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Sandro walked down the ramp slowly, soaking in the hatred, even spreading his arms wide as though welcoming the storm of boos. He smirked, mouthing off to the fans in the front row before stepping into the cage. The referee shut the door behind him, locking it with heavy steel chains and a padlock. There was no escape now, this was war.
Inside the cage, Sandro raised his arms in arrogant triumph, taunting Shawn from across the ring. He shouted insults, mocking HBK's legacy, grinning with the confidence of a man who thought he was untouchable.
But Shawn had had enough. The moment Sandro turned his back to head toward his corner, Shawn exploded forward and leveled him from behind, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
The referee, knowing that there were no disqualifications in a steel cage match, immediately signaled for the bell. The bell's echo hadn't even died before Shawn Michaels unleashed hell.
He pummeled Sandro with a storm of fists, raw emotion behind every blow. The crowd inside the arena was deafening, chanting, screaming, feeding off Shawn's rage like a tidal wave crashing against steel walls.
Sandro reeled under the assault, staggering into the turnbuckle, his smirk replaced with a grimace as Shawn fired lefts and rights with surgical precision.
Sandro tried to shield himself, but Shawn's fury wasn't something you could block. The Heartbreak Kid grabbed him by the hair, yanking him out of the corner and hurling him chest first into the opposite turnbuckle so hard that the steel cage rattled like a thunderclap. The entire structure shook as Sandro bounced off and collapsed to the mat.
Cole lost it on commentary, his voice indignant. "That's disgraceful! Absolutely disgraceful! Shawn Michaels just blindsided Sandro like that! That's not the mark of a legend, that's the mark of a coward!"
Lawler fired back without hesitation. "Oh, give me a break, Cole! That wasn't cowardly, that was weeks, a month of frustration boiling over! Sandro's been running his mouth, taunting Shawn, disrespecting him, and tonight Shawn is giving him exactly what he deserves!"
Striker nodded in agreement, his voice firm. "That's right, King. This isn't cowardice, this is intensity. Sandro poked the bear one too many times before, and now the Heartbreak Kid is unleashed inside that steel cage!"
Shawn dragged Sandro up by his jaw, spitting venom in his face before sending him flying into the ropes. On the rebound, HBK hit a kitchen sink knee to the gut, doubling Sandro over. Without hesitation, Shawn hooked him for a suplex, no!
Sandro blocked it, planting his foot to the mat. A quick elbow jab to Shawn's ribs bought him a breath, then another, and finally he powered out, reversing into a vicious snap suplex of his own that sent Shawn's back crashing against the unforgiving steel wall of the cage.
The fans groaned in unison as Shawn writhed, clutching his spine. Sandro rolled to a knee, breathing heavy, his face twisted in fury. He wiped blood from his lip, it wasn't much, but it was enough to set him off. Slowly, like a predator regaining its footing, Sandro stalked Shawn.
Cole practically beamed. "That's what a champion caliber competitor does, right there! That's why Sandro is the future of WWE! He took Shawn's best shot and turned it around just like that!"
Lawler slammed his hands on the table. "Future? He's lucky to still have a present after that beating he just took, Cole! Shawn Michaels isn't done, not by a long shot!"
Sandro grabbed Shawn's hair, yanking him up to his feet before slamming his forehead into the steel mesh, once, twice, three times, until the clang of bone on metal echoed like church bells in a warzone.
Shawn's head snapped back with each shot, the skin starting to split above his eyebrow, crimson trickling down into his eye.
Striker let out a low whistle. "That's the nature of this match, gentlemen. The steel cage isn't just for show, it's a weapon. And Sandro knows exactly how to use it."
Sandro pressed Shawn's face against the mesh and ground it like a cheese grater, shouting loud enough for the cameras to catch. "You wanted this, Shawn? Huh? You asked for this!" The boos rained down like acid, but Sandro soaked them in, snarling at the fans as he kept the pressure on. Finally, he let go, letting Shawn collapse in a bloody heap.
Cole clapped his hands in mock applause. "Oh, what a beautiful sight! The passing of the torch, ladies and gentlemen. Shawn Michaels is a broken man, and Sandro Zhang is writing the next chapter of history!"
The crowd tried to drown him out with a thunderous "HBK! HBK!" chant. On cue, Shawn stirred, pushing up on one elbow, blood streaking down his face, his eyes burning with defiance.
"Look at that!" Lawler exploded. "That's a Hall of Famer! That's a man who doesn't know the meaning of the word quit!"
Sandro sneered, grabbing Shawn by the hair again and dragging him toward the ropes. He hooked Shawn's head under his arm and, with terrifying strength, launched him like a lawn dart straight into the steel cage wall.
Shawn's body ricocheted, crashing to the mat in a heap. The crowd erupted in gasps, the sheer brutality of the spot sending shockwaves through the arena.
Striker leaned forward, voice almost reverent. "Gentlemen, I think we just witnessed the beginning of something unforgettable. Sandro isn't just trying to win, he's trying to end Shawn Michaels' career inside that cage."
But Shawn wasn't done, not yet. As Sandro taunted the crowd, climbing halfway up the ropes to mock their chants, Shawn crawled to the corner, using the ropes for leverage. When Sandro turned, arms raised in triumph, Shawn sprang to life with a flying forearm smash that caught Sandro flush in the jaw! Both men hit the mat, the impact echoing through the building.
The crowd went ballistic. "He's still got it! Shawn Michaels still has it!" Lawler shouted, nearly jumping out of his seat.
Both men lay motionless for a beat, sucking in oxygen like drowning men. Then, almost in unison, they rolled to opposite corners, eyes locked across the battlefield. Shawn, bloodied but alive. Sandro, seething with rage. They staggered to their feet as the arena buzzed with anticipation.
"Here we go!" Striker's voice was electric. "This is where legends are made!"
They charged. A flurry of punches exploded in the center of the ring, Shawn, Sandro, Shawn, Sandro, the crowd roaring with every shot.
Shawn gained the upper hand, rocking Sandro with a blistering knife edge chop that sent a spray of sweat into the air. Another chop, another, until Sandro's chest was a canvas of red. Shawn whipped him into the ropes and launched with a high back body drop that sent Sandro crashing to the mat.
The fans were on their feet. Shawn kipped up, slower than in his prime, but still with that trademark flair, and the building erupted. He staggered toward the corner, climbing the ropes, every movement deliberate, the crowd roaring in rhythm with his ascent.
"Don't do this, Shawn!" Cole pleaded. "Think about your career! Think about your family!"
But Shawn didn't hear him. He perched on the top rope, measured his target, and launched with an elbow drop from the heavens that drove the air from Sandro's lungs like a car crash. The crowd exploded in a nuclear pop.
"Vintage Shawn Michaels!" Striker yelled. "The man's bleeding, battered, but he's still putting it all on the line!"
Shawn lay there for a second, clutching his ribs, before dragging himself up. He staggered backward, eyes wild, signaling for the end. The fans lost their minds, everyone knew what was coming.
Cole's voice cracked. "No, no, no, not like this! Somebody stop this!"
Shawn started tuning up the band, stomping the mat in rhythm as the entire arena counted along. One stomp. Two. Three. Sandro struggled to his feet, dazed, wobbling. Four. Five. Six. Shawn went for the Sweet Chin Music—
—BUT SANDRO CAUGHT THE LEG! He twisted, yanking Shawn off balance and spinning him into a lightning-fast dragon screw leg whip that nearly snapped his knee in half. Shawn screamed in agony as Sandro pounced, targeting the leg with a barrage of stomps, twisting it around the bottom rope for leverage.
"That's genius!" Cole crowed. "That's the difference between an amateur and a master strategist! Sandro saw the kick coming and neutralized it! Shawn Michaels can't hit Sweet Chin Music if he doesn't have a leg!"
Striker nodded grimly. "Say what you want about his attitude, that's a sound strategy. Take away the leg, take away Shawn's biggest weapon."
The assault was merciless. Sandro dragged Shawn to the corner, slamming his leg into the steel ring post three times before applying a figure four around the post, Shawn howling in pain as the referee hovered helplessly, no rope breaks, no disqualifications. The only way out was escape or pinfall.
The crowd tried to will Shawn back, chanting louder, stomping, clapping. Somehow, he managed to claw his way back into the ring, breaking the hold, but the damage was done. He clutched his knee like it was on fire, sweat and blood mixing on his face.
Sandro wasn't done. He hoisted Shawn up and hit a brutal powerbomb into the cage wall! The steel rattled, Shawn's body folding like paper as he crashed to the mat.
"Oh my God!" Lawler yelled. "He's trying to cripple him!"
"Not trying," Cole corrected with a smirk. "He's succeeding!"
The war raged on, spot after spot, neither man giving an inch, catapult slingshot into the cage by Shawn, a thunderous spinning spinebuster by Sandro, a desperate superkick out of nowhere that barely grazed Sandro's jaw. Near falls piled up, each one closer than the last. The crowd was on fire, living and dying with every heartbeat.
Shawn tried to climb the cage, Sandro stopped him halfway with a German suplex from the ropes that shook the ring. Sandro tried to escape, but Shawn dragged him down and nailed a swinging neckbreaker that left both men sprawled.
Blood poured from both warriors now, staining the mat crimson. Their bodies glistened with sweat, muscles trembling from exhaustion. Yet neither stopped. Neither could stop.
Striker summed it up perfectly. "This isn't just a match. This is survival. This is two men willing to destroy themselves to prove who's better."
The crowd was in a frenzy now, the arena pulsating with energy as both men dragged themselves to their feet. Every breath was labored, every movement etched in agony. The steel cage loomed around them like a predator, its jagged edges smeared with their blood, a reminder that there was no way out except through hell.
Across the ring, Sandro staggered to the corner, a savage grin splitting his battered features. He spat on the mat, eyes burning with the kind of fire that said he wasn't done, not until he broke Shawn Michaels into pieces.
"Look at this man!" Cole's voice was feverish with excitement. "This is dominance! This is innovation! This is Sandro Zhang showing the entire world that the future is now!"
Lawler snapped back, nearly standing up from his chair. "Dominance? Are you blind, Cole? Look at him, he's hanging on by a thread! Shawn Michaels has taken everything Sandro has thrown at him and he's STILL standing!"
Striker's voice was even, but his tone carried weight. "Gentlemen, what we're witnessing isn't just a match. This is the breaking point for both men. Something's gotta give and when it does, it's going to be catastrophic."
Inside the cage, Sandro began climbing the ropes slowly, deliberately, the fans booing so loud the air seemed to shake. Each step on the ropes echoed like a war drum as he gripped the steel mesh and started his ascent.
"Where's he going?!" Lawler's voice cracked with disbelief. "He can't be thinking, oh no, no way!"
"Oh YES, King!" Cole practically shouted over him, the thrill in his voice palpable. "This is what makes Sandro Zhang the future! He's about to do something NO ONE has ever seen inside a steel cage! This is brilliance!"
Striker, leaning forward with wide eyes, spoke like a man watching a car crash in slow motion. "If he pulls this off… this isn't just a career making moment, this is a history making moment."
Sandro climbed higher, reaching the very top of the cage. The fans rose as one, the noise now a deafening roar of boos, cheers, and sheer shock. Sandro perched there like a vulture, blood streaming down his face, his chest heaving, but that arrogant smirk had returned. He spread his arms wide, soaking in the chaos, then pointed down at Shawn, shouting, "THIS IS THE END!"
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA X Division Champion