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Twitter was full of theories. YouTube had reaction videos within hours. WWE's own channels in YouTube and Twitter capitalized instantly, posting highlight packages, freeze frames, backstage photos of Sandro icing his shoulder with Alexa, and hype videos promoting RAW.
The energy was nuclear. And when the afternoon rolled in, the chatter only grew louder, the same questions repeated over and over.
"Is Sandro going to cash in on Big Show tonight?"
"Is the Undisputed System going to destroy the main event?"
"Is WWE about to crown a new WWE Champion?"
The hype was building too perfectly.
By noon, WWE's official YouTube channel posted the MITB finish. It hit one million views in an hour.
By 2 PM, it reached three million.
By 4 PM, the clip of Sandro hanging from the cable trended #1 worldwide.
And right around that time, Sandro and Alexa finally woke up.
Alexa was the first to stir, groaning and stretching her back. "Ugh… God… my spine hates me…"
Beside her, Sandro blinked tiredly at the ceiling. "…I can't move, I'm to exhausted and sleepy."
"Try."
"…No."
Alexa laughed and shoved his shoulder lightly. "Get up, superstar. We've got a full day before the show."
He grumbled but pushed himself upright.
They spent the day quietly, breakfast together, a warm shower, some downtime with ice packs and muscle cream, then media obligations. Sandro did a few short interviews, never breaking character, always speaking like the mastermind the world believed he was.
And as afternoon slowly turned into evening, the Kansas City air buzzed with excitement.
By 6 PM, fans swarmed the Sprint Center.
By 7 PM, the lines wrapped around the block.
By 7:50 PM, the arena was packed to the rafters, energy vibrating like electricity ready to explode.
At 8 PM—
Monday Night RAW went live.
Pyro blasted from the stage in a bright, thunderous eruption. Sparks rained down. The crowd roared. Kansas City was ready for war.
Cole and Lawler welcomed viewers to the show while the energy in the arena cracked like lightning.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Cole said, barely containing his excitement, "we are LIVE from Kansas City, Missouri, just twenty four hours after one of the most shocking Money in the Bank matches in WWE HISTORY!"
Lawler chimed in, "Shocking? Cole, that was insanity! Sandro literally hanging from the cable after the ladder was pushed down, and STILL managing to unhook the briefcase! I've never seen anything like that in all my years!"
Cole nodded urgently. "Everyone is talking about it. Fans, analysts, wrestlers. The entire sports entertainment world is still buzzing over what the Maestro of the Undisputed System pulled off!"
Cole added, "With the Money in the Bank briefcase AND the United States Championship, Sandro has put the WWE Champion Big Show, and frankly everyone else, on notice."
King laughed nervously. "Yeah, I'd be looking over my shoulder if I were the champ."
Cole opened his mouth to continue, but then—
BOOM. "WELL, IT'S THE BIG SHOW!"
A massive explosion shook the arena like a cannon firing through the speakers.The Big Show's theme hit. The fans erupted into deafening cheers as the titantron lit up with the massive silhouette of the World's Largest Athlete, and the WWE Champion stepped onto the stage.
The gold around his waist gleamed under the lights. Sweat glistened on his massive frame, he was ready for a fight. He scanned the crowd with a serious expression, then marched with heavy, deliberate steps down the ramp.
Justin Roberts' voice echoed through the arena. "This match is scheduled for ONE FALL! Making his way to the ring, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 485 pounds, he is the WWE Champion, THE BIG SHOW!"
The cheers grew louder. Big Show walked down the ramp with methodical steps, climbed over the top rope effortlessly, raised the WWE Championship high into the air, and roared his signature entrance shout. The audience roared back.
Show looked ready. Focused. Unbothered, yet noticeably more alert than usual.
Cole commented, "There he is, the WWE Champion. But you've got to imagine last night's main event has left him looking over his shoulder."
Lawler replied, "I don't care how big you are, I don't care how strong you are, when someone like Sandro has that briefcase, EVERYBODY'S nervous!"
Suddenly—
"YEAHHHHHHHHHHH, I WALK A MILE INSIDE YHIS PIT OF DANGER!"
Batista's entrance theme blasted through the speakers, and the crowd booed instantly. The Animal walked out, glaring at the audience with that trademark contempt. He paused at the top of the ramp, inhaled deeply, then unleashed his iconic machine gun pyro pose. Fire shot upward behind him in a spectacular show of power.
DA! DA! DA! DA! DAAAAM!
Roberts spoke over the noise. "And his opponent, from Washington D.C.! Weighing in at 290 pounds! THE ANIMAL! BATISTA!!!"
The boos grew louder as Batista marched down the ramp, eyes locked on Big Show.
Cole sounded concerned. "Well, it appears Batista is trying to insert himself into the WWE Title picture! He said earlier today that if he can beat the champion in a non title match, he'll demand a WWE Championship match!"
Lawler chimed in, "And considering Orton and Cena are also hunting for their title shot as they are involved in rivalry, this could get REALLY complicated!"
Cole added, "And don't forget, Sandro is out there somewhere, lurking with the briefcase. Big Show is surrounded on all sides!"
Batista walked up the steel steps, entered the ring, shook the ropes aggressively, and settled into his corner. The referee checked both men, signaled readiness, then—
DING DING DING!
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Big Show and Batista stepped toward each other, meeting at the center of the ring. Both men radiated power. The air felt heavy, like the first rumble before a storm.
They locked up—
Or tried to.
Batista broke the tie immediately by slamming a hard kick into Big Show's gut. The giant grunted, stumbling slightly. Batista followed with heavy forearms, peppering Show's chest and head.
Show shook it off and answered with a brutal open-hand chop that cracked through the arena. Batista staggered backward, clutching his chest.
And from there—
The match exploded.
Power moves thrown like boulders.
Slams that shook the ring.
Forearms that echoed.
Suplexes that made fans wince.
Two titans battling to prove who belonged at the top.
Midway through the match, momentum shifted fast. Batista ducked a chop and sprinted toward the ropes, lowering into position for the Spear—
But Big Show reacted on instinct.
KO PUNCH!!!
The crowd exploded as Batista dropped like a stone.
Big Show covered him.
ONE! TWO! THRE—!
BATISTA KICKED OUT.
The arena gasped.
Cole shouted, "HE KICKED OUT! BATISTA KICKED OUT OF THE KO PUNCH!"
Lawler was stunned. "This is unreal!"
The match continued, both men exhausted now. Big Show lifted Batista again, trying to set up a chokeslam—
But the arena suddenly erupted into a tidal wave of boos.
Because emerging from the stage—
Walking with absolute confidence—
Was Sandro Zhang.
United States Championship around his waist.
Money in the Bank briefcase in his left hand.
And behind him…
The entire Undisputed System.
Alexa Bliss with her Divas Championship.
Drew McIntyre.
Wade Barrett.
Kofi Kingston.
Big E and Ryback, World Tag Team titles gleaming.
And Paul Heyman, adjusting his tie with a devil's grin.
The arena drowned in hatred.
Big Show's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He looked furious, but also worried. The kind of worry that only champions feel when the threat is not in front of them, but standing at ringside with a contract that can flip their entire world.
Sandro smirked, slow, deliberate, calculating. He lifted the MITB briefcase just enough for Big Show to see…. then tilted his head, silently taunting him.
Cole shouted over the noise. "SANDRO IS HERE! THE UNITED STATES CHAMPION IS HERE WITH THE ENTIRE UNDISPUTED SYSTEM! THIS IS MINDGAMES!"
Lawler groaned, "Oh no… Big Show is exhausted… this is dangerous… VERY dangerous!"
Big Show didn't move. He didn't take his eyes off Sandro.
And in that one second of distraction—
Inside the ring, Batista staggered up. He saw Big Show distracted. He saw an opportunity.
Batista grabbed Big Show, spun him around, and delivered a vicious kick to the gut, launching himself toward the ropes, sprinting back—
SPEAR!!!
Batista SPEARED Big Show in half!
The arena shook with boos.
Batista hooked the leg!
The ref dropped to count—
ONE!
TWO!
TH—
Suddenly Sandro snapped his fingers toward his faction. "Now," he said calmly.
The Undisputed System stormed the ring like a pack of wolves. The referee threw himself backward and immediately called for the bell.
DING DING DING! DISQUALIFICATION
Cole screamed, "WHAT?! WHY?! WHY NOW?!"
Lawler shouted, "He could've cashed in! Why didn't he cash in?!"
But Sandro didn't cash in.
He just smirked.
He just watched.
Because tonight wasn't about taking the title.
Tonight was about torment.
Watched as Wade hammered Batista.
Watched as Ryback smashed Big Show into the corner.
Watched as Drew stomped Batista out of the ring.
Watched as Big E delivered a crushing blow to Show's ribs.
Watched as Kofi kicked Batista directly in the jaw.
Alexa laughed as she slapped the turnbuckle, cheering them on. Heyman observed with arms folded, nodding with appreciation at the precision of watching his enemies crumble.
The chaos was complete, violent, but perfectly controlled.
Sandro stepped up onto the apron, his expression a masterpiece of manipulation. He held the briefcase high for the hard camera, for the fans, for Big Show gasping on the mat.
He pointed at the briefcase.
Then pointed at Big Show.
Then slowly shook his head, not tonight.
Cole nearly lost it. "He's playing games! He's playing MIND GAMES with the WWE Champion!"
Lawler added, "He wants Big Show paranoid! Every second of every night! He wants him broken BEFORE he cashes in!"
Sandro stepped back, the Undisputed System regrouping around him, forming a protective wall.
The boos from the arena were deafening.
And Sandro smiled, that same evil, smug smile he had the night before, because everything was going exactly according to plan.
After that, Sandro and the Undisputed System, alongside Heyman, stepped off the ring apron and began their walk up the ramp. Every eye in the arena was locked on them. The referee knelt beside Batista and the Big Show in the ring, checking on both men as they writhed in pain, groaning and clutching their ribs.
Sandro reached the top of the stage and positioned himself dead center. His faction fanned out behind him like an army waiting for a command. Heyman lingered slightly to the side, hands clasped behind his back, vibrating with smug satisfaction.
Sandro raised the bright metallic green of the Money in the Bank briefcase high above his head. The spotlight hit it just right, scattering gold reflections across the crowd and the stage. The fans booed so hard the cameras shook.
Then Sandro deliberately turned the briefcase and pointed with his free hand at the United States Championship around his waist, his smirk widening into something unholy, taunting, mocking, reveling in the heat pouring down on him like fire.
The crowd hated him. Sandro loved it.
He turned around smoothly, signaling his faction to follow him backstage.
But just as he took a single step—
A blur of motion slammed into his back.
The impact was vicious, sudden, and completely unexpected. Sandro was hit so hard he stumbled forward and fell onto his hands and knees. A collective gasp detonated through the arena, sharp and confused. Cole's voice cracked with shock.
"What, WHAT IS THIS?! THAT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!"
Lawler's voice pitched up. "Who the, WHERE DID HE COME FROM?!"
The cameras jerked wildly to catch the scene.
Someone, some fan, had jumped Sandro from behind.
The young man, maybe early twenties or slightly older, tackled Sandro full force and immediately began throwing frantic, sloppy punches toward Sandro's head and shoulders. Pure chaos. Pure adrenaline.
For a split second, Sandro's mind short circuited, processing the insanity. He had seen things like this before in his past life, videos of fans jumping the barricade, rushing the ring, attacking wrestlers mid match. Seth Rollins. Eddie Guerrero. Seth Rollins. Bret Hart. Steve Austin. Those who had lived through the madness of obsessive fans losing their sense of reality.
And now—
It was happening to him.
He wasn't just becoming a main eventer.
He was becoming a target.
The thought burned through him in a strange, twisted flash of pride. But instinct took over. Sandro shifted his weight, rolled sharply with the momentum of the attacker's movement, and twisted his body in one fluid, practiced motion. The fan over committed to a punch, lost his balance, and tumbled off Sandro entirely, sprawling across the metal stage.
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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 & 1x Mr. Money In The Bank
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0