Triple H went down hard. He spat a mouthful of blood and looked up. Randy Orton stood over him, smirking sadistically. With the crowd firmly by his side, Hunter grabbed the middle rope, using it as leverage to help himself up. Moving as quickly as his aching body would allow him, he landed a strong right hand to Orton. The two continued to exchange blows before Triple H grabbed Orton by the wrist and whipped him across the ropes. Orton came bouncing back and with all his remaining strength, Triple H picked Orton up, spun him around, and slammed him back first into the canvas; a perfectly executed Double A spinebuster.

The move whipped the crowd into a frenzy and the momentum seemed to have shifted back into his favor, only Triple H didn't seem to have anything in him anymore. With his energy completely spent, Triple H collapsed. The referee stood over both men, gauging their ability to continue. Neither man seemed capable of standing on their own two feet, so the ref began the count.

"One!" The referee yelled.

"Two!" The count continued, but by this point, the two legendary competitors were beginning to stir.

"Three!" Both Triple H and Randy Orton were back, albeit a bit groggy.

The day was August 24, 2016. Summerslam. Both men were locked in a bloody conflict over the most coveted prize in the business: The WWE Championship. Both men have held it numerous times before: Triple H's fourteen title reigns are the stuff of legends and Randy Orton's dozen reigns could not be ignored by anyone either. As the reigning champion, Orton was hell bent on sending his challenger into oblivion and keeping his title safe around his waist. Triple H managed to get up first, kneeing Orton in the face. Grabbing his ruthless one-time protégé, Triple H placed Orton's head in between his legs and hooked his arms, signaling for the famed Pedigree.

Triple H's vision went dim.

Sensing his opponent weakening, Orton powered out. Triple H fell down to one knee, with the world around him slowly fading away. Randy Orton stared at him for a moment, eyeing Triple H with great curiosity. Another moment passed and an RKO made swift work of the legendary King of Kings. Rather than go for the pin, Orton slowly backed up towards the corner. Sneering like only he, Orton ran back towards his fallen enemy and punted his head for good measure. With his right boot stained from the cut on Triple H's forehead, Randy Orton had the match won and he knew it. Turning Triple H's lifeless carcass over on his belly, Randy leaped as high as he could and drove his full body weight into his opponent's back.

Those at ringside left the event scarred at the memory of Triple H's agonized scream. Not long after executing that move, Randy Orton stood tall at the top rope, arms extended wide in victory. Confetti fell from the ceiling, celebrating the Legend Killer's victory. Triple H, on the other hand, did not walk out of the arena that night. He was carried out, his presence sliding into the status of an afterthought.