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Kane kicked out yet again. The arena shook with the noise, the fans on their feet in unison, screaming at the top of their lungs. Cole was practically losing his voice. "How?! How did Kane survive that?! What will it take to end this match?!"
Lawler, on the other hand, exploded with joy, pumping his fists in the air like a man who just hit the lottery. "That's what I'm talking about! That's Kane! That's the Big Red Machine! He's not human, Cole, he's a monster!"
Both men stayed down for a long moment, sucking in breath like drowning men breaking the surface of the water. The referee hovered nervously, his shirt soaked in sweat, knowing that if these two kept going at this pace, even he might not make it out in one piece.
Sandro rolled onto his stomach, pounding the mat in frustration. His teeth clenched so hard you could almost hear the enamel crack.
He pushed himself up, legs trembling, eyes blazing with raw determination. Across the ring, Kane began to rise too, like some undead demon, sitting up slow, his head snapping toward Sandro with that soulless glare that had sent countless men to their graves.
The crowd roared at the sight, Kane rising from the dead, and Sandro staring him down with defiance.
Cole leaned so far forward he was practically standing. "Come on, Sandro! Don't back down! Finish him!" His tone dripped with venom and admiration, a heel in full glory watching his chosen warrior fight the fight of his life.
Lawler shot him a look of disgust. "Finish him? Are you insane? Kane is about to eat this kid alive! He's the Devil's Favorite Demon, Cole! You don't poke the Devil, you run from him!"
But Sandro didn't run. He charged.
With a primal roar tearing from his throat, Sandro lunged forward, swinging wild, fists pounding against Kane's chest like a storm of hammers. The blows echoed through the arena, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! But Kane didn't flinch. He just absorbed it, like a brick wall swallowing raindrops. And then, like lightning striking out of nowhere, Kane's massive hand shot up and clamped around Sandro's throat.
The crowd erupted in a guttural roar as Kane's arm flexed, hoisting Sandro into the air like he weighed nothing. Sandro's boots kicked wildly, his face twisting in desperation. Kane's eyes glowed with hellfire as he turned toward the center of the ring, ready to chokeslam Sandro straight to the underworld once again.
But Sandro wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.
In a flash of pure instinct, Sandro drove his knee into Kane's face, again and again, rapid fire like a jackhammer. One! Two! Three! Finally, Kane's grip faltered, and Sandro dropped down behind him.
Without wasting a heartbeat, Sandro sprinted to the ropes, rebounded with a burst of energy, and launched himself at Kane with a devastating flying forearm smash that staggered the monster backward.
The arena shook from the impact, but Kane didn't fall. His massive frame swayed like a skyscraper in the wind, refusing to topple.
Cole slammed his hand on the desk again, screaming like a madman. "That's it! Keep hitting him! Bring the big man down!"
Lawler clutched his headset like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "This kid doesn't know what he's doing! He's trying to fight fire with gasoline! Kane's gonna burn him alive!"
Sandro hit the ropes again, adrenaline surging like molten lava in his veins. He came off the ropes like a cannonball, this time leaping high into the air, aiming a clothesline straight for Kane's throat. BOOM! The impact was thunderous, and Kane finally dropped to one knee.
The crowd exploded like a bomb going off. Everyone in the arena felt it, the momentum swinging, the story reaching its fever pitch.
But Sandro wanted more. Needed more. He wasn't here just to survive. He was here to conquer.
He roared like a beast as he backed into the corner, clutching the ropes for balance. Sweat poured down his body, his chest heaving like a war drum. He measured Kane, who was pushing himself up to his feet, his monstrous frame rising like an unstoppable tide.
And then it happened, the turning point.
Sandro sprinted forward for the kill, but Kane surged up with terrifying speed and leveled him with a Big Boot that nearly took his head off.
The impact echoed like a gunshot. Sandro hit the mat so hard the ring shook beneath him. The crowd gasped, some even clutching their mouths in shock.
Cole's voice cracked like glass. "No! No! Get up, Sandro!"
Lawler was laughing now, a wild, triumphant sound. "That's what you get when you poke the Devil, Cole! That's what you get!"
Kane dragged himself up, towering over the broken body of Sandro, his chest rising and falling like a furnace. He raised his arm high into the air, signaling for the end. The fans roared in unison, their voices blending into a single, deafening sound.
Kane grabbed Sandro by the throat and hauled him up like a sack of meat. The referee hovered nervously, sweat dripping down his face as he braced for impact. Kane lifted Sandro high, ready to chokeslam him straight to hell—
WHAM! Sandro twisted midair, bringing his elbow crashing into Kane's temple! The monster staggered, his grip breaking just enough for Sandro to land on his feet. He ducked low, rammed a shoulder into Kane's gut, and drove him backward into the corner, right into the referee!
The official crumpled to the mat like a puppet with its strings cut. The crowd gasped in shock as Kane stumbled forward, dazed, leaving the ref motionless in the corner.
Cole's voice was pure chaos now. "The referee's down! The referee's down! Sandro didn't mean to do it, but the referee is out cold!"
Lawler screamed in protest. "Oh, give me a break, Cole! That was no accident! I know what this kid is planning, he's a snake!"
Sandro's head snapped toward the fallen referee, then back to Kane, then to the ropes. A sinister gleam flickered in his eyes. He slid out of the ring like a phantom, his chest heaving, his mind racing. He flipped the apron skirt and dug underneath like a scavenger searching for treasure, until he found it.
A steel chair.
The fans erupted in a deafening chorus of boos as Sandro yanked the chair free and slid back into the ring, the steel gleaming under the arena lights like an executioner's blade.
Cole's voice was feverish, dripping with justification. "He's doing what he has to do! He's doing whatever it takes to win! This is survival, King!"
Lawler's tone was pure outrage. "Survival? That's cheating, Cole! That's disgusting! This kid's about to end Kane's career!"
Sandro stalked his prey, gripping the chair tight, veins bulging in his arms. Kane, groggy but defiant, started to rise. That was all Sandro needed.
CRACK!
The steel chair smashed across Kane's back with a sickening sound that echoed through the arena. Kane roared in pain, arching his spine, but stayed on his knees.
CRACK!
Another shot, harder this time, the chair bending slightly under the force. Kane fell to all fours, his massive frame trembling.
CRACK!
A third shot, this one to the ribs, knocking the wind out of the Big Red Machine. The crowd booed so loud the walls shook, raining pure venom on Sandro, but he didn't care. He was lost in the madness now, eyes wild, mouth curled into a feral snarl as he raised the chair again.
And then Kane sat up.
Like some hellspawn rising from the grave, Kane shot upright, his head snapping toward Sandro with a look that could melt steel. The crowd lost its collective mind, exploding into a roar so loud it rattled the rafters.
Sandro froze. For the first time all night, fear flickered across his face. His hands tightened on the chair, his body trembling.
Kane climbed to his feet, towering over Sandro, blood dripping from his mouth, eyes burning with vengeance. He took one step forward—
CRACK!
The chair smashed straight into Kane's face. The sound was brutal, like a gunshot in a cathedral. Kane's head snapped back, his body jerking violently before he collapsed to the mat like a felled oak.
The boos reached a fever pitch, but Sandro didn't hear them. He tossed the mangled chair to the mat and staggered toward the corner, his chest heaving, his veins singing with adrenaline. He climbed the turnbuckles slowly, every muscle screaming in protest, but his eyes locked on Kane like a predator zeroing in on the kill.
At the top rope, Sandro stood tall, spreading his arms wide in a mock crucifix, soaking in the storm of hatred from the crowd. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and roared.
"GET UP!"
Kane stirred, rolling to his side, groaning like a beast choking on its last breath. Slowly, agonizingly, the Big Red Machine pushed himself up to his knees, then to one foot, then the other.
And that's when Sandro struck.
He launched himself off the top rope like a missile, snatching Kane's head midair and driving it down with a devastating Downfall DDT, straight onto the steel chair.
The impact was catastrophic. Kane's skull bounced off the metal with a sound that made stomachs turn. The chair flattened under the force, the Big Red Machine lying motionless, arms sprawled, eyes blank.
Sandro wasted no time. He shoved the chair out of the ring with a swift kick and collapsed onto Kane's chest, hooking the leg with everything he had left.
The referee, groggy and dazed, crawled into position and began the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rang, and the arena erupted in chaos, half in shock, half in pure hatred. Justin Roberts' voice boomed over the chaos. "Here is your winner… SANDRRROOOO… ZHAANGGGGG!"
Sandro meanwhile rolled off Kane, lying on his back, staring up at the lights with a manic grin splitting his battered face. His chest heaved like a war drum, every breath a victory anthem.
Cole's voice broke through the roar, jubilant and smug. "What did I tell you?! What did I tell you?! This man is unstoppable! He outsmarted Kane, the Big Red Machine himself! He walked through hell and planted his flag in the middle of it!"
Lawler slammed his hand on the table, nearly knocking over his headset. "Oh, give me a break, Cole! You call that outsmarting? He damn near killed Kane with that chair! That was highway robbery!"
Cole shot back instantly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Robbery? No, King. That's strategy. That's genius. That's what separates the great from the legends and Sandro Zhang just proved he's the future of WWE!"
Inside the ring, Sandro dragged himself up to the second rope, pounding his chest with both fists and screaming at the fans like a madman, veins bulging in his neck. He shouted something unintelligible toward the hard camera before throwing both arms wide in defiance of the hate.
And then… the lights went out.
The entire arena plunged into blackness so sudden and absolute it sucked the air from every pair of lungs in the building. A thunderous gasp rolled across the crowd like a wave, thousands of voices all reacting in shock and confusion. The camera lights flickered for a second and then died completely.
Cole's voice cracked over the sudden darkness. "Wha... what's happening?! What the hell is this?!"
Lawler shot up from his chair, his voice trembling with excitement. "Oh my God… Oh my God, Cole… you don't think—"
And then it happened.
GONG.
The sound was deep, resonant, and so haunting it sent a chill crawling down every spine in the arena. The crowd erupted in an explosion of cheers, the sound so loud it rattled the foundations of the building.
GONG.
Another one. Louder. Longer. The place was losing its mind now, fans screaming so hard their voices cracked.
GONG.
The third and final toll of the bell rolled through the darkness like a funeral dirge, sealing the fate of whoever it was meant for. The fans were at a fever pitch now, chanting and roaring, some even crying in sheer disbelief.
And then the lights came back on.
The arena erupted. The camera shot whipped to the ring and the sight sent shockwaves through the WWE Universe.
The Undertaker stood behind Sandro.
The Deadman was there, towering like a monolith of vengeance, eyes rolled white, his leather coat glistening under the harsh lights, the brim of his hat casting his face in shadow. His presence sucked every ounce of warmth out of the building. The fans were on their feet, thousands of voices colliding into a single deafening war cry.
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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