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Goldust chopped Sandro again, harder this time, sending a spray of sweat flying. Sandro staggered a step, more surprised than hurt. Goldust followed with another chop, this one echoed, and the crowd cheered him on. But Sandro suddenly lunged, grabbing Goldust by the scruff of the neck and hurling him into the corner with a rage fueled shove.
Sandro sneered through gritted teeth and launched a series of stiff body shots into Goldust's ribs, each one thudding like a hammer. Goldust wheezed but fired back with a headbutt that rocked Sandro backward. It was sloppy, wild, and effective.
Meanwhile on the other side of the ring, Ezekiel Jackson was manhandling Matt Hardy like he weighed nothing. Zeke slammed Matt into the turnbuckles repeatedly, each impact rattling the ring. Matt tried to shield himself but Zeke's raw power was smothering.
Ryder and Punk were trading strikes in the center. Punk landed a stiff kick to Ryder's thigh, thwack, followed by another to the ribs. Ryder stumbled, and Punk went for a roundhouse kick to the head, but Ryder ducked and countered with a flapjack that sent Punk chest first into the ropes.
Shelton Benjamin, Miz still trapped under him, switched to ground and pound, delivering quick, athletic strikes before popping back to his feet in one fluid motion.
And that's when Shelton did what Shelton does best.
He sprinted.
Full speed.
Straight toward the ropes.
"La— look at Benjamin go!" Cole shouted.
Shelton launched himself over the top rope with a soaring senton, crashing into Punk, Ryder, and Ezekiel all at once. The landing was so clean it looked like he planned it for months. The crowd roared their approval.
Matt Hardy, recovering from Zeke's beating, spotted the moment and immediately jumped on the opportunity. He hit the ropes, barreled forward, and dove through the middle rope with a suicide dive that wiped out Shelton and Ryder again.
The fans were eating it up.
Goldust, staggering but still upright, crawled out of the corner as Sandro reset his stance, jaw tight, eyes cold. Goldust slapped his own face, psyching himself up, then ran at Sandro for a clothesline, only for Sandro to duck, grab him by the waist, lift him, and drop him with a wicked back suplex.
Goldust hit hard, rolling onto his stomach in pain.
The Miz, who had taken enough of Shelton's beating, slithered out of the ring like a rat avoiding a stomp. He stumbled around the outside, clutching his jaw, looking for the easiest path back into the match without taking another hit.
Striker saw it instantly. "The Miz is already thinking long term! He's conserving energy! Staying out of harm's way! That's a great ladder match strategy!"
Cole scoffed. "Great strategy? Come on, he's just running away!"
Lawler added, "Miz is Miz, Cole. At this point, we should expect it."
Inside the ring, Sandro turned his head and locked eyes with The Miz on the floor. Miz froze like a deer in headlights. Sandro stepped through the ropes slowly, tension rising with each deliberate motion.
Sandro stalked him.
Miz backed up, pleading, hands up, shaking his head as if saying "No no no, we're fine, we're good, we're FRIENDS—"
Sandro clotheslined him so hard Miz flipped inside out on the floor.
The arena erupted.
Striker shouted, "THE MAESTRO JUST ERASED MIZ!"
Lawler winced. "I… I actually FELT that."
With Miz down, Sandro dragged one of the ladders from ringside and shoved it under the bottom rope. The steel clanged against the canvas, catching everyone's attention.
Cole whispered with dread, "Oh no… he's already thinking about climbing."
But once Sandro slid into the ring, he didn't go for the climb. He picked up the ladder, raised it high, and swung it like a battering ram just as Goldust tried getting up.
CLANG.
The ladder smashed into Goldust's back and folded him flat on the mat.
Goldust writhed in agony as Sandro tossed the ladder down with contempt.
By then, Shelton and Matt had rolled back into the ring, both holding their ribs. Shelton charged Sandro, tackling him into the corner. Matt joined in, delivering punches to Sandro's midsection as the crowd cheered on the teamwork.
Lawler shouted, "That's smart! Take Sandro out early! Don't give him ANY momentum!"
Sandro tried fighting out, but Shelton hit a jumping knee that clipped him across the jaw. Sandro collapsed to a sitting position against the turnbuckle. Matt Hardy followed with a hesitation dropkick right to Sandro's chest, knocking the air out of him.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Shelton grabbed the ladder Sandro had thrown aside and set it upright in the center of the ring.
Cole said, "Here we go! Shelton Benjamin might be the most experienced ladder specialist of everyone here!"
Shelton began climbing.
The crowd rose.
But Punk rolled into the ring, still hurting, and grabbed Shelton's ankle, yanking him down. Shelton turned sharply, but Punk caught him immediately with a stiff kick to the stomach followed by a snap DDT that spiked Shelton straight into the mat.
Matt Hardy climbed next, gasping, favoring his ribs. Punk yanked him down too.
Matt fought back with a right hand. Punk answered with a kick to the hamstring. Matt hit another punch. Punk fired a knee to the midsection. Matt stumbled. Punk wound up for a spinning back fist—
But Matt ducked.
Punk spun right into Matt's SIDE EFFECT.
The crowd popped loudly as Punk hit the mat.
"Vintage Matt Hardy!" Cole yelled.
Matt grabbed the ladder again, propping it upright, shaking it to test its stability. He started climbing slowly, every rung a struggle after Zeke's earlier thrashing.
But Ezekiel Jackson re entered the ring.
He grabbed Matt from behind.
And ripped him off the ladder like he was peeling tape.
Zeke launched Matt across the ring with a release overhead suplex. Matt landed awkwardly, clutching his back.
Striker said, "That is pure, unfiltered power! Zeke might not be flashy, but he doesn't NEED to be!"
The Miz, somehow still alive, crawled onto the apron and tried sneaking in behind Zeke with a low blow.
Zeke caught his arm mid swing.
Miz's face went white.
Zeke hoisted Miz up by his throat with one hand and threw him into the corner. Miz flopped down like a marionette with cut strings.
But Zeke didn't get to enjoy the moment, because Shelton was back up, using the top rope as a launch pad.
Shelton springboarded—
And hit a massive forearm smash that took Zeke off his feet.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Goldust, wobbling but alive, crawled toward the ladder. Sweat glistened off the gold paint on his face. The fans chanted "GOLDUST! GOLDUST!" as he slowly got to his feet and grabbed the ladder.
Goldust attempted to climb, hands shaking, legs unsteady.
Striker said, "You can see the wear on Goldust! But the man's heart is unmatched!"
As Goldust reached the third rung—
Ryder dragged him off, hit a kneeling jawbreaker, and then ran off the ropes for his signature BROSKI BOOT right to Goldust's face.
Goldust fell limp.
Ryder shouted, "WOO! WOO! WOO!" and the crowd echoed the chant.
Ryder climbed next.
He got two rungs up.
Three.
Four.
But then Sandro, battered but far from broken, rose like a villain in a horror movie.
His head lifted first. Then his shoulders. Then he stood fully upright behind Ryder, the crowd gasping as they noticed him.
Cole whispered, "Oh no… Zack Ryder has NO idea he's being hunted."
Sandro walked up behind Ryder, grabbed him by the waist…
And powerbombed him off the ladder so brutally the audience screamed.
The ring shook.
Ryder folded up like a ragdoll.
Lawler blurted out, "STOP THE MATCH! HE'S DEAD!"
Striker yelled, "That was one of the SICKEST powerbombs I've EVER seen in Money in the Bank history!"
Sandro shoved the ladder over out of spite, making it crash sideways onto the mat.
Bodies were littered everywhere.
CM Punk crawling. Matt Hardy barely breathing. Shelton clutching his head. Goldust in agony. Ryder unmoving. Miz writhing. Zeke climbing to his knees.
Only Sandro stood completely upright.
The Maestro surveyed the battlefield like a king inspecting his conquered land.
Cole hated every second of it. "This is EXACTLY why nobody wanted him in this match!"
But Sandro didn't climb. Not yet.
With vicious intent, Sandro rolled out of the ring and pulled out a second ladder, this one taller, thicker, heavier. He slid it inside and set it up leaning in the corner like a guillotine blade waiting for a victim.
Then Sandro grabbed the smaller ladder and laid it flat on the canvas.
The fans knew something terrible was about to happen.
Matt Hardy staggered to his feet first, completely unaware of the trap. Sandro grabbed him by the hair, dragged him toward the smaller ladder—
Matt threw a punch.
Sandro blocked.
Sandro threw a punch.
Matt blocked.
Both men exchanged slow, exhausted, heavy strikes, wobbling like boxers in the final round.
Matt suddenly hit a desperation kick to Sandro's gut, then stepped back and lunged for a Twist of Fate—
But Sandro shoved him off.
Matt stumbled right into Zeke, who had recovered enough to grab Matt in a bear hug. Zeke squeezed so tightly Matt's legs kicked in panic.
Goldust intervened, hitting Zeke with a clothesline, but Zeke didn't budge. Goldust hit a second. Zeke rocked slightly. Goldust went for a third—
Zeke caught him around the waist and slammed him into the corner with brutal force.
Shelton Benjamin leapt off the top rope with a missile dropkick to Zeke's head, finally bringing the powerhouse down.
The ring was a car crash again, chaos layered over chaos.
Sandro re entered the action, picking up the flat ladder and ramming it into Matt's midsection like a spear. Matt fell to all fours, gagging.
Sandro lifted the ladder overhead.
Lawler shouted, "NO— NO— DON'T—"
Sandro brought it down across Matt's back with a horrifying crack.
Matt collapsed.
The audience booed viciously, but Sandro absorbed it like oxygen.
As Sandro turned, Punk stumbled back into the ring holding a steel chair he had grabbed from ringside. His eyes were wild, jaw clenched, rage radiating off him as he stared at Sandro.
The crowd popped huge.
Cole yelled, "Punk has a weapon! Punk has a chair!"
Punk swung.
Sandro ducked.
The chair smashed into the ropes and ricocheted, catching Punk in the shoulder.
Sandro capitalized instantly, yanking Punk forward into a knee strike to the face. Punk crumpled.
Sandro grabbed the chair.
Held it up.
And smashed it over Punk's back.
CRACK.
Then another.
CRACK.
Then a third.
CRACK.
Even the crowd winced.
Striker shouted, "PUNK IS BEING DESTROYED!"
Lawler sounded horrified. "Sandro's not trying to win, he's trying to END PEOPLE."
Shelton rushed him again.
Sandro hurled the chair at Shelton's face like a fastball.
Shelton dropped immediately.
Finally, FINALLY, Ezekiel Jackson rose to his feet behind Sandro, fury in his eyes, veins bulging on his arms. Zeke charged at him like a bull.
Sandro turned too late.
Zeke grabbed him.
Lifted him.
And hit a bone jarring SPINEBUSTER that shook the entire ring.
The Sprint Center roared.
Cole jumped to his feet. "THANK YOU, ZEKIEL JACKSON!"
Zeke pounded his chest, roaring, rallying the crowd. He grabbed the largest ladderz the mega ladder Sandro had set in the corner, and dragged it to the center.
Bodies were still scattered everywhere, but Zeke was the only man standing tall.
He set up the ladder.
Hand over hand, step by step, he began climbing.
The audience buzzed, rising with him.
Striker shouted, "Zeke is climbing! Zeke is climbing! This could be HIS moment!"
Rung after rung.
Zeke reached the halfway point.
Shelton crawled.
Matt groaned.
Goldust twitched.
Miz rolled toward the apron.
Punk clutched his ribs.
Ryder didn't move.
Sandro started to stir.
Zeke reached higher.
Higher.
Higher—
Suddenly Punk used the chair as a crutch and staggered toward the ropes. He grabbed Zeke's ankle and yanked hard, trying to stop the climb.
Zeke kicked him off.
Shelton leapt onto the opposite side of the ladder.
The crowd erupted again.
Shelton and Zeke climbed simultaneously.
Rung after rung.
Shelton on one side.
Zeke on the other.
Both reaching.
Both straining.
Both inches from the briefcase.
Cole shouted, "THIS IS IT—THIS IS IT—ONE OF THEM'S GOT IT—"
Striker yelled, "WE CAN HAVE A WINNER IN THE NEXT TEN SECONDS!"
But then Sandro rose.
Nose bleeding.
Breathing hard.
Rage twisting his face.
He grabbed the ladder.
And began pushing.
Slowly.
Shakily.
But effectively.
The crowd gasped.
Shelton and Zeke both realized too late, as Sandro successfully toppled the entire ladder. Both men fell down hard. Shelton crashed onto the top rope and spilled onto the floor. Zeke landed spine first on the canvas, bouncing from the impact. The crowd shouted, screamed, booed, cursed.
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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