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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!
Each strike echoed through the arena like a gunshot.
Lawler winced, "That's just barbaric! Sandro is using anything he can get his hands on!"
Cole was beside himself. "He's using anything he can find! That's the definition of No Holds Barred!"
Sandro, panting heavily, threw the cable aside and turned to the audience, spreading his arms wide as they booed him mercilessly. "Is this your hero?" he screamed, pointing back at the crumpled Triple H. "THIS is your legend?"
The boos got louder, a tidal wave of hatred drowning him in sound. But Sandro smiled, he loved it.
He turned back toward Triple H, who suddenly lunged upward and tackled Sandro to the ground! The crowd erupted again, cheering wildly as the two men rolled across the stage, fists flying.
Cole screamed, "Triple H isn't done yet! The Game's got plenty of fight left!"
Both men scrambled to their feet, slugging each other with everything they had. The blows were heavy, unrestrained, every hit louder than the last. Triple H got the upper hand, ramming Sandro's head into the LED board, once, twice, until a section of it cracked and flickered. Triple H's eyes burned with fury as he yelled, "You wanted this, kid? You got it!" then, The Game grabbed Sandro by the arm and launched him off the stage!
Sandro crashed through two stacked production crates near the side, bursting them open with a cloud of dust and cables flying everywhere.
The arena went insane.
"Holy Shit! Triple H just threw Sandro off the stage!" Cole shouted. "He's down! The champion is down!"
Lawler's voice was shaking, "That's one way to send a message, Cole! The Game is reminding the world exactly who runs this business!"
Triple H stood above the wreckage, breathing heavily, glaring down at Sandro who lay motionless among the debris. Then, with a grim determination, he started climbing down the ramp side, his boots crunching against the broken crates.
But just as he reached Sandro, the champion rolled over and grabbed a piece of jagged metal siding, swinging it wildly! The edge caught Triple H across the shoulder, cutting open a shallow gash.
Triple H roared in pain and fury, clutching the wound.
Sandro used the moment to crawl toward the nearby barricade. Pulling himself up, he stumbled into the crowd area, fans parting like a sea of chaos as security quickly stepped in to keep them back.
Cole shouted, "This match has spilled into the WWE Universe! They're fighting right in the crowd!"
Triple H, fury blazing in his eyes, followed him into the sea of humanity. The two met among the fans, trading right hands, their blows echoing above the deafening chants of "This is awesome!" and "Fight forever!"
Lawler was losing his voice. "They're tearing the house down, Cole! This is no longer about titles, this is a battle for supremacy!"
Sandro grabbed a fan's drink and threw it into Triple H's face, momentarily blinding him, then cracked a metal chair from the fans seat across his ribs. The Game fell to a knee, coughing hard.
Sandro snarled, "You're done, old man!"
But Triple H surged back to life, grabbing Sandro by the waist and suplexing him onto the concrete floor! The thud was sickening, and both men screamed in pain.
The fans lost it.
Striker was nearly shouting, "A suplex on concrete! That's hundred of pounds of muscle and steel colliding with unyielding ground!"
Triple H rolled onto his stomach, using the barricade to pull himself up, his back screaming in pain. He stumbled toward Sandro, dragging him back toward ringside, punching and kicking him every few steps.
They reached the ringside area again, the fans at the front row slapping the barricades and chanting, "Triple H! Triple H!"
Cole's tone grew intense. "The Game's leading the champion back to where this war started! He's not done until Sandro feels every ounce of punishment he's earned!"
Triple H threw Sandro into the steel steps, the crash ringing out through the arena. Sandro's body crumpled, sliding down the steps. Triple H walked over, grabbing one of the dislodged halves, lifting it high above his head, then slamming it down hard across Sandro's back!
Sandro howled in pain, rolling onto the floor.
Lawler shouted, "Oh my God! Triple H just flattened Sandro with those steel steps!"
Cole added, "The Game is in control, but for how long? Sandro is a snake, he'll strike back the moment you think he's down!"
Triple H grabbed Sandro by the arm and dragged him to the announce table. Cole and Lawler scrambled back as The Game slammed Sandro's head onto the table repeatedly, then pointed to the crowd, roaring, "THIS IS FOR DX!"
The fans exploded in cheers.
He lifted Sandro onto the announce table, climbing up beside him. The table wobbled slightly under the combined weight. Triple H kicked Sandro on the gut and hooked both of his arms, going for a Pedigree!
Cole screamed, "He's going for it! The Pedigree! If he hits this, it's over!"
But Sandro suddenly twisted his body, breaking free and sweeping The Game's legs out from under him. Triple H crashed onto the table hard, but it didn't break. Sandro rolled off, grabbed a monitor, and smashed it into Triple H's ribs!
Lawler shouted, "A monitor to the ribs! Sandro just turned the tide again!"
Sandro climbed back onto the table, grabbing Triple H by the hair. He screamed into his face, "You're the past! I'm the future!" before hoisting him up for a sitting powerbomb, then bringing him down through the announce table!
The table exploded into numerous pieces. Both men were sprawled in the wreckage.
Cole's voice cracked. "They just went through the announce table! This is carnage! Pure carnage!"
Paramedics rushed to ringside, but neither man wanted help. Sandro crawled out of the wreckage first, face bloodied, one eye nearly swollen shut. Triple H was motionless for several seconds, his chest heaving.
Sandro, staggering, grabbed another steel chair and tossed it into the ring. Then another. Then another. He threw in a trash can, a kendo stick, even a table. The ring looked like a war zone waiting to happen.
He turned back to Triple H, dragging him by the hair toward the ring. Every movement was labored; every breath came through gritted teeth.
Cole said, "How are these two even standing? How is this match still going?"
Lawler replied, "This isn't about stamina anymore, Cole. This is about who refuses to die first."
Sandro rolled Triple H back into the ring and followed him in. He set up the table near the corner and laid the chair flat in the middle of the ring. As he turned, Triple H lunged and cracked him in the face with a kendo stick!
The sound echoed like a gunshot. Sandro reeled back, clutching his cheek. Another strike came, then another. The Game was unloading everything he had left.
The fans were on their feet screaming, "Triple H! Triple H!"
Triple H snapped the stick in half with one final swing, tossed it aside, then scooped Sandro up for a spinebuster, right onto the steel chair! The champion's back arched, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Cole yelled, "A spinebuster on the chair! Triple H is destroying Sandro!"
The Game staggered to his feet, sweat pouring down his face, every muscle trembling. He looked down at Sandro, then at the table in the center of the ring. The crowd sensed it and began chanting, "Pedigree! Pedigree!"
Triple H grabbed Sandro by the arm, dragging him toward the table, putting himself and Sandro up, setting up for the Pedigree again. But Sandro, desperate, shoved Triple H backward, causing the both of them to fall down form the table.
Sandor doesn't was time as he then lunged forward, caught Triple H by the throat, and delivered a brutal knee strike to the ribs, followed by a rolling elbow to the face! Triple H stumbled, but Sandro wasn't done. He grabbed The Game by the hair, whispering, "This is my world now…" before ramming him through the table with a running powerbomb!
The table shattered into pieces. Both men collapsed to the mat, breathing raggedly, their bodies broken, but neither willing to stop.
Cole's voice was nearly gone. "They're giving everything, EVERYTHING they've got!"
Lawler added, "No one's walking out the same after this match, Cole. Win or lose, both these men will carry the scars forever."
The camera zoomed in on both men lying motionless amid the debris, the referee checking on them, the crowd alternating between stunned silence and thunderous cheers.
Striker finally spoke, low and solemn. "This… this is what happens when pride, power, and legacy collide. We're witnessing something unforgettable tonight."
The crowd thundered and stomped as both men crawled through the wreckage. The ring was littered with shards of wood, steel chairs bent into odd shapes, and the mangled remains of a table. Sweat poured off their bodies like rain, blood streaking their faces and arms. Each breath they took sounded like a struggle, like they were dragging air through fire.
Triple H clutched the middle rope, pulling himself upright inch by inch, his arm trembling from exhaustion. Sandro was on the opposite side, slumped against the turnbuckle, one eye nearly swollen shut, a line of blood running from his mouth to his chin. Both men's gazes met across the ring—no words, no taunting, just two warriors daring the other to fall first.
Cole's voice cracked through the chaos, "These two have nothing left to prove, but neither will stop! This is the definition of No Holds Barred!"
Lawler shouted over the noise, "They've turned this into a war zone! They're not even fighting for gold anymore, they're fighting to see who's the best between them!"
Sandro wiped the blood from his mouth, sneering, and then he let out a guttural yell as he pushed himself forward. Triple H did the same, and the two collided in the middle of the ring with fists flying. The crowd roared as the punches echoed like thunderclaps.
Triple H hit one, two, three stiff right hands, each one rocking Sandro's head back. Sandro fired back with a knee to the midsection and a forearm to the jaw that sent Triple H reeling into the ropes.
Sandro sprinted toward him, but Triple H ducked under and caught him in a back body drop, sending him crashing onto the remnants of the broken table! The wood splintered further, Sandro rolling away in agony, clutching his spine.
Cole yelled, "What a counter! Triple H turned the tide again!"
Triple H staggered to his feet, wiped the blood from his brow, and reached down for one of the steel chairs. He lifted it high above his head and crack! Brought it down across Sandro's back. The impact was sickening. Sandro's body jerked violently from the pain. Another swing. Crack! The chair bent in half.
Striker's voice was grim. "Triple H is dissecting him, piece by piece. This is as personal as it gets."
The Game tossed the mangled chair aside and rolled out of the ring, rummaging under the apron. He pulled out another table, sliding it inside, then a barbed wire bat wrapped tightly with steel cord. The fans erupted with a collective gasp.
Lawler shouted, "Oh my God, that's wrapped in barbed wire! Triple H is going to end this for good!"
Triple H slid back into the ring and dragged the table upright, setting it near the corner. Sandro crawled toward the ropes, breathing hard, one arm hanging limp. The Game stalked him, holding the bat in both hands like an executioner preparing the final swing.
Cole whispered, almost reverently, "He's got that look in his eyes, King… that cold, merciless look. The Game wants blood."
Triple H raised the bat—
—but Sandro suddenly rolled forward and caught him with a low blow! The crowd erupted in boos. Triple H fell to his knees, the barbed wire bat dropping beside him.
Sandro gritted his teeth, snarling, "You don't get to end me, old man!" Then he picked up the bat himself. The crowd's noise hit fever pitch as Sandro looked down at it, the twisted metal glinting under the arena lights.
He swung it, CRACK! Right across Triple H's ribs. Blood splattered from the barbed wire tearing through flesh. He swung again, this time across The Game's back. The barbed wire dug deep, ripping small cuts into his skin. Cole's voice was horrified. "This isn't just a match anymore! Sandro's trying to maim Triple H!"
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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