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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
They loved to hate him, and they poured every ounce of their vocal energy into letting him know. The industrial noise transitioned seamlessly into the gritty, heavy guitar riff of the Undisputed System's theme song. The entrance stage was suddenly flooded in deep, opulent, blinding golden light.
And out walked the God King.
The visual was absolutely staggering. Sandro Zhang looked less like a professional wrestler and more like a conquering Roman emperor. He was dressed in a completely immaculate, bespoke black suit with thin, elegant gold pinstripes.
Draped heavily over his broad shoulders was the massive, luxurious fur coat, and resting perfectly upon his head was the intricately designed black and gold crown.
But it was the gold he carried that truly silenced the breath of the commentators.
Strapped securely around his waist was the iconic Big Gold Belt, the World Heavyweight Championship he had brutally taken from CM Punk on Christmas Eve. Resting casually on his right shoulder was the WWE Championship, and draped over his left shoulder was the United States Championship. Three of the most prestigious prizes in the entire industry, resting on the body of a single, untouchable twenty one year old.
He did not walk alone.
Following closely behind him, walking with synchronized, arrogant perfection, were the queens of his faction. AJ Lee smirked at the crowd, holding her Divas Championship high. Beside her walked Alexa Bliss and Nikki Bella, exuding the haughty confidence of untouchable royalty.
Next came Paul Heyman, clutching a live microphone in his hand, a sickeningly proud, sycophantic smile stretching from ear to ear.
And finally, forming a massive, terrifying wall of muscle at the rear, came the rest of the Undisputed System. 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 and Xavier Woods walked near the back. Ziggler was doing his best to look confident, but a keen observer could see the faint sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead.
Sandro stopped at the absolute edge of the entrance stage. He looked around the World's Most Famous Arena, his dark, calculating eyes scanning the sea of fans. The booing was deafening, a wall of pure sound, but Sandro clearly thrived on it. It was the soundtrack of his absolute dominance.
Slowly, deliberately, Sandro reached up with his hands and gripped the WWE and United States Championships resting on his shoulders. He hoisted both massive belts high into the air, holding them above his crowned head while the World Heavyweight Championship gleamed around his waist.
BOOM!
A massive, towering wall of golden pyrotechnics erupted from the stage behind him, bathing the entire faction in a brilliant shower of sparks.
Sandro lowered the belts and began his slow, methodical march down the ramp.
Inside the ring, veteran announcer Justin Roberts raised his microphone, his voice echoing through the hostility.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Roberts bellowed, the gravity of the introduction heavy in his chest. "Please welcome... the NEW World Heavyweight Champion... the United States Champion... and the WWE Champion... the God King of WWE... SANDRO ZHANGGGG!!!"
The boos somehow intensified, echoing off the historic ceiling of MSG.
At the commentary desk, JBL was practically having a religious experience.
"Look at him! Just look at him!" JBL screamed, standing up and applauding wildly. "We are witnessing history! The greatest champion to ever walk the face of God's green earth! He has conquered the entire industry! All hail the God King! All hail the Triple Crown!"
Cole and Lawler remained seated, exchanging incredibly nervous glances. They were professional broadcasters, but they were also employees in a company currently being held hostage by a tyrant.
"It's... it's a visual I never thought I would see in my lifetime, John," Cole admitted, his voice hushed, actively trying to carefully choose his words to avoid drawing Sandro's ire. "One man, holding the three top prizes in this company. He has amassed a level of power that is frankly terrifying. He ended CM Punk's rebellion in one night."
"He didn't just end it, Michael, he crushed it into dust!" JBL gloated.
"I have to admit, I'm afraid to even speak his name with a negative tone," Lawler whispered into his headset, looking nervously toward the ramp as Sandro approached. "We saw what he ordered his men to do to Punk. We saw what he did to Jericho. Sandro Zhang is not just a champion, he's a dictator. And no one in this company is safe from retribution."
Sandro reached the bottom of the ramp. He slowly walked up the steel steps, wiping his expensive leather shoes on the ring apron, and stepped through the ropes. The rest of the Undisputed System flooded into the ring behind him, forming an impenetrable circle of protection.
Sandro stood dead center, adjusting the fur coat, his three championships glinting under the arena lights. He turned to Paul Heyman, giving the slightest, almost imperceptible nod.
Heyman's eyes lit up. He stepped forward, raising the microphone to his lips, his voice trembling with manic, theatrical ecstasy.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Heyman began, pausing to let the vitriolic boos wash over him. "My name is Paul Heyman. And I have the distinct honor, the profound privilege, of serving as the Speaker for the most dominant entity in the history of sports entertainment."
Heyman turned and bowed deeply toward Sandro.
"I am the holy messenger for your God King! I stand before the new World Heavyweight Champion! The one and only Triple Title Champion in the history of the WWE, and the history of this entire industry... your God King, Sandro Zhang!"
The crowd booed viciously, chanting "YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!" at deafening volumes. Sandro didn't even blink. He simply looked out at the crowd with an expression of utter, bored superiority.
"You can boo all you want!" Heyman laughed, pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly. "You can scream, you can cry, you can post your little complaints on the internet! But your tears will not change reality! The reality is that CM Punk promised you a revolution. CM Punk promised you that he would slay the dragon. And what happened?!"
Heyman stopped, pointing a finger directly into the hard camera.
"The God King took the Voice of the Voiceless, and he silenced him permanently! He broke his body! He broke his spirit! He took the World Heavyweight Championship from his waist and he placed it exactly where it belongs, around the waist of the true ruler of this universe!"
Heyman began to sweat, working himself up into a frenzy.
"Sandro Zhang has cemented a dominant reign that has never been seen before, and will never be seen again! He is not just dominating the WWE, he is dominating the global wrestling industry! He has conquered the mountains, he has shattered the ceilings, and he stands alone at the absolute pinnacle of human evolution!"
Heyman took a deep breath, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief. The glorious, triumphant portion of his promo was over. Now, he had to navigate a political minefield.
Heyman slowly turned, his eyes drifting away from Sandro and landing on the back of the group. He looked at Dolph Ziggler. Ziggler swallowed hard, shifting his weight nervously.
The atmosphere in the ring instantly grew ten degrees colder. The Madison Square Garden crowd went deathly silent, sensing the sudden, terrifying shift in tension.
"My King," Heyman said, his voice dropping into a softer, much more cautious, pleading register. He stepped closer to Sandro, bowing his head slightly in submission. "Your reign is absolute. Your perfection is undeniable. However... we must address the blemish upon our golden record."
Sandro slowly turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto Heyman.
"The NXT Championship," Heyman whispered, the words sounding like poison in his mouth. "It was lost. It is a failure that cannot be ignored. And I know, my King... I know the precedent you set. We all remember what happened to Chris Jericho when he failed to retrieve the World Heavyweight Title for this family."
Heyman took a hesitant step toward Ziggler, gesturing to the Showoff. Ziggler looked like a man standing before a firing squad.
"But I beg of you, my God King, as your humble advisor, to consider the circumstances," Heyman pleaded, turning back to Sandro. "Dolph Ziggler is not Chris Jericho. Ziggler is a thoroughbred. His potential to serve this empire is massive. He was not defeated by a mere mortal, he was trapped in a cage with a supernatural monster! Bray Wyatt is an anomaly. A beast. I respectfully suggest... I beg of you... to grant Dolph Ziggler one more opportunity to prove his loyalty to the crown."
The silence in the arena was deafening. The entire WWE Universe was waiting to see if Sandro would give the order to have Big E and Ryback rip Ziggler to shreds right there in the center of MSG.
Sandro stared at Heyman for a long, agonizing minute. He then shifted his gaze to Ziggler. The Showoff held his breath, unable to maintain eye contact with the Triple Crown Champion.
Slowly, deliberately, Sandro extended his hand. He didn't say a word. He simply held his hand out, palm open.
Heyman, trembling slightly, immediately placed the microphone into Sandro's palm and took two large steps backward, lowering his head.
Sandro brought the microphone to his lips. When he finally spoke, his voice was chillingly calm, smooth, and devoid of the manic energy Heyman had just displayed.
"You are a very wise man, Paul," Sandro whispered into the mic, his voice echoing through the quiet Garden. "Your counsel has always been valuable to this empire."
Sandro began to slowly pace, walking in a tight circle around Dolph Ziggler. Ziggler stood frozen, tracking Sandro with terrified eyes.
"I am... deeply disappointed," Sandro said, letting the word hang in the air like a guillotine blade. "The Undisputed System is built on absolute perfection. We do not drop gold. We collect it. Losing the NXT Championship is an insult to everything I have built."
Sandro stopped directly in front of Ziggler.
"When Chris Jericho failed me, I ordered his execution," Sandro stated coldly. "I had him erased. And I could very easily snap my fingers right now, Dolph, and have Wade and Drew break your neck in front of twenty thousand people."
Ziggler visibly gulped, his hands twitching at his sides.
"But," Sandro continued, a dark, calculating smirk creeping onto his face, "Paul is right. I am a reasonable King. I understand the variables. I know exactly how dangerous Bray Wyatt is. He is a wild dog. And sometimes, wild dogs get lucky and bite the hand that tries to tame them."
Sandro reached out, resting a single, terrifying finger on the lapel of Ziggler's suit.
"So, I am going to show you mercy, Dolph," Sandro whispered, causing Ziggler to let out a tiny, involuntary exhale of relief. "I am going to spare you the fate of Chris Jericho. You will remain in this family."
The New York crowd murmured, surprised by the God King's leniency.
"However," Sandro said, his voice dropping an octave, turning instantly to ice. "Mercy always comes with a price. You lost a piece of my gold. You must replace it. An eye for an eye. A championship for a championship."
Sandro stepped back, pointing his scepter directly at Ziggler, and then shifted it to point at Xavier Woods.
"Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose are currently parading around developmental with the NXT Tag Team Championships," Sandro declared, his tone final and absolute. "You and Xavier are going back to Florida. And you are going to take those titles from them. You are going to bring that gold back to my feet."
Sandro leaned in, his dark eyes boring a hole directly into Ziggler's soul.
"Do not fail me a second time, Dolph. Because if you do, there won't be a speech. There won't be an apology. There will only be the end of your career."
Sandro lowered the microphone, dropping it casually onto the canvas. The dull thud echoed through the arena. He didn't wait for a response from Ziggler. The God King turned his back, raising his three championships high into the air once again.
The heavy, gritty theme of the Undisputed System blasted back through the sound system. The faction fell into line behind their leader, minus a deeply shaken Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods, who exchanged a terrified, desperate glance.
"A mandate has been issued by the God King!" Cole shouted as RAW prepared to go off the air. "Dolph Ziggler's life has been spared, but he and Xavier Woods must capture the NXT Tag Team Titles, or face absolute destruction!"
"It's fair, it's just, and it's brilliant!" JBL cheered loudly. "The empire is expanding, Michael! 2011 is going to be the year the Undisputed System takes over the entire world!"
As Sandro Zhang marched up the ramp, his queens by his side and his golden armor draped across his shoulders, the message was terrifyingly clear. The Triple Crown Champion was not resting on his laurels. The era of the God King had truly begun, and the ruthless expansion of his empire would spare no one.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 21 (2011)
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