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You can still feel the adrenaline flow. That feeling of, “Holy shit!” And it wasn’t because someone was Rock Bottomed through a table or destroyed with a Pedigree on steel steps. At the tail end of the Ironman match at Judgment Day, haunting music blared over the loudspeakers, a cryptic image of little girls jumping rope was on the TitanTron. And then appeared the Undertaker, on a motorcycle, to an explosion and the blistering sounds of Kid Rock’s “American Bad Ass.” He was clad in a leather trench coat, dark glasses and an expression that sent an immediate message. This was one bad mother fucker This was one devil with a cause. There was an aura about him, an attitude fit for today’s World Wrestling Federation. And the conviction that he would ride that motorcycle through the Hoover Dam to create his own share of havoc. The suspense created by The Rock and Triple H was high-strung enough. And once the combination of the Undertaker’s presence and Kid Rock’s musical chaos filled the area, the fever pitch of fans’ ecstasy hit a new level as he wiped out each member of the McMahon-Helmsley regime one by one. He was far from finished, too. He chased Triple H’s buddies away like flies the next night on RAW, and sent Mr. McMahon into a panic attack days later on SmackDown! Only time will tell what kind of scams the McMahon-Helmsley Regime will come up with in an attempt to derail the Undertaker, but the impact of his return was unforgettable. Blood, sweat, tears, psychology, the art of screwing with one’s soul: he is the master of them all. Exactly what the Undertaker will do next is immeasurable, his motives beyond what he’s done to the McMahon-Helmsley Faction remain unclear. But if Judgment Day revealed anything, it’s that only a deluded fool would mess with this new Undertaker, a bad mother fuck'r straight from hell.