If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
Kofi nodded. "You wanna talk about hate? We all get hate. But you let it change you, man. Twist you. Break you. And now you're out here trying to act like it's our fault? Like it's the crowd's fault? Nah, man. This ain't you. This is some fake ass version of Sandro that thinks pain makes power."
Everyone saw how Sandro in the ring looked conflicts with the words said by Kofi and Taylor, but the everyone was surprised by Sandro who suddenly laughed.
It wasn't a chuckle. It wasn't amusement. It was cold. Hollow. A sound that bounced around the arena like broken glass. "You two… really think you can guilt trip me back into being your little happy friend and attention bringer? Like this is some sort of after school special?"
He stepped forward, pointing directly at Kofi and Taylor. "I'm not that man anymore. That guy was weak. Naive. He was a prop, your prop, to get both of yourselves over. But guess what? I'm done playing the puppet with my strings being pulled."
He gestured to Big E, then to himself. "You want a fight? You four think you're gonna come out here and save the day? Stop talking. Stop pretending. Come down here and try it."
The four men on the ramp looked at one another. Then, without a word, they dropped their mics.
The crowd's anticipation hit a fever pitch as Kurt, Sting, Kofi, and Taylor walked down the ramp, slowly, deliberately. Their eyes never leave the ring.
Sandro grinned like the devil himself welcoming souls to hell. Big E adjusted his hand, rolling his shoulders, ready for war.
The four heroes reached the apron and when the four of them reached the ringside, chaos suddenly exploded.
Drew McIntyre. Stu Bennett. Ryback. The three of them sprinted down the ramp like missiles, steel in their eyes, blindsiding the four men from behind.
The crowd erupted in loud boos, so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of bodies hitting the steel ramp. Kofi got slammed shoulder first into the steps. Taylor was thrown spine first into the barricade. Kurt and Sting tried to fight back, but Ryback plowed into Kurt like a freight train while Stu rocked Sting with a savage forearm to the back of the neck.
In the ring, Sandro burst into laughter, clapping his hands, grinning from ear to ear as if watching the greatest comedy show ever written. Big E didn't smile. He didn't move. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching like a judge passing a sentence.
The beatdown outside the ring got uglier.
Drew McIntyre grabbed Kofi by the dreadlocks and flung him across the floor hard. Stu Bennet stomped on Taylor's ribs, sneering as he has done so. Ryback hoisted Kurt up and rammed him into the steel post, spine first, then tossed him like garbage. Sting got double teamed by Drew and Stu who pushed his back hard to the apron.
Sandro leaned on the top rope, eyes glowing with satisfaction. "You see this? THIS is what you made me do! You wanted a villain. You wanted chaos. You wanted to boo something. So here's your monster, FCW. Here's your new reality."
He turned to Big E. "This is the future."
Big E didn't say a word, but he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
Outside the ring, Sting tried to crawl up, blood trickling from his lip, but Ryback booted him in the face, sending him tumbling back down. The fans were in shock, their cheers turned into curses, their hope crushed under the weight of steel and chaos.
Drew, Stu, and Ryback finally stood tall, flanking the ring, as if awaiting Sandro's command.
Sandro raised the TNA World Heavyweight Title again, like a war banner to him.
"You all better get used to this sight," he said into the mic, breathing heavily, emotion swelling in his voice. "Because this isn't some fluke. This isn't an ambush. This is the beginning. You thought last week was just the start?"
He swept his hand toward the fallen bodies outside.
"This… this is the movement."
He pointed at each man. "You see Drew? You see Stu? You see Ryback? They're not just here to fight. They're here because they understand me. They know what this industry has become. They know what it takes to survive. No more legends. No more nostalgia acts. No more fairytales."
He pounded his chest. "We're here to burn the old world down. And when the fire dies? We'll be the only ones left standing in this ring."
The crowd's boos were now relentless. But Sandro didn't flinch. He thrived in it. Fed on it.
He pointed back down at Kofi and Taylor.
"And as for you two? Don't ever act like you loved me. Don't act like you even cared. You loved what I gave to you. What I did for you. You never loved me."
He stepped to the middle of the ring, arms wide open.
"I gave you my soul. And you broke it. So now I'm giving you my wrath."
Then, as the camera zoomed in, Sandro gave a final, chilling smile.
"Long live the new order."
The arena was pure anarchy. Fans were screaming, furious, heartbroken, betrayed, all kinds of emotions except for joy were mixed up. And as Sandro stood in the center of it all, belt raised, enemies turned allies at his side, allies turned enemies broken around the ring, one thing was clear.
This wasn't the same FCW anymore.
This was his kingdom now. And war was just beginning.
Sandro didn't care about the thunderous boos, the curses, or the betrayed chants echoing through the arena like a storm of grief. The fury of the crowd was meaningless now. It was background noise. Static.
With the TNA World Heavyweight Title slung over his shoulder like a crown of defiance, Sandro stepped out of the ring, expression calm, lips curled in a smirk that wasn't joy, it was a victory.
Big E followed close behind him, silent as ever, a looming presence that didn't need to speak to be feared. He was a storm waiting to be unleashed again.
On the ringside, Drew McIntyre, Stu Bennett, and Ryback were still standing guard like sentinels, their expressions unreadable, their work done. The aftermath of their ambush was brutal.
The bodies of Kurt Angle, Sting, Kofi Kingston, and Taylor Rotunda lay scattered like war casualties, a violent monument to the message Sandro had just delivered. Blood trickled down Kurt's face. Sting's chest barely moved. Kofi's dreadlocks splayed over the steel steps. Taylor clutched his ribs, coughing hard, struggling even to breathe.
And still, Sandro didn't blink.
He looked at Drew McIntyre and then Stu Bennett.
There had been a time when Drew and Stu, the Empire, were his greatest rivals. Back when Sandro and Kofi ran wild as Dragon Boom, when the crowd roared with every double team, every save, every victory that felt like magic.
Sandro remembered trading bitter barbs with Drew and Stu under the spotlight with Kofi beside him, the heat between them which then boiled over into something uncontrollable like a brawl.
But now?
Now he smiled.
A real, genuine smile. Not warmth. Not forgiveness.
Acceptance.
He stepped forward and without hesitation patted Drew on the shoulder. Then Stu. Then, in a move that made the crowd audibly groan in disbelief, Sandro pulled both men in for a brief but firm bro hug. Three former enemies are now bound by something darker than respect. A shared ideology. A grudge against the system that once cheered them and discarded them.
Sandro turned to Ryback and gave him a nod, followed by a firm pat on the shoulder. Ryback responded with a grunt, emotionless, unbothered. His job was done. The message had been sent.
Satisfied, Sandro turned, motioning for the group to move.
But just as he stepped forward, his boot was caught.
A hand clutched his ankle. Weak, shaking.
Kofi.
Blood on his lip, eyes half lidded, struggling just to stay conscious. His fingers barely wrapped around Sandro's foot, but the intent was clear.
Don't go.
Sandro looked down at him. The man he once called brother. His tag partner. The one who gave him friendship, laughs, and shared victories. The crowd held their breath.
For a split second, some dared to believe maybe, just maybe, something of the old Sandro still remained. That maybe he'd pull Kofi up. That maybe this was where the storm ended.
But all Sandro did was shake his head.
A silent "stop."
He smiled.
And then he yanked his foot back with cold resolve, just enough to break Kofi's grasp, and without a second thought, swung his leg and punt kicked Kofi straight in the head.
The crack of the boot against the skull rang out like a gunshot.
Kofi collapsed, completely out.
And in that moment, the crowd's boos didn't rise.
They died.
Like the air had been sucked out of the building.
No more rage. No more chants. Just silence. An eerie, unsettling silence, the kind that settled in cemeteries and post war ruins. The audience didn't know how to react anymore. Were they angry? Or just heartbroken? Disillusioned?
Even the commentators, usually a blur of screaming voices and desperate narration, fell quiet.
There were no more words.
Sandro looked around at the stunned faces in the front rows. He saw a kid clutching a Dragon Boom sign, his hands trembling. Another fan covered her mouth, visibly shaking her head. Others sat back in their seats, stunned, emotionally spent.
Still smiling, Sandro turned and walked up the ramp, Drew, Stu, Ryback, and Big E trailing behind him like a shadow army. No music played. No pyro. Just the sound of boots on steel, and four broken men left behind in their wake.
The rest of the show went on.
There were stellar matches. A high octane tag team bout. An electrifying FCW Divas championship match. A main event that would've stolen the show on any other night.
But none of it mattered.
The audience watched, sure, but their minds were elsewhere. The moment Sandro delivered that punt kick to Kofi, everything changed.
Twitter exploded.
#FCWChaos
#SandroBallisticPromo
#HyphocriteFans
#NewOrder
FCW's official forum crashed for ten minutes under the weight of traffic. Every thread, every post, every comment circled back to one thing, What the hell just happened?
Clips of Sandro's promo calling the fans "hypocrites" went viral within the hour. The line "You wanted a villain. So here's your monster." was being quoted everywhere from wrestling journalists to shocked influencers.
Some fans were furious, calling Sandro the biggest traitor since Triple H turned on Shawn Michael. Others, disturbingly, started agreeing with him. Maybe he's right, they posted. Maybe the fans are fickle. Maybe this is what wrestling needs just like he said, to cut out the cancerous tumors.
The most debated topic of all?
The faction.
People were already speculating on the name. Some suggested The New Order. Others tossed around The Reckoning, The Apex, Voidline, or The Purge.
But what made it even more terrifying was how united they looked.
Sandro. Big E. Drew. Stu. Ryback.
Each of them had been wronged in their own way. Each had tasted the spotlight and been cast aside. Now they were rewriting the rules. Shattering old alliances. Reversing roles.
Fans pored over past footage, dissecting everything. Some noticed how Big E had remained mostly silent, but always present. Like a sword waiting for its command. Others zoomed in on Sandro's eyes, his expression. Gone was the lighthearted firebrand. In his place was a king forged in spite.
And Kofi?
One of the most beloved FCW figures. A positive and fun loving guy. A symbol of hope. Now lying in a hospital bed with a concussion.
His actions felt personal to the fans. Like watching a friend get kicked while down. People weren't just booing a heel. They were grieving. But Sandro didn't do anything to address that. He didn't post anything online. Didn't apologize. Didn't even acknowledge the firestorm he created. In fact, he let the speculations go rampant to achieve the maximum heat and attention he wanted.
___________________________
Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: None
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion