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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Drew pushed himself up, breathing heavily. He retrieved his title from the referee, hoisting it into the air. He then looked down at Mysterio, who was slowly being checked on by the official. Showing a rare moment of respect, Drew reached down, offering a hand to the legendary luchador. Mysterio accepted, and the two men shook hands, acknowledging the hard fought battle.
Drew turned to leave, walking toward the ropes.
Suddenly, the ring apron was violently pushed aside.
Sliding out from underneath the ring, moving with the silent, deadly speed of a striking viper, was Randy Orton.
Drew turned his head just as Orton leaped into the air, grabbing the champion by the neck and driving him into the mat with a devastating RKO out of nowhere!
The crowd let out a massive, collective shriek of shock.
Rey Mysterio immediately stepped forward, angrily shoving Orton backward and demanding to know what he was doing ruining a moment of respect. Orton didn't say a word. He simply spun around, grabbed Mysterio by the collar, and dropped the legend with a second, equally vicious RKO!
"Orton strikes again!" Lawler yelled, watching the Viper pace around the fallen bodies. "He's a man possessed!"
Orton rolled out of the ring, grabbing a microphone from the timekeeper's area, and slid right back inside. His eyes were wide, twitching with absolute frustration.
"Listen to me very carefully," Orton hissed into the microphone, his voice dripping with venom. "I am done playing games. I am done waiting in line. And I am done being disrespected by an arrogant, entitled kid who thinks he can treat me like an afterthought. I will not stop dropping bodies. I will not stop ruining this show. I will not stop until Sandro Zhang gives me my World Heavyweight Championship match!"
BRRRRR-APPADOO!
The blaring horns of John Cena's theme music cut Orton off mid sentence.
The New Mary crowd exploded as John Cena sprinted out from the curtain, a look of pure, unadulterated fury on his face. Cena didn't do his usual salute. He didn't play to the crowd. He charged down the long steel ramp like a man on a mission, sprinting up the stairs and sliding into the ring.
Orton dropped the microphone, immediately putting his fists up.
The two iconic rivals collided in the center of the ring, throwing heavy, closed fist punches. Cena tackled Orton to the mat, raining down furious rights and lefts, seeking immediate revenge for the RKO he had suffered the week prior. Orton scrambled, raking Cena's eyes to create space, and scrambled back to his feet.
Orton threw a wild clothesline, but Cena ducked it, lifting Orton onto his shoulders for the Attitude Adjustment.
Orton panicked, violently elbowing Cena in the side of the head until he slipped free. The Viper scrambled under the bottom rope, dropping to the floor and sprinting backward up the entrance ramp.
A swarm of yellow shirted security guards rushed down the aisle, sliding into the ring and physically holding Cena back, preventing the franchise player from chasing Orton into the back.
"Absolute chaos!" Cole yelled, trying to keep up with the action. "John Cena wants a piece of Randy Orton, but the security team is trying to maintain order! Orton has completely snapped, and it's all because Sandro Zhang refuses to give him a title match!"
"Orton is going to tear this locker room apart if he doesn't get what he wants!" Lawler warned.
The show marched forward, fueled by the aggressive, chaotic energy of the opening segment. For the next two hours, Monday Night RAW delivered a string of compelling matches.
The Usos successfully defended their Tag Team Championships in a hard hitting bout against The Awesome Truth. Dolph Ziggler cut a passionate backstage promo, demanding a singles match against Wade Barrett to settle the score.
The television audience was treated to excellent wrestling, but a palpable, heavy tension hung over the broadcast. The commentators continually reminded the viewers about the upcoming main event, endlessly speculating about the identity of the secret opponent handpicked to challenge for the World Heavyweight Championship.
As the final commercial break concluded, the camera swept across the packed stadium. The lights in the arena slowly began to dim. The low, anxious murmur of the crowd swelled into a loud, expectant buzz.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the time has arrived," Cole announced, his voice tight with anticipation. "Like ut was announced prior this morning, in just a few moments, the God King, Sandro Zhang, will put the World Heavyweight Championship on the line. But the question that has been burning through the wrestling world all week remains unanswered. Who is the secret opponent?"
"Sandro went directly to Vince McMahon to set this up," Lawler added, shaking his head. "Knowing Sandro, this could be a trap. It could be a punishment for someone. It could be absolutely anything."
"Or it could be a masterpiece," JBL noted quietly.
The digital graphics on the TitanTron faded to black. A single, bright spotlight hit the center of the ring, waiting for the combatants to arrive. The heavy, unresolved tension thickened the air, leaving millions of fans sitting on the absolute edge of their seats, waiting for the music to hit and the secret to finally be revealed.
A sharp burst of static crackled through the PA system.
The heavy, unmistakable guitar riff of Living Colour's Cult of Personality blasted through the speakers.
The New Mary crowd erupted into a massive, chaotic wave of noise, a fierce collision of deafening cheers and passionate boos washing over the arena. The TitanTron flared to life, burning bright crimson as Sandro's signature red and black skull and knife logo rotated on the screen.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, bathed in the flashing lights, was the double champion.
Sandro Zhang looked like a deity descending upon a mortal battlefield. He was dressed in his pristine, all white wrestling gear, but he had added a breathtaking layer to his presentation.
Draped over his broad shoulders was a stunning, ankle length white trench coat, styled in the imposing, military esque fashion. He wore gold rimmed aviator sunglasses that hid his eyes, giving him a cold, unreadable aura.
Secured around his waist was the WWE Championship. Resting on his shoulder, gleaming brightly over the white fabric of his coat, was the World Heavyweight Championship.
"Here comes the God King!" JBL shouted, his voice thick with reverence. "Look at the absolute majesty of this man! He didn't have to defend this title tonight. He didn't have to offer an opportunity to anyone. But he is a benevolent ruler, Michael! He is giving the people what they want!"
"He's playing mind games, John," Cole argued, shaking his head as Sandro walked down the long steel ramp. "He kept this opponent a secret to maintain a psychological advantage. Whoever is walking through that curtain next has had absolutely no time to prepare for the biggest match of their life!"
Sandro climbed the steel steps, his white boots contrasting sharply with the dark canvas as he stepped through the ropes. He walked directly to the center of the spotlight.
Justin Roberts, standing smartly in his tuxedo, raised his microphone.
"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the World Heavyweight Championship!" Roberts announced, his voice echoing cleanly through the stadium. "Introducing first, the champion! From Orlando, Florida, weighing in at two hundred and thirty pounds... he is the WWE and World Heavyweight Champion... the God King, SANDROOOO ZHANGGGG!"
Sandro didn't smile. He raised the World Heavyweight Championship high into the air with his right hand, the crowd roaring in response. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the belt, took off his gold rimmed aviator sunglasses, and unbuttoned the long white coat, handing his entrance gear to a ringside technician before retreating to his corner.
He stood perfectly still, waiting for his challenger.
The arena fell silent once again. The anticipation was agonizing.
Then, a fast, energetic drum fill echoed through the building, followed immediately by a heavy rock guitar riff.
"I'M HERE TO SHOW THE WORLD!"
The New Mary crowd froze for a fraction of a second, their brains struggling to process the familiar theme music. Then, the realization hit.
The stadium absolutely exploded. The pop was deafening, a wall of pure, unadulterated joy that practically blew the roof off the building.
"Are you kidding me?!" Cole screamed, shooting out of his chair. "It's Dolph Ziggler! The secret opponent is Dolph Ziggler!"
"The Showoff is getting his shot!" Lawler cheered wildly, throwing his hands in the air. "Sandro chose the sole survivor! He chose the man who had his back last week!"
JBL slammed his fist furiously against the commentary desk, his face turning a bright shade of red. "This is a travesty! Ziggler is a leech! He manipulated his way into this match! He played the sympathy card, he pledged his fake loyalty, and he is taking advantage of the God King's kindness and empathy! Sandro is too generous for his own good!"
Dolph Ziggler stepped out onto the stage, looking just as shocked as the fans in the front row. He wasn't wearing his usual flashy entrance vest, he was already stripped down to his pink and black trunks, his wrists taped tightly. He looked around the arena, pointing a finger at the screaming fans, feeding off their incredible energy.
Ziggler sprinted down the ramp, his blonde hair bouncing, slapping hands with the fans in the front row.
"Introducing the challenger!" Justin Roberts bellowed over the noise. "From Hollywood, Florida, weighing in at two hundred and eighteen pounds... DOLPHHHH ZIGGGLERRRR!"
Ziggler slid under the bottom rope, popping up to his feet and climbing the nearest turnbuckle, throwing his arms wide open to soak in the deafening cheers. He hopped down, pacing nervously, his eyes locking onto the champion in the opposite corner.
The senior official, Charles Robinson, stepped between the two men. He took the World Heavyweight Championship from Sandro, turning to show the massive, golden prize to Ziggler, who stared at it with hungry, desperate eyes.
Robinson raised the championship high in the center of the ring, officially raising the stakes, before handing it through the ropes to the timekeeper.
Robinson checked both men, backed away, and signaled for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
The atmosphere was electric. The crowd broke into a dueling chant immediately. "LET'S GO ZIGGLER!" clashed heavily against "GOD KING SANDRO!"
Sandro and Ziggler slowly circled each other. There was no hesitation, no trash talk. Ziggler shot forward, looking for a quick collegiate takedown, aiming for Sandro's legs. But Sandro was incredibly well scouted. The champion easily sidestepped the takedown, grabbing Ziggler by the waist and executing a flawless go behind, locking the Showoff in a tight waistlock.
Ziggler reacted instantly, dropping to one knee, grabbing Sandro's wrist, and peeling the fingers back to break the hold. Ziggler spun around, snapping Sandro into a tight side headlock. Sandro quickly pushed Ziggler toward the ropes, whipping him across the ring.
Ziggler rebounded. Sandro dropped down for a drop toe hold, but Ziggler leaped over him. Sandro popped up, looking for a hip toss, but Ziggler countered in mid air, landing on his feet and snapping off a beautiful, lightning fast arm drag that sent the champion crashing to the mat.
Sandro immediately rolled backward, popping up to his feet, creating distance.
The crowd applauded loudly, appreciating the crisp, fluid chain wrestling.
"Look at the technical prowess right out of the gate!" Cole praised. "Ziggler is a former amateur standout at Kent State, and he is matching the God King hold for hold!"
"He's poking the bear, Cole!" JBL warned. "You don't try to out-wrestle the champion! You survive him!"
The two men circled again, locking up in a fierce collar and elbow tie up. Sandro utilized his size and raw power, physically backing Ziggler into the corner. The referee stepped in, calling for a clean break. Sandro raised his hands, taking a step back, but as Ziggler relaxed his guard, the champion threw a blistering, knife edge chop straight across Dolph's chest.
The SMACK echoed through the arena. Ziggler winced, clutching his chest, but the pain only fueled his fire.
Ziggler charged forward, throwing a flurry of rapid-fire right hands that backed Sandro against the ropes. Ziggler whipped Sandro to the opposite side and followed him in, launching himself into the air for his signature Stinger Splash.
Sandro effortlessly caught Ziggler in mid air. The champion didn't even stagger. With terrifying functional strength, Sandro shifted Ziggler's momentum, transitioning him into a devastating fallaway slam that sent the challenger flying clear across the ring.
"The raw power of the God King is simply staggering!" Lawler yelled as Ziggler crashed hard onto his spine.
Sandro didn't wait for Ziggler to recover. He stalked forward, picking Ziggler up by the hair, and delivered a stiff European uppercut that rocked the Showoff's jaw. Sandro Irish whipped Ziggler hard into the corner turnbuckles. Ziggler hit the pads so violently that he bounced backward, collapsing flat on his face.
Sandro went for the first cover of the match.
One! Two!
Ziggler kicked out, gasping for air.
For the next ten minutes, Sandro systematically broke the challenger down. The champion employed a ruthless, grinding offense, targeting the ribs that Wade Barrett had injured the week prior. Sandro locked Ziggler in a punishing abdominal stretch, digging his knuckles into Dolph's exposed side, expertly cutting off the circulation and draining the oxygen from his lungs.
"This is exactly what makes Sandro a generational talent," JBL noted proudly, watching the champion stretch Ziggler like an accordion. "He doesn't just wrestle, he dissects. He knows Ziggler is hurt, and he is applying maximum pressure to the weakest point of the armor."
"Come on, Dolph, hang in there!" Cole pleaded, his voice full of desperation. "You have to fight out of this!"
The New Mary crowd rallied behind the challenger, starting a rhythmic clapping chant that echoed through the building. Ziggler gritted his teeth, his face turning red. Slowly, fueled by pure willpower, Ziggler managed to shift his hips, reversing the hold and hitting a desperation hip toss that finally broke Sandro's grip.
Both men scrambled to their feet. Sandro charged forward with a heavy clothesline, but Ziggler ducked under it. Ziggler hit the ropes, accelerating to top speed, and threw himself forward, connecting with a beautiful flying crossbody!
Sandro hit the mat, but the champion used his momentum to roll completely through, lifting Ziggler into his arms as he stood up.
Sandro looked to deliver a running powerslam, but Ziggler slipped off the champion's shoulders, landing on his feet behind him. Ziggler grabbed Sandro by the back of the head, leaped into the air, and planted the God King with a massive leaping jumping DDT!
The crowd went wild as Ziggler hooked the leg!
One! Two!
Sandro powered out, throwing his shoulder up with authority.
"What a counter by Ziggler!" Lawler yelled. "The Showoff is finding a second wind!"
Ziggler wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away. He dragged Sandro to his feet, throwing heavy punches, forcing the champion toward the ropes. Ziggler charged forward, looking to clothesline Sandro over the top rope.
But Sandro was waiting for him. As Ziggler lunged, Sandro dropped his shoulder, caught Ziggler by the waist, and executed a beautiful back body drop that sent Ziggler sailing high over the top rope!
Ziggler crashed violently onto the ringside floor, his body slapping hard against the thin protective mats.
Sandro didn't wait in the ring. The God King rolled under the bottom rope, stalking his prey on the outside. He grabbed Ziggler by the blonde hair, lifting him up, and viciously whipped him shoulder first into the steel ring stairs. The heavy metallic CLANG resonated through the front rows.
The referee began his ten count as the brawl escalated on the outside.
"Sandro is taking this fight to the streets!" Cole shouted.
Sandro grabbed Ziggler and violently shoved him backward. Ziggler crashed into the steel barricade, flipping completely over the wall and landing in the first row of the audience. The fans scrambled out of the way, cheering wildly at the close up action.
Sandro vaulted over the barricade, following Dolph into the crowd. Ziggler, fighting purely on survival instinct, grabbed a fan's discarded plastic cup of beer and tossed the liquid directly into Sandro's eyes!
Sandro blinked, momentarily blinded. Ziggler capitalized, throwing a desperate, looping right hook that staggered the champion. Ziggler grabbed Sandro by the collar of his white gear, dragging him through the sea of screaming fans, and violently slammed Sandro's head against the hard plastic of the arena concourse seating.
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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