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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
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.
"He did it!" Cole screamed, clapping his hands together at the broadcast desk. "Bobby Lashley threw everything he had at the champion! He ambushed him, he stretched him in the Hurt Lock, but the God King survived! Sandro Zhang retains the World Heavyweight Championship in an absolute instant classic!"
"That was a masterclass in resilience, Michael!" Lawler agreed, shaking his head in sheer awe. "Lashley came in here looking for revenge and redemption, but he found out what every man eventually learns, you do not cross the King!"
"The throne is secure!" JBL roared triumphantly, raising his arms in the air. "Sandro Zhang just used Bobby Lashley as a stepping stone! He broke the traitor, he defended his gold, and he sent a crystal clear message to Brock Lesnar!"
Inside the ring, Charles Robinson handed Sandro both the WWE Championship and the World Heavyweight Championship.
Sandro slowly pushed himself to his feet, his body bruised, battered, and aching from the twenty minute war. But as he draped the two massive gold belts over his shoulders, he looked completely invincible.
The referee helped roll an unconscious Bobby Lashley out of the ring, leaving the champion alone in the center of the squared circle.
Sandro took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment to savor the victory. Then, he walked over to the nearest turnbuckle, slowly climbing to the second rope.
He raised the WWE Championship high into the air with his right hand, and the World Heavyweight Championship high with his left. The bright arena lights illuminated his white gear, casting a brilliant glow over the golden plates. The Canadian fans cheered wildly, showing their deep respect for the monumental battle they had just witnessed.
The cameras flashed continuously, capturing the iconic, unforgettable image of the God King reigning supreme.
Suddenly, the celebration was violently interrupted.
The arena lights flickered and died, plunging the stadium into pitch-black darkness.
Before Cole could even ask what was happening, a heavy, familiar bass heavy guitar riff ripped through the sound system.
The crowd didn't boo. Instead, a massive, electric roar of pure anticipation shook the building.
"Wait a minute!" Cole shrieked, jumping out of his chair. "That music... it can't be!"
"BRRRRRRROOCKKKK-LESNARRRR!"
The roar from the fans reached a deafening crescendo.
A single, blinding spotlight hit the entrance stage. Standing there, bouncing aggressively from side to side with a terrifying, violent smirk on his face, was the Beast Incarnate.
Brock Lesnar.
Walking closely beside him, holding his signature microphone with a smug, highly theatrical grin, was his advocate, Paul Heyman.
Sandro didn't flinch. He didn't drop his titles. He simply stood on the second turnbuckle, turning his head to face the entrance ramp, his cold, dead eyed focus locking instantly onto the incoming monster.
Heyman raised his mic to his lips, his voice echoing smoothly over the crowd noise.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Heyman began, his voice dripping with malicious joy. "Allow me to introduce the man who was watching very closely from the back. The conqueror, the slayer, the next undisputed WWE Champion... MY CLIENT, BROCK LESNAR!"
Lesnar didn't wait for Heyman to finish his sentence.
The Beast dropped into a low crouch, let out a primal roar, and sprinted down the long steel ramp like a freight train. He hit the ring steps, vaulting over the top rope with astonishing speed and landing squarely in the center of the canvas.
Sandro stepped down off the turnbuckle, handing both championships carefully to the timekeeper at ringside before sliding right back into the ring.
He didn't back away. He squared his shoulders, raising his fists, standing face to face with the most dangerous man in the history of the company.
Lesnar didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, throwing a massive, looping right hand.
Sandro ducked under the punch, answering with a lightning fast combination of stiff right crosses and a heavy kick to Lesnar's midsection.
The entire locker room would have emptied to break them up, but neither man cared about rules, referees, or contracts. In a flash of absolute chaos, a brutal, unhinged brawl erupted right there in the center of the ring, the two apex predators tearing into each other with everything they had, bringing the explosive episode to a new level of breathtaking chaos.
The explosive, unhinged brawl in the center of the ring was not a sanctioned wrestling match, but the sheer violence radiating from Sandro Zhang and Brock Lesnar instantly captivated the Ontario crowd. A deafening mixture of cheers and boos echoed off the arena walls as the two apex predators collided.
There was no feeling out process. No traditional grappling. Lesnar lunged forward with the terrifying speed of a heavyweight grizzly bear, throwing heavy, looping right hands. Sandro didn't back down. The God King slipped underneath a massive hook and answered with a blindingly fast combination of stiff right crosses, finishing with a sharp, stinging kick directly to Lesnar's midsection.
"Look at the speed of the champion!" Michael Cole shouted over the roaring audience. "Sandro just went through a twenty minute war with Bobby Lashley, but he is stepping right into the fire with the Beast Incarnate!"
"He's a genius, Michael!" JBL argued, a fierce grin spreading across his face. "Sandro knows exactly what he is doing! You don't prepare for a monster by hitting the heavy bag, you prepare for a monster by looking him in the eye and throwing the first punch! This is the mindset of the greatest World Heavyweight Champion we have ever seen!"
"John, he might be brave, but this is a dangerous game to play," Lawler warned, his voice tight with concern. "Brock Lesnar isn't just a wrestler. He is a legitimate, undisputed UFC Heavyweight Champion. If Sandro isn't careful, he isn't going to make it to Money in the Bank!"
Lesnar absorbed the kick to his ribs and merely smiled, a terrifying, crimson stained grin spreading across his face. He grabbed Sandro by the shoulders, using his overwhelming, brute strength to shove the champion backward into the turnbuckles. Lesnar drove a series of heavy shoulder thrusts into Sandro's chest, forcing the breath from his lungs.
But Sandro was incredibly resourceful. As Lesnar pulled back for another strike, Sandro threw a sharp knee upward, catching Lesnar perfectly under the chin. The Beast staggered backward. Sandro capitalized immediately, launching himself off the middle rope and connecting with a flying forearm that finally knocked the massive challenger off his feet.
The fight quickly spilled beyond the boundaries of the squared circle.
Sandro rolled out of the ring, stalking Lesnar as the Beast pushed himself up on the outside. They traded brutal, unforgiving strikes near the timekeeper's area. Lesnar grabbed Sandro by the waist, looking to drive him into the barricade, but Sandro delivered a series of sharp elbows to the side of Lesnar's head, breaking the grip. Sandro grabbed Lesnar by the back of the neck and slammed his face roughly against the unforgiving steel of the ring steps.
"They are tearing each other apart!" Cole yelled as the referee frantically waved his arms from inside the ring, completely powerless to restore order. "This doesn't even feel like a championship rivalry anymore! This feels like two men trying to inflict permanent damage before they ever sign a contract!"
Lesnar shook off the impact with frightening ease. He let out a primal roar, charged forward, and tackled Sandro forcefully into the barricade. The steel barrier bent under their combined weight. Lesnar grabbed Sandro by the throat, tossing him effortlessly over the announcer's desk. The God King crashed into the rolling chairs, sending cables and monitors flying in every direction.
"Get out of the way!" Lawler shouted, scrambling back as Lesnar climbed over the ruined desk.
Sandro fought back from his knees, throwing a handful of loose papers into Lesnar's face to blind him momentarily. Sandro surged upward, driving his shoulder into Lesnar's gut, and tackled the Beast backward, sending them both tumbling over the wreckage and onto the hard concrete floor.
The brawl slowly migrated up the long steel entrance ramp.
Both men were visibly battered, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. Sandro's white gear was stained from the previous match, but his eyes burned with a fierce, unwavering focus. As they neared the elevated entrance stage, Sandro found a sudden burst of adrenaline.
Lesnar threw a wild clothesline. Sandro ducked underneath it, spun around, and delivered a devastating spinning back kick that caught Lesnar flush in the ribs. The Beast doubled over, clutching his side. Sandro hit the ropes of the nearby barricade, using it as a springboard, and launched himself into the air, connecting with a beautiful flying knee strike that caught Lesnar right on the jaw!
The Canadian fans exploded!
Lesnar dropped to one knee, shaking the cobwebs from his head.
"Sandro has him rocking!" JBL cheered wildly. "The God King is putting the Beast on the defensive! This is what dominance looks like!"
But the momentum shifted in the blink of an eye.
As Sandro closed in to deliver another strike, Lesnar's eyes snapped up. The Beast lunged forward, wrapping his thick, muscular arms securely around Sandro's waist.
With a terrifying display of explosive, raw power, Lesnar lifted the champion completely off his feet and launched him backward with a brutal, high angle German suplex.
Sandro crashed onto the steel grating of the entrance stage, the impact knocking the wind completely out of him.
Lesnar didn't release his grip. He rolled his hips, dragged Sandro back to his feet, and launched him backward with a second, equally violent German suplex.
"He's taking him for a ride!" Cole shrieked in horror. "Sandro is trapped in Suplex City!"
Lesnar roared, the veins bulging in his thick neck. He dragged the limp champion up for a third time, then a fourth, executing a relentless, punishing series of suplexes that practically rattled Sandro's teeth loose. The crowd reacted with a mix of shock and raw excitement, mesmerized by the sheer, unbridled destruction Lesnar was unleashing.
Sandro lay on the steel grating, his chest heaving, his eyes glazed over. But incredibly, the God King refused to stay down. Using a large black production crate for leverage, Sandro slowly, agonizingly forced himself back to a vertical base, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the steel.
Lesnar watched him rise, a dark, twisted smile forming on his face.
The Beast stepped forward, kicked Sandro in the gut, and effortlessly hoisted the 230 pound champion onto his massive shoulders.
Lesnar carried Sandro to the very edge of the elevated entrance stage. Below them sat a chaotic cluster of heavy black production boxes, thick electrical cables, and solid steel lighting rigs.
"No! Brock, don't do it!" Lawler begged from a distance. "That's a ten foot drop!"
Lesnar let out a terrifying battle cry, spun Sandro through the air, and delivered a catastrophic F-5 off the side of the stage!
Sandro plummeted through the air, crashing violently into the pile of production equipment below. The sickening sound of breaking wood and crunching metal echoed through the arena as Sandro disappeared completely from view, buried beneath the scattered wreckage.
A heavy, terrified silence instantly fell over the stadium.
"We need medical personnel out here right now!" Cole screamed, pulling his headset off. "Sandro just got thrown off the stage into a pile of steel and electronics! Get some help out here!"
From the backstage area, three figures sprinted out from behind the curtain in a state of absolute panic.
AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss rushed onto the stage, their faces pale with terror. They didn't stand by and cry. They scrambled down the side of the scaffolding, completely ignoring the steep drop, and rushed into the wreckage.
"Sandro! Sandro, can you hear me?!" AJ yelled, frantically grabbing a heavy wooden panel and throwing it aside to get to him.
Nikki fell to her knees beside him, her hands hovering over his bruised neck as she looked up at the stage. "Get a doctor out here! Hurry up!" she demanded fiercely, her voice cracking with protective anger.
Alexa grabbed Sandro's limp hand, holding it tightly against her chest, tears streaming down her face as she checked his breathing. "Just hold on, okay? We're right here. You're going to be okay."
Charles Robinson and a team of WWE medical personnel rushed down the ramp, carrying a backboard and a neck brace, immediately surrounding the fallen champion.
High above the chaos, Brock Lesnar stood near the edge of the stage, looking down at the destruction he had just caused. He didn't look remorseful. He turned away, slowly pacing across the grating. Paul Heyman stepped up beside his client, a deeply satisfied, almost sinister smile stretching across his face. He patted Lesnar on the shoulder, pointing down at the medical team with evident pride.
Lesnar walked to the center of the stage, raised his massive, taped fists high into the air, and let out a guttural, terrifying roar that echoed through the silent arena.
Monday Night RAW faded to black on that deeply unsettling image, the medical personnel frantically attending to a broken God King, while the Beast Incarnate soaked in the adulation of his own violence.
Within minutes of the broadcast ending, the internet was ablaze.
Wrestling fans flooded Twitter and various online forums, debating the shocking conclusion to the show. Many called the unhinged brawl some of the best, most visceral television the WWE had produced in a long time. The sheer physicality between Sandro and Lesnar had elevated the upcoming Money in the Bank pay-per-view to a must-see event.
However, fan opinions were sharply divided regarding who should actually walk out with the gold.
"I'm sorry, but Sandro needs to retain," a highly upvoted comment on Reddit argued. "Brock Lesnar is already a legend. He dominated his first WWE run, he went to the UFC and won the Heavyweight Championship, and he's already established as an absolute monster. He doesn't NEED the WWE and World Heavyweight Championships to cement his legacy. Beating Sandro right now just kills a year's worth of storytelling."
"Are you kidding me?" a popular wrestling podcaster countered on Twitter. "Lesnar winning one of the belts would be the most historic moment of the decade! Taking down the God King, the guy who held this company hostage, and walking out as the undisputed man who dethroned the double champion? That makes Brock the ultimate final boss. It makes the titles feel larger than life. Sandro has had a great run, but it's time for the reign to end."
The debate raged fiercely throughout the week. Some fans believed a victory over Sandro would make Lesnar the most dangerous man in sports entertainment history, while others argued that the God King needed to slay the Beast to truly cement his own immortality. The sheer uncertainty of the outcome only added fuel to the fire.
The following Monday, the WWE returned to Canada, setting up shop in the historic city of Montreal.
The arena was packed to the absolute brim. The fans were practically buzzing with anticipation, eager to see the fallout from the brutal stage dive and desperate to know the medical status of the God King.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The opening pyrotechnics washed the Montreal arena in bright red and gold fire. The camera swept across the wildly enthusiastic crowd before zooming in on the broadcast desk.
"Welcome, everyone, to Monday Night RAW!" Cole announced, his voice carrying a serious, heavy tone. "We are coming to you live from Montreal, and we are still dealing with the severe repercussions of last week's horrific main event!"
"I have never seen anything like it, Michael," Lawler added, shaking his head. "Brock Lesnar took Sandro Zhang to Suplex City, and then launched him off the entrance stage with an F-5 straight into the production equipment. It was a miracle Sandro wasn't paralyzed."
"It was an act of pure cowardice!" JBL roared, his face flushed with anger. "Brock Lesnar is an animal, and he should be suspended! I demand that Vince McMahon and the Board of Directors step in and fine that man for attempted vehicular manslaughter! And don't even get me started on Paul Heyman! The General Manager of RAW standing there smiling while his client destroys the champion? It is a blatant conflict of interest, and Heyman should be fired immediately!"
"John, you have to be fair here," Cole argued, holding his hands up. "Sandro Zhang practically begged for this fight. He specifically chose Bobby Lashley as a warmup to send a message to Lesnar. Sandro walked into the fire with his eyes wide open. You can't blame Brock Lesnar for answering the challenge with absolute aggression."
"He threw him off a stage, Cole!" JBL yelled back. "That isn't answering a challenge, that is trying to end a man's career!"
Before the debate could escalate any further, the energetic music of Dolph Ziggler hit the speakers, signaling the start of the first match of the evening.
The Showoff made his way down the ramp, looking focused and determined. His opponent was already waiting in the ring: the wealthy, arrogant aristocrat, Alberto Del Rio.
The bell rang, and the match began with a fierce, competitive energy. Ziggler and Del Rio were both incredible in ring technicians, and they gave the Montreal crowd a highly athletic showcase. They traded crisp arm drags, deep waistlocks, and rapid fire counters. Del Rio utilized his aggressive, stiff striking to ground Ziggler, delivering a brutal step up enzuigiri in the corner. Ziggler relied on his unmatched speed and resilience, hitting a beautiful leaping facebuster and a high angle dropkick that nearly secured a three count.
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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