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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The crowd inside the Philips Arena immediately rose to their feet. The thousands of conversations, chants, and arguments all instantly synthesized into a massive, suffocating wall of pure, unadulterated anticipation. The fallout of WrestleMania was officially underway, and the shattered pieces of the Undisputed System were about to be put on full, public display.
At this precise moment, the massive, high definition Titantron suspended above the entrance stage flickered. The standard Monday Night RAW graphics abruptly vanished, instantly replaced by a live, slightly shaky camera feed broadcasting directly from the backstage corridors of the arena.
The twenty thousand fans in attendance let out a collective, echoing gasp at the visual that materialized on the giant screen.
It was Sandro Zhang.
The God King did not look like the untouchable, pristine billionaire who usually strutted through the backstage area in custom tailored suits. He looked like a man who had barely survived a horrific, high speed car crash.
Thick, stark white medical bandages were tightly wrapped around his entire midsection, compressing the severely bruised ribs he had sustained from Chris Jericho's brutal assault last night. A heavy, woven gauze bandage was wrapped securely around his forehead, covering the deep, ugly lacerations he had suffered from being violently thrown into the exposed steel turnbuckle and the unforgiving concrete floor.
Yet, despite looking absolutely physically broken, Sandro was still completely dripping in gold. The massive, gleaming World Heavyweight Championship was draped heavily over his right shoulder. The prestigious United States Championship was slung over his left shoulder. And fastened securely around his waist, holding the medical tape in place, was the ultimate prize in the industry, the WWE Championship.
The camera slowly pulled back, revealing the rest of the fractured empire trailing directly behind the Triple Crown Champion.
Walking in lockstep behind Sandro were the Queens of the Undisputed System. AJ Lee marched forward, a dark, serious expression on her face, clutching the Divas Championship tightly to her chest.
Flanking her were Nikki Bella and Alexa Bliss, acting as a royal guard. Directly behind the women were Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods, both men wearing their NXT Tag Team Championships around their waists, their faces unreadable masks of tension.
But it was the rear guard of the entourage that drew the loudest, most sustained reaction from the Atlanta crowd.
Following the champions were the five men who, just twenty four hours prior, had failed the God King on the Grandest Stage of Them All. Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback walked together in a tight, solemn formation.
They were no longer the arrogant, untouchable enforcers of the golden empire. They looked entirely defeated. They walked with their heads bowed, their eyes fixed firmly on the concrete floor, carrying the suffocating, heavy shame of their WrestleMania losses.
They couldn't reclaim or retain their titles, and now, they were simply marching behind their battered leader like prisoners walking to their own professional executions.
At the commentary desk, the sight of the complete faction walking together sent a shockwave through the broadcasters.
"Look at this visual!" Cole yelled, gesturing frantically toward the monitor. "Sandro Zhang looks like he just walked out of an intensive care unit, but he still has the entire Undisputed System marching behind him! The enforcers haven't been exiled yet! What on earth is he planning to do with them?!"
"He's going to publicly fire them!" Lawler predicted, shaking his head. "He's marching them out to the ring to humiliate them in front of the entire world! They failed him, and a sociopath like Sandro Zhang does not forgive failure!"
"You two are completely, utterly delusional!" JBL roared, entirely ignoring the grim reality of the situation. JBL stared at the monitor with a desperate, hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
"Look at them! The family is still together! The God King is simply leading his troops to the battlefield! The Undisputed System's spirit is going to rise from the ashes of last night! Wade, Drew, Kofi, Big E, Ryback... they just need to listen to the absolute genius of Sandro Zhang, and he will figure out a master plan to get them all right back to the top of the mountain again!"
On the Titantron, the camera continued to track backward, capturing the faction as they moved slowly and deliberately down a long, equipment cluttered concrete hallway.
Up ahead, standing near a stack of heavy black production crates, were several WWE crew members mingling with a group of local independent wrestling talents. These local talents had been brought into the arena to act as extras for backstage segments, and perhaps to be evaluated in the ring earlier in the afternoon for a potential WWE tryout.
Unfortunately for them, they were entirely unaware that the live camera feed was broadcasting the approaching God King, and they were completely oblivious to the fact that Sandro Zhang was now within earshot.
"Did you see the main event last night?" one of the local talents, a tall, muscular kid in generic athletic gear, laughed loudly, leaning against a production crate. "Absolute joke. The guy looked like a ragdoll bouncing off the mat."
"I know, right?" another local talent chimed in, crossing his arms with an arrogant, unearned smirk. "It's about time. The Undisputed System is completely dead. Paul Heyman literally served Zhang up on a silver platter to Brock Lesnar. The stranglehold is finally gone."
A few of the WWE crew members shifted uncomfortably, glancing down the hall, but the independent wrestlers were completely oblivious, actively enjoying the sound of their own voices.
"Honestly, it's incredibly fortunate for guys like us," the first local talent continued, completely oblivious to the death sentence he was signing with his mouth. "With that entire stupid faction dismantled, and with them losing practically all their titles last night, there's finally going to be room on the roster for real talent. We're going to get a shot at a tryout today because the golden boy is probably going to be in a wheelchair by the end of the month."
The group of local talents burst into loud, mocking laughter, entirely making fun of the God King's humiliation at the hands of the Beast Incarnate.
The camera violently zoomed in on Sandro Zhang's face.
The Triple Crown Champion stopped dead in his tracks. The entire faction behind him mirrored his movement, coming to an abrupt, synchronized halt. The temperature in the hallway seemed to physically drop by ten degrees.
Sandro's eyes, already dark and sociopathic, went completely, terrifyingly hollow. He stared at the backs of the laughing local talents. He didn't say a single word. He didn't scream. He didn't throw a tantrum.
Instead, with a chilling, mechanical calmness, Sandro slowly unbuckled the WWE Championship from his waist. He let the World Heavyweight Championship slide off his right shoulder. He let the United States Championship slide off his left shoulder. He casually, effortlessly dropped all three massive, invaluable belts directly onto the concrete floor at the feet of the Queens.
The local talents heard the heavy, metallic clatter of the gold hitting the floor. They stopped laughing. They slowly, hesitantly turned around.
The absolute, blood draining terror that washed over their faces was caught perfectly in high definition.
Sandro Zhang exploded forward like a feral animal.
Ignoring his broken ribs, ignoring his concussion, Sandro lunged across the remaining distance and launched a catastrophic, unmitigated running forearm smash directly into the jaw of the loudest local talent!
The sound of the impact echoed like a gunshot in the enclosed concrete hallway. The young wrestler was instantly knocked unconscious, his body flying backward and crashing violently into the steel production crates!
And then, absolute, unhinged pandemonium broke loose.
The five massive men standing behind Sandro, Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback, did not hesitate for a single microsecond.
They had spent the last twenty four hours marinating in failure, shame, and the terrifying fear of Sandro's wrath. They were boiling over with aggressive, pent up frustration. And these arrogant nobodies had just provided them with the perfect, helpless punching bags to release it all.
The Undisputed System boys swarmed the hallway, instantly joining their leader in the assault. They wanted to give these idiots the absolute receipt for letting their mouths run like that.
Drew McIntyre grabbed one of the local talents by the throat, hoisting the man completely off his feet and hurling him with homicidal force entirely through a nearby wooden catering table!
Splinters, ice, and food exploded everywhere!
Ryback, roaring like an actual monster, picked up another local talent in a military press, walking forward and violently throwing the man face first into a stack of solid steel folding chairs!
The WWE production crew members, realizing the situation had turned lethal, tried to intervene, yelling for Sandro to stop. But they were immediately caught in the terrifying crossfire.
Kofi Kingston, his eyes wide with manic aggression, leaped off a production case and delivered a devastating, spinning Trouble in Paradise kick directly to the temple of a cameraman, instantly knocking the crew member out cold!
Big E intercepted two other crew members, grabbing them both by their shirts and driving them violently into the cinderblock wall with a catastrophic double clothesline!
In the center of the chaos, Wade Barrett had backed the last remaining local talent against the wall. Barrett was delivering a sickening, rapid fire sequence of heavy, bare knuckle body blows to the man's ribs, systematically breaking him down before stepping back and delivering a lethal, concussive Bullhammer elbow strike that folded the local talent like an accordion.
And amidst it all, Sandro Zhang had mounted the first local talent he had dropped. The bruised, bandaged God King was raining down heavy, completely unprotected, closed fist right hands directly into the unconscious man's face.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Sandro's bandaged head bobbed with the sheer, unadulterated violence of the ground and pound assault. He wasn't just beating the man, he was trying to permanently disfigure him.
The Philips Arena crowd was in a state of absolute, deafening shock, watching the live massacre unfold on the massive screen.
At the commentary desk, the broadcasters were screaming over the audio feed.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Cole shrieked, entirely disgusted and sickened by the display of unprovoked violence. "THIS IS A MUGGING! THIS IS A SENSELESS, BARBARIC ASSAULT! SANDRO ZHANG AND HIS THUGS ARE ACTIVELY TRYING TO END THE LIVES OF THESE LOCAL TALENTS AND OUR OWN WWE CREW MEMBERS! SOMEBODY GET BACK THERE AND STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!"
"This is sickening!" Lawler yelled, slamming his fist on the desk, his voice shaking with genuine anger. "These kids are just here for a tryout! They are just trying to get a job in this industry, and Sandro Zhang is having his goons hospitalize them because his fragile ego got hurt! This is a criminal offense!"
"Oh, shut up, both of you!" JBL roared over his colleagues, absolutely ecstatic, entirely supporting the brutal actions of the faction. "These complete and utter idiots shouldn't have said such disrespectful things! You do not mock the Triple Crown Champion! You do not stand in his hallway and celebrate the end of his empire! Now, because of their own absolute stupidity, they will never, ever get the chance for that tryout! They are learning the hardest lesson in this business, respect the God King, or pay the physical price!"
The beatdown continued to happen on the screen, a terrifying, relentless display of mob violence. The local talents and the innocent WWE crews had literally become a human punching bag for Sandro and the Undisputed System to release every single ounce of their humiliation and frustration from the night before.
Suddenly, the camera shook violently as a massive swarm of heavily armed WWE security guards sprinted down the hallway, completely flooding the corridor.
Leading the charge of the security detail, her face flushed with absolute, unmitigated rage, was Stephanie McMahon.
"STOP IT!" Stephanie screamed at the absolute top of her lungs, her authoritative voice cutting through the sounds of breaking tables and sickening thuds. "GET OFF OF THEM! PULL THEM APART RIGHT NOW! SANDRO, STEP BACK!"
The security guards surged forward, throwing their bodies into the fray. It took four massive men to finally pull a raging Ryback away from his victim. Three men struggled to push Drew McIntyre backward.
But Sandro Zhang did not listen. He was completely lost in the sociopathic red mist. Even as Stephanie screamed directly at him, Sandro reared his fist back and delivered one final, sickening punch to the unconscious talent's face.
It took two large security guards grabbing Sandro under his armpits to finally, physically drag the Triple Crown Champion off his victim. Sandro thrashed in their grip, breathing heavily, his chest heaving under the thick medical tape.
The hallway was a scene of absolute devastation. Sandro, Wade, Drew, Kofi, Big E, and Ryback were all breathing hard, their tailored suits and athletic gear rumpled, their knuckles bruised. They stood in a tense line, staring down at the bodies of the local talents and the WWE crew members, who were writhing in pure pain amidst the wreckage of the backstage area.
With the fight officially stopped, a team of WWE EMTs immediately flooded into the hallway, rushing past Stephanie to check on the severely injured victims, shouting for stretchers and neck braces.
Stephanie McMahon stood between the EMTs and the Undisputed System. She glared at Sandro Zhang, her eyes burning with corporate fury. She didn't scream this time. She spoke with a cold, terrifying, executive authority.
"I am not dealing with your stupid meltdowns tonight, Sandro," Stephanie hissed, pointing a sharp, manicured finger directly toward the curtain. "You take your thugs, you take your titles, and you continue whatever the hell it is you were going to do out in that ring. Get out of my sight. Now."
Sandro stared at her. The dead, empty look in his eyes was chilling. He didn't apologize. He didn't explain himself.
Sandro simply tilted his head, cleared his throat, and spat a thick glob of blood and saliva directly onto the concrete floor, mere inches from Stephanie McMahon's expensive designer shoes.
The crowd in the arena let out a massive "Ooooooh!" at the sheer, unadulterated disrespect.
Sandro turned around. He extended his hands. AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss immediately stepped forward, carefully handing the three massive championships back to their leader.
Sandro draped the belts over his shoulders, adjusting his suit jacket, and continued his walk down the hallway as if nothing had ever happened. The camera followed closely behind them, tracking the fractured, violent empire as they finally entered into the Gorilla position, the last staging area before the entrance curtain.
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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, 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