If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Inside the ring, Epico and Ziggler traded heavy blows. Epico whipped Ziggler into the ropes, looking for a pop up powerbomb, but Ziggler managed to float over, landing on his feet.
The finish was a breathtaking display of tandem offense that proved Ziggler and Woods were indeed a lethal combination.
As Epico turned around, Woods, who had just scrambled up onto the ring apron, slingshotted himself into the ring. Woods grabbed Epico around the head, executing his devastating Lost in the Woods inverted stomp facebreaker, driving Epico's face directly into his foot.
But Epico didn't even have time to fall.
The exact millisecond Epico rebounded off Woods' knee, Ziggler leaped into the air from behind, grabbing Epico around the neck and slamming him violently backward into the canvas with the Zig Zag!
The sheer fluidity of the combination was terrifying.
Ziggler hooked both legs tightly. Woods stood guard, his chest heaving, daring Hunico to try and break it up.
One. Two. Three!
DING! DING! DING!
"Here are your winners... Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods, The Undisputed System!"
"What an absolutely incredible tandem maneuver!" Cole shouted over the boos of the disappointed Tampa crowd. "The timing was impeccable! Ziggler and Woods pick up a massive, statement making victory here tonight on NXT!"
"They proved they can work as a unit, Michael!" Mathews agreed. "They survived the high flying onslaught of Los Aviadores, and they showed Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose that they are a very real, very dangerous threat to those NXT Tag Team Championships!"
Heyman slid into the ring, raising the arms of his two exhausted but victorious clients. They had survived their first test. The mandate of the God King was pushing them to new heights, and as they stood tall in the center of the ring, the message to the current champions was undeniably clear.
Days passed, the weekend faded, and the relentless machine of the WWE schedule rolled onward to the great Pacific Northwest.
It was Monday. Monday Night RAW was broadcasting live from the massive, sprawling KeyArena in Seattle, Washington.
The fans had completely flocked to the building, buying out every single available ticket hours before the doors even opened. The anticipation in the freezing Seattle air was palpable.
Everyone in the building, and millions watching around the globe, were desperately waiting for the main event, CM Punk versus Chris Jericho, one on one, with the winner moving on to face Sandro Zhang at the Royal Rumble.
As the clock struck the top of the hour, the opening video package played, highlighting the chaotic events of last week, the return of The Rock, the violent arrival of the Painmaker, and Vince McMahon's blockbuster announcement.
BOOM!
The opening pyrotechnics fired with explosive, ear-shattering force, lighting up the KeyArena in brilliant flashes of red, gold, and white. The camera dynamically panned across the sold out crowd, capturing a sea of waving signs and screaming fans, before swooping down to the ringside commentary table.
Cole, Lawler, and JBL sat shoulder to shoulder, feeding off the incredible energy in the building.
"Welcome, everyone, to Monday Night RAW!" Michael Cole yelled, a massive smile on his face. "We are coming to you live from a completely sold out arena here in Seattle, Washington! I am Michael Cole, alongside Jerry Lawler and JBL, and gentlemen, I don't think I have ever felt a buzz quite like this for a regular television main event!"
"You're absolutely right, Michael!" Lawler cheered, his eyes wide with excitement. "Tonight's main event has WrestleMania-level stakes! CM Punk, the Voice of the Voiceless, taking on Chris Jericho, the Painmaker! If Punk wins, he gets a one on one rematch with Sandro Zhang at the Royal Rumble. But if Jericho wins, he inserts himself into the match and makes it a Triple Threat!"
"It is the biggest match of the year so far!" Cole emphasized. "Two of the absolute best in the world, fighting for the right to challenge the Triple Crown Champion!"
"It is a travesty is what it is!" JBL immediately interjected, his voice booming with absolute disdain, completely ruining the positive energy at the desk. "This entire main event is a slap in the face to the God King!"
"How on earth is a number one contender's match a slap in the face, John?" Lawler asked incredulously.
"Because Vince McMahon had absolutely no right to make this match without consulting Sandro Zhang first!" JBL roared, defending his idol with borderline fanaticism. "The Triple Crown Champion is the face of this franchise! He carries the industry on his back! He literally said it himself on Twitter, Mr. McMahon did not have his consent to book this circus!"
"John, Vince McMahon is the Chairman of the Board!" Cole argued. "He makes the matches! He doesn't need Sandro's permission! And he knew that Sandro Zhang's reign of terror needs to be checked!"
"Mr.McMahon is just jealous!" JBL yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. "He is jealous of Jack Zhang's money, he is jealous of Nexum Core's influence, and he is trying to sabotage Sandro Zhang because Sandro is bigger than the WWE itself! And now, because of corporate meddling, the God King has to sit back and watch two desperate scavengers fight over his scraps!"
"CM Punk had his shot and he choked! Chris Jericho failed the Undisputed System and got excommunicated! They are a couple of bitter, jealous pests looking to gain clout by attaching their names to the greatest champion in history!"
"You can call them whatever you want, John," Cole shot back, refusing to back down. "But the fact remains that whoever wins tonight's main event is going to step into the ring at the Royal Rumble with a very real chance of ending the Triple Crown Era!"
"Nobody is ending the Triple Crown Era!" JBL laughed mockingly. "The God King said he always has a plan, and I believe him! Punk and Jericho are going to tear each other apart tonight, and Sandro is going to pick the bones at the Rumble! Neither of them gets to breathe the same air as the God King, let alone defeating him for his gold!
"Well, whether you agree with the corporate politics or not, John, the match is official!" Lawler countered happily. "And the implications are massive! If Jericho wins tonight, Sandro Zhang will not even have to be pinned or submitted to lose the World Heavyweight Championship at the Royal Rumble! His empire is in serious, serious jeopardy!"
The heated, high volume debate at the commentary desk was abruptly and violently severed by the oppressive, heavy bass drop of the Undisputed System's entrance theme.
The Seattle crowd instantly showered the arena in a relentless downpour of hostile boos, their anticipation for the main event temporarily replaced by sheer, unfiltered disdain for the golden empire's enforcers.
The opening match of Monday Night RAW was designed with one singular, terrifying purpose: a brutal demonstration of absolute power.
Marching down the entrance ramp were the World Tag Team Champions, the monstrous duo of Big E and Ryback. They were flanked by the Special Advisor himself, Paul Heyman, who wore a smug, deeply arrogant smirk, clutching his signature manila folder against his chest.
Standing nervously inside the ring was a local, unsigned tag team, two young, terrified athletes from the Pacific Northwest independent scene who had been specifically invited to the show by Heyman. They were not there to compete, they were there to be sacrificed.
The referee called for the bell, and the match was an absolute, unmitigated slaughter. It was a showcase of pure, unadulterated dominance.
Ryback started the match, immediately charging his opponent and turning him inside out with a devastating, high impact meat hook clothesline that echoed like a shotgun blast through the KeyArena. He didn't even bother going for a pinfall.
Instead, he dragged the limp body to his corner and tagged in Big E. The powerhouse from Tampa entered the ring, effortlessly scooping the second, panicked local wrestler out of his boots as he tried to intervene. Big E hit a terrifying belly to belly suplex that tossed the man entirely across the canvas like a discarded ragdoll.
Heyman stood on the outside, laughing maniacally, barking orders for his behemoths to stretch them out. Big E and Ryback obliged, deciding to end the squash match by sending a very painful, agonizing message to the rest of the roster.
Instead of their usual tandem tag team finisher, they resorted to sheer torture. Ryback hoisted his opponent up, bending him backward over his massive shoulders into a spine shattering torture rack. Simultaneously, Big E grabbed the other local competitor, wrapping his legs up and pulling back with horrific force, locking in a punishing stretch muffler submission.
The two independent wrestlers screamed in absolute agony, frantically tapping out on the mat, on the air, on anything they could reach.
The referee frantically called for the bell, but Big E and Ryback held the agonizing submissions for a full five seconds after the match officially ended, only dropping the broken men when Heyman finally signaled that the point had been made.
"An absolute massacre!" Michael Cole shouted over the boos. "The World Tag Team Champions just dismantled those two young men! This wasn't a match, it was a public execution orchestrated by Paul Heyman to make the Undisputed System look as dangerous as possible!"
"It's brilliant strategy, Michael!" JBL applauded, a massive grin on his face. "The God King demands that his subjects project absolute power, and Big E and Ryback are the most dominant force in the RAW tag team division! They are untouchable!"
Following the brutal opening statement, Monday Night RAW kicked into high gear, delivering a relentless, spectacular three hour broadcast.
Match after match, the men and women of the RAW locker room put on an incredible show, desperately fighting for television time and championship contention in a landscape entirely dominated by one faction.
There were high flying cruiserweight showcases, a deeply physical bout, and several intense backstage segments highlighting the growing paranoia and desperation within the locker room.
Through it all, the looming, invisible shadow of Sandro Zhang hung heavily over the arena. The Triple Crown Champion was not scheduled to compete, but his presence was felt in every single segment.
As the night wore on, the Seattle crowd grew more and more restless, their energy steadily building toward a volcanic eruption. The fans held up their handmade signs, counting down the minutes until the two biggest threats to the God King's empire finally collided.
Finally, the broadcast reached the top of the final hour. The arena lights dimmed slightly, and an electric, suffocating tension settled over the sold out KeyArena. It was time.
The heavy, chaotic, metalcore guitar riff of "This Fire Burns" violently shattered the silence.
The Seattle crowd exploded into an absolute frenzy. The pop was deafening, a massive, cathartic roar of pure adrenaline.
CM Punk stepped through the curtain. He did not look like a polished, pristine athlete. He looked like a man walking into a warzone.
His ribs were heavily bound in layers of thick white athletic tape, a stark visual reminder of the catastrophic powerbomb he had suffered through the announce desk at Tribute to the Troops. He walked with a slight, deliberate limp, but the fire burning in his eyes was absolute, unyielding, and homicidal.
But Punk was not marching to the ring alone.
Flanking him on either side were the loyal, battered disciples of the Straight Edge Society. Luke Gallows and Joey Mercury stepped out into the arena light, bearing the ugly, purple bruises and fresh scars from the targeted, horrific beatdown they had endured at the hands of the Undisputed System weeks prior.
They looked like grizzled enforcers from a post apocalyptic wasteland, and their intentions were terrifyingly clear.
Wrapped tightly around the hands of both Gallows and Mercury were heavy, solid oak baseball bats, completely wrapped in rusted, jagged barbed wire. It was the ultimate insurance policy.
Punk was absolutely refusing to be a victim of the Undisputed System's numbers game ever again. If Sandro Zhang's golden army decided to interfere in this main event, they would be met with lethal, unmitigated violence.
The fans cheered even louder at the sight of the barbed wire, fully supporting the Straight Edge Society's extreme countermeasures.
Inside the ring, veteran announcer Justin Roberts raised his microphone, his crisp voice cutting through the heavy metal music and the roaring crowd.
"The following contest is your main event of the evening, and it is scheduled for one fall!" Roberts boomed, pointing toward the entrance stage. "Introducing first... accompanied to the ring by Luke Gallows and Joey Mercury... representing the Straight Edge Society... from Chicago, Illinois... weighing in at 222 pounds... he is the Voice of the Voiceless... C... M... PUUUUUUNK!"
Punk marched down the long steel ramp, his eyes locked dead on the squared circle. He didn't slap hands with the fans. He didn't pander. He slid under the bottom rope, instantly scaling the nearest turnbuckle.
He threw his arms wide open, screaming "BEST IN THE WORLD!" to the roaring Seattle faithful. He hopped down, pacing the canvas like a caged tiger, while Gallows and Mercury took up their positions on the outside, gripping their barbed wire bats, scanning the barricades and the entrance ramp with cold, paranoid intensity.
The music faded. The arena fell into a tense, buzzing murmur.
Then, the lights cut out entirely.
The heavy, driving, undeniably sinister guitar riff of Fozzy's "Judas" blasted through the sound system. The TitanTron flickered to life, displaying chaotic, distorted images of black and white ink blots and barbed wire.
The crowd's reaction was a massive, chaotic mixture of cheers for the legendary veteran and hostile boos for the man who had brutally assaulted The Rock.
Chris Jericho, completely consumed by the Painmaker persona, stepped out from the shadows. He was dressed in his heavy, spiked black leather jacket.
On his head, he wore the soun brimmed black fedora, and covering his face was the terrifying, jet black mask with two stark white crosses painted over the eyes. Gripped loosely in his right hand was his signature, solid black baseball bat.
He didn't run. He walked with a slow, deliberate, psychopathic swagger, entirely ignoring the divided reaction of the audience.
Justin Roberts raised his microphone once again as the Painmaker reached the bottom of the ramp.
"And his opponent!" Roberts announced, his voice echoing over the heavy metal anthem. "From Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada... weighing in at 227 pounds... he is the Painmaker... CHRRRRRIS JERRRRRICHOOO!"
Jericho slowly walked up the steel ring steps. He stepped through the ropes, his cold, masked gaze locking instantly onto CM Punk. Jericho didn't acknowledge the barbed wire wielding enforcers on the outside. He walked to the center of the ring, staring a hole straight through the Voice of the Voiceless.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Jericho reached up and peeled the black mask off his face, tossing it and the fedora casually over the top rope.
The unmasking revealed the chaotic, heavily smeared black and white face paint underneath, making him look like a completely unhinged lunatic. He handed his black baseball bat to the referee, who carefully passed it out of the ring, wanting absolutely no foreign objects involved in the match.
_______________________________
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