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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
"The visual of Sandro sitting in the corner, holding court, while Big E and Ryback dismantled Punk... it was chilling. It was Mafia level boss energy. The Undisputed System is printing money, and if you can't see the entertainment value in a Triple Crown tyrant, you don't understand professional wrestling!"
WrestleZone Editorial (Senior Writer):
"The Era of the God King: Why WWE Needs a Tyrant. ... Fans are complaining about a monopoly, but wrestling history proves that the money is in the chase. By allowing Sandro Zhang to capture the World Heavyweight Championship, WWE has established an insurmountable mountain. The storytelling potential is limitless."
"You have the internal dynamics of the Undisputed System, the desperate alliances that will form in the locker room to stop them, and the sheer box office appeal of seeing Sandro draped in gold. The post match beatdown wasn't a burial of CM Punk, it was the martyrdom of him. Punk will return, and when he does, the pop will shatter glass. Tonight was a masterpiece of villainous booking."
However, not everyone in the wrestling media was thrilled with the outcome. A highly vocal, deeply analytical contingent of journalists and traditionalist podcasters viewed the Triple Crown victory as a catastrophic mistake that would irreparably damage the company's ecosystem.
The Elite Wrestling Torch (Chief Editor):
"Tonight at Tribute to the Troops, WWE painted themselves into a corner they cannot escape from. The match between Sandro and Punk was fantastic, arguably the Match of the Year, but the finish is a structural disaster. By putting the WWE Championship, the United States Championship, and now the World Heavyweight Championship on Sandro Zhang, WWE has effectively castrated their entire roster."
"What is the point of Monday Night RAW or Friday Night SmackDown if the top prize is entirely inaccessible? The mid card is dead. Promising talents have nothing to feud over. Furthermore, the reliance on the Undisputed System's interference has become a crutch. Yes, Sandro is a phenomenal athlete, but how many times can we watch Paul Heyman distract the referee while six guys jump the babyface? It's the Reign of Terror all over again, but amplified to an absurd degree. They didn't make history tonight, they made a monopoly that will suffocate their own television ratings within three months."
"The Mat Classic" Podcast (Host: Veteran Broadcaster Dave "The Truth" Keller):
"I am absolutely sickened by what I saw at the end of that broadcast. Let's separate the in ring work from the booking. Sandro and Punk worked their tails off. The Springboard Backflip Cutter, what they're calling the Heavensfall, is an incredibly dangerous, beautiful maneuver. But the post match angle? Completely distasteful. CM Punk is one of the most over guys in the company."
"He just gave Sandro the match of his career, and you reward him by having four massive guys hit their finishers on him, beat him with steel chairs, and humiliate him on Christmas Eve? That isn't building heat, that's burying a top star because of corporate politics. Sandro Zhang is a billionaire's son playing professional wrestler, and tonight, Vince McMahon handed him the keys to the entire kingdom. It's a sad day for anyone who appreciates competitive parity in sports entertainment."
Ring Ropes Analysis (Featured Columnist):
"The Illusion of the God King. ... The visual of Sandro Zhang holding three titles while his girlfriends kiss his cheeks is certainly striking, designed specifically to generate cheap heat from the internet. But beneath the surface, the cracks are showing. WWE has essentially sacrificed the credibility of its entire locker room to build up one man."
"What happens if Sandro gets injured? The company has no backup plan because they have systematically fed every single viable contender to the Undisputed System. They sacrificed many top superstars, including Chris Jericho, then Edge, then Sheamus, and tonight, they sacrificed CM Punk. The Triple Crown isn't a crown, it's a tombstone for the rest of the roster."
As the clock struck midnight, officially transitioning the world into Christmas Day, the internet fires showed absolutely no signs of burning out. The hashtags remained glued to the top of the trending charts.
Video clips of Sandro catching CM Punk's GTS attempt and turning it into a Tiger Suplex went viral across social media platforms, racking up millions of views in mere hours. Screenshots of the final frame, Sandro Zhang pointing his black scepter like a ruthless emperor while CM Punk lay broken at his feet, became instantly iconic.
Whether they supported the tyrannical reign or fiercely opposed the monopolization of the championships, every single fan, journalist, and wrestler was forced to admit one undeniable truth: the landscape of professional wrestling had fundamentally and irreversibly changed.
The era of the traveling champion, the era of competitive parity, and the era of the rebel had all been violently brought to a close.
Sandro Zhang had delivered on his terrifying promise. He had survived the Chairman of the Board. He had survived the Fatal Six Way. He had survived the Voice of the Voiceless. He had taken the gold, and he had claimed the absolute, undisputed throne.
As fans finally began to log off and go to sleep on Christmas Eve, they did so knowing that when they woke up, they would be living in a brand new wrestling universe.
As the digital fires raged across Twitter and the various wrestling forums, painting a picture of a fandom divided between awe and utter disgust, the reality behind the curtain at Fort Hood was remarkably different.
The cameras were off. The stadium lights were dimming. The soldiers were slowly filing out of the temporary grandstands, chattering excitedly about the history they had just witnessed.
Deep within the bowels of the makeshift arena, inside the sprawling, heavily secured locker room assigned to the Undisputed System, the tension of the broadcast had entirely evaporated. The God King, the arrogant Queens, the sinister Speaker, and the merciless enforcers had all clocked out. The characters were hung up with the damp ring gear.
The room was filled with the sound of genuine, raucous celebration.
Sandro sat on a folding chair in the center of the room, still covered in sweat and a thin layer of Texas dust. He was nursing a fresh bag of ice against his bruised ribs, but a massive, exhausted, entirely human smile stretched across his face.
POP!
Big E unleashed a thunderous, booming laugh as he expertly popped the cork off a massive bottle of premium champagne. The bubbly liquid sprayed into the air, raining down on Wade Barrett, who cursed good naturedly in his thick English accent while trying to shield his tailored suit.
Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods were practically dancing in the corner, holding plastic red solo cups, while Ryback and Drew McIntyre clinked bottles of imported beer together.
Paul Heyman, his face flushed red and his tie completely undone, was practically smiling with genuine pride. He wasn't playing the sycophant right now, he was a veteran wrestling mind who had just watched Sandro pull off a masterpiece.
AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss were gathered around Sandro, their faces wiped clean of the heavy stage makeup. They weren't acting like stoic, untouchable queens.
They were beaming with pride. AJ gently traced the gold plating of the World Heavyweight Championship resting on the table next to Sandro, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You actually did it," Nikki said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his sweaty temple, completely uncaring of the grime. "First ever Triple Crown."
"We did it," Sandro corrected, his voice raspy from the physical toll of the match. He raised his red solo cup, looking around the room at his faction. "Every single one of you played your part perfectly tonight. That match with Punk... it wouldn't have worked without the constant threat you all provided on the outside. To the Undisputed System."
"To the Undisputed System!" the room roared in unison, raising their cups and bottles.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy knock echoed against the reinforced metal door of their locker room.
The laughter died down slightly. The boys exchanged curious glances. They weren't expecting company.
"I got it," Big E said, setting down his champagne bottle. He walked over and pulled the heavy door open.
Big E's eyes went wide, and a massive, genuine smile broke across his face. He immediately took a large step backward, opening the door as wide as it would go to allow the visitors inside.
Standing in the hallway was practically the entire WWE locker room.
It wasn't an angry mob looking for retribution for the on screen tyranny. It was a procession of absolute respect.
Leading the massive group were the undisputed titans of the industry. The Undertaker, dressed in plain street clothes, his face solemn but respectful. Triple H and Shawn Michaels, looking like two proud veterans.
Kane with his face still red from the Heavensfall bump he took on Sunday. John Cena and Randy Orton stood shoulder to shoulder, putting their on screen character rivalries aside for the moment. Behind them stood dozens of superstars, from the mid card to the Divas division.
"Come on in, guys," Big E rumbled happily, gesturing toward the center of the room.
The locker room flooded in. The atmosphere instantly shifted from a private faction celebration to a massive, industry wide acknowledgment of greatness.
The Undertaker was the first to approach Sandro. The Deadman extended a massive, taped hand. Sandro stood up, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and shook it firmly.
"Hell of a match out there, kid," The Undertaker rumbled, his voice low and commanding. "You carried that main event like a true champion. You earned that gold tonight."
"Thank you, sir," Sandro replied respectfully, deeply humbled by the praise from the locker room leader.
John Cena stepped up next, offering his signature firm handshake and a pat on the back. "You set the bar tonight, Sandro. You and Punk tore the house down. It's going to be a nightmare trying to follow that."
Randy Orton offered a rare, genuine smirk. "Just don't get too comfortable with all that jewelry around your waist. Some of us still want a piece."
"Line starts at the back, Randy," Sandro chuckled, the mutual respect evident.
For the next thirty minutes, Sandro stood in the center of the room, shaking hands, accepting hugs, and receiving congratulations from men and women who, on television, despised his very existence.
He spoke with Edge about the brutal Edgecution spot on the chair, making sure the veteran's neck was okay. He shared a quiet, respectful nod with CM Punk, who was holding an ice pack to the back of his head but offered a slight smirk of acknowledgment for a battle well fought.
It took far longer to handle the endless stream of congratulations than the actual match with Punk had taken. But Sandro didn't mind in the slightest. This wasn't just about stroking his ego, this was tangible, undeniable proof that his status within the sacred walls of the WWE locker room was skyrocketing.
He wasn't just the billionaire's son playing wrestler, he was a respected, trusted worker who could safely put on five star classics with the best in the world.
As the line of well wishers finally began to thin out, the atmosphere loosened up again.
Triple H and Shawn Michaels, ever the locker room instigators, gravitated toward their old D-Generation X stablemates, Road Dogg, Billy Gunn, and X-Pac, who had also come in to pay their respects.
"You know," Triple H announced loudly, leaning against a row of lockers, a mischievous glint in his eye. "When I won my first World Championship, it was customary for the new champ to buy out the bar. I think making history as the first Triple Crown Champion carries a slightly heavier tab."
Shawn Michaels nodded vigorously, pointing a finger at Sandro. "Hunter's absolutely right! I think the kid owes the entire locker room a proper celebration! I'm talking top shelf drinks, premium catering, the whole nine yards!"
The entire locker room erupted into loud cheers and laughter, banging on lockers and chanting for a free meal.
Sandro shook his head, chuckling at the antics of the legendary veterans. He held up his hands in surrender.
"Alright, alright!" Sandro laughed, his voice cutting through the noise. "You win! Tomorrow night, before we hit the road, the tab is entirely on me. I'll get the best catering in Texas brought in. Steaks, top shelf champagne, the good beer, whatever you want. It's on Nexum Core!"
A massive, deafening cheer went up from the exhausted wrestlers, thrilled at the prospect of a free, high end meal after a grueling week of television and pay per views.
However, the warm, jovial atmosphere chilled slightly as the final group of people entered the locker room.
Vince McMahon walked through the door, flanked by his daughter Stephanie, Bruce Prichard, Michael Hayes, John Laurinaitis, and a couple of other high ranking executives who formed Vince's untouchable inner circle.
These were the men who controlled the WWE's production narratives, the men who usually dictated every single breath a superstar took on camera.
The locker room quieted down, parting like the Red Sea to let the Chairman through.
Vince extended his hand to Sandro. His smile was wide, but the eyes above it were incredibly cold and calculating.
"Congratulations, Sandro," Vince said, his voice booming artificially. "You made history tonight. Excellent piece of business."
"Thank you, Vince," Sandro replied smoothly, returning the firm handshake, fully aware of the political chess game being played.
Stephanie, Bruce, and the others offered their own congratulations. Some felt genuine, recognizing the sheer box office draw Sandro had become. Others felt incredibly fake, the thinly veiled resentment of executives who realized they were looking at a superstar they could not entirely control.
Sandro didn't care. He smiled politely and accepted the plastic praise. He knew the truth. He and the Undisputed System were the only entities in the entire company that operated entirely outside the grasp of this "core team."
Because of his family's massive financial leverage and his undeniable leverage, Vince's creative team could not force their terrible ideas, their childish comedy segments, or their 50/50 booking philosophies onto the Undisputed System. Sandro controlled his own narrative, and the executives hated him for it.
After a few minutes of tense pleasantries, Vince and his team exited, and the locker room slowly emptied out, leaving the Undisputed System to finally pack their bags in peace.
The days following Tribute to the Troops were completely unprecedented in modern WWE history.
For the first time since the inception of the flagship programs, Sandro Zhang had effectively forced Vince McMahon's hand. Utilizing the immense financial backing and boardroom pressure of his father, Jack Zhang, Sandro demanded that the WWE roster be given a true holiday break.
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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, & 1x World Heavyweight 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