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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
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.
The atmosphere inside Gorilla was incredibly tense. Standing directly in front of the monitors, looking like he was about to physically explode, was the Chairman of the Board, Vince McMahon.
Vince was absolutely furious. He had just watched his top star assault non contracted talents and his own production crew on live television.
"What the hell is the matter with you?!" Vince barked, stepping directly into Sandro's path, not intimidated by the faction in the slightest. "You are a walking liability tonight, Zhang! I told you that you had work to do, not that you could go on a backstage rampage! You don't assault the crew!"
Sandro completely ignored him. He didn't stop walking. He didn't flinch at the Chairman's anger. He simply didn't care.
As Sandro walked past Vince McMahon, he didn't even turn his head. He simply raised his right hand and effortlessly, casually flicked his middle finger directly in the face of the billionaire owner of the company.
Vince stood frozen in sheer shock, his jaw tight, as the entire Gorilla position fell dead silent.
Sandro walked up to the curtain. He looked over at the terrified audio technician sitting at the soundboard, his eyes wide with fear.
"Do not play the faction music," Sandro shouted, his voice a hoarse, commanding rasp. "Play my music."
The audio technician frantically nodded, his hands trembling as he typed into his console.
Inside the Philips Arena, the crowd was buzzing, waiting for the fallout.
Suddenly, the iconic, screeching sound of radio static cut through the air.
The heavy, legendary guitar riffs of Living Colour's "Cult of Personality" hit the massive stadium speakers!
The arena absolutely exploded into a deafening, chaotic mixture of cheers for the iconic theme song and visceral boos for the sociopathic tyrant about to enter the ring.
Sandro Zhang stepped through the heavy black curtain and emerged onto the entrance stage, bathed in the blinding spotlight. His body was bandaged, his face was bruised, but his ego was completely untouched.
He stood at the top of the ramp, the three championships gleaming in the arena lights, as the rest of the Undisputed System filed out slowly behind him, standing in his terrifying, violent shadow.
The twenty thousand plus fans inside the Philips Arena did not hold back. The moment the initial shock of the music wore off, the crowd unleashed a sustained, vitriolic wave of hostility. They booed loudly at Sandro and the entirety of the Undisputed System, pointing their fingers, holding up their mocking signs, and chanting insults that echoed off the concrete walls.
Sandro, of course, did not care in the slightest. He stood at the edge of the stage, his chest heaving under the thick white medical tape. He looked around the sold-out arena with a face twisted in pure, unadulterated anger. He closed his eyes, acting like he was ignoring the sheer physical agony radiating through his ribs and his spine, and slowly, dramatically spread his arms wide.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Massive pillars of golden pyro shot out violently from the stage directly behind him, illuminating his bruised face in a hellish, fiery glow. The explosions sent shockwaves through the front rows, but Sandro didn't even flinch. He lowered his arms, adjusting the WWE Championship around his waist, and began his slow, agonizing walk down the incredibly long entrance ramp.
Behind him, the faction followed. AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, Alexa Bliss, Dolph Ziggler, and Xavier Woods walked with forced confidence, but the five massive enforcers at the rear, Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback walked like men heading to the gallows. Their heads were bowed, their eyes avoiding the harsh glare of the crowd, entirely consumed by the shame of their respective WrestleMania failures.
Sandro marched up the steel steps, wiping his boots on the ring apron, and stepped through the ropes into the squared circle. The faction slowly filtered in behind him, lining up near the ropes, entirely unsure of what their unstable leader was planning to do.
Sandro walked to the center of the ring. He unslung the United States Championship from his left shoulder and the World Heavyweight Championship from his right. He turned to the side, aggressively shoving the massive gold belts into the chests of Nikki Bella and Alexa Bliss.
The two Queens stumbled backward slightly from the force of the shove, quickly clutching the titles, their eyes wide with genuine apprehension. They had never seen the God King this unhinged.
Sandro immediately pivoted, storming over to the ropes. He leaned entirely over the top cable, staring down at a terrified ringside crew member who was holding a microphone.
"Give me the damn mic!" Sandro roared, not waiting for the man to hand it over. He reached down and violently snatched the microphone right out of the crew member's trembling hands, nearly pulling the poor man over the barricade.
Sandro stomped back to the dead center of the ring. He stood there for a long, suffocating moment, just looking around at the massive sea of fans. His chest rose and fell rapidly.
The microphone trembled slightly in his taped hand.
When he finally raised the mic to his lips, his voice was not the smooth, arrogant, highly calculated tone of the billionaire prodigy. His voice cracked. It was a raw, guttural, venomous snarl. He sounded exactly like a crazed, lunatic sociopath who was completely consumed by his own unchecked rage.
"Last night..." Sandro began, his voice echoing through the sound system, dripping with absolute disgust. "...last night in the Georgia Dome was supposed to be the absolute pinnacle of this empire. It was supposed to be the re coronation of the Triple Crown Undisputed System Era. Instead... it was the biggest, most unforgivable disgrace of my entire professional career!"
The crowd immediately responded with a massive chorus of boos, entirely thrilled that the God King was admitting his vulnerability.
"Shut your mouths!" Sandro screamed at the crowd, spit flying from his lips, his eyes bugging out of his bruised face. "I told every single one of you in this ring... I gave you one, simple, explicit instruction! Reclaim your gold, and retain your championships! That was the mandate! That was the absolute minimum expectation for anyone who claims to stand under my umbrella!"
Sandro turned, pointing a trembling, furious finger at the line of his own stablemates.
"But it turned out... you all failed me," Sandro hissed, the microphone picking up the ragged, heavy breathing between his words. "The people I handpicked. The people I elevated. The people I made rich beyond their wildest dreams. Those I thought to be my core supporters, my absolute foundation... you are actually the very ones who failed me!"
The fans in attendance were in absolute shock at the sheer, unbridled, crazed anger radiating from the champion. They had seen Sandro be cruel, they had seen him be manipulative, but they had never seen him completely lose control of his own psychological faculties.
Recognizing the total meltdown happening live in the center of the ring, the twenty thousand fans unleashed even louder, more aggressive boos. The noise in the Philips Arena swelled to such an overwhelming, deafening level that the microphone Sandro was holding was almost entirely drowned out.
"Listen to this crowd, King!" Cole yelled at the commentary desk, holding his headset tight to his ears. "They are absolutely suffocating the Triple Crown Champion! Sandro Zhang is having a complete mental breakdown on live television! He is blaming everyone else for the fact that his empire was systematically dismantled last night!"
"He's completely lost it, Michael!" Lawler added, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "He looks like a madman! Look at his eyes! He's not thinking rationally anymore. He's standing in that ring, surrounded by the only people he has left in this industry, and he is actively tearing them to pieces!"
"He has every right to be furious!" JBL immediately bellowed, his voice raw and defensive as he predictably supported the God King's actions. "You two simply don't understand the mindset of a true, elite winner! Sandro Zhang demands perfection! He gave these men the absolute keys to the kingdom! He gave Kofi, Wade, Drew, Big E, and Ryback the opportunity of a lifetime, and they choked on the grandest stage! They embarrassed the Undisputed System! Sandro is just giving them the tough love they need to wake up and remember who they are!"
Inside the ring, Sandro ignored the deafening boos of the crowd. He slowly turned his back to the hard camera, fully facing the five massive enforcers who had failed him last night.
Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback stood shoulder to shoulder. They were five of the largest, most physically imposing, dangerous men on the entire WWE roster. Yet, standing in front of the bruised, bleeding, smaller God King, they looked like terrified children waiting for punishment.
Sandro Zhang began to slowly pace back and forth in front of them, stalking his own faction like a wounded predator.
"Look at you," Sandro sneered, lowering the microphone slightly so his voice was a menacing, intimate growl. "Look at the absolute state of you pathetic, worthless failures. You call yourselves monsters? You call yourselves enforcers? You are nothing but dead weight."
Sandro stopped directly in front of Kofi Kingston.
"You," Sandro hissed, getting right in Kofi's face. "I gave you the Intercontinental Championship. I handed it to you on a silver platter. And you let Sheamus kick your head into the third row. You are weak, Kofi. You are a joke."
SMACK!
Sandro abruptly, violently slapped Kofi Kingston directly across the face!
The sound echoed through the ring microphones.
The crowd gasped.
Kofi's head snapped to the side. His jaw clenched, his eyes flaring with instant anger, but he didn't raise his hands. He just took the humiliating blow.
SMACK!
Sandro slapped him a second time, leaving a bright red handprint on Kofi's cheek.
"Pathetic," Sandro spat, moving down the line.
He stopped in front of Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre.
"The elite European brawlers," Sandro mocked, his voice dripping with pure, demeaning poison. "You two massive, towering idiots couldn't even handle Edge and Randy Orton. Two broken down, injury prone veterans outsmarted you. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed yourselves. You have no value."
SMACK!
Sandro unleashed a catastrophic slap directly to Wade Barrett's jaw!
SMACK! SMACK!
He immediately followed it up with two blistering, back to back slaps right across Drew McIntyre's face!
McIntyre's massive chest heaved. The Scottish Psychopath's fists balled into absolute, iron tight hammers. He looked like he wanted to absolutely murder Sandro Zhang right then and there.
But the psychological conditioning, the fear of losing his Nexum Core contract, and the sheer, toxic hold the God King had over his career kept McIntyre entirely paralyzed. He simply closed his eyes and swallowed his pride.
"He's slapping them in the face!" Cole shrieked in absolute horror on commentary. "These are grown men! These are elite athletes, and Sandro Zhang is physically humiliating them on global television! This is a sickening display of abuse!"
"This is exactly what needs to happen!" JBL barked back, completely blind to the reality. "He is testing their loyalty! He is making sure they still have the fire inside of them!"
Sandro continued his terrifying, demeaning tirade, moving down the line to the two largest men in the ring. Big E and Ryback.
"And you two," Sandro said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper. "The ultimate muscle. The immovable objects. I sent you out there to defend the World Tag Team Championships. And you lost to Hulk Hogan and Randy Savage. Two washed up, ancient, broken down nostalgia acts who belong in a nursing home. You let a couple of geriatric ghosts take my gold. You are the biggest disappointments of them all."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Sandro unleashed a flurry of chaotic, stinging slaps to Big E's face!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
He turned and delivered the same brutal, humiliating physical abuse to Ryback!
The sheer humiliation was absolutely palpable. The fans in the arena were entirely stunned into silence, watching the psychological destruction of five massive superstars. The words Sandro used weren't just angry, they were perfectly, surgically designed to make the men feel completely guilty, entirely worthless, and completely destroyed from the inside out.
Each one of them had just been slapped not just once, not just twice, but several times directly in the face. It made them look incredibly weak, causing them to lose even more self confidence and reputation.
What was even more crazy, what truly shocked the fans and the commentary team to their absolute core, was the sheer, terrifying obedience of the faction. None of the Undisputed System members dared to move.
Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods looked away in shame. The Queens, AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss, stood frozen, clutching the title belts, their eyes wide with fear, completely unwilling to step forward to stop him or fight back against his unhinged abuse. The God King's toxic, sociopathic control was absolute.
Sandro stood at the end of the line, his chest heaving, he make it look like his taped hand stinging from the sheer force of striking five men in the face.
He stopped his tirade. He took several deep, ragged breaths, trying to collect whatever remained of his fractured sanity.
Sandro slowly turned his back to the broken enforcers. He walked back to the center of the ring, his dead eyes locking directly onto the primary, red lit hard camera broadcasting to millions around the globe.
"But you..." Sandro whispered into the microphone, his voice trembling with an entirely new, deeply personal layer of homicidal rage. "You are the true architect of this disaster, aren't you?"
Sandro raised the microphone, pointing it directly at the camera lens as if he were aiming a weapon.
"Paul Heyman!" Sandro roared, launching into a full blown, volcanic explosion of anger toward the man who had stabbed him in the back last night. "You fat, treacherous, pathetic, parasitic leech! I pulled you out of the gutter! I made you relevant again! I gave you power, I gave you money, I gave you a seat at the table of the absolute greatest mind in the history of this industry!"
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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