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The crowd roared again, a final rallying cry of belief and hope before the storm. Cole's voice lowered as the camera zoomed in on Triple H's face. "DX and the McMahon family have one chance left. One man standing between the Undisputed System and complete domination. And that man… is The Game."
Meanwhile, Triple H at this time reached ringside. The air around him was electric, thick with tension and adrenaline. He took a slow walk along the right side of the ring, his boots echoing against the ringside mat.
The fans reached out from both sides of the barricades, some patting his shoulder as he passed. When he reached the apron, The Game climbed up methodically, one leg, then the other, standing tall as he gripped the ropes.
Then suddenly, the lights went out.
A single spotlight flickered on, shining down on Triple H in dramatic focus. The darkness of the arena only made him look more commanding, his broad shoulders glistening under the light. In that frozen moment of silence, he unscrewed the cap from his water bottle, took one last drink, and then, to the eruption of the crowd, hurled the bottle into the stands.
And then, with the signature move that defined his legacy, he threw his head back and sprayed a mist of water into the air, arms stretched wide, water droplets illuminated in the beam like silver rain. The fans screamed in unison, the arena shaking with the sound.
Cole shouted over the chaos, "The Game looks ready! The King of Kings is about to fight for more than gold, he's fighting for the honor of his family, his legacy, and his generation!"
Lawler was standing up from his seat. "That right there, Cole, that's a man who's built for war! You can feel it, the Game is here to end this once and for all!"
Triple H wiped his mouth, climbed between the ropes, and went straight to his corner, rolling his shoulders, his expression stone cold. The fans continued to cheer wildly, the energy at its peak.
But then—
"SHOCK THE SYSTEM!"
The words boomed through the speakers like a gunshot. The arena's reaction turned instantly, deafening boos filled the air, raining hatred toward the ramp. The lights dimmed again, this time flickering in sharp pulses of gold.
Yet instead of the Undisputed System's usual theme, a different, even more infamous riff tore through the speakers, the unmistakable chords of "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour.
The lights turned completely gold, and through the mist stepped Sandro Zhang, the WWE United States Champion, with the gold title resting arrogantly on his left shoulder.
The crowd erupted in disgust, their boos echoing like thunder. Sandro stood on the stage with a smirk spreading across his face, absorbing every ounce of animosity like fuel. His eyes, sharp and cruel, scanned the audience before locking on Triple H inside the ring.
Cole immediately barked, " Here comes that egomaniac, the so called champion of the Undisputed System! And of course he has to make this about himself! Look at that smug grin, he knows the fans hate him!"
Striker shook his head, disgusted. "He's been calling himself the architect of dominance, the man who engineered the Undisputed System's takeover. But tonight, he faces the man who wrote the book on domination!"
Lawler practically growled. "I can't stand him, Cole. The arrogance, the disrespect, it's everything that's wrong with this new breed!"
Justin Roberts' voice thundered through the sound system, struggling to be heard over the noise.
"And the champion… representing the Undisputed System… from Orlando, Florida… weighing in at 220 pounds… he is the WWE UNITED STATES CHAMPION… SANDROOOOO ZHAAANG!"
The boos intensified. Sandro spread his arms wide at the top of the stage as hot pyro exploded behind and around him in synchronized bursts. He let the moment stretch out, soaking in the hatred as if it were applause. Then, with deliberate mockery, he lifted both middle fingers high and waved them toward the crowd, laughing as the jeers grew louder.
Cole was furious. "He's mocking the WWE Universe! That's the kind of disrespect that makes my blood boil!"
Striker muttered darkly, "That's exactly why he's dangerous, Cole. He thrives off this. Every boo makes him stronger."
Sandro walked down the ramp at a slow, taunting pace. Every step was arrogance personified. When a fan leaned over the barricade shouting at him, Sandro stopped, smiled, and blew a sarcastic kiss before continuing his descent.
He reached the steps, looked around at the sea of booing fans, and smirked wider. Then he climbed the steel steps, entered the ring, and walked straight to the ropes. Lifting the United States Championship high above his head, he stared into the hard cam with an icy glare, his voice barely audible as he mouthed, "This is mine. Forever."
He lowered the title, placed it back over his shoulder, and walked backward into his corner. Triple H didn't move an inch, his eyes locked on Sandro, the intensity between them so sharp it could've sliced the air.
The referee stepped forward, reaching out for the championship. Sandro handed it over lazily, smirking again as if the whole ceremony was beneath him. The referee lifted the title high for the audience to see, the symbol of everything on the line.
But before the bell could even ring—
Sandro exploded out of his corner.
He sprinted full speed across the ring and smashed his knee straight into Triple H's face! The impact was sickening, the Game crumpling backward into the corner, clutching his jaw.
Cole shouted in outrage, "What the hell!? He didn't even wait for the bell!"
Lawler slammed the desk. "That's Sandro for you What a cowardly move! The match hasn't even started yet!"
Sandro wasn't finished. He began stomping mercilessly on Triple H's chest and ribs, over and over again, each stomp louder and more vicious than the last. The fans were on their feet, booing, shouting insults.
The referee, realizing there were no disqualifications in a No Holds Barred match, panicked but had no choice. He turned and tossed the championship to ringside, then signaled for the bell.
DING DING DING!
The match was officially underway, and Sandro wasted no time. He backed into the opposite corner, then charged again, slamming another running knee into Triple H's skull, this time with full body weight behind it. The Game's head snapped back violently, and the arena gasped.
Lawler shouted over the crowd, "A second knee! Full speed! And the Game hasn't even gotten out of the gate yet!"
Cole yelled, "That knee strike could've knocked Triple H out cold! Sandro is absolutely vicious!"
Striker leaned forward. "That's not just ruthlessness, Cole. That's strategy. He's trying to end this early, make a statement!"
Sandro grabbed Triple H by the hair, dragging his limp body out of the corner, but the veteran's instincts kicked in. Out of nowhere, Triple H fired a desperate right hand into Sandro's ribs. Then another. Then another.
The fans rallied instantly.
"Let's go Triple H! Let's go Triple H!"
Triple H hit another shot to the gut, breaking free, then smashed Sandro across the jaw with a heavy forearm. Sandro staggered back, dazed for a moment — but The Game wasn't done. He lunged forward and delivered a series of punches, each one landing with that classic Triple H precision, sending the champion reeling.
Cole shouted, "There's the fire! There's the heart of The Game!"
Lawler leapt to his feet, "The Game is fighting back!"
Triple H wound up for a massive right hand and dropped Sandro with a thunderous shot to the temple. The champion hit the mat, rolling to the outside to regroup, clutching his face and shouting in frustration.
The crowd roared with renewed energy.
Lawler was ecstatic. "You can never count Triple H out! This is what he does best, adapt, survive, and destroy!"
Triple H followed Sandro outside, He looked down at Sandro and growled, "You wanted a fight? You got one!" before grabbing him by the back of the head and slamming him face first into the announce table. The crowd counted along. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!"
Sandro's body crumpled against the table's edge. Triple H ripped the monitor cables free, tossing one aside. He looked down at Cole and Lawler for a second, sweat glistening on his forehead, and shouted, "This is my house!" before dragging Sandro up again.
But Sandro countered, ramming Triple H's back into the steel post. The Game let out a guttural yell, staggering away, clutching his lower back. Sandro pounced, grabbing a nearby steel chair and cracking it across Triple H's spine.
CRACK!
The sound echoed through the arena. The fans booed furiously, but Sandro just laughed. He swung again.
CRACK!
Triple H dropped to his knees in pain.
Cole's voice trembled with anger. "He's relentless! He doesn't care who he hurts, or how!"
Sandro leaned close, whispering something into Triple H's ear before smacking the back of his head with the chair again. "You're nothing but a relic, old man," he sneered, tossing the dented steel aside.
Striker shook his head. "That's Sandro Zhang's mindset, absolute disrespect for everyone who came before him."
Sandro rolled Triple H back into the ring and grabbed a kendo stick from under the apron. He slid inside, twirling it like a sword. As The Game tried to rise, Sandro cracked the stick across his ribs. Then his back. Then again across his shoulders.
The stick splintered apart.
The fans booed louder. "You suck! You suck!"
Sandro pointed at the crowd with a smirk, mouthing, "Keep crying."
But as he turned back, Triple H lunged forward and spinebustered him into the mat! The ring shook on impact, and the crowd erupted.
Cole screamed, "SPINEBUSTER! The Game isn't done yet!"
Triple H, wincing from the pain in his back, slowly pushed himself to his feet. He looked out toward the audience, breathing heavily. Then he rolled out of the ring, reaching under the apron, pulling out a steel chain.
The fans went wild.
Lawler gasped, "Oh my God! A steel chain! He's about to turn this into a warzone!"
Triple H slid back inside and wrapped the chain around his fist. As Sandro staggered up, dazed, The Game swung CRACK! Catching him right across the jaw. Sandro dropped instantly, the impact echoing like thunder.
The fans chanted, "This is awesome! This is awesome!"
Triple H ripped off his elbow pad, snarling. He dragged Sandro up by the neck, shouting, "You wanted a fight? You got one!" before throwing him over the top rope to the outside.
The two men fought their way up the ramp, every step leaving chaos behind. Sandro threw a forearm, Triple H returned fire. Sandro countered with a huge punch on the gut that dropped The Game to one knee, but Triple H fired back with a facebuster onto the steel stage!
Both men were down, panting, sweat soaked, the arena echoing with cheers and boos in equal measure.
Cole shouted, "This isn't a match anymore, this is about legacy, about dominance, about who truly runs this industry!"
The Game rose first, the veins on his forehead bulging, breathing like a war beaten animal ready to strike again. The lights above the stage shimmered off his sweat soaked skin as he staggered forward, staring down at Sandro who clutched his jaw, eyes glazed in a mix of pain and disbelief.
Triple H reached down, grabbed a handful of Sandro's hair, and growled, "You think you can run this place? You think you can take over what I built?" His voice was gravelly, every word carrying the weight of two decades of dominance.
Before Sandro could respond, Triple H smashed his face off the steel stage with a brutal clang! The crowd roared in approval.
Cole shouted, "Triple H is taking the fight to Sandro Zhang! This isn't just about a championship anymore, this is about the soul of WWE!"
Lawler yelled, "And The Game is fighting like a man possessed! He's not letting up for a second!"
But as Triple H went for another slam, Sandro's knee shot upward, right between the legs. The Game staggered backward in agony, clutching himself as Sandro pushed to his knees, gasping for breath, his face contorted in a snarl.
Striker said grimly, "That's how Sandro survives. He'll stoop as low as it takes. He doesn't care about rules, honor, or legacy, only victory."
Sandro rose, shaking the pain from his head. He took a moment to steady himself, glaring at Triple H, who leaned against the LED structure beside the stage. Then, Sandro charged forward and tackled him into the steel truss, sending sparks flying from the lighting rig!
The fans gasped at the impact.
Cole shouted, "Good Lord! Triple H might've been broken in half against that lighting rig!"
Sandro staggered back, looking around with a crazed grin as the lights flickered from the jolt. He reached under one of the stage panels and pulled out a long, black cable. Wrapping it around his forearm, he whipped it across Triple H's back, crack! Once, twice, three times!
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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
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, & 1x WWE United States Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0