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And most importantly, was the Undisputed System going to get involved? Big Show stepped into the ring and adjusted the belt on his shoulder. The microphone lifted to his mouth. He waited for the boos to die down, but they didn't. So eventually, he simply pushed through them.
"You all can boo me," he growled, "but it doesn't change the fact that I am standing here as WWE Champion. Not John Cena. Not Randy Orton. Not anybody else you think deserves it more. Me."
More boos rained down.
Big Show smirked as he continued. "You're all acting like I stole something. Like I didn't earn this. But let me tell you something, you don't need to like how I won. You just need to remember who's holding the gold."
He patted the belt with a thump that echoed through the arena.
"But I didn't come out here to talk about the past," he said. "I came out here to address the future. Cena wants revenge. Orton wants the title. And from the looks of it…"
He glanced toward the stage with narrowed eyes.
"…this entire show is crawling with power hungry maniacs who think they run RAW, forgetting that I'm the WWE Champion haven't said anything yet."
The crowd reacted instantly, knowing exactly who he meant.
Big Show continued, voice steady but cautious. "So I'm going to make something very clear. I'm not afraid of John Cena. I'm not afraid of Randy Orton. And I'm sure as hell not afraid of Sandro Zhang or his little army."
That got the crowd buzzing again, cheers mixed with gasps, mixed with nervous anticipation.
"And if any one of them wants a piece of me," Big Show finished, lowering his tone,
"they know exactly where to find me."
He lowered the mic, glaring toward the stage as if daring someone, anyone, to step out.
The arena lights held steady. The tension cracked through the air like electricity. Fans chanted for Cena. Others chanted for Orton. And a growing portion, strangely enough, even chanted for Sandro, wanting the Undisputed System to appear and tear the night apart even more.
Big Show and the fans didn't have to wait long, not even ten seconds, before the next wave of chaos slammed into the arena.
Suddenly—
"VOICES!"
Randy Orton's theme blasted through the speakers with a violent burst of guitars, and the fans immediately reacted with a loud wave of boos.
The Viper stepped out onto the stage, cold, calculated, moving with that signature deliberate swagger, chin slightly raised, eyes narrowed straight toward the ring. Even with the crowd booing him, he didn't flinch or change his expression. He was Randy Orton, he never needed their approval, only their attention.
Cole shouted over the noise, "Well, here comes Orton—"
But he never even finished the sentence, and before the fans could settle into their usual Orton booing, a sudden roar erupted from the entrance stage as John Cena flew into the frame from behind, blindsiding Orton with a running tackle that sent both men crashing to the steel floor.
The arena exploded in cheers.
Cole nearly jumped out of his seat. "Cena! Cena just attacked Orton from behind! Randy Orton never saw it coming!"
Lawler shouted over him, "And the fight is ON! Cena and Orton, these two just don't stop!"
Up on the stage, Cena and Orton brawled with furious intensity. Cena hammered Orton with lefts and rights, then Orton raked Cena across the eyes and fired back with uppercuts. The two men rolled dangerously close to the LED boards, slamming each other into the metal, into the lights, into anything nearby.
The crowd loved every second of it, roaring with excitement. This wasn't a match. This was a street fight in the middle of WWE's stage.
In the ring, Big Show leaned across the ropes, watching with a slow grin spreading across his face. He wasn't stepping in. He wasn't stopping anything. He was enjoying the chaos way too much.
Cena and Orton kept swinging, kept grappling, kept tearing into one another—
And then the entire arena went dark.
A sudden blackout. A complete, consuming darkness.
Fans screamed in confusion. The broadcast cameras lost visual. Cole shouted, "What the, what happened?!" while Lawler stammered, "Did the power just—? No, no, this isn't normal, something's happening!"
The crowd buzzed like a hive of angry bees.
And then—
The lights snapped back on.
The arena gasped.
Because standing in the center of the entrance stage, right between Cena and Orton's now halted fight, was Sandro Zhang himself. The United States Championship hanging arrogantly from his right shoulder. His posture relaxed, almost casual, like he was simply enjoying a beautiful evening stroll.
To his left stood Alexa Bliss, her Divas Championship shining under the lights around her waist, chin high, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. To his right wasPaul Heyman with his posture straight, hands clasped, a snake of a smile on his face.
And surrounding them?
Carnage.
Cena was no longer fighting Orton. Because Big E, Ryback, and Drew McIntyre were all over him, stomping him down, throwing fists, dragging him across the stage like he was prey struggling beneath a pack of wolves.
Orton wasn't faring any better. Kofi Kingston and Wade Barrett had him backed against one of the steel beams of the set, hammering away with punches, kicks, and elbow strikes that echoed through the arena like drumbeats.
The fans erupted in a thunderous mix of rage and horror, deafening boos breaking against the air like thunder.
Cole's voice cracked with disbelief. "No, NO! Not again! The Undisputed System is attacking Cena and Orton! They've ambushed both men!"
Lawler added, "This is disgusting! Somebody has to stop this!"
But nobody could.
This was the Undisputed System.
This was what they did.
On the stage, Sandro simply smirked. Hands behind his back, posture loose, he watched his empire dismantle two of WWE's biggest stars like it was nothing more than theater written for him.
Cena tried to fight back, Big E clubbed him down.
Orton tried to crawl away, Wade kicked him in the ribs and dragged him back.
Chaos. Pure, orchestrated chaos.
And Sandro stood in the middle of it, the calm eye of the storm.
Finally, with two exhausted, beaten down bodies barely clinging to consciousness at their feet, the assault stopped just long enough for the members of the Undisputed System to look to their Maestro.
Sandro lifted one finger.
One subtle gesture.
A silent command.
And instantly the group obeyed.
Big E and Ryback grabbed Cena. Wade and Kofi grabbed Orton. Drew stepped forward like a soldier awaiting orders.
Sandro gave another tiny nod—
And the Undisputed System hurled both Cena and Orton off the entrance stage.
The arena ERUPTED with horrified screams.
Cena and Orton crashed at least ten feet down, smashing through a collection of tables, boxes, and production crates below. Debris flew into the air. Bodies hit wood. Metal clanged. The sound of the impact echoed like a car crash.
Cole yelled so loudly his mic peaked. "OH MY GOD! Cena and Orton just got thrown off the stage! Somebody get medical down there NOW!"
Lawler shouted, "They're broken in half! They might be seriously injured!"
The audience booed with a kind of fury that only grows when it feels utterly powerless. Thunderous, hateful, relentless. Fans screamed "ASSHOLE!" chants. Others pounded on the barricades. Some reached out toward the stage, pointing accusingly at Sandro.
But Sandro just stood there, lowering his gaze to the floor below with a cool, almost amused expression.
Heyman approached him, handing him a microphone like a proud assistant.
And the Maestro of the Undisputed System finally spoke.
His voice slithered through the arena with venomous calm.
"Big Show… Big Show… Big Show…"
He paced slowly across the stage, microphone raised casually.
"You talk like you're untouchable. Like you're invisible. Like you run RAW because you're the WWE Champion."
He laughed, cold, sharp, and dismissive.
"You think you're untouchable just because you've got that title on your shoulder? You think being WWE Champion makes you immune?" He chuckled, voice low and sharp. "If that pebble sized brain of yours remembers correctly, earlier tonight, someone else proved who really runs RAW. Sandro Zhang. Your United States Champion… and the Maestro of the Undisputed System."
He spread his arms wide, bathing in the tidal wave of boos from the crowd. Heyman clapped. Alexa smiled, resting her hands on her hips. Big E, Ryback, Wade, Kofi, and Drew all applauded like soldiers honoring a king.
Inside the ring, Big Show finally responded, lifting his microphone.
"Oh really?" he laughed. "You? Running RAW? You're dreaming, kid."
The fans, surprisingly, cheered Big Show. Booing him had been instinct earlier, but right now they hated Sandro ten times more. Big Show became the lesser evil by default.
"You're a United States Champion," Big Show continued, jabbing a finger toward him. "That's it. That's your only accomplishment here. Have you ever been WWE Champion? Have you ever carried this?"
He lifted the WWE Championship high above his head. The crowd roared with approval.
"I don't think so," Big Show continued. "And you think you can do whatever you want just because Paul Heyman is standing next to you? You think Heyman can strip me of this title? You think he can rewrite the rules anytime you snap your fingers?"
He shook his head, laughing.
"Not happening, buddy. He might be untouchable. You might be protected. But YOU don't run RAW. I do. I'm the WWE Champion. And if you want a shot at this? If you want to even breathe near this title? You go straight to the back of the line, because you haven't earned a damn thing."
The fans erupted in applause, cheering for Big Show even though they hated him thirty minutes ago.
But the hatred for the Undisputed System was so much greater.
Sandro scoffed, lifting the mic again.
Then he said, "Heyman can do whatever he wants. He is the General Manager—"
Before he finished, his own eyebrow twitched.
He turned his head sharply toward Heyman.
"Isn't that right?" he asked coolly. "Special Advisor?"
The moment the words left his mouth, the entire arena reacted.
Heyman froze.
Then stuttered.
For the first time all night, Paul Heyman, master of manipulation, puppet master of chaos, looked rattled.
Sandro tapped the mic lightly. "Heyman. Isn't. That. Right?"
"No, no, n... no, Maestro," Heyman stuttered, caught completely off guard. "I, well, you see…"
Sandro narrowed his eyes, waiting.
Heyman gulped.
"I… I can't strip Big Show of the title. If I did it without an official reason, if I did it just because it benefits you and cause losses for RAW and WWE… the Board of Directors and Vince could fire me immediately like Vince have just said. We… we can't take that risk."
His voice cracked. His body language shrank. All of this was caught perfectly by Sandro's live microphone.
The fans CHEERED like they had won a war.
Cole started laughing loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is karma! Sandro just got publicly shut down by Heyman!"
Lawler cackled, "Oh this is great! The Maestro didn't see that coming!"
The fans CHEERED again, drowning the stage with noise.
Sandro stood still.
Perfectly still.
Jaw clenched, eyes locked on Heyman.
But then, somehow, someway, he forced a smirk back onto his face. Forced his posture to relax. Forced the air around him to remain in his control.
"Well," he said calmly, "if you can't do it, Heyman… then I'll do it myself."
He turned back toward Big Show, but the giant cut him off.
"What are you gonna do?" Big Show barked. "Go cry to daddy for help? Boo hoo!"
The arena laughed. Fans chanted "DADDY'S BOY! DADDY'S BOY!"
Alexa glared daggers at the crowd. Wade cracked his knuckles angrily. Drew looked ready to tear Big Show in half.
But Sandro… Sandro simply smiled.
"I could do that," he said. "But I don't need father's power. I'll do it the right way. I'll do it MY way. I'll take that WWE Championship the right way."
He lifted his title.
"I'll do it… by becoming Mr. Money in the Bank."
The crowd gasped. Cole nearly fell out of his chair.
Big Show burst into laughter. "Impossible! Jack Swagger already won the briefcase an shave caused it in! And the match was at WrestleMania! You think you're getting another chance? Better luck waiting a year, kid."
Sandro chuckled darkly.
"Oh… you didn't know?"
He leaned forward, voice twisting into a sinister whisper.
"In three weeks… WWE will hold the first ever Money in the Bank Pay Per View."
Big Show's smile faded.
Lawler nearly shouted, "WHAT?! A whole PPV dedicated to Money in the Bank?!"
"And the main event of that show…" Sandro continued, "will be a ladder match for a NEW briefcase." He stepped forward, pointing directly at Big Show. "And I will make damn sure… that I am in that match. One way or another." The arena buzzed with disbelief, shock, fear, excitement, every emotion crashing together at once.
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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