If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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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!"
Lashley rolled out of the ring, stalking Sandro on the outside. He grabbed Sandro by the back of the neck, hauling him to his feet, and violently whipped the champion toward the steel ring steps.
But Sandro's ring awareness flared.
At the very last second, Sandro put his foot up, catching himself against the steel steps and stopping his momentum. Lashley charged in, looking to crush Sandro against the metal, but Sandro brilliantly sidestepped, grabbed Lashley by the back of the head, and drove the challenger face first into the heavy steel ring post!
The sickening CLANG resonated through the front rows. Lashley staggered backward, clutching his face, a look of pure shock in his eyes.
"What a counter by Sandro!" Cole cheered. "The God King used Lashley's own aggression against him!"
Sandro didn't stop to admire his work. The champion leaped onto the ring apron, waiting for Lashley to turn around. As The Dominator blindly stumbled forward, Sandro launched himself off the apron, delivering a breathtaking diving hurricanrana that sent the 270 pound challenger crashing spine first onto the thin protective mats.
The crowd went wild, chanting Sandro's name as the momentum finally began to swing.
"Sandro is fighting back!" JBL roared. "Show this traitor exactly what happens when you cross the God King!"
Sandro grabbed Lashley by the arm, rolling the massive challenger back under the bottom rope. Sandro slid in right behind him, sizing Lashley up as he staggered to his feet.
Sandro delivered a blistering left jab, followed by a stiff right cross. Lashley tried to swing back, but Sandro ducked underneath it, delivering a sharp spinning back kick directly to Lashley's gut. The challenger doubled over, and Sandro capitalized immediately, bouncing off the ropes and connecting with a picture perfect step up enzuigiri that caught Lashley flush on the side of the head.
Lashley dropped to his knees, completely dazed.
Sandro hit the ropes again, accelerating to top speed, and delivered a brutal running knee strike right to Lashley's jaw. The Dominator collapsed to the mat, staring up at the lights.
Sandro hooked the leg tightly.
One!
Two!
Lashley powered his shoulder up, violently throwing Sandro off of him.
"A massive kickout by Bobby Lashley!" Lawler yelled, clutching his headset. "Both men are throwing heavy artillery, but neither refuses to stay down!"
Sandro pushed himself up, breathing heavily. He stalked Lashley, waiting for the bigger man to find his footing. As Lashley pushed himself up to a vertical base, Sandro stepped in, looking to execute a high angle suplex.
But the sheer size difference was too much. Lashley blocked the suplex attempt, dropping his center of gravity. With a sudden burst of raw power, Lashley reversed the hold, lifting Sandro straight up into the air for a delayed vertical suplex.
Lashley held Sandro upside down for an agonizing five seconds, parading his incredible strength to the booing crowd, before finally driving the blood rushing to Sandro's head straight down into the canvas.
"The physical strength of The Dominator is just unreal," Cole gasped. "He held a 230 pound man in the air like he weighed absolutely nothing."
Lashley stood up, letting out a loud, primal roar. He backed into the corner, crouching down like a sprinter in the starting blocks. He began slapping his thigh, waiting for Sandro to rise.
"He's loading up for a second Spear!" Lawler warned urgently. "If he hits it, this match is over!"
Sandro slowly used the ropes to pull himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously, completely unaware of the incoming threat.
Lashley exploded out of the corner, launching his body like a missile.
But Sandro had been playing possum.
At the absolute last second, Sandro leaped high into the air, leapfrogging cleanly over the charging Lashley!
Lashley couldn't stop his forward momentum and crashed shoulder first into the steel ring post between the turnbuckles.
The impact sent a shockwave through the ring. Lashley stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder in agony.
Sandro capitalized instantly. He spun Lashley around, hooking his arms from behind. With a terrifying display of raw, functional core strength that defied human logic, Sandro lifted the 270 pound Lashley completely off the mat, executing a flawless, high angle bridging German Suplex!
"HE HIT THE GERMAN!" Cole shrieked as Sandro held the bridge. "ON A MAN THAT SIZE!"
The referee dropped to count.
One!
Two!
Lashley violently kicked his legs, powering out of the bridge just before the three count!
The arena shook with the force of the near fall. The fans were on their feet, fully invested in the high stakes chess match unfolding before them.
"This is an absolute classic!" Lawler preached, his voice hoarse. "These two men know each other so well! They are countering every major maneuver!"
"Lashley thought he was walking into an easy payday," JBL spat. "He thought he could just steamroll the champion. But he forgot that he is dealing with a man who holds two world titles for a reason!"
Sandro rolled backward, pushing himself to his feet. He looked at Lashley, his cold eyes burning with a dark, intense focus. Sandro slapped his own thigh, signaling for his finishing strike.
He waited for Lashley to stagger up. As the challenger turned around, Sandro hit the ropes, building maximum velocity, and launched himself into the air, aiming the Last Note running elbow strike directly at the back of Lashley's skull.
But Lashley ducked!
Sandro's elbow sliced through empty air. The momentum carried Sandro forward, off balance. Lashley spun around, caught Sandro by the waist, and effortlessly hoisted the champion onto his shoulders in a torture rack position.
"He's got him up!" Cole yelled in absolute panic. "He's looking for the Dominator!"
Lashley let out a guttural roar, preparing to flip Sandro forward and drive him face first into the canvas.
Sandro panicked. Operating purely on survival instinct, the champion threw a flurry of vicious elbows to the top of Lashley's head. Lashley's grip loosened slightly. Sandro shifted his weight, sliding off Lashley's shoulders and landing gracefully on his feet behind the challenger.
Lashley spun around, throwing a wild, desperate right hook.
Sandro ducked underneath the swing, sprang onto the middle rope, used it as a springboard to execute a flawless mid air backflip, and reached out, hooking Lashley's neck on the descent.
With breathtaking precision, Sandro drove Lashley's face into the canvas with a devastating Heavensfall Cutter!
The crowd absolutely erupted!
"Heavensfall Cutter!" Cole screamed, jumping out of his chair. "He nailed it! Sandro hit it perfectly!"
Sandro scrambled over, throwing his entire body weight onto Lashley's chest, hooking the massive leg as tight as he possibly could.
Charles Robinson slid into position, his hand slapping the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NO!"
Bobby Lashley thrust his heavy shoulder into the air, breaking the pinfall by the slimmest possible margin!
The collective gasp from the Ontario crowd sucked all the oxygen out of the arena. Fans grabbed their heads in sheer disbelief, staring at the ring as if they had just witnessed a miracle.
"He kicked out!" Lawler yelled, thoroughly stunned. "I don't believe it! Lashley survived the Heavensfall Cutter!"
"The sheer will to win from Bobby Lashley is undeniable, even if he is a traitor!" Cole admitted, shaking his head. "He refuses to let this opportunity slip away!"
Sandro sat up, his chest heaving, a look of genuine frustration crossing his face for the first time all night. He looked down at Lashley, realizing that a simple cutter wasn't going to be enough to keep the monster down.
Sandro pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed Lashley by the arm, trying to haul the massive challenger up. But Lashley was dead weight, completely exhausted. Sandro slapped Lashley in the face, a hard, disrespectful strike to wake him up.
The slap seemed to trigger something dark and violent inside The Dominator.
Lashley's eyes snapped open, burning with fury. He surged to his feet, ignoring the exhaustion, and grabbed Sandro by the throat. Before the champion could react, Lashley delivered a heavy knee to Sandro's gut, doubling him over.
Lashley quickly stepped behind Sandro, sliding his thick, muscular arms under the champion's armpits, and locked his hands securely behind Sandro's neck.
"Oh no," Cole whispered in horror, the realization dawning on the broadcast booth.
Lashley locked in the Full Nelson Submission Lock.
The devastating full nelson was applied perfectly in the dead center of the ring. Lashley let out a terrifying roar, violently thrashing Sandro back and forth like a ragdoll.
"He's got the Full Nelson Lock applied!" Lawler panicked. "Sandro is trapped! There is absolutely nowhere to go!"
"Fight it, Sandro!" JBL yelled, his voice laced with genuine panic. "Do not let this mercenary take your title! Break the grip!"
Sandro's face contorted in absolute agony. He kicked his legs desperately, trying to find the ropes, but Lashley had him perfectly centered. The pressure on Sandro's neck and shoulders was catastrophic. He couldn't breathe. The oxygen was rapidly being cut off from his brain.
The Canadian crowd grew terrifyingly quiet, watching in horror as the God King slowly began to fade.
Sandro's arms stopped flailing. His chin dropped to his chest. His eyes slowly fluttered shut.
Charles Robinson stepped in closely, watching the champion's eyes. The referee grabbed Sandro's right arm, raising it into the air, and let it go.
The arm dropped limply to Sandro's side.
"That's one!" Cole shouted, his voice cracking. "If the arm drops three times, we have a new World Heavyweight Champion!"
Robinson raised the arm a second time. He let it go.
The arm dropped limply to the side again.
"Two!" Lawler yelled, covering his mouth. "He's out, Michael! Sandro is out cold! The God King is going to lose the title!"
The crowd was completely silent, the tension thick enough to suffocate a man.
Robinson gripped Sandro's wrist, lifting the champion's arm high into the air for the third and final time. The arena was trapped in a suffocating, dead silence, save for the heavy, rhythmic thumping of Bobby Lashley's heart as he cinched the full nelson submission lock tighter around the God King's neck.
Robinson opened his hand.
Sandro's arm began to descend toward the canvas.
The commentary booth held its breath. The millions watching around the world gripped their armrests. The referee's fingers were mere inches away from hitting the mat for the final count—
Snap.
It wasn't a sound of bone, but a sudden, violent twitch of muscle and bone alike.
Sandro's arm froze mid air. The fingers curled into a tight, white knuckled fist.
Before the hand could touch the canvas, Sandro's eyes snapped wide open. They didn't look glassy or vacant anymore, they burned with a terrifying, primal fury. The God King refused to die here. He refused to let a hired mercenary steal his crown and shatter everything he had built.
"HE STOPPED IT!" Cole shrieked at the top of his lungs, the sheer disbelief tearing through his microphone. "Sandro stopped the arm! He is alive! The God King is fighting back!"
"Look at the eyes!" Lawler yelled, jumping up from his seat. "That is the look of a man possessed! Lashley thought he had him buried, but you cannot keep a true King down!"
"I told you!" JBL roared triumphantly, slamming his hand on the desk. "The mercenary thought he could buy victory, but the God King operates on a completely different plane of existence! Break that grip, Sandro!"
A massive, ground shaking wave of sound erupted from the Canadian crowd as they realized the champion was still breathing. The stadium practically shook on its foundations.
Bobby Lashley's face twisted into a mask of pure shock and disbelief. He had put everything he had into the full nelson. He squeezed harder, throwing his entire body weight backward, trying to force Sandro back into unconsciousness.
But Sandro was already moving.
Summoning every last drop of adrenaline, stamina, and willpower left in his battered body, Sandro dropped his weight downward. He began walking forward while putting every energy and power on each steps, dragging the massive 270 pound frame of Bobby Lashley across the canvas like an anchor.
Lashley dug his boots into the mat, trying to pull him back to the center, but Sandro was relentless. Inch by agonizing inch, the champion crawled toward the ropes.
"He's dragging him! He's dragging him to safety!" Cole shouted.
Sandro lunged forward with one final, desperate heave, extending his right leg out as far as it could stretch. His toea brushed against the smooth white vinyl of the middle rope.
Then, his entire leg touches it.
"ROPE BREAK! ROPE BREAK!" Robinson screamed, instantly sliding into position and waving his arms frantically. "He's at the ropes! Break the hold, Bobby! Break it now!"
Lashley cursed loudly, his face flushing red with frustration. He held onto the submission for a fraction of a second too long, forcing Robinson to begin a mandatory five count.
"One! Two! Three! Four!"
Lashley violently released the grip, jumping up and throwing his hands up in protest. He paced around the ring, arguing with the official, claiming Sandro had put his leg on the rope illegally, though the replay clearly showed it was a clean, desperate escape.
In the center of the ring, Sandro collapsed onto his stomach. He rolled over onto his back, his chest heaving violently, sucking in massive gulps of air as he stared up at the lights. His body was bruised, his white gear streaked with sweat and canvas dirt, but he was still the champion.
"What an incredible sequence of survival!" Lawler marveled, wiping sweat from his own forehead. "Lashley threw his absolute best weapon at the God King, and Sandro crawled through the gates of hell to reach that bottom rope!"
"Lashley is running out of options," JBL noted, a cold smile crossing his face. "He poured his heart, his soul, and every ounce of his power into that full nelson, and it wasn't enough. Now he has to look the monster in the eye and realize he cannot beat him."
Lashley stalked back over to Sandro, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He grabbed the champion by the hair, hauling him up to a vertical base with rough, aggressive movements. Lashley positioned Sandro in the center of the ring, hooking the champion's arm, looking to deliver a devastating suplex to finish the job once and for all.
As Lashley lifted him, Sandro found a final, miraculous reserve of energy.
Sandro shifted his weight in mid-air, slipping out of Lashley's grasp. He landed behind the challenger, wrapped his arms tightly around Lashley's waist, and drove him backward with a sharp, crisp German suplex, planting Lashley hard onto his upper back.
Sandro didn't stop there. He popped right back up to his feet, feeding off the deafening energy of the Canadian crowd. As Lashley staggered up, dazed and disoriented, Sandro charged forward and delivered a blistering, picture perfect spinning wheel kick that caught Lashley flush under the chin.
The massive challenger crashed to the canvas like a felled oak tree.
The arena was in an absolute uproar. The momentum had completely shifted, and the fans could feel the end drawing near.
"Sandro is turning the tide!" Cole yelled. "The champion is mounting a final charge!"
Sandro backed into the corner, his eyes burning with absolute intensity. He slapped his thigh once, twice, three times, tuning up the band. He was setting up for the final sequence.
Lashley slowly pushed himself up to his knees, completely running on empty.
Sandro sprinted forward, launching his body with maximum velocity, aiming a brutal running knee strike right to the side of Lashley's head.
Lashley instinctively threw his arms up, blocking the knee, and shoved Sandro away with a sudden burst of power. Sandro stumbled backward, catching his balance on the middle rope.
Sandro didn't panic. He used the rebound off the ropes, spinning around with breathtaking agility. As Lashley pushed himself up to his feet, Sandro leaped into the air and delivered the Last Note running elbow strike directly to the back of the challenger's skull.
The impact echoed like a gunshot through the arena.
Lashley's eyes instantly rolled back into his head. His arms went completely limp, and he dropped straight down to his knees in the center of the ring, completely dead to the world.
The crowd rose to their feet in unison, knowing exactly what was coming next. The God King was about to execute his final judgment.
Sandro didn't go for the pin. He wanted to make sure there was no doubt, no controversy, and no chance of recovery.
Walking behind the unconscious challenger, Sandro grabbed Lashley by the arms and hoisted the heavy, 273 pound frame of Bobby Lashley straight up into the air, settling him securely onto his broad shoulders in an electric chair position.
Sandro stood perfectly still in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, his white gear soaked with sweat under the bright arena lights. He looked out at the roaring sea of fans, then glanced over at the entrance stage, before locking his hands securely around the back of Lashley's neck.
With a fierce, terrifying shout of absolute dominance, Sandro dropped violently to a seated position, driving Lashley straight down to the canvas, spiking the mercenary brutally onto his neck and shoulders with catastrophic force.
The Fall From Grace.
Sandro rolled over, throwing his arm across Lashley's chest, staring directly into the hard camera with a look of cold, undisputed authority.
Charles Robinson scrambled into position, dropping to the mat and slamming his hand down in perfect rhythm with the chanting arena.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
*DING! DING! DING!*
The energetic, heavy rock instrumental of Sandro's theme song erupted through the stadium sound system. The Ontario crowd blew the roof off the building, a massive, triumphant standing ovation washing over the ring as the God King successfully defended his throne once again. "Here is your winner, and STILL the World Heavyweight Champion... SANDROOOO ZHANGGGG!" Justin Roberts bellowed, his voice echoing cleanly over the music.
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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