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"This is an outrage!" JBL screamed, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as he ripped his headset half off. "Are you two blind?! That is Mick Foley! He just took off his neck brace and put a stupid leather mask on! This is a blatant abuse of corporate power! A General Manager cannot legally compete against a WWE Superstar!"
"I have no idea what you are talking about, John!" Cole countered smoothly, fully embracing the legendary lore. "Mick Foley is backstage! That man walking down the ramp is Mankind! And he looks ready to tear the God King apart!"
Inside the ring, Sandro's arrogant smirk completely vanished. His jaw tightened, a look of genuine shock flashing across his face. He backed away slowly, retreating into his corner as the masked madman approached the ring.
Mankind didn't use the steel steps. He rolled awkwardly under the bottom rope, scrambling to his feet. He backed into the opposite corner, squatting down on his haunches, rocking back and forth, ripping at his hair as he stared unblinkingly at the young double champion.
The referee, visibly intimidated by the masked legend, quickly checked with the timekeeper and signaled for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
Sandro Zhang did not hesitate. Relying on his explosive speed, the God King charged out of his corner, launching a vicious running knee strike aimed directly at Mankind's face.
Mankind didn't even try to dodge. He absorbed the heavy blow, his head snapping backward. But instead of collapsing, Mankind slowly lowered his head, looking at Sandro, and let out a high pitched, terrifying squeal of laughter.
Sandro's eyes widened in horror.
Before the champion could throw another strike, Mankind exploded out of the corner. He threw a wild, looping right hand that caught Sandro flush on the jaw.
Smack!
Mankind followed it up with a relentless flurry of chaotic, bare knuckle punches, backing the God King forcefully against the ropes.
Mankind grabbed Sandro by the throat, letting out another deranged squeal, and charged forward. He threw his own body weight over the top rope, taking Sandro with him in a devastating Cactus Clothesline!
Both men plummeted through the air, crashing violently onto the thin mats covering the concrete floor.
"Bodies flying everywhere!" Cole yelled as the crowd roared. "Mankind does not care about his own safety! He only cares about inflicting pain!"
Mankind was the first to his feet, seemingly fueled by the impact. He grabbed Sandro by the hair, dragging the groggy champion up, and whipped him forcefully into the steel ring steps. The heavy metal stairs separated with a loud clang as Sandro crashed shoulder first into the steel.
Mankind didn't give him a second to breathe. He grabbed Sandro by the back of the neck, dragging him toward the announce desk.
"Watch out!" Lawler yelled as the commentators scrambled out of their chairs.
Mankind slammed Sandro's face into the protective plastic hood of the desk once, twice, three times. But as Mankind reared back for a fourth strike, Sandro's elite survival instincts kicked in. The champion threw a desperate, sharp elbow backward, catching Mankind directly on the bridge of the nose.
The strike created a fraction of a second of separation. Sandro spun around, launching a ruthless thrust kick that buried deep into Mankind's midsection. As the masked legend doubled over, Sandro grabbed him by the hair, violently slamming Mankind's throat down across the steel barricade.
Mankind gasped for air, clutching his neck.
Sandro's eyes narrowed into dark, murderous slits. He recognized the opening immediately. Mankind may have been a separate entity in the minds of the fans, but Sandro knew exactly what body was under that white shirt. He knew that neck was already severely compromised from the Falls From Grace at SummerSlam.
Sandro grabbed Mankind by the hair, rolling him back under the bottom rope. Sandro slid in right behind him, instantly dropping a heavy knee directly onto the back of Mankind's neck.
"Sandro is a predator!" JBL praised, his confidence returning. "He knows exactly where the weakness is! He is going to break that neck all over again and put this masked freak back in the history books!"
Sandro locked in a suffocating reverse chinlock, dropping his body weight down to compress Mankind's injured vertebrae. Mankind squealed in pain, clawing frantically at Sandro's arms, but the young champion held the grip with terrifying strength.
"Look at the title lineages!" JBL yelled over the action, desperate to remind the audience of Sandro's absolute superiority. "The historical records of the WWE and World Heavyweight Championships have never seen a dominant force like this, not even back in the grueling, highly contested title reigns of attitude era! Sandro Zhang is making history, while this masked freak is trying to drag him back to the dark ages!"
"Mankind is trying to survive, John!" Cole argued.
Feeding off the sheer energy of the chanting Atlanta crowd, Mankind slowly pushed himself up to a vertical base. He threw a heavy back elbow, breaking Sandro's grip. Sandro stumbled backward, bouncing off the ropes, and charged forward with a heavy clothesline.
Mankind ducked it gracefully. As Sandro spun around, Mankind delivered a stiff kick to the champion's gut, doubling him over. Mankind quickly hooked both of Sandro's arms, locking them behind the champion's back, and drove him face first into the canvas with a devastating, picture perfect Double Arm DDT!
The arena exploded!
"Double Arm DDT!" Lawler cheered. "He nailed it!"
Mankind scrambled over, hooking the leg tightly.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Sandro kicked out, violently shoving Mankind off him.
Mankind didn't show frustration, he simply started pulling at his hair again, rocking back and forth on his knees. He waited for Sandro to push himself up, staggering blindly in the center of the ring. Mankind hit the ropes, building momentum, and launched a running knee strike that caught Sandro flush on the side of the head, sending the champion crashing into the turnbuckles.
Mankind charged in, trapping Sandro in the corner. He began throwing heavy, rhythmic right hands, the crowd counting along with every single strike.
One! Two! Three! Four! Five!
Mankind backed away, preparing for his signature running knee to the face of a cornered opponent. He charged forward, launching his body into the air.
But Sandro was waiting.
With blinding, terrifying speed, Sandro exploded out of the corner. He caught Mankind completely out of thin air, wrapping his arms around the heavy veteran's waist, and forcefully drove him backward into the canvas with a breathtaking, bridging German suplex!
"He caught him!" Cole shrieked in disbelief. "The sheer power of Sandro Zhang!"
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NO!"
Mankind kicked out, his shoulder flying off the mat.
Sandro sat up, his chest heaving, a look of unhinged fury washing over his face. He pushed himself up to his feet, stalking Mankind as the masked legend slowly pulled himself up using the ropes. Sandro grabbed Mankind from behind, hooking him for a high angle back suplex, looking to dump him directly on his injured neck.
But Mankind fought back wildly. He threw frantic elbows to the side of Sandro's head, forcing the God King to drop him. Mankind spun around, kicking Sandro in the gut, and hooked his arms, setting up for a piledriver.
Sandro recognized the extreme danger. He shifted his weight instantly, back dropping Mankind high into the air. Mankind crashed heavily onto the canvas, clutching his back in agony.
Sandro didn't give him a moment to recover. He backed into the corner, dialing it up, pointing a finger at the fallen legend. He waited for Mankind to push himself up to a kneeling position. Sandro charged forward, swinging his arm with maximum velocity, looking to decapitate Mankind with the Last Note elbow strike.
Mankind dropped flat on his stomach at the absolute last microsecond. Sandro swung at empty air, the momentum spinning him completely around.
When Sandro turned back, Mankind was on his knees.
The masked legend slowly reached his right hand down the front of his dark sweatpants.
The Los Angeles crowd instantly recognized the gesture. The roar inside the Philips Arena was deafening, a massive, unified wave of sheer anticipation.
Mankind pulled his hand out. Slipped over his fingers was a dirty, sweat stained white athletic sock, featuring a crudely drawn smiley face.
"It's Mr. Socko!" Lawler screamed, jumping out of his chair. "He's got it!"
"This is disgusting! This is unsanitary!" JBL panicked, holding his head. "Get out of there, Sandro!"
Sandro stumbled forward, completely disoriented.
Mankind lunged. He thrust his right hand directly into Sandro's open mouth, locking two fingers tightly under the champion's tongue while grabbing the nerve under his jaw, applying the agonizing, inescapable Mandible Claw!
The crowd lost their absolute minds!
"HE'S GOT IT LOCKED IN!" Cole yelled at the top of his lungs. "THE MANDIBLE CLAW IS LOCKED IN DEAD CENTER!"
Sandro's eyes went wide with sheer terror. He let out a muffled, gurgling scream, grabbing Mankind's arm with both hands, trying desperately to pry the foul tasting sock out of his mouth. But Mankind's grip was like a steel vice. The masked legend leaned back, applying maximum pressure to the sensitive nerves in the champion's jaw.
Sandro stumbled backward, his vision blurring. A thick white foam began to form at the corners of his mouth. His legs buckled, and the God King dropped heavily to one knee in the center of the ring.
"He is fading!" Lawler cheered. "The God King is going to pass out!"
"Sandro, fight it!" JBL begged, his voice cracking. "Don't you dare quit to this freak!"
Sandro dropped down to both knees. His arms grew heavy. The darkness was closing in, the agonizing pain in his jaw threatening to shut his brain down completely. He was seconds away from unconsciousness.
But Sandro Zhang was a once in a generation predator, and his refusal to lose was absolute.
A massive, terrifying surge of pure adrenaline flooded through Sandro's veins. With a guttural, muffled roar, Sandro planted his boots flat on the canvas. He forcefully pushed himself up to a standing position, lifting the heavy veteran entirely off his feet while the hold was still locked in!
The crowd gasped at the terrifying display of raw power.
Sandro charged backward as fast as he could, driving Mankind's spine brutally into the turnbuckles.
Crash!
The impact knocked the wind out of Mankind, but the masked legend refused to let go. He kept the Mandible Claw locked in tight, squeezing even harder.
Sandro stumbled forward, his lungs burning for oxygen. He charged backward a second time, ramming Mankind into the corner with even more terrifying force.
Crash!
This time, Mankind's grip faltered. The sock slipped from Sandro's mouth, and Mankind stumbled forward out of the corner, dazed.
Sandro collapsed against the ropes, gasping frantically for air, wiping the foam from his mouth. His eyes were wide, burning with a dark, unbridled, murderous fury.
Mankind staggered toward the center of the ring, pulling at his hair, trying to shake the cobwebs out.
Sandro hit the opposite ropes, building blinding, unholy speed. As Mankind turned around, Sandro launched himself into the air, swinging his arm with the force of a wrecking ball.
CRACK!
The Last Note elbow strike connected squarely with the side of Mankind's masked head. The sickening, bone jarring impact echoed through the entire arena.
Mankind went completely limp. He didn't even put his hands out to brace his fall. He collapsed face first into the canvas, entirely unconscious.
The Philips Arena fell into a shocked, stunned silence.
Sandro didn't drop for the pin. His chest heaved as he stood over the fallen legend. He grabbed Mankind by the back of the dirty white shirt, hauling the heavy, dead weight of the veteran up from the mat. Sandro ducked under Mankind's arm, ignoring the burning pain in his own ribs.
With horrifying, effortless strength, Sandro lifted the two hundred and eighty pound legend onto his shoulders, locking him securely in the electric chair position.
"Oh no," Cole whispered in horror.
Sandro looked directly at the hard camera, his eyes cold and devoid of any mercy. He dropped to his knees, driving Mankind's head and injured neck directly into the canvas with a catastrophic, sickening Falls From Grace!
The impact was devastating. Mankind's body folded awkwardly before collapsing completely flat on the mat.
Sandro hooked the leg tightly, staring up at the arena lights.
The referee dropped into position.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
DING! DING! DING!
The heavy, grinding guitar riff of Cult of Personality hit the stadium speakers, instantly drowning out the visceral, overwhelming wave of boos from the Atlanta crowd.
"He did it," Cole said, his voice laced with absolute shock and heavy exhaustion. "Sandro Zhang survived the Mandible Claw. He hit the Last Note, he hit the Falls From Grace, and he just pinned a legend in the middle of the ring."
"What an absolute war!" Lawler breathed, shaking his head. "Mankind took him to the absolute limit. We just witnessed an instant classic, but Sandro Zhang is just too dangerous."
"He is the God King!" JBL roared proudly, clapping his hands together as he stood up from the desk. "He didn't just survive, Michael! He conquered! Mick Foley tried to stack the deck! He put a mask on, he ambushed the champion, and Sandro still destroyed him! Sandro Zhang is the most unstoppable monster this industry has ever seen!"
Inside the ring, Sandro slowly pushed himself up to his feet. Sweat poured down his face, his chest heaving with exertion. He didn't look exhausted, he looked like a predator who had just finished a brutal hunt.
The referee retrieved the WWE Championship and the World Heavyweight Championship, bringing them into the ring. He handed both titles to Sandro.
Sandro draped the belts heavily over his shoulders. He didn't celebrate. He stood in the center of the ring, looking down at the broken, unmoving body of Mankind. He raised his arms wide, soaking in the venomous boos from the eighteen thousand fans, looking every bit the untouchable, tyrannical deity he claimed to be.
The broadcast camera pulled back, capturing the chilling, unforgettable visual of the Double Champion standing victorious over yet another fallen legend, leaving the WWE Universe completely breathless as the God King's reign of terror continued to consume everything in its path.
Sandro stood over the motionless body of Mankind, his chest heaving rapidly as sweat dripped from his chin. He had survived the suffocating grip of the Mandible Claw. He had conquered the legend. But the dark, unhinged fury burning in the young billionaire's eyes had not dissipated. It was only growing.
Sandro looked down at the battered veteran lying at his feet. A cruel, sadistic sneer twisted the God King's features. He pulled his foot back and delivered a ruthless, heavy kick directly to Mankind's ribs.
The crowd's boos instantly doubled in volume, morphing into a deafening wave of absolute disgust.
Sandro delivered a second kick, then a third, driving the toe of his wrestling boot mercilessly into the fallen icon's side.
Referee John Cone rushed forward, throwing his arms out and stepping between the champion and his victim. "Back off! The match is over! Back off!" the official yelled, trying to physically separate them.
Sandro didn't even blink. He grabbed the referee by the collar of his striped shirt and forcefully shoved him backward. Cone tumbled awkwardly through the middle ropes, crashing down onto the ringside apron.
With the sole voice of authority removed, Sandro dropped his WWE and World Heavyweight Championships carelessly onto the blue canvas. He dropped to his knees, straddling Mankind's chest. He reached down, digging his fingers under the thick, sweaty straps of the brown leather mask.
"Look at this!" Michael Cole yelled in sheer outrage from the commentary desk. "Sandro Zhang is completely out of control! He is trying to rip the mask off! This is a disgraceful lack of respect!"
"It is not about respect, Michael, it is about the truth!" JBL screamed back, his face bright red as he slammed his hand on the desk. "Sandro is doing exactly what needs to be done! He is going to expose this charade! Mankind isn't some mystical ghost! It's Mick Foley playing dress up so he can abuse his power as General Manager! Tear that mask off, Sandro! Show the world the lies!"
"He is trying to humiliate a Hall of Famer!" Jerry Lawler argued, watching in horror as Sandro pulled violently at the leather bindings.
Mankind weakly swatted at Sandro's hands, trying to protect his identity, but the grueling match had completely drained his reserves. Sandro yanked the bottom strap loose, a manic grin spreading across his face as he prepared to expose the General Manager to the millions watching at home.
CLICK.
The arena lights violently shut off.
The sudden plunge into pitch black darkness drew a massive, collective gasp from the eighteen thousand fans in attendance. A sea of cell phone screens quickly illuminated the stands, casting an eerie, flickering glow over the arena.
A loud, expectant murmur rolled through the crowd. Everyone waited for the piercing cry of a crow. They waited for Sting to emerge from the rafters and exact his revenge with a black baseball bat.
But the crow never called.
FLASH.
The stadium lights snapped back on at full brightness.
Sandro Zhang was still kneeling on the mat, his hands frozen in mid air. He blinked, adjusting to the sudden light. He realized immediately that the atmosphere in the ring had changed. The air felt heavy, suffocating, and terrifyingly cold.
Sandro slowly looked over his shoulder.
Standing directly behind him, wearing his dark Hawaiian shirt and a wide, unsettling smile, was Bray Wyatt.
Flanking the ring on the outside apron were the World Tag Team Champions. Luke Harper stared blankly with his wild, unblinking eyes, while Erick Rowan cracked his thick knuckles, their massive gold titles glinting under the lights. The Philips Arena erupted into a massive, unexpected roar of cheers. The fans despised the God King so much that they were openly cheering for the Eater of Worlds to tear him apart. Sandro scrambled to his feet, abandoning Mankind's mask. He backed away, raising his fists, his eyes darting frantically between Bray, Harper, and Rowan.
_______________________________
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