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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"He is the Triple Crown Champion," Cole concluded as the broadcast prepared to fade to black. "Sandro Zhang has successfully defended his throne in the most brutal, unforgiving main event in recent history. The locker room Rebellion gave him their absolute best shot tonight. They broke his empire. But they could not break the God King. And as WrestleMania concludes here in Atlanta, one terrifying question remains... who on earth can possibly stop Sandro Zhang?"
"Absolutely nobody, Michael! That is the answer! Nobody!" JBL immediately roared, his voice completely raw but vibrating with an obnoxious, rambunctious, and entirely unapologetic pride.
JBL leaned so far over the commentary desk he was practically laying on it. "You three have sat here all night long, praying for the downfall of the golden empire! You cheered when Kofi Kingston failed! You celebrated when Big E and Ryback were robbed! You threw a party when Rated RKO stole a win from Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre! You thought the God King was vulnerable! You thought he was exposed!"
JBL pointed a frantic finger toward the ring, where Sandro Zhang stood amidst the wreckage of the brutal "I Quit" match, his three massive championships catching the arena lights.
"Look at him!" JBL bellowed. "He is untouchable! He is entirely indestructible! There is not a single living, breathing human being on the face of this planet who could contend against him inside that squared circle, and nobody who can outsmart him outside of it! He doesn't need the enforcers! He doesn't need the Undisputed System for any help whatsoever, because he just proved that he can take care of absolutely everything himself! He is a solitary, omnipotent force of nature!"
"John, you need to calm down and stop being so incredibly arrogant," Lawler immediately shot back, his tone dripping with frustration. "Yes, Sandro Zhang survived a war tonight. Yes, he retained the WWE Championship. But to sit there and say that he is completely untouchable is just foolish. The locker room Rebellion took him to the absolute limit. He is bleeding, he is battered, and he is standing on his own two feet by a miracle."
"The King is right, man!" Booker T chimed in, adjusting his headset. "You don't rule with an iron fist forever without making massive, dangerous enemies! Sandro just exiled his entire muscle! He just told his entire faction to hit the unemployment line! He is completely alone on that island now, and there is surely someone, somewhere, who can step up and take him down!"
"You're delusional, Booker!" JBL laughed mockingly. "The Rebellion fired their best shot! They sent the Painmaker! And Sandro Zhang broke him in half! It is over! The Triple Crown Era is eternal!"
Inside the ring, the medical personnel had finally managed to secure the completely unconscious Chris Jericho to a backboard. They carefully loaded the battered veteran onto a stretcher, wheeling him quickly up the long entrance ramp to get him to the nearest trauma center.
Sandro Zhang watched them leave, a cold, empty expression on his bruised face. He hopped down from the turnbuckles, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He adjusted the WWE Championship around his waist and pulled the United States and World Heavyweight titles higher onto his shoulders.
At the bottom of the television screen, the classic, signature WWE copyright graphic slowly began to fade into view. The broadcast was officially wrapping up. The seventy thousand fans inside the Georgia Dome began to gather their belongings, exhausted from the four hour emotional rollercoaster of WrestleMania.
They murmured loudly among themselves, accepting the harsh, undeniable reality that the God King was walking out of Atlanta with his absolute monopoly on power completely intact.
The stadium lights began to slowly pan across the crowd, signaling the end of the show.
And then, it happened.
Just as the copyright graphic was about to fade to black, an aggressive, heavy, and completely unmistakable drum beat suddenly kicked through the massive stadium sound system. It was followed a microsecond later by a screeching, high pitched, metallic guitar riff that instantly sent a shockwave of pure electricity directly into the spinal cords of every single wrestling fan in the building.
The heavy, thumping, monstrous beat of a long lost entrance music absolutely hijacked the Georgia Dome.
For a terrifying, silent fraction of a second, the seventy thousand fans in Atlanta froze. Their brains desperately scrambled to process the audio, trying to connect the legendary music to a reality they thought was entirely impossible.
This was a long lost theme song. It was a piece of music that had not been heard in a WWE arena in years, a relic from the absolute peak of the Ruthless Aggression era.
And then, the realization hit.
The Georgia Dome absolutely, fundamentally exploded. The crowd went completely ballistic. The noise that erupted from the steep tiers of the stadium was not a cheer, it was a visceral, seismic event. It was a roar so completely, undeniably massive that the camera lenses physically vibrated on their mounts.
People dropped their coats, leaped out of their seats, and threw their hands onto their heads in pure, unadulterated, mind melting shock. They never, in a million years, expected this man to return.
At the commentary desk, absolute pandemonium broke out.
"OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" Cole shrieked, instantly jumping out of his chair and ripping his headset half off his head. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?! TELL ME I AM NOT HEARING THIS!"
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Booker T screamed, completely losing his mind, throwing his hands into the air. "I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE! HE HAVEN'T EVEN WORK HERE IN YEARS!"
"WHY IS THIS MUSIC PLAYING?!" JBL shouted, his voice instantly dropping two octaves into a tone of absolute, terrified panic. "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! WHY DOES THIS MAN SUDDENLY COME OUT TO INTERRUPT THE GOD KING?! CUT THE MUSIC! CUT THE MUSIC RIGHT NOW!"
Inside the ring, Sandro's cold, sociopathic mask instantly shattered. He spun around, his bruised face contorting into a look of absolute, genuine shock. He stared wide eyed at the massive entrance stage, the three heavy championships suddenly looking incredibly cumbersome on his shoulders.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, looking like a literal, genetic freak of nature, was the man who was known as the Beast.
Brock Lesnar had returned to the WWE.
The man who had left the company to conquer the grueling, brutal world of the UFC, the man who was always destined to be the true next big thing if he hadn't walked away, stood at the top of the WrestleMania stage.
He was wearing his black MMA fighting shorts, his massive, heavily tattooed chest and impossibly wide shoulders looking even thicker and more terrifying than they had a decade prior. He bounced from foot to foot, a terrifying, predatory smirk on his face.
The seventy thousand fans let out another massive, deafening cheer, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer, terrifying aura of the Beast.
But the Georgia Dome was not done being shocked. Just as the crowd thought they had reached the absolute peak of human surprise, a second figure stepped out from the curtain, emerging directly from the shadows behind Brock Lesnar's massive frame.
It was a man wearing a slightly wrinkled, custom tailored suit. A man who was supposed to be in Sandro Zhang's corner all night. A man who had suspiciously vanished after the God King's terrifying meltdown.
It was the Special Advisor. It was the General Manager of Monday Night RAW. It was the Speaker of the God King and the Undisputed System.
It was Paul Heyman.
The shock in the arena was entirely palpable. The fans gasped, their cheers morphing into a chaotic mixture of confusion, awe, and sheer disbelief. Heyman stood firmly behind Brock Lesnar, an incredibly wide, arrogant, and sickeningly smug smile plastered across his sweaty face. He held a live WWE microphone tightly in his right hand.
"NO! NO! NO!" JBL wailed on commentary, suffering a complete, on air psychological meltdown. "WHAT IS PAUL HEYMAN DOING OUT THERE?! PAUL, GET AWAY FROM HIM! THAT IS THE ENEMY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"IT'S A BETRAYAL!" Lawler screamed, completely ecstatic, laughing with pure joy. "PAUL HEYMAN HAS TURNED HIS BACK ON THE GOD KING! THE SPEAKER OF THE UNDISPUTED SYSTEM JUST STABBED SANDRO ZHANG IN THE BACK!"
"I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!" Cole yelled over the deafening crowd noise. "EVERYONE COULD SEE THAT THE EMPIRE WAS CRUMBLING, BUT NOBODY PREDICTED THIS! PAUL HEYMAN JUST BROUGHT THE MOST DANGEROUS MAN ON THE PLANET TO WRESTLEMANIA!"
In the ring, Sandro's expression morphed from shock to an intense, burning, homicidal fury. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. He raised his arm, pointing a furious, trembling finger directly at Lesnar and Heyman on the stage, entirely trapped in his own ring.
Brock Lesnar didn't even flinch at the God King's anger. Lesnar simply smirked. He took a short breath, planted his left foot, and executed his signature, violent kick motion with his right leg!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Massive, concussive pillars of fireworks immediately shot out from the stage and violently cascaded all the way down the incredibly long WrestleMania ramp!
The explosive display was a terrifying declaration of war.
Lesnar began to walk down the ramp, moving with that iconic, bouncy, terrifying swagger of a man who knew he could dismantle anyone on the planet in a legitimate fight.
Paul Heyman walked one step behind him, no longer looking like the terrified, stuttering manager who had cowered before Sandro Zhang earlier in the month. Heyman looked completely liberated, strutting behind his new monster with absolute, impenetrable confidence.
"Look at the smug face of Paul Heyman!" Booker T laughed, entirely enjoying the collapse of the golden empire. "He found himself a bigger, badder, meaner insurance policy! He doesn't need the God King anymore!"
"This is treason!" JBL shrieked, his headset completely askew. "Paul Heyman is committing corporate treason! Sandro Zhang elevated him! Sandro made him the General Manager of RAW! Sandro gave him everything, and this is how that walrus repays him?!"
Lesnar and Heyman reached the bottom of the ramp. They did not immediately enter the ring. Instead, they walked around to the side, climbing the steel steps and stepping up onto the ring apron. They stood just outside the ropes, entirely invading Sandro Zhang's personal space.
Sandro stood his ground in the center of the ring, his three championships gleaming, but he was visibly exhausted. He had just survived a barbaric, thirty minute "I Quit" match, and now he was staring down a fresh, fully rested, completely unhinged Beast Incarnate.
On the apron, Heyman slowly raised his hand. He signaled the ringside production crew, pointing to his ear. Instantly, the heavy, thumping beats of "The Next Big Thing" were cut off, plunging the Georgia Dome back into a tense, vibrating silence.
Heyman brought the microphone to his lips. He had a massive, incredibly wide smile on his face. He cleared his throat loudly, once, twice, milking the absolute, suffocating tension of the moment.
"Ladies and Gentlemen..."
The crowd popped immediately just for the legendary catchphrase.
"...my name... is Paul Heyman."
The seventy thousand fans cheered again, fully captivated by the masterful orator.
"And I am absolutely sure," Heyman continued, his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm, "that every single one of you sitting in this beautiful stadium tonight... including the most esteemed, the most brilliant, the most arrogant God King standing in the center of this ring... was very, very surprised with exactly what I had in store for the main event."
Heyman took a slow, deliberate step forward on the apron, sliding directly behind Brock Lesnar's massive shoulder, using the Beast as a physical shield while he stared directly at Sandro Zhang.
"Sandro," Heyman said, entirely dropping the respectful, subservient tone he had used for years. His voice was cold, sharp, and deeply vindictive. "You stood on live television just weeks ago. You grabbed me by my lapels. You threatened me. You blamed me for the failures of Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback. You thought you could control me through absolute fear, just like you controlled the rest of your little golden empire."
Sandro Zhang's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, his breathing heavy as he gripped his championships tighter.
"Well, I will use this magnificent, global platform to say this to you directly," Heyman declared, his voice rising in volume and intensity. "I quit."
The crowd let out a massive "Ooooooh!"
"I quit being your speaker!" Heyman shouted, his face turning red with years of repressed frustration. "I quit being your right hand man! I quit being your corporate scapegoat! I am absolutely, entirely sick and tired of being under your sociopathic control for another second! You demanded perfection, Sandro? You demanded an absolute, unstoppable monopoly of violence?! Well, look at what I brought you!"
Heyman extended his arm, pointing directly at the massive, tattooed chest of the man standing beside him.
"I am no longer the Speaker of the Undisputed System!" Heyman roared, his voice echoing through the massive stadium PA system. "I have officially become the advocate... for the Beast... BROCKKKK LESNARRRRR!"
The Georgia Dome erupted into a completely chaotic, deafening mixture of reactions. Half the crowd let out huge, appreciative cheers at the return of Brock Lesnar and the ultimate backstabbing of the despised God King.
The other half unleashed massive, hostile boos at Heyman, recognizing the slimy, opportunistic treachery of the manager who had simply traded one terrifying tyrant for another.
At the commentary desk, the contrasting reactions were equally chaotic.
"This is absolute poetic justice!" Cole yelled, clapping his hands. "Sandro Zhang alienated everybody! He ruled by fear, and when you rule by fear, loyalty is the very first thing to evaporate! The Undisputed System has been completely dismantled from the inside out!"
"He pushed Paul Heyman too far!" Lawler laughed. "Not only has Sandro been completely disappointed by his enforcers who lost the World Tag Team titles, the WWE Tag Team titles, and the Intercontinental title tonight... but his own speaker, the man he personally elevated to become the RAW General Manager, just plunged a knife squarely into his back!"
"It's a conspiracy!" JBL wailed, practically in tears, refusing to accept the reality of the situation. "Paul Heyman planned this! He set Wade and Drew up to fail! He set Kofi up to fail! He wanted the empire to crumble so he could bring his hired mercenary in to pick the bones! Sandro Zhang is the victim here!"
In the ring, Sandro Zhang could no longer contain his fury. The calculated, sociopathic mask was gone, replaced by raw, unadulterated anger. He took a violent step forward, closing the distance, looking ready to swing the WWE Championship directly at Heyman's skull.
But as Sandro moved, Brock Lesnar moved faster.
The Beast stepped smoothly through the middle ropes, entering the ring. Lesnar stepped directly into Sandro's path, putting his massive, terrifying physique squarely between the God King and Paul Heyman.
The two men came completely face to face in the dead center of the ring.
The visual was absolutely staggering. Sandro Zhang, the bruised, battered, bleeding Triple Crown Champion, standing nose to nose with the fresh, muscular, terrifyingly powerful UFC heavyweight juggernaut. They looked at each other with absolute, uncompromising steel in their eyes. Sandro did not back down, his chin raised in defiance. Lesnar simply stared back, a cold, predatory amusement dancing in his eyes, completely unfazed by the gold draped across Sandro's shoulders.
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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, 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