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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Inside the private, heavily guarded locker room assigned to the Undisputed System, the larger than life personas were completely dropped. There was no God King. There was no sinister advocate. There were just incredibly sore, exhausted athletes dealing with the physical realities of their profession.
Sandro sat on the edge of a leather sofa, stripped down to a pair of athletic shorts. His torso was a canvas of dark, angry purple and yellow bruises, a testament to the sheer violence of the tables, ladders, and steel chairs he had collided with the night before. His ribs were heavily taped, and a small, butterfly bandage covered a laceration near his hairline.
"Take a deep breath for me, Sandro," the head doctor instructed, pressing a stethoscope against Sandro's bruised back.
Sandro inhaled slowly, a sharp acted hiss of pain escaping his lips as his bruised ribs expanded.
Standing just a few feet away, forming a fiercely protective but respectful perimeter, were his three girls. AJ Lee, Nikki, and Alexa were entirely out of character. They wore comfortable yoga pants and oversized hoodies, their faces devoid of the heavy television makeup.
Every time Sandro act winced, the girls winced right along with him. They hovered closely, their eyes tracking the doctor's every move, keeping just enough distance to allow the EMTs to do their jobs effectively. Nikki bit her lower lip, fighting the urge to step in and hold his hand, knowing the medical staff needed space.
On the other side of the spacious locker room, the boys of the Undisputed System were sprawled out on chairs and couches, dressed in street clothes and gym gear. The atmosphere was a mixture of relaxed camaraderie and profound, unspoken respect. They had all watched the monitor in the back last night. They had seen what their leader had sacrificed for the faction.
"I'm telling you, mate," Wade Barrett said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, holding a cup of black coffee. "When you got pushed off that ladder and went through the announce desk... my heart stopped. I thought we were going to be looking for a new frontman."
Drew McIntyre chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Aye, it was a terrifying bump. But it was brilliant. Completely took the wind out of their sails."
Sandro offered a weak, tired smirk to his enforcers as the doctor checked his pupillary response with a small penlight. "It wasn't exactly part of the original game plan, Wade. We just calculate and decided to do that spot in the moment, it's a pretty sick spot now right."
"It's the Heavensfall spots that got me," Xavier Woods chimed in from the corner, furiously tapping away on a handheld video game console but fully engaged in the conversation. "Doing a springboard backflip cutter is insane enough on a trampoline. Doing it off a middle turnbuckle, catching a three hundred pounder in mid air, and driving him into the mat? The physics of that shouldn't even work. You're manipulating gravity at this point."
"It's all in the core strength, man," Sandro replied, his voice slightly raspy. "And trusting that Henry isn't going to accidentally can't catch me and cause me to snap my spine in half."
Big E let out a booming laugh that seemed to rattle the lockers. "Man, you made the World's Strongest Man look like a cruiserweight! But seriously, man... incredible work last night. You carried that entire main event on your back. Literally."
Dolph Ziggler nodded in agreement from his spot on the couch, tossing a bottle of water from hand to hand. "You solidified it, man. Nobody in the locker room can say a damn word about you not paying your dues or not taking the bumps. You went out there and took the hardest hits of the night. You proved why you hold the gold."
"We all hold the gold," Sandro corrected gently, looking around the room at his faction. "AJ an Alexa just exchanged the Divas title keeping in at our side. Ryback, E, Wade, Drew, Kofi... you all handled your business. This faction is impenetrable because we work together and doesn't back down when the boss wanted to change the story or pitch weird ideas."
The EMT finished shining the light in Sandro's eyes and stepped back, making a few notes on his clipboard.
"Alright, Sandro," the doctor said, offering a reassuring nod. "No signs of concussion. Your vitals are stable. The ribs are severely bruised, but nothing is fractured or broken. You're going to be incredibly sore for the next week, so I recommend heavy icing and anti inflammatories. You are medically cleared to go out there and do your promo segment tonight, but absolutely no physical altercations. Do you understand me? If anyone touches you, you go down and you stay down. We cannot risk exacerbating the rib trauma before Saturday."
"Understood, Doc," Sandro said, nodding his head. "Just talking tonight. No fighting."
"Good. See you at Tribute to the Troops," the doctor said, packing up his medical bag and exiting the locker room with his team.
The moment the heavy door clicked shut, the professional barrier vanished entirely.
AJ, Nikki, and Alexa immediately closed the distance. AJ sat on Sandro's left, gently resting her hand on his thigh, being incredibly careful not to bump his taped ribs. Nikki sat on his right, leaning her head softly against his shoulder. Alexa stood behind him, gently massaging his neck and shoulders, working out the deep knots of tension left over from the car crash of a match.
"You scared the life out of us," AJ murmured softly, her usual chaotic energy replaced by genuine vulnerability. "When you went through that table..."
"I'm sturdy," Sandro whispered, repeating his favorite mantra, leaning his head back into Alexa's hands and closing his eyes. "I promised you all I that I would be okay. I wasn't going to let myself do something that will cause my big injury."
"Well, you definitely proved your point," Nikki said, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "But you're going to take it easy this week. No gym. No heavy lifting. You let us take care of you until Saturday."
Sandro opened one eye, looking at the boys across the room. "You hear that? I'm officially on bed rest."
"Enjoy it while it lasts, boss," Kofi Kingston laughed, adjusting his Intercontinental Championship over his shoulder. "Because come Saturday, you and Punk are going to need to make your match spectacular. And we all know that the fans isn't going to care about your bruised ribs."
"We have to try," Sandro said, his voice dropping, the persona of the God King slowly bleeding back into his demeanor as the time for the broadcast approached. He sat up a little straighter, ignoring the sting in his torso. "The fans are going to be much more hard to satisfy after last night. But on Christmas Eve, I'm going to give the WWE Universe exactly what they want. I'm going to give them a Triple Crown."
Paul Heyman suddenly burst through the locker room doors, a manic, gleeful smile plastered across his face, his ever present phone clutched in his hand. He was already fully in character, vibrating with nervous, excited energy.
"Sandro!" Heyman announced grandly, rubbing his hands together. "The arena is absolutely electric! The ratings for the opening hour are already projecting to be the highest of the year! Vince is happy in his office, Punk is already ready in the hallways, and the fans are practically begging for you to grace them with your presence!"
Sandro stood up slowly, suppressing a wince. He grabbed a fresh, custom tailored black suit from his garment bag.
"Give me five minutes to get dressed, Paul," Sandro said, his eyes hardening with focus. "Then, we go out there and we address our kingdom. It's time to officially go on with ourt next story."
The boys of the Undisputed System stood up, grabbing their respective titles, their faces shifting from relaxed friends back to cold, calculating enforcers.
The girls checked their makeup, slipping seamlessly back into their roles as the untouchable queens of the court. The brief moment of humanity was over. The curtain was going up, and the God King was ready to take his stage.
Meanwhile, inside the Toyota Center, the live broadcast of Monday Night RAW officially began.
BOOM! The opening pyrotechnics exploded with a deafening roar, shooting massive pillars of fire into the Texas sky. The Houston crowd erupted into a massive cheer, their energy completely unphased by the grueling, three hour pay per view they had witnessed in the exact same building just twenty four hours prior.
The camera swept dynamically across the sea of fans, capturing an ocean of signs and flashing lights before panning down to the ringside commentary table.
Michael Cole, Jerry "The King" Lawler, and JBL sat shoulder to shoulder, ready to guide the WWE Universe through the fallout.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen!" Cole shouted, fighting to be heard over the deafening hum of the arena. "We are live from a sold out Toyota Center in Houston, Texas, for Monday Night RAW! And what a night it is going to be!"
"You said it, Michael!" Lawler agreed, shaking his head in disbelief. "We are still trying to process the absolute carnage we witnessed last night at TLC! The main event... I don't think I have ever seen a Fatal Six Way match quite like that. The brutality was off the charts!"
"It was barbaric, King," Cole added, his tone shifting to one of deep disgust. "Sandro Zhang put absolutely everything on the line. He defended both the United States and WWE Championships against five of the most dangerous men in this company. If he lost, he lost his empire. If he won... he got his shot at CM Punk. And unfortunately for the WWE Universe, Sandro Zhang survived."
"Unfortunately?!" JBL roared, slamming his hand on the desk, his face instantly turning red with indignation. "Watch your mouth, Cole! It wasn't unfortunate, it was inevitable! What happened last night at TLC was already destined! It is a written fact! You two can sit here and cry all you want, but Sandro Zhang is going to Tribute to the Troops this Saturday to bring the World Heavyweight Championship back to the Undisputed System!"
"John, he shouldn't even be walking right now!" Lawler argued. "He was pushed off a fifteen foot ladder through our announce desk!"
"He is the God King, King!" JBL bellowed, leaning over the desk. "He doesn't abide by the laws of gravity or medicine! He is going to take that title because that stupid, sick freak Chris Jericho failed to bring it back to the family! And then that same sick freak had the audacity to come back last night, wearing black and white paint on his face like a lunatic, trying to ruin the God King's chance at history!"
"Chris Jericho was seeking justice!" Cole fired back.
"He was seeking a payday!" JBL scoffed. "Thank the heavens the God King did not let some sick freak sabotage his destiny! Sandro took out Edge, he took out Kane, he took out Mark Henry, he took out Sheamus, and he executed Jericho again! It was a masterpiece!"
As the commentary team fiercely debated the ethical and physical realities of the main event, the arena suddenly plunged into total darkness.
The terrifying, distorted screech of "SHOCK THE SYSTEM" ripped through the PA system. The Houston crowd immediately unleashed a visceral, guttural roar of pure hatred. The industrial noise seamlessly transitioned into the heavy, methodical beat of the Undisputed System's entrance theme.
The lights flooded the entrance stage in a deep, opulent gold.
Sandro Zhang stepped out first.
He looked immaculate. The bruises and stitches were entirely hidden beneath a bespoke, fancy black suit with subtle gold pinstripes. He was leaning fully into the gimmick he had debuted the night prior, resting upon his head was the glittering black gold crown, draped heavily over his shoulders was the massive fur coat, and clutched in his right hand was the ornate black and gold scepter.
Behind him, walking in perfect, synchronized formation, came his empire.
His girls walked directly behind him. AJ Lee proudly held her newly won Divas Championship. Nikki Bella carried the WWE Championship, and Alexa Bliss carried the United States Championship, presenting the gold like royal attendants.
Behind the queens walked Paul Heyman, clutching his manila folder and a microphone.
And forming an impenetrable wall of muscle at the rear were the boys: Big E and Ryback with their World Tag Team Titles, Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre with their WWE Tag Team Titles, Kofi Kingston with his Intercontinental Title, Dolph Ziggler with his NXT Title, and Xavier Woods.
It was a staggering, overwhelming visual display of absolute power.
Sandro stopped at the top of the ramp. He looked around the sold out Toyota Center, his expression locked in a cold, disdainful sneer. He slowly raised the black scepter, pointing it toward the sky. As he spread his arms wide, a massive wall of golden pyrotechnics shot up from the stage behind him.
"Look at the absolute arrogance," Cole muttered in disgust as the pyrotechnics faded. "He walks out here treating Monday Night RAW like his own personal kingdom."
"It IS his kingdom, Michael!" JBL cheered, giving a standing ovation from the desk. "Bow down! Acknowledge your ruler!"
Under Sandro's lead, the faction began a slow, deliberate walk down the long ramp. The fans booed mercilessly, throwing thumbs down gestures and screaming insults, but the System didn't flinch. They entered the ring, fanning out with practiced precision. Sandro stood dead center, striking a regal pose, leaning on his scepter while the girls held his titles high.
He held the pose for a long, agonizing minute, letting the heat wash over him. Then, without looking, he simply snapped his fingers and pointed the scepter at Paul Heyman.
Heyman immediately scurried forward. He cleared his throat, raising the microphone to his lips, his eyes shining with that familiar, manic devotion.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Heyman began, his voice dripping with condescension, instantly drawing a fresh wave of boos. "My name is Paul Heyman. And I am the Speaker. I am the holy messenger of your God King of WWE, Sandro Zhang! And I am the special advisor to the most dominant family in the history of this entire business... the Undisputed System!"
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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, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, PWI Top 500 (No.1) - 2010, & 1x KOTR (2010)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0