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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
"Alright, enough corporate strategy for one day," Taylor playfully scolded, setting the tray down. "Sandro, go rescue Nikki before AJ completely buries her in the sand." Sandro laughed, pushing himself out of the lounge chair. He spent the rest of the afternoon exactly where he wanted to be, joking around in the surf with his girls, sharing quiet moments with his parents, and letting the brutal reality of professional wrestling fade away for a few precious hours.
The brief vacation ended, and the grinding gears of the WWE machine pulled the God King back into the fray.
Monday evening arrived, bringing the Monday Night RAW broadcast north of the border to a massive, sold out arena in Ontario, Canada.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The opening pyrotechnics exploded from the entrance stage, the concussive blasts echoing loudly as the Canadian crowd roared to life. The broadcast camera swept across a sea of wildly enthusiastic fans before panning over to the commentary desk.
"Welcome, everyone, to Monday Night RAW!" Cole shouted, his voice practically vibrating with energy. "We are coming to you live from Ontario, Canada, and the landscape of the WWE has been completely shaken to its core!"
"You can say that again, Michael!" Lawler added, shaking his head. "The entire wrestling world is still talking about what happened on Friday Night SmackDown! The Nexus invaded the blue brand, completely destroyed the locker room, and practically handed the Intercontinental Championship to The Miz!"
"They didn't just invade, King, they fled!" JBL argued loudly, a smug grin on his face. "Wade Barrett realized that as long as Sandro Zhang breathes, the Nexus will never control Monday Night RAW! So, like a pack of cowards, they packed their bags and ran to an easier fight on Friday nights!"
"Cowards or not, John, the Nexus is now a massive problem for SmackDown General Manager Teddy Long," Cole pointed out. "But with the Nexus officially in the rearview mirror, the question on everyone's mind tonight is: what is next for the God King?"
As Cole asked the question, the TitanTron flickered, cutting away from the arena to a live backstage camera feed.
Sandro Zhang was walking down a busy concrete hallway, dressed in a sharp, dark suit, with both the WWE and World Heavyweight Championships resting heavily on his shoulders. Walking closely beside him, looking incredibly glamorous, were AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss.
Josh Mathews, holding a WWE microphone, quickly jogged up to the group, respectfully keeping his distance.
"Sandro! Excuse me, Sandro, if I could just get a moment of your time," Josh asked politely.
Sandro stopped walking, turning to face the interviewer. He didn't look annoyed, just calmly focused.
"The entire WWE Universe is buzzing about the Nexus moving to SmackDown," Josh began, holding the microphone out. "There is a massive theory online that Wade Barrett and his men fled the brand specifically because you humiliated them in the Lumberjack match last week. Do you feel a sense of validation knowing that you essentially forced the newest dangerous faction in WWE off of your show?"
Sandro let out a slow, quiet sigh, adjusting the WWE Championship on his shoulder.
"Josh, I genuinely do not care about internet speculation," Sandro replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any real emotion regarding his former enemies. "Whether Wade Barrett ran to SmackDown because he was embarrassed, or whether he simply wanted new targets, is completely irrelevant to me. As far as I am concerned, the events of last week are dead and buried. If the Nexus wants to run away with their tails between their legs, I am more than happy to let them. They are SmackDown's problem now."
Sandro took a step closer to the camera, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto the lens.
"My attention tonight is focused entirely on the future," Sandro declared. "In just a couple of weeks, at Money in the Bank, I am stepping into the ring to defend my WWE Championship against the most dangerous man on the planet, Brock Lesnar."
The live crowd in the arena buzzed loudly at the mention of the Beast Incarnate.
"I don't need a warmup. I don't need a tune up match," Sandro stated bluntly. "But I do need a sparring session. So, later tonight, I am going to give a man an opportunity at the World Heavyweight Championship."
Sandro's expression darkened into a chilling, predatory smirk
.
"But let me be perfectly clear," Sandro warned. "This is not a friendly title defense. I am not handing out charity. I intend to beat this man down. I intend to break him. I am going to use this match as a violent preparation for what I am going to do to Brock Lesnar."
The crowd murmured, the intensity of Sandro's words rippling through the arena.
Josh Mathews blinked, slightly taken aback by the sheer aggression. "Sandro... who exactly is the opponent?"
Sandro tilted his head slightly. "I want to face the only man who has actually managed to defeat Brock Lesnar since Lesnar returned to this company. The same man that I personally hired, and paid millions of dollars to act as a weapon on my behalf... only for that man to stab me in the back the moment I stepped away for two months."
Sandro stared directly into the camera, delivering the final, shocking blow.
"Tonight... I am defending the World Heavyweight Championship against The Dominator. Bobby Lashley."
The reaction inside the Ontario arena was immediate and massive.
A deafening wave of boos cascaded down from the stands. The fans were absolutely stunned by the announcement.
"Bobby Lashley?!" Cole yelled over the broadcast as the backstage segment ended and Sandro continued walking down the hall. "Are you kidding me?! Sandro Zhang is voluntarily stepping into the ring with The Dominator?!"
"This is incredibly dangerous!" Lawler panicked. "Sandro just survived a war last week! Lashley is a monster! He has a deep, personal history with Sandro! Why would he bring Lashley back into his orbit after Lashley betrayed him?!"
"Because that is exactly what a true champion does, King!" JBL practically preached into his microphone. "You don't hide from your past mistakes, you confront them! Lashley took the God King's money and failed his mission! Sandro is going to use a world title defense to publicly execute the mercenary who betrayed him, and he is going to use Lashley's broken body to send a message directly to Brock Lesnar!"
The announcement hung heavily over the entire broadcast.
For the next two hours, Monday Night RAW delivered a string of high profile matches. Drew McIntyre successfully defended his United States Championship against a returning Kofi Kingston.
The Divas division took center stage with AJ Lee picking up a dominant submission victory, reminding the roster why she was aligned with the champion.
But through every segment, the commentary team continually returned to the shocking main event. They relentlessly debated whether Bobby Lashley, a man fueled by his own desire for redemption after losing his cage match to Lesnar, could take advantage of a potentially exhausted champion.
The anticipation built steadily, turning the atmosphere inside the Canadian arena into a pressure cooker.
Finally, the main event hour arrived.
The lights inside the stadium began to dim. The low, anxious murmur of the crowd swelled into a loud, hostile buzz.
Suddenly, a heavy, driving, bass heavy hip hop beat hit the stadium sound system.
The fans instantly recognized the music.
The arena erupted into a deafening, unified wall of absolute hatred and loud, aggressive boos.
Bobby Lashley stepped out from behind the curtain, looking like a physical tank carved out of solid granite. He didn't smile. He didn't play to the crowd. He marched onto the stage with a look of pure, unadulterated focus, ready to reclaim his spot at the top of the food chain, setting the stage for a brutal collision with the God King.
The Canadian fans continued to launch a massive, deafening wave of boos down toward the ring, but Bobby Lashley did not seem to care in the slightest. The Dominator stepped through the ropes, his massive frame radiating an intimidating, quiet hostility.
He marched directly to the center of the squared circle, planting his boots firmly on the canvas. With a dark, arrogant scowl, Lashley flexed his incredibly heavily muscled arms, popping his pecs and throwing his head back to soak in the sheer hatred rolling off the Ontario crowd. He looked like a physical tank, a mercenary who had come to collect a bloody paycheck.
Right as Lashley lowered his arms, the bright arena lights abruptly shut off.
The stadium was plunged into total darkness.
A sharp burst of static crackled over the sound system. The heavy, unmistakable opening guitar riff of Living Colour's Cult of Personality hit the speakers.
The crowd instantly erupted. The boos from moments prior were immediately washed away by a thunderous, earth shaking chorus of cheers. There were still pockets of boos mixed in, the God King had made his fair share of enemies, but the overwhelming reaction was sheer, unadulterated awe.
A single, blindingly bright white spotlight pierced the darkness, shooting down from the rafters and locking onto the entrance stage.
Sandro Zhang stepped out from behind the curtain. The spotlight caught his pristine, all white wrestling gear, the fabric reflecting the brilliant beam perfectly. Resting on his right shoulder was the World Heavyweight Championship. Resting on his left was the WWE Championship. He stood in the center of the stage, looking out over the roaring sea of fans, his face a mask of cold, unyielding focus.
Sandro slowly raised both massive gold titles high into the air.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A spectacular array of golden pyrotechnics shot up from the stage, illuminating the arena as the stadium lights flickered back on.
Sandro lowered the belts, adjusting them on his shoulders, and began his slow, methodical walk down the long steel ramp.
The fans in the front rows leaned over the barricades, screaming his name, holding their hands out in a desperate bid to interact with the double champion. Normally, Sandro ignored them. For over a year, the God King character had treated the audience as subjects to be ruled, not peers to be acknowledged. He walked past them with icy indifference.
But tonight was different.
As Sandro walked down the ramp, he noticed a young boy wearing a white God King t-shirt, leaning over the guardrail with his hand stretched out as far as it would go. Sandro paused. To the absolute shock of everyone in the building, the champion stepped toward the barricade and slapped his hand against the child's palm, giving the kid a firm high five.
Sandro didn't stop there. He walked down the line, slapping the hands of several more fans, his eyes remaining locked on the ring but his actions communicating a subtle, yet monumental shift in his demeanor.
"Did you see that?!" Cole exclaimed at the broadcast desk, his eyes wide. "Sandro Zhang just high fived a fan! I don't think I have ever seen him acknowledge the crowd like that since he won the gold!"
"He's changing, Michael," Lawler noted, leaning forward in his chair. "Ever since he came back from his hiatus, ever since Wade Barrett pushed him to the edge, we are seeing a different side of the God King. He realizes that he doesn't just rule this kingdom, he has to defend the people in it."
"He is a benevolent leader!" JBL declared loudly, practically beaming with pride. "Sandro Zhang knows that these fans pay their hard earned money to watch him maintain order! He is showing them the respect they deserve, unlike the mercenary standing inside the ring!"
Sandro reached the bottom of the ramp, climbed the steel steps, and stepped gracefully through the ropes. He ignored Lashley completely, walking to the center of the ring and raising both world titles high into the air once again to another massive ovation from the Canadian crowd.
Sandro walked to his corner, unbuckling the belts and handing them to the senior official, Charles Robinson.
Justin Roberts, standing at ringside, brought his microphone up.
"The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the World Heavyweight Championship! Introducing the challenger, weighing in at 273 pounds... Bobby Lashley! And introducing the Champion, weighing at 230 pounds... he is the WWE and World Heavyweight Champion, the God King... SANDROOOO ZHANGGGG!"
Robinson took the World Heavyweight Championship, stepping to the center of the ring. He turned and presented the big gold belt to Bobby Lashley, making sure the challenger saw exactly what he was fighting for. Robinson then held the title high above his head, showing it to all four corners of the arena, before passing it through the ropes to the timekeeper.
The referee checked Lashley, who was bouncing aggressively on his toes. He then checked Sandro, who was stretching his arms, his cold gaze locked onto his opponent.
Robinson stepped back, raised his hand, and signaled for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
Sandro took a step forward, raising his hands to initiate a collar and elbow tie up.
But Bobby Lashley didn't lock up.
Moving with a sudden, terrifying burst of speed that defied his massive size, Lashley exploded out of his corner. He lowered his shoulder, sprinting across the canvas like a runaway freight train.
Before Sandro could even register the movement, Lashley drove his shoulder directly into the champion's midsection with a catastrophic Spear!
The impact folded Sandro in half. The God King was lifted off his feet and violently slammed down into the mat.
The crowd let out a massive, collective shriek of pure shock.
Lashley didn't waste a microsecond. He grabbed Sandro by the tights, aggressively dragging the champion's limp body away from the ropes and directly into the dead center of the ring.
Lashley threw his massive frame over Sandro, hooking the leg with a vice like grip, burying his face into the canvas as he pressed all two hundred and seventy three pounds of his body weight down.
Charles Robinson dropped to the mat in a panic, his hand slapping the canvas.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
The arena held its breath, fully expecting the match to end in less than ten seconds.
"THRE—NO!"
At two and a half, Sandro violently thrust his right shoulder into the air, kicking his legs frantically to break the pinfall.
The Ontario crowd absolutely exploded, a wave of adrenaline and disbelief washing over the stands.
"He kicked out!" Cole screamed, his voice completely raw. "Oh my god, Lashley nearly stole the World Heavyweight Championship in five seconds! What an absolute ambush!"
"That was despicable!" JBL roared, ripping his headset half off his ear in anger. "Bobby Lashley is a coward! He knew he couldn't out wrestle the God King, so he tried to blindside him! That is exactly what you would expect from a traitor who takes a man's money and then stabs him in the back!"
"You have to admit it was a brilliant strategy, John, even if it was underhanded," Lawler countered, his eyes wide. "Lashley knows Sandro is preparing for Brock Lesnar. He tried to send a message to the Beast by ending the champion instantly!"
Inside the ring, Lashley looked furious. He slammed his fists against the mat, not believing Sandro had managed to kick out. The Dominator pushed himself to his feet, grabbing Sandro by the hair and hauling the dazed champion up.
Sandro was completely out on his feet, his eyes glazed over from the sheer concussive force of the opening Spear.
Lashley whipped Sandro violently into the corner turnbuckles.
The impact snapped Sandro's head back. Lashley charged forward, delivering a brutal running shoulder thrust directly into Sandro's bruised ribs. Lashley backed up, took a breath, and charged again, driving a second shoulder thrust that forced a sharp gasp of air from the champion's lungs.
"Lashley is systematically dismantling him!" Cole yelled over the noise of the crowd. "He is targeting the midsection, taking the air right out of the God King!"
Lashley grabbed Sandro by the wrist, whipping him hard across the ring. As Sandro rebounded off the ropes, Lashley ducked his head, caught Sandro around the waist, and launched him high into the air with a massive belly to belly suplex. Sandro flew across the ring, crashing heavily onto his upper back and neck.
Lashley scrambled over for another cover.
One!
Two!
Sandro kicked out, clutching his lower back in agony.
Lashley wasn't going to give him room to breathe. He dragged Sandro to a seated position, stepping behind him and locking his thick, muscular arms around Sandro's neck in a punishing rear chinlock. Lashley drove his knee squarely into the middle of Sandro's spine, leaning back to apply maximum torque.
The Canadian fans rallied behind the champion, beginning a loud, rhythmic clapping to try and give Sandro life.
"Look at the absolute disrespect from Lashley," JBL spat in disgust. "This man was hired to do a job. He was paid a fortune to handle Brock Lesnar, and instead, he ran away and left Sandro out to dry. Now he comes back and tries to take the crown? He is a mercenary without a shred of honor!"
"Lashley is trying to prove he belongs at the top of the food chain, JBL," Cole noted, watching Sandro struggle in the hold. "He lost to Lesnar in that cage match. He feels like he needs to win this World Heavyweight Championship to force Lesnar to face him again. He is using Sandro as a stepping stone."
Sandro gritted his teeth, the pain flaring through his neck. Fueled by the energy of the crowd, the champion slowly began to push himself up. He managed to get to one knee, throwing a stiff right elbow directly into Lashley's ribs. Lashley grunted but held on. Sandro threw a second elbow, then a third, finally forcing Lashley to loosen his grip.
Sandro spun around, hitting the ropes to build momentum, and launched himself forward, looking for a flying forearm.
But Lashley simply swatted him out of the air. The Dominator caught Sandro's arm, pulled him in, and delivered a devastating, spinning spinebuster that rattled the champion's teeth. The thud echoed through the arena. Lashley didn't go for a pin. He grabbed Sandro by the tights and tossed him roughly under the bottom rope, sending the God King tumbling to the ringside floor. "Lashley is taking this fight to the outside!" Lawler warned. "He wants to inflict maximum damage where the mat doesn't have any give!"
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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