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Sandro used his youth and explosive strength, immediately overpowering Sting and backing him forcefully into the turnbuckles. The referee stepped in, calling for a clean break. Sandro held his hands up, taking a slow step back, feigning compliance. But as the referee backed away, Sandro sneered, delivering a sharp, disrespectful open handed slap directly across Sting's painted face!
The crowd gasped.
Sting didn't even flinch. He slowly turned his head back, glaring at the young champion.
Before Sandro could register the lack of reaction, Sting exploded forward. He unleashed a rapid fire sequence of stiff, heavy right hands that backed Sandro against the ropes. Sting grabbed Sandro's arm, whipping him violently across the ring. As Sandro rebounded, Sting leaped high into the air, connecting flush with a beautiful, picture perfect dropkick that sent the God King crashing flat on his back!
The Staples Center erupted!
"He's still got it!" Booker T yelled in sheer delight. "The Stinger is showing the kid that age is just a number!"
"That dropkick was flawless!" Lawler cheered. "Sandro thought he could just disrespect a legend, and he just got a harsh reality check!"
"It's the opening minute of the match, calm down!" JBL snapped defensively. "Sandro is just feeling him out! He's letting the old man burn his energy early!"
Sandro scrambled to his feet, a look of genuine shock flashing across his face. He quickly rolled under the bottom rope to the outside floor, clutching his jaw, needing a moment to recalibrate.
Sting didn't wait for him. He grabbed the top rope, launching himself over the cables with a slingshot crossbody!
But Sandro read the maneuver perfectly. He sidestepped, letting Sting crash heavily onto the thin ringside mats.
"The champion is too quick!" Cole pointed out as Sandro quickly capitalized.
Sandro grabbed Sting by the hair, dragging him to his feet, and forcefully drove the veteran spine first into the unforgiving steel ring apron. He followed it up with a heavy European uppercut, the sickening thud echoing through the front rows.
Sandro rolled Sting back into the ring, sliding in right behind him. He stalked his prey, measuring Sting as the veteran slowly pushed himself up to his knees. Sandro hit the ropes, building momentum, and delivered a devastating running knee strike directly to the side of Sting's head.
He hooked the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Sting kicked out forcefully, rolling his shoulder up.
For the next ten grueling minutes, the God King systematically dismantled the Icon. Sandro utilized his aggressive, high impact offense to target Sting's neck and back, attempting to ground the legend and negate his experience. He executed a flawless snap suplex, floating over beautifully into a tight reverse chinlock.
"Look at the mechanics of Sandro Zhang," JBL praised, admiring the champion's technique. "There is no wasted motion. He is dissecting Sting piece by piece. This is what a true wrestling prodigy looks like!"
"But Sting refuses to quit!" Cole argued as the crowd began a rhythmic, rallying clap.
Sting fought through the pain, feeding off the energy of the eighteen thousand fans. He pushed himself up to a vertical base, throwing heavy elbows into Sandro's ribs to break the hold. Sting hit the ropes, but Sandro was ready, catching him on the rebound with a beautiful spinning spinebuster that shook the ring.
Sandro stood over Sting, breathing heavily, a dark, arrogant smile spreading across his face. He knelt down, grabbing Sting by the jaw, taunting the veteran.
"You should have stayed retired, old man!" Sandro yelled, his voice picked up by the ringside microphones. "This is my world now!"
Sandro hauled Sting to his feet, setting him up for a belly-to-back suplex. But as Sandro lifted him, Sting shifted his weight, flipping over Sandro's shoulder and landing squarely on his feet. Sandro spun around, swinging a wild clothesline, but Sting ducked it, hooked Sandro's arms, and planted him with a desperation DDT!
Both men lay flat on the mat, completely exhausted, as the referee began his ten count.
"This is exactly what Sting needed!" Lawler observed. "He needed a counter to slow the champion down!"
They pushed themselves up at the count of seven, trading heavy right hands from their knees. They fought their way to a standing position, the crowd cheering every time Sting landed a blow and booing loudly when Sandro returned fire.
Sting gained the upper hand, backing Sandro into the ropes. He whipped Sandro across the ring, throwing a heavy clothesline, but Sandro ducks, grabbed the top rope, and pulled it down. Sting's momentum carried him forward, and he tumbled over the top rope, crashing heavily to the outside floor.
Sandro didn't let him breathe. He slid out of the ring immediately, grabbing Sting and slamming his face into the barricade.
"The fight is spilling to the outside!" Cole yelled as the referee began his count.
Sandro grabbed Sting by the back of the neck, dragging him toward the steel ring steps, intending to bash his skull against the metal. But Sting reversed the momentum, Irish whipping Sandro with terrifying force. Sandro crashed shoulder first into the heavy steel steps, the impact knocking the stairs slightly out of place.
Sandro screamed in pain, clutching his shoulder as he stumbled backward toward the announce desk.
Sting followed him, his eyes burning with intense focus. He grabbed Sandro by the hair, slamming his face into the protective hood of the commentary table.
"Watch out!" Booker T yelled as the commentators scrambled backward, pulling their headsets off.
Sting violently ripped the plastic hood off the table, tossing it into the crowd. He grabbed the television monitors, yanking them out of their sockets and throwing them onto the floor, completely clearing the desk.
"Sting is looking to end this right here!" Lawler shrieked, backing away from the wreckage.
Sting grabbed Sandro, hauling the heavy champion up and laying him flat across the wooden surface of the announce table. Sting climbed up onto the desk, standing over the God King, looking out at the roaring Los Angeles crowd.
But Sandro was a survivor. As Sting leaned down to grab him, Sandro thrust his hand upward, driving a ruthless thumb directly into Sting's eye!
The cheap shot temporarily blinded the veteran. Sandro scrambled to his feet on top of the announce desk, grabbing Sting around the waist, looking to hit a devastating powerbomb straight through the wood.
"He's going to break him in half!" JBL cheered wildly.
Sandro lifted Sting, but the veteran fought back with frantic, desperate energy. Sting delivered two heavy punches to the top of Sandro's head, forcing the champion to drop him back onto the table.
Sting didn't hesitate. Before Sandro could recover, Sting delivered a sharp kick to the champion's gut, doubling him over. Sting grabbed Sandro from behind, wrapping his arm securely around Sandro's neck, and hooked his leg.
"NO WAY!" Cole screamed, realizing what was about to happen.
With a feral, echoing yell, Sting dropped his weight backward, executing a huge Scorpion Death Drop directly onto the announce table!
CRASH!
The announce desk imploded under the sheer weight and force of the impact, shattering into a thousand pieces of splintered materials and item in the table fly away. Sandro's body contorted violently as his spine and head absorbed the devastation.
The Staples Center erupted into absolute, unadulterated bedlam. A deafening "HOLY SHIT!" chant shook the walls of the arena.
"SCORPION DEATH DROP THROUGH THE TABLE!" Cole shrieked, his voice cracking completely. "Sting just broke the God King in half!"
"That was unbelievable!" Lawler yelled, clutching his chest. "Sandro Zhang is completely unconscious in the wreckage!"
"He just ruined the announce desk!" JBL complained, standing near the barricade, clearly panicked by the sight of his champion laying motionless in the debris.
The referee was at a count of seven. Sting, battered and exhausted, pushed a piece of broken wood off his chest and slowly dragged himself to his feet. He grabbed Sandro by the hair, hauling the dead weight of the champion up from the wreckage, and rolled him under the bottom rope just as the referee reached the count of nine.
Sting slid into the ring right behind him, throwing his arm over Sandro's chest for the cover.
The crowd counted along with the referee's hand!
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NOOOOO!"
Sandro managed to push his shoulder up a fraction of a millimeter before the final count. The arena gasped in collective disbelief.
"He kicked out!" Booker T yelled, his eyes wide. "How in the hell did Sandro Zhang kick out of that?!"
"Because he is the God King!" JBL shouted proudly. "He has the heart of a champion! A broken table isn't going to keep him down!"
Sting sat up, wiping sweat and smeared face paint from his eyes. He didn't look frustrated; he looked intensely focused. He grabbed Sandro by the hair, dragging the groggy champion toward the corner.
Sting backed up, pointing his finger at Sandro, and let out his legendary howl.
"WOOOOO!"
Sting charged across the ring, launching his body through the air, and crushed Sandro in the corner with a textbook Stinger Splash!
Sandro stumbled forward, dazed. Sting quickly grabbed him, running toward the opposite corner, and launched himself into a second, devastating Stinger Splash!
The crowd was on their feet, feeling the end drawing near. Sting backed up for a third and final splash. He charged forward, leaping into the air.
But Sandro's predatory instincts kicked into overdrive.
As Sting flew toward him, Sandro exploded out of the corner with terrifying speed. He sidestepped the splash, and as Sting landed, Sandro swung his arm with maximum velocity, catching Sting flush on the jaw with a brutal, decapitating Last Note elbow strike!
The sickening crack echoed through the building. Sting folded instantly, crashing face first onto the canvas.
Sandro collapsed to his knees, clutching his ribs, gasping for air. He crawled desperately over to Sting, draping an arm across his back.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Sting kicked out!
"This is an absolute classic!" Cole screamed. "Neither man refuses to stay down! The heart, the resilience, the sheer willpower on display is unbelievable!"
Sandro pushed himself up, his face a mixture of exhaustion and pure rage. He grabbed Sting by the hair, hauling him up to his feet. Sandro lifted the veteran onto his shoulders, locking him in the electric chair position, setting up for his ultimate, match ending finisher.
"He's got him up!" JBL cheered. "It's over! Falls From Grace!"
Sandro dropped to his knees, looking to drive Sting into the mat. But Sting fought out of the hold in mid air, throwing his weight forward and rolling through the impact. He landed gracefully on his feet behind the champion.
As Sandro turned around, Sting delivered a sharp, pinpoint kick directly to the back of Sandro's knee.
The God King's leg buckled, and he dropped heavily to the canvas.
Sting didn't waste a single second. He grabbed Sandro's legs, stepping through them with expert precision, crossing them over, and violently turned the champion over, locking in the inescapable and hurtful Scorpion Deathlock directly in the center of the ring!
The Staples Center exploded into the loudest roar of the entire night!
"HE'S GOT IT LOCKED IN!" Cole shrieked, practically jumping over the broken announce desk. "THE SCORPION DEATHLOCK IS LOCKED IN DEAD CENTER!"
Sandro screamed in pure agony, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as Sting leaned back, applying maximum, excruciating pressure to the champion's lower back and knees.
"He has nowhere to go!" Lawler yelled. "Sandro is trapped!"
Sandro clawed frantically at the canvas, his eyes wide with panic. He was miles away from the ropes. He dragged his heavy, battered body forward, inch by grueling inch, his hand outstretched, desperately reaching for salvation.
Sting leaned back further, gritting his teeth, refusing to let the hold break.
The crowd was on their feet, screaming, waiting for the tap.
Sandro's hand hovered agonizingly over the canvas. His eyes began to flutter, the pain threatening to shut his body down completely. The World Heavyweight Championship, his pride, and his God King legacy hung precariously in the balance. He reached his fingers forward, straining against the agonizing hold, but the ropes still seemed impossibly far away.
Sting roared, pulling back with everything he had left.
The tension in the Staples Center was at an absolute breaking point.
Sandro's fingers scraped frantically against the blue canvas, his nails digging into the mat as if he could somehow pull the ring itself toward him. The agony radiating from his lower back and knees was blinding. His face, usually a mask of cold, untouchable arrogance, was twisted into a grimace of pure, unfiltered suffering.
"Look at the champion!" Cole screamed over the deafening roar of the Los Angeles crowd. "Sandro Zhang is in absolute agony! He has never been pushed this far! He has never been trapped like this!"
"Tap out! Just tap out and save your career!" Booker T yelled, his voice rough with excitement. "I have been in that ring with the Stinger, guys. When he locks in that Scorpion Deathlock, it feels like your spine is being snapped in two! The God King is human after all!"
"He is not going to tap to a WCW dinosaur!" JBL fired back, practically standing out of his chair, a look of sheer panic on his face. "Sandro is the greatest champion of this generation! He just needs to reach the ropes! Come on, kid! Crawl!"
Sting roared, his face paint smeared with sweat, leaning back even further to increase the torque. The eighteen thousand fans in the Staples Center were on their feet, screaming, fully believing they were about to witness the impossible.
The referee dropped to his knees, getting right in Sandro's face, loudly asking if he wanted to submit. Sandro squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently. With a guttural, desperate scream, the young champion planted his elbows on the mat. He dragged his heavy, battered frame forward. One inch. Then another.
"He's moving!" Lawler gasped. "I can't believe the willpower of this kid!"
Sandro extended his right arm, his muscles trembling under the immense strain. His fingertips brushed the bottom rope. The crowd let out a collective groan. With one final, agonizing surge of energy, Sandro wrapped his hand around the white cable.
The referee immediately stepped in, waving his arms and demanding the break.
Sting held the hold until the referee's count reached four, maximizing the punishment before finally releasing the champion's legs. Sting stood up, his chest heaving, looking down at Sandro with a mixture of frustration and gritty determination. He had almost had him.
Sandro rolled under the bottom rope to the ring apron, clutching his knee, gasping for air like a drowning man.
"The champion survives," Cole breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "But at what cost? You have to wonder how much damage was just done to Sandro's lower back and legs."
Sting wasn't about to give him a moment to recover. The veteran stepped through the ropes, walking out onto the hard ring apron. He grabbed Sandro by the hair, hauling the God King up to his feet. Sting hooked Sandro's head, looking to execute a devastating DDT on the hardest part of the ring.
But Sandro's survival instincts were unparalleled. He blocked the maneuver, throwing two stiff right hands to Sting's ribs. Sandro broke the hold, grabbed Sting by the shoulders, and violently swept the veteran's legs out from under him.
Sting crashed spine first onto the unforgiving edge of the ring apron, the sickening thud echoing through the front rows.
The crowd winced in unison. Sting rolled off the apron, collapsing onto the thin mats on the outside floor.
"Sandro finding an opening out of pure desperation!" JBL praised, wiping sweat from his own forehead. "That's ring presence, Michael! He knows he's hurt, so he creates separation!"
Sandro leaned against the ring post, favoring his injured knee, waiting for the referee's count to climb. He slowly slid back into the ring at the count of five. Sting, showing the legendary resilience that made him an icon, dragged himself up using the barricade and rolled back under the bottom rope at the count of eight.
As soon as Sting stood up, Sandro charged. He launched a ruthless assault, backing Sting into the corner with a flurry of heavy stomps and sharp kicks to the midsection. The referee had to physically pull Sandro away.
Sandro limped slightly, but the adrenaline flowing through his veins masked the pain. He dragged Sting out of the corner, hooking him for a suplex. With a massive display of raw power, Sandro lifted the two hundred and fifty pound legend and held him suspended in the air for five agonizing seconds before dropping him to the canvas with a delayed vertical suplex.
Sandro hooked the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Sting thrust his shoulder up, refusing to stay down.
"You have to wonder how much gas is left in the tank for the Stinger," Lawler noted. "This match has been a grueling, physical war. The pace favors the younger champion."
"Age is just a number tonight, King," Booker T argued. "Sting didn't come to WWE to lay down. He came to make history."
Sandro pulled Sting to his feet, trapping the veteran's arms from behind and locking in a tight straightjacket submission hold. Sandro drove his knee into Sting's spine, pulling back on the arms to stretch the veteran's chest and shoulders. The pacing of the match slowed to a crawl, the psychological warfare taking center stage as Sandro verbally taunted the legend.
"Is this your hero?!" Sandro yelled out to the hostile crowd, drawing a chorus of heavy boos. "He's nothing! He's a ghost!"
Sting closed his eyes, fighting through the pain. The Staples Center responded, starting a slow, rhythmic clap that grew louder and louder, echoing through the massive arena. Feeding off the sheer willpower of the audience, Sting forced himself to his feet. He broke the champion's grip with a sharp backward headbutt that caught Sandro right on the bridge of the nose.
Sandro staggered backward, clutching his face. Sting hit the ropes, building momentum, and delivered a flying clothesline that knocked the champion flat on his back. Sandro popped up, only to be met with a second flying clothesline.
"The Icon is rallying!" Cole yelled, his voice rising in pitch.
Sandro scrambled to his feet, swinging wildly. Sting ducked the punch, grabbed Sandro by the waist, and delivered a high angle belly to back suplex. Sting didn't stop there. He waited for Sandro to rise, kicked him squarely in the gut, and planted him with a thunderous DDT!
Sting hooked both legs, staring up at the lights.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Sandro kicked out just a millisecond before the three-count.
"This is unbelievable!" Lawler cheered. "They are throwing absolute bombs at each other!"
Sting pulled himself up, running his hands over his face, smearing the black and white paint into a gritty, battle worn mask. He looked at the top turnbuckle, then looked down at the champion. Slowly, methodically, Sting began to climb.
"Sting is going up top!" Booker T yelled. "We haven't seen this in years!"
Sting reached the top rope, balancing precariously. He waited for Sandro to push himself up to his feet. As the God King turned around, Sting launched his body into the humid Los Angeles air, soaring across the ring with a flying crossbody block, but Sandro was waiting. With horrifying strength and impeccable timing, Sandro caught Sting out of thin air. The champion held the heavy veteran across his chest, adjusting his grip, and swung Sting around, driving him into the mat with a devastating, spinning powerslam!
_______________________________
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), & Youngest World Heavyweight Champion
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0