If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Up in the broadcast booth, Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and JBL were adjusting their headsets, reviewing their show sheets, and preparing for the live television feed to go live across the globe. The lights inside the stadium began to flicker, the crowd's collective roar building into a deafening wall of sound. The stage was set, the cameras were locked, and Monday Night RAW was ready to ignite the nation's capital once again.
Soon, a deafening series of concussive blasts suddenly shook the foundation of the Capital One Arena, sending bright, blinding plumes of red and gold fire shooting into the rafters. The heavy smell of sulfur washed over the barricades as the Washington D.C. crowd erupted into a chaotic, sustained roar.
The television cameras aggressively panned across a sea of waving signs and screaming fans, capturing the absolute electric energy that had been brewing outside the venue all afternoon.
"Welcome, everyone, to Monday Night RAW!" Cole shouted into his headset, his voice battling the sheer volume of the live audience. "We are coming to you live from the nation's capital, just twenty four hours removed from one of the most grueling, unpredictable pay per views in WWE history!"
"I am still trying to catch my breath from last night, Michael!" Lawler yelled, a massive smile on his face as he waved to the fans positioned behind the broadcast booth. "Capitol Punishment delivered on every single promise, and the landscape of this company has been completely altered!"
At the end of the desk, JBL adjusted his collar, letting out a long, heavy sigh of relief. "You can say that again, King. Let me be perfectly honest with both of you, and with the millions watching at home. If the Nexus had won that nine on nine elimination match last night, my bags were packed. The Board of Directors was heavily monitoring this broadcast. If Wade Barrett had taken control, Monday Night RAW would have been legally classified as an unsafe working environment. Our jobs, this show, the whole brand... it was all hanging by a thread."
"But Team RAW held the line, John!" Cole pointed out passionately. "Drew McIntyre, The Usos, The New Day, John Cena, Randy Orton, and the returning Dolph Ziggler put their bodies through absolute torture to defend this locker room. They eliminated eight members of the Nexus, and Ziggler somehow found a way to survive against Wade Barrett and Ryback!"
"Ziggler survived because he had a guardian angel, Michael, let's not twist the facts," JBL retorted, leaning forward and pointing a stiff finger at the monitor on their desk. "Team RAW was dead in the water. The referee was down, Barrett had a steel chair, and the execution was seconds away. The only reason we still have a show tonight is because the God King returned!"
The mention of Sandro Zhang's name sent a fresh wave of mixed cheers and boos rippling through the arena sections closest to the commentary desk.
Lawler shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Sandro's return was shocking, to say the least. But we have to ask the hard questions. Why did he do it? Why did the man who held this company hostage for a year suddenly swoop down to save Dolph Ziggler and hand Team RAW the victory?"
"It's obvious, King," Cole theorized, shuffling his production notes. "It was pure, calculated revenge. While Sandro was at home recovering, Wade Barrett and Ryback stabbed him in the back. They publicly betrayed the Undisputed System, they tried to form their own rogue faction, and they brutally assaulted Dolph Ziggler, who was arguably the last truly loyal soldier Sandro had left in his camp. The God King didn't come back to save Monday Night RAW. He came back to punish the men who crossed him."
"And whatever his reasons are, he deserves our unwavering support!" JBL argued loudly. "Sandro Zhang is the only man on this roster who possesses the vision, the power, and the ruthlessness to bring order to this chaos! Look at what happened while he was gone! The inmates ran the asylum! If Sandro wants to reclaim his throne, I say we roll out the red carpet!"
"I think we need to be very cautious before we start thanking the man, John," Cole warned, tapping his pen against the desk. "We all remember exactly how Sandro operates. He is manipulative, he is dangerous, and he always has a hidden agenda. I want to wait and see exactly what his next move is before I start bowing to the throne."
Before JBL could fire back another defense of the double champion, a heavy, driving rock instrumental, the unified anthem for Monday Night RAW,nblasted through the stadium speakers.
The crowd leaped to their feet, delivering a thunderous standing ovation.
Stepping out onto the entrance stage, standing shoulder to shoulder, were the surviving defenders of the brand. United States Champion Drew McIntyre led the pack, the gold resting securely on his shoulder. Jimmy and Jey Uso followed, their Tag Team Championships gleaming under the lights. Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Xavier Woods flanked them, looking incredibly serious. John Cena and Randy Orton walked out next, bringing a massive veteran presence to the group.
And bringing up the rear, his ribs heavily taped and a visible bruise forming on his jaw, was the sole survivor of Capitol Punishment, Dolph Ziggler.
The nine men walked down the long steel ramp together. They moved slowly, the physical toll of last night's elimination war clearly evident in their stiff strides and battered bodies. But despite the bruises, they held their heads high. They had gone to war for the soul of the locker room, and they had won.
They slid under the ropes, filling the squared circle. A ringside production worker scrambled over, handing a live microphone to Drew McIntyre.
The Scottish Psychopath stepped forward, looking out at the roaring crowd. He waited for the chants of "THANK YOU, RAW!" to slowly die down before raising the microphone to his lips.
"Washington D.C...." Drew began, his raspy voice echoing loudly. "Last night, this ring was a literal warzone. Wade Barrett, Ryback, and their Nexus thugs tried to tear the very foundation of this company apart. They thought they could use fear, intimidation, and a numbers advantage to take over our home."
Drew paced a few steps, his eyes burning with intensity. "But they underestimated the men standing in this ring. We might not always see eye to eye. We might fight each other for these championships on any given Monday. But when a menace like the Nexus tries to threaten our livelihood, we stand together as a united front. And last night, Team RAW stood tall."
The crowd cheered loudly, acknowledging the effort.
Drew lowered his head slightly, a complex expression crossing his face. "Now, we aren't blind to the facts. We know exactly how that match ended. We know that when the numbers game turned against us, we received some unexpected help. Help from a man that nobody in this building anticipated seeing."
Drew turned, handing the microphone to John Cena.
The franchise player stepped into the center of the ring, looking at the audience with a stern, focused gaze.
"I'm not going to sugarcoat this," Cena stated bluntly. "We went through hell last night. The Nexus took us to our absolute limit. And yeah, Sandro walked down that ramp and took out Wade Barrett and Ryback. But let's get one thing straight. I've known Sandro for a long time. I have fought wars against his empire. The guy doesn't do a single favor for anyone unless it benefits him in the long run. I don't trust him. I don't trust his sudden change of heart, and I don't trust the fact that he's still holding the WWE and World Heavyweight Championship hostage."
Cena passed the microphone to Randy Orton. The Viper didn't even blink, his cold eyes scanning the arena.
"John is right," Orton hissed, his voice smooth and venomous. "A snake doesn't change its scales just because it took a two month vacation. Sandro Zhang came out here for his own selfish reasons. He wanted to protect his ego. If he thinks he can waltz back into this locker room and demand our respect just because he hit a couple of flashy moves on Ryback, he is dead wrong. I am watching my back, and everyone else in this ring should be doing the exact same thing."
Big E reached out, taking the microphone from Orton. The New Day powerhouse looked at the crowd, his usual joyful demeanor replaced by strict business. "Look, we appreciate the assist. We really do. But we, the New Day, want built our legacy from the scratches on fighting our own battles. We don't need a dictator pulling our strings, and we definitely don't want to go back to the days where Sandro Zhang dictates who gets an opportunity on this show."
Jimmy Uso grabbed the mic next, nodding in agreement. "That's a fact, Uce. Sandro walking out here in white tights doesn't erase the last twelve months of history. He's still the same arrogant kid who thinks he owns the world. We beat the Nexus, but the real problem is still holding the gold."
The microphone was finally passed to the back of the group, ending up in the hands of Dolph Ziggler.
The Showoff stepped forward, leaning heavily against the ropes. He looked at Cena, Orton, Drew, and the others, a faint, bitter smile touching his lips.
"You guys can stand out here and analyze his motives all night long," Ziggler said, his voice raspy and exhausted. "You can question his loyalty. You can call him a snake, a dictator, or a tyrant. But let me tell you what I saw last night."
Ziggler pointed a taped finger down at the mat. "I was lying right there. My ribs were cracked. My vision was blurry. The referee was knocked out, and Wade Barrett was standing over me with a steel chair, ready to end my career. I was dead to rights. And none of you were out here to stop it. Because you couldn't. You were already eliminated."
Ziggler took a deep breath, turning to face the hard camera. "I don't give a damn what Sandro's objective is. I don't care if he came back for revenge, or if he came back to protect his ego. When it mattered most... when my career was on the chopping block... Sandro Zhang walked down that ramp and saved me. He helped RAW win the match. So, while the rest of you stand around doubting him, I'll be the one to say it out loud. Thank you, Sandro."
The arena fell into a tense, murmuring silence. The raw honesty in Ziggler's voice was undeniable, creating a stark contrast against the suspicion of the other team members.
Suddenly, a loud, piercing burst of static ripped through the stadium speakers.
The heavy, unmistakable guitar riff of Living Colour's Cult of Personality blasted through the Capital One Arena.
The crowd's reaction was instantaneous and deafening, an explosive cocktail of massive cheers and venomous boos colliding in the air. Fans scrambled to their feet, their eyes locked on the entrance stage.
The digital graphics on the TitanTron flickered, displaying the aggressive red and black skull with a knife clenched in its teeth.
Stepping through the curtain, moving with a slow, deliberate, and chillingly calm swagger, was Sandro Zhang.
The God King had arrived.
He was dressed identically to his appearance at the pay per view. The pristine, all white wrestling tights, the matching white boots, and the tight white combat gloves sharply contrasted with the dark, gritty reality of the wrestling ring. The red and black skull logo on his left leg seemed to glare at the audience.
Resting heavily on his right shoulder was the World Heavyweight Championship. Secured tightly around his waist was the WWE Championship. He held a live microphone in his left hand.
He didn't acknowledge the fans. He didn't sneer, and he didn't smile. His face was a mask of cold, terrifying focus. He walked down the steel ramp with measured steps, climbing the ring stairs and stepping through the ropes.
The nine members of Team RAW immediately backed away, giving Sandro the center of the ring. They formed a loose semi circle around him, their expressions ranging from outright hostility to cautious curiosity.
Sandro slowly turned in a circle, looking at Cena, Orton, Drew, and finally Ziggler. He raised the microphone to his mouth, not breaking eye contact with the Showoff.
He lowered his hand slightly and signaled toward the production booth.
The music abruptly cut off.
The sudden silence in the arena was incredibly heavy, filled only by the low, anxious hum of thousands of fans waiting for the God King to speak his first words in over two months.
Sandro took a slow, deep breath, letting the tension build to a breaking point.
"You all seem to be operating under a massive misunderstanding," Sandro finally spoke, his voice smooth, low, and laced with a chilling authority. "You are standing in my ring, debating my motives, analyzing my return as if I rushed back here to be some kind of white knight for Monday Night RAW."
Sandro slowly paced toward John Cena, staring directly into the veteran's eyes. "My absence over the last two months wasn't just a simple medical leave. It wasn't just a forced vacation. It was a calculated, deliberate plan. I stepped back into the shadows because I wanted to see exactly how this fragile little ecosystem would function without its God King standing at the helm."
Sandro shook his head, a look of genuine disgust crossing his face. "And what did I see? I saw complete, utter failure. Everything fell apart the moment I walked out the door. The locker room devolved into a chaotic, lawless frontier. The inmates started running the asylum. And the men who once stood in this very ring and swore absolute loyalty to the Undisputed System? They showed their true colors."
Sandro turned away from Cena, his gaze shifting toward the entrance ramp where he had dismantled the Nexus twenty four hours earlier.
"Wade Barrett. Ryback. Men I elevated from obscurity. Men I made rich. The second the spotlight shifted, they stabbed me in the back. They tried to steal the crown right off my head and build a cheap, pathetic imitation of my empire."
Sandro slowly turned his attention back to Dolph Ziggler. The Showoff stood his ground, meeting the double champion's intense gaze.
"You were the only one, Dolph," Sandro said softly, his tone carrying a strange, dangerous edge. "When the last chapter of the mutiny happened, you were the only man who remained standing. You took the beating. You took the humiliation. You stayed loyal to the flag when everyone else cut and ran."
Sandro took a slow step closer to Ziggler, tilting his head slightly.
"But don't confuse my actions last night for a renewed partnership," Sandro warned, his voice dropping into a cold whisper. "I appreciate your gratitude, Dolph. But I don't fully trust you. I don't trust you, I don't trust Cena, I don't trust Orton, and I certainly don't trust anyone else in this locker room."
The tension in the ring spiked. Orton shifted his weight, his eyes narrowing at the direct insult.
"I understand human nature better than anyone," Sandro continued, addressing the silent arena. "I know that circumstances can make a man stand shoulder to shoulder with you in one moment, and hold a knife to your throat the very next. Loyalty is an illusion. It is a temporary transaction based on convenience."
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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 (1st - 376 days), 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: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0