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At the top of the ramp, he stopped, the lights framing his silhouette. He raised the WWE United States Championship once more, looking straight into the hard camera. His voice, rough but defiant, cut through the noise. "Still undisputed." Then he slung the belt over his shoulder and disappeared through the curtain, leaving the ring, and the wreckage of another five star classic, behind him.
The fans kept booing, chanting "ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE!" but the WWE United States Champion had just proven why he was the most hated, most dangerous, and, whether they liked it or not, most undeniable man in the business.
Meanwhile Dusty watched him disappear through the curtain and said softly, "That's what it takes to make it in this business. To live with the boos, and smile through 'em."
Triple H exhaled, still watching the screen. "He's got the devil in him, Dusty. But damn… the devil can work."
On the other hand, the moment Sandro stepped through the black curtain, trading the deafening roar of the crowd for the muffled, humid air of the backstage area, the arrogance didn't evaporate, but it softened into a tired, satisfied grin. He hadn't taken three steps before he was engulfed by a wave of familiar, boisterous energy.
Taylor Rotunda was the first to clap him on the shoulder, his own wide, excited smile mirroring the unexpected pleasure of the moment. Right beside him, Bray Wyatt, the intensity that would later define his character already smoldering beneath the surface, nodded a warm greeting. Flanking them were the imposing figures of Luke Harper and Erick Rowan, their usual stoicism broken by genuine, hearty appreciation.
"Well, look who decided to grace us with his championship presence," Taylor chuckled, his voice thick with playful sarcasm, yet overflowing with real happiness. The impromptu welcome committee was a blast from the past, a sudden, comforting reminder of his roots in Florida Championship Wrestling.
Sandro carefully unslung the WWE United States Championship belt from his shoulder, the gold plate momentarily blinding under the harsh backstage lights.
He let out a soft, low chuckle, the sound more genuine than any laugh he'd allowed in the ring. "Good to see you boys," he managed, his voice still ragged from the screams and the match. "Figured I'd drop by and remind you what a five star match looks like in person."
Bray, his eyes shrewd and knowing, gave a slow, deliberate nod. "You and Nic hid it well, brother. We were all completely blindsided. The crowd went nuts."
Sandro leaned against a stack of equipment trunks, relief and exhaustion finally starting to settle into his bones. "Yeah, Nic. He doesn't know about it, not really. Not until maybe the last minute when the card went up."
He shook his head, a private amusement playing on his lips. "I actually had other business down here, something Dusty needed me for. He just threw out the idea of a surprise appearance, said it'd pop the locker room and the fans. How could I say no to popping the great Dusty Rhodes?" He grinned, the "I'm the best" edge of his wrestling persona momentarily fading into "I'm the old friend."
The four of them,Taylor, Bray, Luke, and Erick, all nodded their heads in understanding. A surprise appearance from a main roster champion, especially one who had come up through the system with them, was a huge boost for the FCW talent. It showed them the path was real, and the destination was glittering gold.
It was right at that moment, as the small group was sharing a moment of camaraderie and quiet congratulations, that the main curtain rippled again. Nic emerged, moving with a slight, noticeable limp, the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship clutched tightly in his hand. His face was a mask of post match exhaustion, but when his eyes landed on Sandro, the fatigue instantly dissolved into a wide, honest to god smile.
"Sandro!" Nic exclaimed, his voice rough but excited.
He quickly crossed the remaining distance, dropping his title momentarily to the floor to pull Sandro into a quick, solid bro hug. It was a hug steeped in a mixture of athletic respect and deep friendship.
"Man, it's been too long since anyone here saw your sorry butt," Nic joked, pulling back but keeping a hand on Sandro's shoulder.
Sandro returned the warmth with a genuine smile, the kind of easy, relaxed expression that only came out when he was around the people who knew him outside of the ring.
"Tell me about it. Yeah, it's been quite some time. I missed you guys, honestly." He sighed, a shadow crossing his face. "And I gotta apologize for not calling as much. My schedule... it's been absolutely nuts. You know how it is, the main roster machine never stops turning."
As the two champions talked, one, the grizzled, dominant superstar, the other, the hungry, local hero, a different, quieter presence entered the commotion. April, a stunning wrestler in her own right and a fixture of the FCW women's division, came around the corner.
Her eyes found Sandro immediately. A light, pure and unguarded, ignited in them. For a brief, intoxicating second, it looked like she couldn't wait, that she was going to run to him, throw her arms around him, and bury her face into his chest. This wasn't just a friendly greeting, this was the intense, magnetic pull of a shared, romantic feelings they have.
But they weren't alone. They were in the middle of a busy backstage corridor, surrounded by their peers and their bosses. April, with a practiced, internal effort, held herself back. The look became a little less frantic, a little more controlled.
She smoothed her gear, took a deep breath, and walked over, offering him a perfectly executed, friendly greeting, the kind of warm hug and excited conversation one might expect from two best friends who hadn't seen each other in ages.
"Sandro! Oh my god, this is such a huge surprise!" she exclaimed, her voice pitched just high enough to sound thrilled, yet just friends level.
Her eyes, however, betrayed the lingering longing, the yearning for a private moment, a real reunion. She was his first girlfriend in the business, a complicated connection that had evolved but never truly broken, a secret intimacy they guarded fiercely.
Sandro, of course, saw it. He felt the pull, the familiar heat of their bond. He subtly met her gaze, his championship wrestling mask lifting for just a moment to send her a silent, knowing signal. "Wait for me. Just a little longer."
Then, he turned back to the group and responded to her aloud with the familiar, brash confidence of his wrestling persona. "Of course, it's a big surprise. It was me who came, after all. Everything I do is a spectacle."
That cocky declaration was all it took. The entire group, Nic, Taylor, Bray, Luke, and Erick, immediately let out a chorus of good natured jeers and boos, the kind of teasing only friends can get away with. Sandro threw his head back and laughed, a sound so completely different from his in ring snarl that it momentarily surprised even him.
For the next hour, the backstage corner was an island of relaxed camaraderie. Sandro spent the time catching up on the locker room gossip, swapping road stories, and talking shop with everyone, especially his close contemporaries Bray and Taylor.
It was a necessary decompression, a chance to shed the persona and just be one of the boys again, a true peer and friend. He talked about the rigors of the road, the political tightropes, and the sheer exhilaration of wrestling on the grandest stage. They, in turn, filled him in on the latest FCW developments, the new talent, and the ever present pressure to be the next to get the call.
Their conversation was abruptly, though politely, cut short. Dusty Rhodes and a backstage coordinator named Steve approached the group.
"Champ," Dusty said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, the affection clear. "Hate to break up the party, but the folks you came down here with are ready for you. They're waiting."
Sandro nodded immediately, already expecting the summons. He knew his brief reprieve was over and the business part of the evening was next.
He turned back to his friends. "I gotta take off now, guys. But seriously, it was good seeing all of you. Keep killing it down here. Your time is coming." He offered a final, genuine handshake and a promise to call.
His eyes lingered on April. He subtly motioned toward the outside, his chin tilting slightly. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice soft enough to be heard only by her. "Wait for me out front. Parking lot."
She met his gaze, her look a perfect blend of excitement and relief. She gave him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment, and with that, their secret plan was set.
Sandro quickly headed to the locker room they'd set aside for him. He peeled off his sweaty, sweat stained gear and changed into his own clothes, a crisp, dark designer T shirt, well fitted jeans, and an expensive leather jacket that spoke of main event money and a rock star lifestyle. After a quick, hot water rinse to wash off the grime of the match, he looked every bit the top tier superstar.
He met Dusty and Steve at the entrance of the corridor. He paused only to hand the championship belt, the replica that he'd been given to use for the FCW show, back to Dusty.
"Thanks, boss," Sandro said, giving the legendary booker a respectful pat on the arm. "Needed that. That match was fire."
"You two got chemistry, son," Dusty replied, hefting the gold. "Real, natural heat. Go on. They're waiting."
Sandro, Dusty, and Steve made their way to a private booth overlooking the arena, where the real power couple of the company was waiting, Triple H and Stephanie.
The atmosphere in the booth was professional, yet instantly warm. Triple H and Stephanie rose to greet him.
"Sandro," Stephanie began, her voice radiating genuine praise. "That was... fantastic. Seriously."
Triple H leaned forward, his eyes still holding the intensity of a man who'd just witnessed greatness. "We just watched a five star classic. The chemistry you have with Nic is unbelievable. You both looked like the best in the world tonight. That match could have closed out any of our biggest pay per views, no question."
Sandro smiled, a modest, appreciative gesture that was a stark contrast to his on screen persona. He genuinely valued their opinion. "Thank you, Hunter. Stephanie. That means a lot coming from you two."
He settled into a leather chair across from them. "Nic is a great talent. And he's also my... what? My friend. My running buddy. We train together, you know? We have that easy rhythm, that unspoken language in the ring. That's why the chemistry is so good. We know exactly what the other one's doing."
This was the opening he needed. He took a deep breath, his professional mission for the evening laid bare.
"And that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Sandro continued, his tone turning serious, authoritative. "I hope Nic, alongside a female wrestler called April, can be moved up to the main roster soon. They've both reached the top ceiling here in FCW. They can't do much more for the system, and the system can't do much more for them. They're ready for the big stage."
Triple H and Stephanie exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. The message was clear: if a talent of Sandro's caliber, a legitimate main event player, a champion, and a man who understood the business better than most, was willing to go out on a limb and say something like that, it wasn't a casual recommendation, it was a serious endorsement.
"Duly noted, Sandro," Triple H said, nodding slowly. "When you say something like that, we listen. We saw what Nic did out there tonight. We'll absolutely bring this up to Vince."
Stephanie chimed in. "We will definitely make a strong case for them. Especially April. We're always looking to bolster the women's division with talent who have that fire."
The official business concluded. Stephanie leaned back, her expression shifting to something more casual. "Are you heading back with us? We're taking the company car straight to the hotel."
Sandro shook his head. "No, you guys go on. You can go back to the hotel. I'll head back to my apartment tonight. It's been too long since I was back here, and I prefer my own bed."
They both understood. It was a perfectly reasonable request. The corporate travel would take them out of his way.
"Alright then," Triple H said, rising. "Safe travels, Champ. We'll be in touch."
Dusty and Steve escorted Triple H and Stephanie out, leaving the arena floor for the hotel, their minds already turning over the new endorsement. Sandro didn't linger. He gave a final nod to Steve, a silent thank you for the smooth arrangements, and headed straight for the exit. He knew exactly where he was going and who was waiting.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
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
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0