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(A/N: I hope everyone doesn't cringe by it!)
"I'm here to enforce a fair system. One where talent rises, where rules matter, where no one gets a free pass just because of who they were ten years ago. This title, this company, deserves that. And if I have to carry both championships to make that happen… so be it."
Sandro's music hit again as he dropped the mic with purpose. The crowd stood in a roaring ovation as Big E opened the rope for Sandro, who nodded to him and got out of the ring followed by Big E. The two were walking up the ramp, and the fans were eating up this scene.
Cameras cut to the crowd, fans holding up signs that read "DOUBLE CHAMP SANDRO" and "ANKLE LOCK MASTER." Others wore custom shirts with Sandro's emblem and the words "Fairness. Fire. Future."
Backstage, cameras caught quick glimpses of reactions, some talent clapping in respect, others watching with tense, calculating eyes.
And somewhere in the shadows, a figure flanked by two big men watched a monitor in silence, his face obscured, but unmistakable that it was Bray Wyatt. A slow smile crept across Bray's lips before the screen faded to black, the final image of Sandro standing triumphant as the champion of FCW… and perhaps, soon, the champion of two worlds.
The buzz didn't stop once Sandro and Big E disappeared backstage. In fact, that's when the storm truly began.
Fans inside the arena were still standing, some clapping, others chanting Sandro's name. The energy was infectious, and everyone could feel it, this wasn't just another promo, another win, or another FCW main event.
This was a seismic shift, the kind of moment that defines eras. The moment Sandro declared he'd bring fairness to wrestling, even if it meant becoming a double champion, people listened.
And beyond the arena, the world was listening too.
The internet was ablaze, as chatters about what happens was relentless. Sandro's name trended globally as fans posted clips of his match and fiery promo.
Comment sections on wrestling forums exploded with opinions, dream matches, and theories. It wasn't just the fans chiming in either, wrestlers from both FCW and TNA were weighing in, and the lines between company loyalty and personal pride were becoming increasingly blurry.
In TNA, some stood by Kurt Angle, praising his Olympic pedigree and his legacy. They saw Sandro's use of the Ankle Lock as blasphemy, a cheap imitation of the original. Others, especially the younger talents, couldn't help but admit how cleanly Sandro had executed it. Some even hinted at admiration.
In FCW, the reaction was equally charged. Some saw Sandro as the future, a trailblazer who wasn't afraid to challenge legends. Others believed he was poking a bear far too early.
Then came the sparks that ignited the powder keg.
Beer Money Inc., Bobby Roode and James Storm, the reigning FCW Tag Team Champions, took to Twitter with a statement that shook the walls of both promotions.
"If this is how we should gain our attention again… then we're walking through it fists first. Steiner. Booker. You've been ducking and hiding behind nostalgia. We're done waiting for your response to our challenge several weeks ago. The TNA World Tag Team Titles? They're coming back where they belong."
It didn't take long for the response.
Scott Steiner, never one to mince words, posted.
"Beer Money? You little punks just made the biggest mistake of your careers. You betrayed TNA, and now you have enemies in the Main Event Mafia. Dangerous path you choose. You want our titles? You better be ready to bleed for 'em."
Booker T added fuel to the fire.
"Y'all forgot what pain feels like. But don't worry. We'll remind you. Real soon Sucka."
It was official—this was more than just brand warfare. This was personal.
And they weren't the only ones throwing down challenges. As
Christopher Daniels, the TNA X Division Champion, didn't waste time either. He addressed the buzz directly, his Twitter account immediately challenged Nick Nemeth.
"Nick Nemeth. FCW's new golden boy. You've been riding under the coat tail on that North American Championship after winning it, but let's be honest, how often do you get pushed to your limit since winning that title, as you have been avoiding defending it? I'm not interested in gold this time. I'm interested in reputation. In legacy. No titles. Just you and me. One ring. One winner. You in?"
Fans erupted online. The dream match possibilities were snowballing. Nick Nemeth, even though his character was a cowardly dirty heel, didn't show that side as he fired back shortly after Christopher Daniels posted the challenge.
"You want me, Daniels? You got me. I don't need my title on the line to prove I'm better than you. I'll show everyone why the North American Champion doesn't need flips and theatrics to get the job done. I'm coming for you."
Meanwhile, the women's division saw sparks of its own. After her successful title defense earlier in the night, Rebecca was still feeling the adrenaline when she was interviewed backstage, where the video was posted on the FCW YouTube channel. Sweat dripping, title slung over her shoulder, she spoke with purpose.
"I've heard the whispers. People saying I'm not tough enough, not gritty enough. That I couldn't hang with the best. Well, let's test that theory. Awesome Kong, TNA's Knockouts Champion. I want to face you. I want to see if I can survive the storm. No games. No fear. Let's go."
The wrestling world held its breath. Awesome Kong's response came several hours later in a video that was posted on TNA's YouTube channel. It was simple, cold, and chilling.
"I accept. And when I'm done with you, I'll hold both titles. One in each hand. And no one will ever question who runs this division again."
This wasn't a slow burn anymore. This was a wildfire.
Seeing what happened, the FCW and TNA official Twitter accounts remained quiet for most of the night, letting the chaos unfold. But when they finally broke the silence, it was with a joint statement unlike when they announced the partnership deal, something that had never been done before.
"To the wrestlers of FCW and TNA: Stand down. All of this chaos will end at the "Forbidden Door" pay per view, where it will begin in two weeks. The match cards are to be announced next week. Until then, no further inter brand confrontations are sanctioned. Consider this your final warning."
But it was too late to put the genie back in the bottle. The fans weren't just excited, they were ravenous when the announcement of the pay per view. Forums were flooded with fantasy bookings.
Who else would cross the line? Would legends return? Could champions from different divisions get involved? Could there be more than pride on the line? Is there a possibility of titles be unified?
Speculation was rampant. Names like AJ Styles, Samoa Joe, Sting, and many more were being tossed around as dream additions to the chaos.
Backstage in FCW, Sandro was the name on everyone's lips. He had become the face of this movement, bold, unapologetic, and ambitious. He didn't just want to defend his title.
He wanted to break the system that protected those at the top and bury those rising from below. He had called out one of the greatest of all time and claimed he could beat him at his own game after being interrupted by Kurt Angle last week.
And fans believed it. Or at the very least, they wanted to believe.
Kurt Angle, for his part, had not responded yet. But those close to him hinted that he had been watching closely. That the fire was in his eyes. That if and when the match became official, Kurt wasn't coming to teach a lesson anymore.
He was coming for war.
Wrestling podcasts were scrambling to keep up. Sports news shows picked up the story. "Crossover Chaos" was the headline on multiple outlets. Analysts tried to guess what matches would happen. What alliances would form. Who would betray who.
And behind closed doors, both FCW and TNA management were hard at work hammering out deals, match contracts, and broadcast logistics for the pay per view.
Meanwhile, back at his apartment, Sandro closed the door behind him with a tired but satisfied sigh. The promo, the match, the fan reactions, it was still washing over him like a wave he hadn't quite processed yet.
April, her eyes sparkling with an almost childlike glee, trailed behind him, the echoes of the roaring crowd seemingly still clinging to her. He hadn't anticipated the sheer magnitude of the reaction to his promo, the way it had detonated across the wrestling landscape.
Deep down, he knew Dusty and Steve must have been meticulously laying the groundwork for this explosion the moment they told him that he would do this promo.
April, caught up in the whirlwind of excitement, instinctively reached for her phone, then paused, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
Sandro mirrored her action, both simultaneously deciding to silence the relentless notifications from Twitter that kept popped up in their phone.
He began to peel off his clothes, the familiar weight of the championship belt momentarily forgotten. The hot spray of the shower beckoned, a promise of soothing relief for his mental exhaustion and cleansing his body of odor and filth.
As he stepped under the cascading water, the bathroom door creaked open. Sandro froze, turned around and surprised to find April standing there, the soft light illuminating her flawless form, from her breast to her bottom.
He was momentarily speechless, utterly captivated by her beauty. A shy giggle escaped April's lips as she closed the distance between them, her eyes locked on his. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, before leaning in close, her warm breath ghosting against his ear.
"Nikki might have gone all the way with you," she whispered, her voice a husky tremor, "but I haven't… and I understood, with everything you've been doing, the travel, the matches… I could forgive you for not making a move on me."
Her hand slipped down his chest, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. "But tonight… tonight was just… too much. I can't hold back anymore."
Her words, the intimacy of the moment, the raw desire in her eyes, it was a potent cocktail. Sandro felt the immediate, undeniable response of his lower body, the blood rushing through its veins as it erect.
Without a word, he pulled her close, the water slicking their skin as they embraced. The shower transformed into a haven of passion, their bodies moving together in a primal dance of need and affection.
The shower became their private, pulsating world, the relentless spray amplifying the slickness of their heated skin. Sandro's hands, emboldened by desire, moved with a possessive urgency over April's body.
He cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples until they hardened into eager peaks. April arched into his touch, a low moan vibrating in her chest, her own hands gripping his shoulders, her nails lightly digging into his flesh as if anchoring herself to him.
Their mouths clashed again, a raw, open mouthed kiss that spoke of unbridled lust. Tongues tangled and danced, tasting and exploring, the intensity escalating with each passing second. Sandro's teeth grazed her lower lip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that only fueled his desire further.
In the moment of passion, he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her hot core pressing intimately against his already throbbing erection. The friction was immediate and electrifying, a spark that ignited a wildfire of sensation within them both.
He carried her until her back met the cool, smooth tiles, the sudden contrast in temperature only heightening the heat radiating between their bodies.
Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them, a mutual hunger, a shared need that words couldn't capture.
April's gaze dropped to his chest, then lower to his throbbing erection, her expression a mixture of shyness and blatant desire. She reached down, her fingers tentatively tracing the hard length of him, from the root to it tip.
Sandro groaned, his control beginning to fray. The last barrier that hold his mentality broke, his hardened flesh spring even bigger. April's eyes widened slightly as she took in his full arousal, a soft gasp escaping her lips before her hand closed around him, her touch both tentative and firm.
"April," he rasped, his voice thick with need.
She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a primal longing. "I want you, Sandro," she whispered, her voice husky and raw.
He didn't hesitate. Guiding her legs wider, he positioned himself at the precipice of her desire. The slickness of the water and her own arousal eased his entry to her hot core, but the sensation was no less profound. April cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound as he thrust into her, filling her completely.
The feeling was exquisite, the pleasure was corusing through their body. They moved together with an unrestrained passion, Sandro's hands gripping her hips and her ass, lifting and guiding her as he plunged deeper and deeper.
April met his every thrust, her body arching and undulating against his, her soft cries and moans filling the steamy air.
He explored her with his hands as they moved, his fingers finding the delicate folds of her hit core, teasing and stroking until she was writhing against him, her pleasure palpable.
She, in turn, ran her hands over his body, her touch both demanding and worshipful, exploring the taut muscles of his back and shoulders, the curve of his buttocks.
Their rhythm intensified, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Sandro could feel the tightening grip of her muscles around him, the unmistakable signs of her approaching climax.
He pushed harder, faster, his own release building in a searing wave of sensation. April's cries reached a fever pitch, her body convulsing around him as she reached the peak of her pleasure.
Her nails dug deeply into his shoulders, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Sandro the release his erection from her, his own orgasm erupting with a primal roar, every muscle in his body clenching as he emptied himself into her abdomen.
They remained locked together, their breathing ragged, their bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of their passion. The drumming of the shower washed over them, a soothing counterpoint to the storm that had just raged between them. The air hung heavy with the scent of arousal and the unspoken language of their intertwined bodies.
Slowly, Sandro steer, the sensation lingering between them. He held April close, their foreheads touching, their eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and profound satisfaction. The outside world, the wrestling drama, the impending war, all of it faded into insignificance in the aftermath of their intense intercourse.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 19 (2009)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style
Faction: Dragon Boom (Tag Team)
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions & 1 FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion