the former champ is none the least bit bothered. "Mick Foley may be a hypocrite. He may be an unwanted guest. But don't go acting like you're Ring Of Honor's defender, Punk. You're a disgrace to this company, and you're a disgrace to that belt." Joe smiles, looks down, grabs a button on Punk's sport coat and rips it off. Punk protests, but Joe grabs the next button and tears it off. Punk barks out at Joe to stop, but Joe grabs Punk's lapel and yanks down, pulling Punk down a bit before the fabric gives way and comes off in his hand. "And believe me, Punk ... tonight, I'm gonna take that belt off you if I have to rip you apart, piece by piece."

Punk scurries back and slides under the ropes, but physically runs into Colt Cabana. Behind Cabana stands virtually the entire Ring Of Honor roster, who spread out around the ring, blocking off all avenues of exit for the champ. Punk, looking for escape and finding none, rolls into the ring, where Joe and Mick are waiting for him. Punk panics, falling down on his ass and holding up his hands in surrender. Before Punk realizes it, Joe bends down and scoops up the title belt, eyeing it happily. The crowd for Joe to "kick his ass", but Joe turns to Mick instead. "Tell you what, Mick. I'm gonna give you a shot to earn our trust. This scrawny little punk-ass bitch ain't gettin' outta back to Connecticut alive without putting this up for grabs tonight. So, what I'm tellin' you, Mick is this: you wanna prove you're good for Ring Of Honor? Pick his opponent. Pick the guy who's gonna kick his sorry, sell-out ass back to Stamford ... but you better make sure you pick someone that's ROH. Don't be bringin' someone in here that ain't ever done time here."

Mick eyes Joe for a long moment, waiting for the twist of the knife. There is none. Joe waits, occasionally taunting Punk by putting the belt within reach, then snatching it back. "That's fair," Mick finally replies. "I got someone in mind. Someone that needs no introduction. Someone who knows what it's like to fight for this company. Someone that ... will not die."

Every pair of eyes in the building go wide as Matt Hardy comes down the aisle. Joe's booming voice fills the arena, full of anger. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! I said you pick someone ROH! This guy ain't--"

"Matt Hardy has wins over Homicide and Christopher Daniels! This man deserves--"

"He deserves a woman who won't get nasty with his best friend. What you deserve is the ass-kicking you're about three seconds from--"

Hardy steps in between the two, but before he can say anything, Punk springs up and attacks Hardy. Mick quickly drops out of the ring as Punk plants Hardy with a DDT, then looks at the timekeeper and yells for him to ring to bell. Joe warns the timekeeper not to make the match official, but Foley slides back in and gets in Joe's face. The timekeeper rings the bell, and as tempers flare, the Punk/Hardy title match is joined by a fistfight in the same ring between Joe and Foley. When they spill out of the ring to the floor, the crazy brawl draws in others, and the impromptu lumberjacks become a self-destructive mob, with everyone fighting everyone as Punk and Hardy go at it in the ring. With the crowd distracted, nobody sees Edge run through the crowd, slide into the ring and nearly spear Hardy in half. A Pepsi Plunge later, Hardy is pinned for the three-count, and Punk sneaks out with his entourage, unseen by the ROH roster, which is too busy fighting amongst itself.

Aug. 29, '05: WWE Raw:

Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler hype one of Raw's marquee matches for the evening, featuring CM Punk teaming with Edge to take on Matt Hardy and a partner to be chosen by Mick Foley, as Punk makes his way to the ring, dressed to the nines and proudly brandishing the ROH World Championship. The crowd gives him a welcome befitting a war criminal or murderer, but Punk actually smiles back.

"It's alright, you're all just brainwashed by Emperor Vince and his sports entertainment nonsense." Punk holds up the belt. "This here, this is the championship of real wrestling. This is what I bring to you; the promise that I will not rest until I purge this company of the garbage that is sports entertainment. I will not stop until every 'WWE Superstar' is defined as a wrestler. I will not--"

A loud "Whoo!" and the familiar strains of "Also Sprach Zarathustra" usher in Ric Flair, who gets the hero's welcome. Flair struts and strides to the ring as Punk tucks the microphone under his arm and applauds. "Ric Flair," says Punk. "A legend, a symbol of excellence, a champion like none other." Punk reaches out to shake Flair's hand; Flair regards it with hesitation, but Punk insists. Flair grabs Punk's hand, and gets a manly handshake. When Punk reclaims his hand, he then adds; "And Ric Flair is also a fat, balding, decrepit dinosaur who hasn't had a watchable match since the mid-90's!" The crowd turns on Punk, but Punk couldn't care less. "So, what can I do for you, grandpa?" Flair opens his mouth, but Punk cuts him off; "I said, what can I do for you, grandpa? Good lord, man, turn up your hearing aid!"

Flair chuckles with Punk. "That's funny," he says. "You remind me of me, back in the day--"

"And that would be, what, when you were rolling around in the dust with Ed Lewis and George Hackenschmidt?"

"Yeah, back then," Flair says without missing a beat, as calm as Buddhist monk. "See, I was just like you; loudmouthed, brash, full of piss and vinegar. The old guys on the mountain--Harley Race, Buddy Rogers--I got in their face and I spat in 'em. I said I was there to take 'em out back like Ol' Yeller and put a slug in their head. And wouldn't you know it, 10 years later, a couple guys named Lex Luger and Sting, they came around and did the same to me. Said I was yesterday's news, and they were the fresh headline. And lemme tell ya, being on the other side of that, that stung like hell. But you know what the difference was between how guys like me and Sting did it, and how you did it?"

"No, and I don't care, but that ain't gonna stop Ol' Man Flair from rambling on, will it?" Punk says with a sneer.

Flair chuckles again, then lets loose with a slap so hard, it puts Punk on his ass. Flair's face turns red almost instantly and his voice explodes with rage as he towers over the fallen Punk. "The difference is, we respected the title! We had respect for the belt and everything it meant! And you ... you ... you're pathetic! You steal, you steal that belt, and you spit all over every man to hold that belt, but every man who held a belt!"

Punk leaps to his feet. "Oh, that's rich. This coming from a guy who stole the WCW Championship belt and brought it here after he got fired. You wanna talk about respect for a title belt? What next, you gonna bring out Shawn Michaels, so he can try to dance around helping screw Bret Hart?" Punk gets right in Flair's face and says; "You know what the real difference is between me and Sting and you? The difference is, you guys didn't get the job done; you didn't send Race packing, and Sting obviously fell short of putting you out to pasture. Me, I'll make sure when I'm done with you, you'll beg the doctor to pull the plug."

Flair and Punk stand eye to eye for a second before Flair unleashes with a classic Nature Boy kick to the balls. Punk drops to his knees, and Flair is on him, raining down fists on Punk's head. Security and officials come in and pry Flair off Punk, who hobbles to the back holding his bruised boys.

As Raw goes on, numerous stars show up to visit Foley and campaign to be his choice for Matt's partner; Shawn Michaels, Big Show, The Hurricane, Kane and Eugene all plead their cases. The last person, who visits Foley minutes before he is to go to the ring, is Ric Flair, who begs Foley for the chance to teach the youngster some respect. Foley receives Flair's request with silence, and says nothing as he exits the locker room, leaving Flair by himself, calling after Foley for an answer.

Minutes later, Mick comes down to the ring. He shakes hands with Matt Hardy, then takes the microphone from Lillian Garcia. "Ladies and gentlemen," he says to the expectant crowd, "the man I've chosen for Matt Hardy's partner is a former champion here in WWE, and he's one of the best athletes I've ever seen. Give it up for ... Shelton Benjamin!"

The crowd gives the former Intercontinental Champion a warm, if confused, welcome; Mick and Matt shake hands with Shelton, even as the crowd finally decides they're disappointed in Mick's choice and let loose with a "We want Flair" chant. Foley encourages his team to ignore the crowd and focus on their opponents, who come at Matt and Shelton as soon as they hit the ring. But as the match goes on, the exciting, revolutionary offense of the four men take a backseat to a development outside the ring, as Ric Flair comes out and confronts Mick Foley. The two exchange words, then shoves; when Flair openly slaps Foley across the cheek, the floodgates open. Foley takes Flair down with a running charge and they roll on the ground, each trying to get the leverage advantage for striking. Security has to pry the two apart, but Flair manages to wiggle out, grabs Jim Ross' water pitcher and breaks it over the back of Foley's head. Security gets in between the two, with the group around Flair dragging him kicking and yelling from ringside. In the ring, the match, which has broken down into a brawl much like the one on the outside, ends when Punk manages to get a low blow in on Shelton and pins him while putting his feet on the ropes. Punk sneers at Foley, still being held by security, as he exits the ring, taunting that he won again ... but he forgets about Flair, who once again squirrels out of security's grip and tackles Punk.

Then, chaos turns into a full-scale Watts-style riot, as Matt pulls a spike from his boot and rushes Edge. Matt catches Edge full-on in the forehead, tearing open a gusher of a wound; before security can even figure out how to contain the three men on the outside and deal with a borderline stabbing in the ring, Homicide comes out of the crowd, slides into the ring and gives Matt a head wound of his own with a fork. Homicide drags Matt to his feet, but has to abandon his attempt at a Cop Killa before security now fully abandons the Foley/Flair/Punk brouhaha to go after the intruder. More security, along with every WWE official, front office staff member and several members of the locker room all pour out as reinforcements to keep everyone apart. As Raw goes off the air, Raw GM Eric Bischoff watches the wholesale carnage on a monitor, pulling at his hair, his empire in tatters.

Sep 5, '05: WWE Raw:

Raw skips the opening video and goes right on the limo of Mr. McMahon. JR and Lawler speculate on what Mr. McMahon is doing at Raw as they hype the announced card for the evening, which includes a 15-man battle royal to determine who will get a shot at Carlito and the Intercontinental Championship at Unforgiven. Vince gets out of the limo and signals for a production assistant, who scurries up looking so nervous, you can practically hear his knees knocking. Vince grabs the kid by the collar, gets in his face, and snarls; "You go find Eric Bischoff, and you tell him I want every single person involved in that debacle last week, and you have them meet me in the ring now." Vince shoves the kid away and stomps into the arena.

Once in the ring, Vince rips the microphone out of Lillian Garcia's hands and spits out; "Don't make me fire all your asses right here and now, get out here!" Bischoff, Foley, Flair and Hardy all come out and join Vince in the ring, their eyes cast down to the mat. Before Vince can bellow out for the tardy ones, CM Punk and Edge join, but stay up at the stage. "Get your ass down here," Vince says, pointing at his feet.

Punk, the only one of the group not standing with head slung low, glares at Vince from across the arena. "Kiss ... my  ... ass," Punk says.

Vince's eyes bug out so far of his skull, they almost look spring-loaded. "Do you want to be fired, Punk? Cause I can sure as hell do it if you want, and it wouldn't give me a moment's discomfort to do so."

"Only if you wanna see yourself dragged into court over unlawful termination. You wanna pop me for low blowing Shelton Benjamin? Fine, go right ahead. But Edge and I didn't have a damned thing to do with that riot last week; it was Flair who attacked me not once but twice. It was Matt Hardy who tried to impale Edge with a metal spike. It was Flair who smashed a glass pitcher over Foley's head. And it was Bischoff who couldn't control any of them, let alone allow security to get so bad that some maniac from Ring Of Honor came into your building and attacked Matt Hardy with a fork."

Foley, glaring at Punk, snaps out; "And if you would do the right thing and go back to Ring Of Honor and defend--"

"Foley, you ain't doin' this for yourself, so shut your mouth about doing the right thing!" snaps Flair.

Without warning, Foley swings and connects with a sucker punch on the jaw, putting Flair on the mat. Matt Hardy grabs Foley's arms and tries to pull him back before he pounces on Flair, but it is only Vince's yelling that gets through. "Foley! Foley! Foley, so help me God, I will fire your ass if you don't stop right now!" Foley stops and backs away, even as Vince continues. "For the life of me, I don't know why I shouldn't fire every damn one of you. You two," says Vince as he looks at Foley and Flair, "are behaving like a couple of children. It's pathetic. I don't care how many world titles or who you've beaten; you two are a disgrace to your legacies. And you, Matt Hardy ... I went out on a limb and hired you after all that crap you pulled online, and this is the thanks I get? You try to jam a spike into Edge's head? I don't care what he did to you, that's not acceptable." Vince suddenly shifts his focus to Bischoff. "And I blame you, Eric Bischoff. I blame you most for all this. Maybe you've been allowed to be in charge for too long, and you've grown soft. Maybe you're so busy focusing on sending people after WWE Champion John Cena that you've overlooked the rest of your brand, and the state of emergency you've allowed it to become. That ends tonight, Eric Bischoff. You have two months to get this brand, and its Superstars, under control." Vince levels his gaze at Bischoff, his eyes now narrow slits. "Don't ask what happens in two months if you fail." Vince shoves the microphone into Bischoff's hands and stomps up the ramp. At the top, Punk stands in his way. Vince huffs as Punk dares him to punch, even sticking out his jaw. When Vince doesn't budge, Punk chuckles derisively, then steps aside and gestures for Vince to walk by; as Vince does, Punk flinches as if to swing, but Vince doesn't so much as twitch.

The battle royal leads off the second hour. Right before the first participants are named, extra security--both uniformed and in street clothes--pours out of the back, stationing around the ring both in the crowd and in the ringside area. As soon as everyone is camped at their station, the participants are brought in one at a time, with CM Punk coming down last and ducking out under the bottom rope the second the bell is rung. The despised ROH World Champion sneaks back in and ducks back out as strategy, and opportunities, permit, helping to oust competitors one by one, until he stands as one of the final four, alongside Big Show, Shelton Benjamin and Ric Flair. Once again, Punk ducks out of the ring as Big Show goes after Shelton and Flair, but the smaller guys evade the behemoth and work together to put the hurt on the big man. Before long, they have Show on the ropes, each with a tree trunk-like leg in their arms, trying to hoist Show up and over. Show looks to be ready to reverse the momentum and push off his attackers, but Punk, still legal but lurking on the outside, comes up from behind and uses his leverage to help drag Show out to the floor. Punk slides in and starts to taunt Show, but Show stands up, reaches and grabs Punk by the throat. Flair and Shelton come up from behind and push him over the ropes, leaving him now in peril of elimination, and suspended in mid-air only by Big Show's meaty hand.

But the quick-thinking submission specialist wraps his legs around Show's arm and head, cinching in a triangle choke. Show tries to pry the wily Punk off him, but Punk cinches it in tighter and tighter, letting his upper body hand down as a weight to add more pressure. Show falls to a knee, then both, all the while Punk using his arms to keep from collapsing to the ground himself. Punk wrenches the hold as tight as he can, and as Show slowly collapses, unconscious and face-down, to the floor, Punk uses his bridge to help extricate his legs from around Show's legs without touching the arena floor, until he has maneuvered himself into standing on Show's back. Punk leaps from Show's body to the apron, just as Shelton and Flair struggle on the opposite side of the ring against the ropes. Punk slides in, rushes them and manages to dump them both. securing an Intercontinental Title shot at Unforgiven. Foley comes out and argues with the referees, but the refs are stuck by the rules, and Punk's liberal exploiting of them without outright violating them. Flair comes over and argues with the refs, which leads to another Foley/Flair argument, but the heightened security presence keeps the two from coming to fisticuffs. Punk makes sure to give everyone the finger as he leaves the ring, leaving Flair, Foley, Shelton and Show to glare after him.

Sep. 12, '05: WWE Raw:

Alongside Edge vs. Ric Flair, Raw's undercard has CM Punk taking on Big Show in a grudge match, and an announcement from Eric Bischoff regarding Punk's controversial victory in the #1 contendership battle royal the previous week.

But first, Jim Ross takes to the ring, standing beside a double-sided podium. First, he welcomes Mick Foley, and then announces Ric Flair. Both take opposite sides of the podium, not even trying to conceal their raging hatred. JR wastes no time with preambles and gets right to the point.

"Ric Flair," he says, "you have taken issue with Mick Foley and how he is handling matters with CM Punk. The world wants to know two things; what is your problem, and why is it any of your business?"

"Jim Ross, it's real simple," says Flair, cool and collected. "It's no secret that Mick Foley and the Nature Boy don't get along. This is a man who's inspired a generation of kids to leap off roofs and break light bulbs on each other and call that wrestling. This is a man who took a championship belt to another company, and then spit on it. I have no respect for Mick Foley; his achievements, his legacy, it means nothing to me. And when I see a hypocrite like Mick Foley come out here and preach about honor and respect for a championship, I feel it's my business to step in. Mick Foley has no business even looking in CM Punk's direction. If anybody should be teaching that disrespectful punk a lesson, it's a man like me. Someone who will actually have respect for the championship that he's abusing and pissing on. Someone who isn't some has-been trying for one more shot at the spotlight. Someone who didn't just set the bar--"Flair holds up four fingers, which sends the crowd into a frenzy--"but someone who is the bar."

"At least I've been in Ring Of Honor. JR, the only person Ric Flair has ever done anything for is himself. He likes to bring this up"--now Foley holds up the four fingers, which makes Flair's lip curl--"all the time, and how they meant excellence. How they were all for one and one for all. But it occurs to me that in all those years, you never once gave Arn Anderson a World Title shot. Or Ole, or Tully Blanchard, or Chris Benoit, or Brian Pillman, or Dean Malenko. In fact, anytime someone in your little club decided they wanted to step up to the plate, you booted 'em out! The Horsemen weren't all for one ... it was all for you, and you sticking your nose in this issue just proves you haven't changed. You want to do this, not to help them out, but because you want another championship. You'll notice, JR, that this glory-seeking has-been," he says, pointing to himself, "has yet to step into the ring with CM Punk. He's brought in other people, to help them make a name for themselves, and to do a favor to a company that needs a hand."

"A favor they didn't ask for, and from what I've heard, they don't want."

Foley glares at Flair. "And you think that they'll be overjoyed at having Grandpa Ric come in and deal out kicks to the groin and call it a match?"

Flair returns the glare, then, with one quick sweep of his arm, sends the podium flying aside and gets in Foley's face. For what seems like forever, the two legends stand as still as statues, eyes locked on each other as over a decade of hostility passes through the air between them. Finally, Foley signals--without taking his eyes off Flair--to JR to bring the microphone over. "Tell you what, Ric," says Foley, "this weekend, Ring Of Honor's putting on their big Glory By Honor show. I'm planning to be there. Why don't you show up, and we'll ask the boys how much they appreciate you getting involved?" Foley turns and leaves as Flair looks on.

When Raw comes back from commercial, Flair is still in the ring, ready for his match with Edge. The Money In The Bank winner comes out with Lita on his arm, who fawns all over him as he holds his bandaged head. Edge climbs the steps tentatively, acting as if the minor change in elevation is making him dizzy. Edge stops at the top of the steps and sends Lita to fetch the microphone from Lillian Garcia. "I'd really like to wrestle tonight," says Edge, "but after that psychotic attack by Matt Hardy last week, I'm just in no condition to wrestle tonight. I have stress-induced vertigo, and the doct--"

The crowd suddenly perks up when Matt Hardy strolls down the aisle, and in his hand is the metal spike. Hardy makes a stabbing motion and points at Edge, who conveniently forgets his "vertigo" and backs up the steps, a look of sheer horror on his face. Flair comes over to the corner, grabs Edge by the hair and proceeds to drag him into the ring, where the elder statesman of the WWE tars and feathers the Money In The Bank winner with chops from one side of the ring to the other. With Edge exhausted and his chest as red as a lit match, Flair tears the bandages off Edge's head and goes to work on the wound.

As Flair seeks to satiate his bloodthirst, Hardy, satisfied with cornering Edge, turns to leave. Lita picks up the metal MITB briefcase and slowly stalks Hardy up the ramp to the stage, the briefcase raised high above her head. But Hardy catches a glimpse of her on the TitanTron, and spins around in time to catch the briefcase as it comes down. Lita mouths something snide, and on a dime, Hardy goes from defense to offense and kicks Lita in the gut. The briefcase drops to the metal grating, but Hardy forgets about that in favor of the spike in his hand. He looks at it, then at Lita, and brings it up. Ross and Lawler plead with Hardy not to do it, while the crowd eggs Hardy on to take revenge on his adulterous former girlfriend; Edge, having gotten enough of an advantage over Flair to get a breather, screams for Hardy not to do it from the ring ropes. Hardy grabs Lita by the hair, screaming at her and threatening her with the spike. Finally, Hardy lets her go, but another badly timed obscenity by the red-haired Diva makes the final straw in Hardy snap; he suddenly lashes out, jamming her in the forehead with the spike. In the ring, Flair reaches up and pulls Edge down into a roll-up and scores the three-count. No sooner has the ref signaled for the bell then Edge scrambles out of the ring, races up the ramp and tackles Hardy as he stands over the unconscious and bleeding Lita. Edge uses the tackle to ram Hardy back-first into the TitanTron's support structure, and follows it up by dragging the winded Hardy to the edge of the stage and throwing him off, into the catering tables. Medics flood the scene and put all three on stretchers, with Bischoff ordering that Hardy not be in the same ambulance as Edge or Lita.

With the specter of the carnage still obviously weighing him down, Bischoff makes his way to the ring. He paces around like a caged lion, running his fingers through his hair as the crowd chants "you're getting fired". "First off," says Bischoff, "I am not getting fired. I am going nowhere. Raw is my brand, and if I have to impose martial law to get the criminal element around here under control, I will. If I could keep WCW under my thumb when I was with the nWo, I can keep a fence on this brand." Bischoff takes a second to inhale, and doing so seems to cleanse him enough to make him stand up straight and face the entrance with renewed strength. "Now. CM Punk. I don't need you out here, cause I know you can hear me, and I don't wanna waste the time. I'm going to make this short and sweet; I don't like you. I don't like how you manipulated the rules to my battle royal. And if you think I'm gonna just hand you an Intercontinental Title shot at Unforgiven, after the disrespect you've shown me, this brand and the Raw Superstars, you're in for a rude awakening. You want a title shot? You got it. You versus Carlito ... versus Ric Flair, Big Show and Shelton Benjamin. One pinfall to a win. You seem to like being in two places at once with that belt you carry around ... hope you like being in four places at once. Oh, and Punk? Believe me, if you somehow manage to pull off the impossible and win the Intercontinental Title, I won't let it be some trophy you carry around. You'll defend it. Weekly."

No sooner do Bischoff's feet hit the floor then Punk is out complaining about the treatment. Bischoff, the only one with a mic, hears none of it. "I can just as easily take you out of the match, if you like. Now get in the ring. Your match is next." When Punk tries to protest, Bischoff lays down the law. "I can give Big Show a partner, if you like. Yeah, didn't think so."

Big Show comes out before Bischoff is up the ramp and makes a beeline for Punk, who scrambles around the ring, looking for safety. After a minute of Punk running like a scared child, Bischoff comes back out and orders Punk to get in the ring or lose his title match. Reluctantly, Punk gets in and goes for Show's legs, but the massive show, a bigger opponent then Punk has ever faced, overpowers him. When Punk tries to counter Show's chokeslam with the same counter he used to choke him out the previous week, Show retaliates by slamming Punk down anyway, breaking the hold. Finally, Show's onslaught proves too much for Punk, and the embattled ROH Champ hits a blatant low blow that draws a DQ. With Show clutching his hurt scrotum, Punk grabs his title belt and waffles Show in the head.

When Punk leaves, he backs up the ramp, not noticing that he is no longer alone. When he runs into Mick Foley, Punk turns around, then falls on his ass. Foley looms over him a moment, then smiles a smile right from the Cactus Jack arsenal. "Oh, it isn't me you should be afraid of, Punk. It's who's gonna be at Glory By Honor this Saturday. Someone you don't want a piece of. And if you don't show up on Saturday and face him like a man, I'll see to it you see him on Sunday." Foley tosses down the mic and walks off, leaving Punk in a state of shock and confusion.

Sep. 17, '05: Ring Of Honor's "Glory By Honor 4":

As promised, Mick Foley shows up at Glory By Honor, but unlike his more recent appearances, he no longer receives the hero's welcome; some cheer respectfully or out of undying fandom, but there is an equal amount of fans who boo the hardcore icon. The boisterous anti-Foley fans start up a chant of "You're not wanted" as he goes to speak. The other side of the crowd chants "He's our hero" in reply, leaving Foley silent in the ring, waiting for his chance to speak.

But instead of getting a word out, Ric Flair, dressed in a fine suit as if it was the Horsemen's heyday, strolls down the aisle. And, unlike Foley, Flair gets a rousing show of support from the crowd. The crowd even busts into a "We want Flair" chant, which Flair makes sure to point out to Foley. As soon as he can be heard over the crowd, Flair gets a shot in on Foley. "Why don't you take your cellulite ass outta here, and let the Nature Boy style and profile!" Flair struts around the ring and lets out a couple "Woo's!". "The Nature Boy, back in the territories, and lemme tell ya, it feels good to be in front of a crowd like this!"

Foley walks over and snatches the microphone out of Flair's hand. "I didn't invite you here to babble on like an old man, Ric. I invited you here because I wanted you to hear it from the horse's mouth--these fans--how much they want you defending their honor. How much they want a man who brags about being a dirty player, a guy who doesn't know when to quit and let someone else take the torch. You say my motives aren't pure? Well, what does it say when a guy who's almost 60 is trying to step in front of guys who deserve the shot?"

"Everybody knows the name Ric Flair means excellence! It means The Man! It doesn't mean some doughy stuntman who falls on thumbtacks!"

"It means a guy who can't fall down or he'll break his hip," says CM Punk as he strolls down the aisle, with Edge alongside him. Punk hops in the ring, holds up the title belt to taunt the fans, then leans in the corner. "It absolutely kills me to see that the two heroes of this little drama, the two guys fighting to dethrone the evil thief in the night, are a fat, retired, glorified yard-tard, and a guy who's so old, he debuted on Lawrence Welk. These are your choices, folks? Jesus, you're screwed. Might as well just make a new belt and have a tournament or something, cause if you're putting your money on these horses, all you're getting is glue. But, go right ahead; continue your lover's quarrel."

"Oh, I have a better idea," says Foley, stepping in front of Flair before Flair can challenge Punk. "I promised you a little something, a surprise. It isn't this fossil behind me. It's ... well ..."

Foley looks to the entrance. The lights go down, and the music of Europe's "The Final Countdown" fills the arena, sending the audience into overdrive ... and Punk into a panic. Bryan Danielson, the man who had quit the promotion in frustration only months before and vowed not to return unless he was coming after the title, steps into the spotlights, eyes locked on the Ring Of Honor World Champion. Foley gives Danielson the microphone when he gets in the ring. Danielson takes it, then gets right in Punk's face. "I know there's no way in hell you'll give me a title shot tonight," says Danielson, "so since you got your little Connecticut ass-kisser here, why don't I go back in the back, grab Joe or Colt or Aries or any of the other boys you screwed when you walked out the door, and if one of us pins you or makes you tap, we get a title shot?"

His face a mask of outrage and hatred, Punk simply nods. But before Danielson can call out someone from the back to partner up with him, Flair steps forward and grabs the microphone out of Punk's hands. "Then you're gonna have to deal with The Nature Boy tonight!" he yells, then strips off his suit jacket. Danielson looks at Flair with incredulity, while Foley throws his hands up in the air and says, sans microphone, "See? What did I tell you?" But before Danielson can question the concept of tagging with Flair, a referee shows up, signals for the bell, and the match is underway, with Flair wrestling in slacks and loafers.

Very quickly, Flair is singled out by Punk and Edge, and the hopes of the crowd evaporate as the respected, but undeniably older, Flair is beaten up one side and down the other by faster, younger wrestlers. But Flair refuses to go down so easily, and manages to take it to Punk enough to get a tag in to Danielson, who lights up both his opponents. Foley watches with pride as Danielson takes it to both his opponents, but when Danielson tags out to Flair, Foley is almost apoplectic. For a moment, he moves as if he's going to reach in and trip up Flair, but Danielson catches his eye and gives him a dirty look, making Foley back off reluctantly.

In the end, after trading the advantage back and forth numerous times, the match turns into a wild donnybrook, with the ref unable to maintain control. Edge and Flair fight on the outside, while Danielson and Punk trade vicious chops and kicks inside, egging one another on to hit harder. Edge manages to get Flair off his back by whipping him into the barricade and starts to go for the ring, but Matt Hardy leaps the barricade and chop-blocks Edge. Grabbing the knee he just chopped, Hardy pulls out the spike and starts to repeatedly stab at the joint until Homicide comes out for a swipe at his nemesis. Hardy intercepts and manages to jab Homicide in the head with the spike and falls to the floor, punching wildly until security separates them and escorts a kicking and screaming Hardy out of the building. Flair gets up and tosses Edge in the ring and signals for the figure-four; Punk tries to stop him, but Danielson manages to catch him, take him down and cinches in the Cattle Mutilation. Edge and Punk try to get to the ropes, but their captors wrench the holds as tight as possible, and they are left with no choice but to both tap. Punk and Edge waste no time in beating a retreat, but halfway to the door, Punk realizes he's missing something: the ROH Championship belt. He turns and sees Danielson in the middle of the ring, holding it aloft to the delight of the crowd, daring Punk to come and get it.

To be continued ...