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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"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!"
The crowd booed louder, but Heyman simply smiled, soaking it in.
"Last night," Heyman continued, his voice rising in volume, "Vince McMahon attempted to execute a corporate assassination. The Chairman of the Board looked at the perfection of the Undisputed System, and he was terrified! So, he locked your God King inside a ring surrounded by steel, wood, and five of the most dangerous, homicidal maniacs he could find!"
Heyman began to pace, gesturing wildly with his free hand.
"Vince McMahon threw a monster from hell at him! He threw the World's Strongest Man at him! He threw the Celtic Warrior, the Ultimate Opportunist, and a bitter, painted, jealous ex employee named Chris Jericho at him! They dropped him fifteen feet through an announce table! They tried to break his body!"
Heyman stopped dead in his tracks, turning to point directly at Sandro, who stood perfectly still, looking bored.
"But what Vince McMahon and all of you fail to realize... is that you cannot break what is divine!" Heyman roared, the microphone peaking. "The God King rose from the ashes! He brought the heavens crashing down upon their heads! He scaled that mountain, and he reclaimed his holy property!"
"Oh, give me a break," Lawler groaned over the headset. "He's acting like Sandro parted the Red Sea."
"He did something better, King!" JBL argued. "He survived a Fatal Six Way TLC!"
"And because he survived," Heyman said, his voice dropping into a sinister, conspiratorial whisper, leaning over the top rope toward the hard camera. "Because he conquered the insurmountable odds... he has punched his ticket to destiny. This Saturday. Christmas Eve. Tribute to the Troops."
Heyman held up the manila folder, tapping it against the microphone.
"The contract is signed. The match is official. Sandro Zhang will challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship."
The crowd buzzed at the mention of the title.
Heyman chuckled, a dry, mocking sound. "Which brings me to the man currently holding that championship hostage. CM Punk."
Heyman spat the name out like a curse word.
"CM Punk," Heyman sneered, shaking his head. "The so called 'Voice of the Voiceless.' The leader of the Straight Edge Society. You walk around this company with that championship strapped around your waist, acting like a martyr. You claim to be the best in the world. You claim to be unafraid."
Heyman stepped closer to the camera, his eyes narrowing into slits.
"You are a fraud, Mr. Punk. You are a weak, hypocritical little man hiding behind a cult of personality that you stole from the true God of this industry. You don't drink? You don't smoke? You don't do drugs? Congratulations. Your liver is healthy. But your mind... your mind is weak!"
The fans began to loudly chant "CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK!" trying to drown Heyman out.
"Chant his name all you want!" Heyman yelled over the crowd, his face turning red. "It won't save him! CM Punk is a false prophet! He preaches discipline, but he lacks the ruthless aggression required to sit at the table of Gods! He is a mortal man trying to hold onto a prize that he knows, deep down in his straight edge soul, belongs to the Undisputed System!"
Heyman turned back to Sandro, bowing deeply.
"Look at this man, Punk!" Heyman screamed, gesturing wildly to the God King. "Look at the perfection! Look at the golds! Look at the unyielding power of the Undisputed System! You think you can stand across the ring from him this Saturday and survive? You think you can outwrestle him? You think you can outsmart him?"
Heyman laughed maniacally.
"You are going to walk into Tribute to the Troops as a champion, but you are going to be carried out as a casualty! The God King is going to strip you of that title. He is going to break your Straight Edge Society. He is going to expose you to the world as the inferior, fragile little bitch that you truly are!"
"This is crossing the line!" Lawler said, shaking his head. "Punk is a fighting champion! He won't be intimidated by Heyman's cheap insults!"
"They aren't insults, King, they are facts!" JBL argued. "Punk is a peasant holding a title that belongs to the monarchy!"
Heyman raised the microphone high into the air, his voice echoing through the arena with absolute, terrifying certainty.
"It is not a prediction, CM Punk! It is a destined fact! This Saturday, Sandro Zhang will become the first ever Triple Crown Champion in the history of sports entertainment! And you... you will be nothing more than a footnote in his gospel!"
Heyman dramatically dropped the microphone. It hit the canvas with a loud thud.
The Undisputed System theme song immediately blared back to life, drowning out the furious boos of the Houston crowd. Sandro Zhang didn't say a single word. He simply raised his black scepter into the air, the king of a golden empire, his cold eyes looking right through the camera lens, sending a terrifying message to CM Punk.
"Strong words from Paul Heyman," Cole said, his voice grave. "He just painted CM Punk as a weak, fragile fraud. But we all know CM Punk is one of the most dangerous strikers and submission specialists in the world. He is not going to take these insults lying down."
"He doesn't have a choice, Michael!" JBL bellowed, standing up and applauding the ring. "The truth hurts! CM Punk is a false idol! The God King is coming to collect his final piece of gold, and there is absolutely nothing the Voice of the Voiceless can do to stop the inevitable!"
"We will find out this Saturday," Lawler concluded grimly. "Tribute to the Troops. The God King versus the Straight Edge Savior. The entire landscape of WWE hangs in the balance."
Satisfied that their message had been delivered, Sandro slowly lowered his scepter. He turned his back to the hard camera, giving a subtle nod to his faction. It was time to leave. The queens, AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss, fell into step behind him, followed closely by the towering wall of muscle that comprised the rest of the Undisputed System.
They began to march toward the ropes, entirely dismissive of the furious boos raining down upon them from the Houston crowd.
But just as Sandro reached his hand out to grasp the top rope, the arena speakers emitted a sharp, ear piercing screech of static.
The Undisputed System's music was abruptly cut off.
A split second later, the heavy, blistering, aggressive guitar riff of "This Fire Burns" tore through the PA system.
The reaction was instantaneous and seismic. The roof of the Toyota Center nearly blew off as eighteen thousand fans leaped to their feet, unleashing a roar of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
"Oh my! Listen to this place!" Cole shouted, his voice cracking with genuine, pleasant surprise. "The Voice of the Voiceless is here!"
"I love it!" Lawler cheered, clapping his hands together. "Paul Heyman wants to run his mouth and insult the World Heavyweight Champion? Well, the champion is here to answer the door!"
"This is an outrage!" JBL bellowed, his face instantly turning a violent shade of crimson. He ripped his Stetson off his head, slamming it onto the desk. "Turn that music off right now! This is a royal procession! CM Punk has absolutely no right to interrupt the God King's sacred time!"
Inside the ring, the Undisputed System stopped dead in their tracks. The arrogant, self satisfied smirks melted entirely off their faces, replaced by expressions of pure, unadulterated venom. Sandro Zhang slowly turned back around, his eyes narrowing into cold, dangerous slits.
He planted his scepter onto the canvas, stepping back to the dead center of the ring. His faction immediately flanked him, adopting aggressive fighting stances, ready to tear apart anyone who dared step through the ropes.
Out onto the entrance stage walked CM Punk.
He didn't rush. He walked with an air of absolute, unbothered confidence. The World Heavyweight Championship, the Big Gold Belt, was secured tightly around his waist, gleaming under the arena lights.
He was not alone. Flanking him on his left was the massive, tattooed enforcer, Luke Gallows, and on his right was the grim, masked vigilante, Joey Mercury. The Straight Edge Society had arrived.
Punk stopped at the top of the ramp, crossing his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he looked down at the ring filled with black and gold. He raised a microphone to his lips.
"Turn the music off," Punk demanded, his voice echoing sharply.
The music died. The silence was immediately filled by a deafening, unified chant from the Houston crowd.
"CM PUNK! CM PUNK! CM PUNK!"
Punk closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the adulation, before slowly opening them and locking his gaze directly onto Sandro.
"I was sitting in the back," Punk began, his voice dripping with casual disdain as he slowly started walking down the ramp, his disciples walking a step behind him. "I was lacing up my boots, getting ready to defend my championship this Saturday, when I heard the unmistakable sound of a walrus squealing through the arena monitors."
The crowd erupted into laughter. Inside the ring, Paul Heyman's face turned bright red, his jaw dropping in offense.
"I listened to you, Paul," Punk continued, not breaking eye contact with Sandro. "And I listened to you talk about Vince McMahon. And you know what? I actually agree with you. Vince McMahon is terrified. But he isn't terrified of your 'perfection.' Vince McMahon is terrified because he has a weak, fragile, spineless back."
Punk stopped halfway down the ramp.
"Vince McMahon let you hold this company hostage because he doesn't have the grapefruits to do what actually needs to be done," Punk spat. "Instead of firing you, instead of stripping you of those titles, what does the Chairman do? He plays petty backstage politics. He tries to ruin you in the tabloids, no matter how hard he tries to deny it. We all know it, Sandro. Don't pretend we don't. Vince leaked your little polyamorous relationship to the paparazzi. He tried to get the public to cancel you over it. It's perfectly legal, it's perfectly consensual, and frankly, I don't care who you share a bed with. But Vince was too much of a coward to deal with you like a man, so he tried to use middle class morality to run you out of town."
"He's airing dirty laundry!" Cole gasped. "Punk is dropping absolute truth bombs right now!"
"He is spreading lies and slander!" JBL screamed, practically hyperventilating. "Cut his microphone!"
"But here's the difference between me and Vince McMahon," Punk said, pointing a taped finger directly at the God King. "I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of your daddy's money. And I am certainly not afraid of a spoiled, entitled little rich kid playing dress up with a fake crown and a plastic scepter, suffering from an egomaniac God complex that makes Vince McMahon look like a humble, charitable monk!"
The Toyota Center exploded. Punk was holding nothing back.
"You call yourself a God?" Punk scoffed, shaking his head. "Gods don't need twelve people to fight their battles for them. Look at this absolute clown car of lackeys you surround yourself with. It's pathetic."
Punk gestured to the boys of the Undisputed System. "You've got Big E and Ryback. Two meatheads who couldn't spell 'wrestling psychology' if you spotted them the vowels. You've got Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre, two underachievers who realized they couldn't cut it on their own, so they signed up to be your personal security guards. You've got Kofi Kingston, a man who traded in his integrity and his soul just to hold a midcard belt. You've got Dolph Ziggler, a show off who hasn't shown us a damn thing. And you've got Xavier Woods... the rookie who traded his dignity for a matching black suit."
Wade and Drew lunged forward, furious, but Sandro immediately held up his scepter, barring their path. Sandro's face remained a mask of cold stone, but the vein pulsing in his temple betrayed his fury.
Punk wasn't done. He turned his attention to the girls.
"And then we have the 'Queens,'" Punk sneered, a look of genuine disgust on his face. "Alexa Bliss, Nikki Bella, and AJ Lee. AJ... I used to respect you. I used to think you were a rebel. But look at you now. Look at all three of you. You aren't queens. You're accessories. You are brainwashed, shiny little pieces of arm candy for a guy who is so desperately insecure that he needs three women standing behind him just to stroke his massive... ego."
The crowd let out a massive "OOOOOHHHH!" at the implication. Alexa Bliss looked ready to jump over the ropes and tear Punk's eyes out. Nikki Bella was sneering, shouting unheard insults, while AJ Lee's eyes burned with a dark, homicidal rage.
"This is despicable!" JBL yelled, throwing his arms up. "He is insulting the honor of the queens! He is insulting the entire royal court! Sandro should have him executed right here on the ramp!"
"Punk is standing up against the injustice!" Lawler cheered. "He is the only man in this company with the guts to look Sandro Zhang in the eye and tell him exactly what he is!"
Punk reached the bottom of the ramp, stepping up onto the steel ring steps, leaning over the top rope to look Sandro dead in the eyes.
"You want my World Heavyweight Championship this Saturday?" Punk challenged, tapping the gold plate around his waist. "You think you can just snap your fingers and take it? I am the Voice of the Voiceless. I stand for the people in the back who are sick to their stomachs watching you hijack this industry. I am the Straight Edge Savior, and I do not bow to false idols. So bring your crown. Bring your scepter. Bring your little army of sycophants. Because on Christmas Eve, I am going to put you to sleep, and I am going to prove that your God King is nothing but a fragile, bleeding mortal!"
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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