[[The match has ended. The victor has been declared. Suddenly, the lights in the arena blacken. The video package that aired a few moments ago is airing again...with different clips added in..and suddenly...on the video screen...]]

..WE ARE THE YOUTH..

[[When the lights emerge, we still hear the sound of "Youth Of The Nation" by P.O.D., a flood of men are in the ring, beating down HBK, RVD, Enforcer, and Gangrel. When we finally get a good look, it was the same men from the clips. Randy Orton and Mike Sanders are attacking Enforcer, Mark Jindrak and Sean O'Haire are beating HBK, John Cena, A.J. Styles, and Rey Mysterio are beating up Gangrel, and Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin are attacking Rob Van Dam. All of these men are brutalizing them, with Orton finally hitting Enforcer with his finisher. Sanders then lands the 3.0, and Benjamin and Haas land the old finisher of Perry Saturn and John Kronus, "Total Elimination". This group of men have laid waste to the four competitors...while one of the women has grabbed the Raw World Title, giving it to Orton. He holds it in the air, and throws it around his shoulders. He finally gets a microphone from the woman too...and he speaks.]]

Randy Orton: Well...it occured to me that we've got a bunch of people asking questions...and a bunch of "kids" who have the answers.

That's right..."KIDS".

You see...we've been training like hell...working warehouses, high school gyms, and goddamn county fairs to get the call from the company to come work...but we're not. They can sign ANY GODDAMN PERSON THEY WANT, but forget about us! It's shit. Fucking BULLSHIT. I've got more right than the poor excuse Raw has for a champion to be here, and they deny me. Not anymore. Never again. What you see here is the future. Individuals sick and tired of being sick and tired of being held down. Athletes who should be headlining Wrestlemania, but get stuck in shitty gimmicks, Sunday Night Heat, and dark matches. Tonight, the revolution begins. Tonight, we take what is our BIRTHRIGHT.

Tonight...you see...The Youth.

[[Orton gives the microphone to his woman, the lovely Rain. She stands there with her hands on her hips looking around the arena at the crowd before she takes the microphone from Randy and begins to speak.]]

Rain: Hello Columbus, Ohio....*crowd pops* Well now that we've got that out of the way *she yawns* I can get on with my promo now. I know I may not be the skinniest diva, or the blondest, or even the tallest, but I'm sure I AM the smartest diva in this fed. I mean come on, the diva's in the back have got to be the FAKEST things I've ever seen. I mean, I'm all real baby!! Sure I know I'm not that skinny, but I am the fittest and the most REAL and that's all that matters. Besides I got this job the RIGHT way, with my ability and my integrity. NOT like those other diva's in the back, that probably got their jobs the old fashion ways...ON THEIR BACKS!!! *Crowd boos her* Shut up, you stupid peons! You can't see a good thing if it came and smacked you upside your big fat foreheads. Now my boys and I are here to take both RAW and Smackdown by storm. The fans will NEVER see anything like us coming. We are known as The YOUTH. Don't forget that name because you will be hearing a lot about it in the up coming months. We will NOT be held down by anyone. So be prepared to see the BEST thing in wrestling since well..... EVER!! My boyfriend Randy 'The Irreplaceable' Orton will be the champion in no time and you people will all see what I've been saying as the truth. So enough from me, next up is MARK JINDRAK 'The Flawless Visage'...

[[Jindrak takes the microphone from Rain, and hugs her like he would a sister. He stares out at the crowd with contempt, and puts the microphone to his lips. Obviously, the crowd is just heavily booing by now...they're not letting him talk. He tries again, and the boos get louder...he finally speaks.]]

Mark Jindrak: Do you know what's funny? We should be rejoicing. The lot of us should be absolutely ecstatic. We finally arrived on "the big stage". We're all finally on television, garnering the exposure worthy of our skills...yet we're angry. This supressed rage is finally coming out into the opening...but for what? For the benefit of those with lesser mental skills to wrap their cortexes around? Hardly. This is anger management to us. This is "Fight Music", if you will. Our battle call. The Youth of this industry has been held down in the locker room by politics. They're afraid. They're afraid that this group could be just as good as them...maybe even better. They're afraid that the revenue they generate will be exceeded by a breed of athletes that will redefine the way you look at sports entertainment.

They should be.

Mark Jindrak, Randy Orton, Mike Sanders, Charlie Haas, Sean O'Haire, Shelton Benjamin, John Cena, Rey Mysterio, A.J. Styles, and these women...Rain, Rose, Stacy Keibler, and Star...this is what the business is to become. These men and women will be what you look at in twenty years as the revolutionaries of the sport. Sadly, for all you antiquated fools in the back...

...tomorrow arrived today.

[[Jindrak handed the microphone to Mike Sanders.]]

Mike Sanders: Listen up, Cupcakes... you know us. You think you know what we can do, but don't flatter yourselves. We've moved beyond being the most genetically jacked individuals, we moved through evolution, we've mastered our trade. What you see here, THE YOUTH, we're the future. We're here to muscle this dying sport into the next era. Bottomline, we're the movement y'all are gonna fail to survive.

[[The microphone was passed to Mysterio...the longest tenured member of the promotion. The boos got louder. Some "Sellout" chants were even heard.]]

Rey Mysterio: The way I see it- out with the old and in with the new. That mask, is just some old school way of keeping me down ya know? I'm sick of stickin' true to the lucha-libre bull, it's over. This is a new decade..a new style. Screw the mask. Who needs a mask when you look this good? Besides- it's not all about the looks. It's all about the youth. And that mask...is just keepin' me back old style. This is about a new generation of the hottest-the most talented- straight out best...

[[The rant continued as the microphone made its way to John Cena.]]

John Cena: Y'all can I get a beat up in this mofo?

[[An old school beat suddenly rips out of the P.A. and Cena steps forward.]]

Cena: Yo, Check this out.

We are The Youth, we got some things to say
This right here is a brand new f'ing day.
No more of them fogies telling us what to do
Old School? F*ck Old School, they ain't got no clue

You see this group behind me?
Better get to know their faces
Cause the next time you see em
They'll beat your face tasteless
And if you wanna leave with your body intact
Remember to kiss our feet, always stay gracious

The Youth is here smarten up the stupid
To those who just don't know
Running won't get you nowhere
'Cause there's ain't nowhere to go!

WORD TO YOUR MOTHER, BIATCHES!!

[Star holds the mic up to O’Haire, practically vibrating.... After each guttural noise, she brings the mic to her own lips.]

Sean: GRRrrrrrr....

Star: Smackdown, don’t think you get off easy.

Sean: Grrrrr....... roownnnnnn......

Star: You’re antique minds and your deteriorating bodies jsut make you easier to break. We’re going to savor causing you agony.

Sean: Rrrrrrraaaawn....

Star: Its the least we could do... after the years of pain and tears we’ve suffered to get here.

Sean: Grrooowwwwlll.....

Star: First chance I get, I’ll ensure your bodies will be jsut as scarred as my mind.

[[Star flinches, but smiles proudly.]]

Star: I don’t think I can put it any better myself.

[[Star gives up the mic to A.J. Styles, who seems to have brought a belt with him already. He smirks and looks on at the crowd before speaking. When they won't relent on the jeering, he cocks his head to the side, smirks, and gives them a crotch chop.]]

Styles: While I appreciate the unrequited disdain that my boy Sean O'Haire has for this company...and the wonderful job my darling Star did to interpret...*Styles blows her a kiss and waves, and she steps up to wrap an arm around him.* I think my rage is just a little more deserved and a little harder edged, if you don't mind.

You see...they told me they were going to keep me. They said they'd make me a name. I'd be the future of their Cruiserweight Division. They lied to me. They made me believe I was going to be a superstar...and they released me. They told people I couldn't carry a match...I couldn't be a star. They fucking lied to the world...they said I was damaged goods...that A.J. Styles couldn't carry a match...that he had no charisma. They lied...and someone bothered to check to see if that was true. This hot little number, Star, over here...she knows better, and my boys here in The Youth know better. A.J. Styles...he's the complete package. He's going to be a complete and total athlete, no thanks to the brass in the back. That's about enough outta me...your new X-Division Champion...so I'm gonna turn this bad boy over to the original American Badboy...Charlie F'N Haas.

[[Styles tosses the microphone to Haas and pals up to Star a bit more, flaunting his "X-Division" Title. Haas leaned against the ropes, completely unamused by the audiences jeers.]]

Haas: First off...ya'll need to do me a favor, and shut up. I'm sick of all this booing and jeering. We're not at fault. We did JACK SHIT. All we wanted was a chance, and neither Shane or Stephanie...or even that decrepid Vince McMahon would give us that. We took what we were OWED. Remember that. Star was right when she said one thing though...Smackdown isn't safe. The Youth, in less than a few weeks time, should sweep the belts out from the old guard. And as far as ya'll calling us Team Angle? Don't. We want nothing to do with that over the hill baldy. Shelton and I are the future of tag team wrestling...we are GenNext...and before I forget, ya'll better keep your hands off this girl right here...*pointing to Rose*...this here's my girl Rose. Ya'll will need to get over that. Ain't that right, Shelton?

[[Shelton adjusts his 'doorag' and takes the microphone. He hitches up his baggy jeans, and the crowd mocks him for the band-aid on his face, chanting "Nelly-wannabe!" He points down to some guy at ringside and starts jawjacking with him. He thinks about stepping out, but Charlie holds him back. Finally, Benjamin relaxes and steps back.]]

Shelton: I think ya'll best step off of me! The fact is...I'm a dangerous man! I'm a time bomb! I'm a mothafuckin' prodigy, and GenNext? We're a dynasty in the making. Hardy Boyz? Ya'll are sellouts. You traded your potential in at the door to become litle doormats for the Old School. That makes you dawgs marked. Those belts you hold? You ain't gonna be holdin' them for long. As far as I'm concerned...you boys are 'bout to get played.

[[The microphone makes it's way back to Orton, who the crowd is jeering immensely. As the crowd begins chanting "Asshole! Asshole!", Orton pouts, and Rain has to console her man with a hug. The crowd keeps booing, but he screams right into the mic.]]

Orton: That's about enough all of you. The fact that in one night, we managed to annihlate your "Champion", three old school superstars, and hold this crappy title up in the air. We're going to give it prestige...we're going to give it honour...

...but as of right now...on behalf of myself, my beautiful girl Rain...and the entire Youth...The Youth Movement...has begun.

[["Youth Of The Nation" by P.O.D. begins to play again, and through the wreckage of human bodies, and the garbage that has been thrown into the ring, the group leaves. The crowd is just booing heavily for these guys as we watch them celebrate the job well done.]]