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(A/N: Also everyone I have a new novel a Dragon Age Inquisition novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and give some power stone)
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The match crossed the ten minute mark, escalating into a grueling war of attrition. Bray focused his attack on Big Show's legs, utilizing stiff kicks and chop blocks to chop the giant down to his knees. Bray grabbed Big Show from behind, locking his arms around the giant's waist. With a guttural roar that echoed through the arena, Bray executed a breathtaking, bridging German suplex on the four hundred pound giant!
"HE THREW HIM!" Cole screamed in absolute disbelief. "BRAY WYATT JUST SUPLEXED THE BIG SHOW!"
Bray bridged backward, hooking the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Big Show powered his massive shoulder off the canvas, throwing Bray completely off him.
Both men lay flat on the mat, chests heaving. They slowly fought their way back to their feet. Big Show, operating purely on instinct, balled his massive right hand into a fist, measuring his target.
As Bray staggered forward, Big Show unleashed the WMD (Weapon of Mass Destruction) knockout punch!
But Bray ducked it smoothly.
The momentum spun the giant around. As Big Show turned back, Bray caught him instantly, hooking the giant's thick arms in a double underhook, pulling him into the terrifying embrace of Sister Abigail.
The crowd roared in anticipation!
"He's got him hooked!" JBL yelled. "He is going to try and drop the giant!"
Bray didn't hesitate. He kissed Big Show firmly on the forehead and spun rapidly, using all of his raw power to drive the massive face of the World's Largest Athlete directly into the canvas!
The impact shook the entire ring.
Bray didn't drop for the pinfall. He sat up, raising his right hand, flexing his fingers. The crowd knew exactly what was coming.
Bray lunged forward, throwing himself on top of Big Show's massive chest. He thrust his right hand directly into the giant's open mouth, locking his fingers tightly under his tongue and clamping down violently on the sensitive nerve in his jaw, applying the legendary, inescapable Mandible Claw!
"THE CLAW IS LOCKED IN!" Cole shrieked. "BRAY WYATT IS TRYING TO CHOKE OUT THE GIANT!"
Big Show's eyes went wide in shock and pain. He thrashed wildly on the mat, his massive legs kicking out. He grabbed Bray's arm with both hands, trying desperately to pry the grip open. But Bray's grip was tight. He leaned his heavy body weight down, applying maximum pressure.
Big Show's struggles began to slow. His massive arms grew heavy. His eyes fluttered, rolling back in his head as the oxygen supply to his brain was cut off. His hand dropped limply to the canvas.
The referee dropped to his knees, lifting Big Show's massive arm into the air, and let it go. It dropped heavily to the mat.
The official lifted it a second time. It dropped again.
The official lifted it a third time. Nothing.
The referee frantically waved for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
The haunting, acoustic strum of Live in Fear hit the stadium speakers, instantly drowned out by a massive, respectful roar from the Buffalo crowd.
"He put him to sleep!" Cole yelled over the noise. "Bray Wyatt just choked out the World's Largest Athlete!"
"That is a massive statement by the World Heavyweight Champion!" Lawler cheered. "He proved tonight that raw power is no match for the darkness!"
Inside the ring, Bray slowly released the hold, pushing himself up to his knees. The dark, manic smile returned to his face. The referee handed him the World Heavyweight Championship. Bray clutched it to his chest, looking out at the roaring crowd, his dominance on Monday Night RAW began with putting a gijat to sleep.
Bray remained on his knees in the center of the ring, cradling the World Heavyweight Championship. The manic, unsettling smile slowly faded, replaced by a look of cold satisfaction. He had proven his point. The biggest, strongest man on the roster had been put to sleep just as easily as the God King.
From the outside of the ring, the massive figures of Luke Harper and Erick Rowan slid under the bottom ropes. The World Tag Team Champions marched to the center of the canvas, standing shoulder to shoulder behind their leader. They didn't speak. They didn't play to the crowd. They simply raised their heavy, twin gold titles high into the air, creating a terrifying, unified visual of absolute power on Monday Night RAW.
"Look at this display of dominance," Cole said, his voice dropping into a serious register. "The Wyatt Family holds the top prizes on this brand, and they are standing over the body of a four hundred pound giant. I ask again... who has the physical or psychological level to challenge them?"
"Nobody, Michael," JBL answered grimly. "Mick Foley created a monster to destroy Sandro Zhang, and now he has lost control of it."
Before the commentary team could continue their analysis, the arena lights abruptly flickered and died.
DEH.
The arena was instantly plunged into pitch blackness. The crowd roared, fully expecting another dark promo or a sudden attack.
Ten seconds later, the lights flooded back on at full brightness.
The ring was completely empty, save for the unconscious, massive body of the Big Show still lying flat on the canvas. The Wyatt Family had vanished without a trace, leaving an unsettling energy hanging over the Buffalo crowd.
"They are like ghosts," Lawler noted, shivering slightly. "One second they are standing right in front of you, and the next, they are gone."
The broadcast pushed forward, the production team working quickly to clear the ring and shift the focus to the next segment. The middle hours of Monday Night RAW were filled with high energy tag team matches, a technical clinic in the womens division, and a few heated backstage promos setting up matches for the impending Hell in a Cell pay per view.
But the underlying tension regarding the God King and his defeat and lose control continued to simmer just beneath the surface.
The live feed cut to the backstage area, the camera tracking down a long, dimly lit concrete hallway. The heavy, rhythmic sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Striding down the center of the hallway were the Three Terrors.
AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss were dressed in their standard ring gear, but their usual arrogant, untouchable swagger was replaced by a look of fierce, defensive intensity. They walked shoulder to shoulder, a tight, unified front.
The backstage area, usually bustling with activity, parted like the Red Sea. Superstars, referees, and production crew members physically flattened themselves against the concrete walls to get out of their way. Nobody wanted to make eye contact. Nobody wanted to draw their attention. The Three Terrors were a wounded animal, and the entire locker room knew how dangerous they could be.
"Look at the absolute respect, or maybe it's just pure fear, that these women command," Cole observed on commentary as the camera followed them. "They don't have the championships anymore, but they still carry the aura of the most dangerous faction in the women's division."
"They are predators, Michael," JBL praised proudly. "They are angry, they are focused, and they are looking for a fight. The rest of the roster is smart to stay out of their way."
The Three Terrors turned a corner, approaching the catering area. The hallway was narrower here, and a small group of female superstars was gathered near a set of heavy equipment boxes, chatting loudly.
Alicia Fox, Kelly Kelly, and Eve Torres were leaning against the boxes, holding cups of coffee, completely oblivious to the approaching danger.
"I'm just saying, it's hilarious," Alicia Fox laughed loudly, taking a sip of her coffee. "Did you see Nikki's face last week when Sandro just ignored her? It was priceless."
AJ, Nikki, and Alexa stopped dead in their tracks, about twenty feet away, hidden slightly in the shadows of the hallway. Their eyes narrowed, their expressions hardening into pure cold fury.
"Oh, it's poetic justice," Eve Torres agreed, rolling her eyes. "Those three bitches have been walking around here for a year acting like they own the place. Acting like they are the greatest wrestlers on the planet."
"Please," Kelly Kelly scoffed, flipping her blonde hair. "They don't amount to nothing without Sandro backing them up. If they hadn't sold their bodies to that billionaire psychopath and become his little girlfriends, they wouldn't have even sniffed a championship."
The silence in the hallway was deafening.
"Oh, my god," Lawler whispered on commentary, genuinely shocked by the venom. "They did not just say that."
"They have no idea who is standing right behind them!" Cole yelled, his voice rising in panic.
The Three Terrors didn't scream. They didn't announce their presence. They moved with terrifying silent synchronization.
AJ Lee sprinted forward, launching herself through the air and hitting a devastating flying clothesline that wiped Alicia Fox completely out, sending her coffee flying across the concrete floor.
Nikki Bella charged forward simultaneously, grabbing Eve Torres by the hair and slamming her face violently into the heavy steel edge of the equipment box. The sickening thud echoed loudly.
Alexa Bliss tackled Kelly Kelly to the ground, immediately raining down a flurry of stiff, relentless right hands directly into Kelly's face.
The backstage area exploded into absolute chaos.
"The Three Terrors are tearing them apart!" Cole shrieked as the camera shook, trying to capture the frantic brawl. "This is an slaughter!"
"That is what happens when you run your mouth about the God King's family!" JBL roared in absolute delight. "Alicia, Eve, and Kelly got exactly what they deserved! You do not disrespect the Three Terrors!"
"They were completely blindsided, John!" Lawler argued, appalled by the violence. "This is a mugging!"
AJ dragged Alicia up by the hair, throwing her forcefully into the concrete wall. Nikki was ruthlessly stomping on Eve, entirely ignoring her cries of pain. Alexa had Kelly trapped in a headlock, driving her knee repeatedly into Kelly's ribs.
The screams finally drew the attention of the backstage officials. Referees, producers, and a team of security guards rushed down the hallway, frantically trying to pull the Three Terrors off their victims.
"Get off her! Back up!" a referee yelled, grabbing AJ around the waist.
AJ threw a wild elbow, nearly catching the official in the jaw, her eyes wide with unhinged fury. Nikki shoved two security guards backward, trying to get back to Eve.
"Let them go!" Nikki screamed, her voice cracking with rage. "Let them say it to my face!"
It took over a dozen men to finally separate the women. The Three Terrors were pushed backward, breathing heavily, their faces flushed with adrenaline. Alicia, Eve, and Kelly were left crumpled on the floor, bruised and crying, as medical personnel rushed in to check on them.
AJ wiped a stray strand of hair from her face, glaring at the fallen women. She grabbed Nikki and Alexa by the arms.
"We're done here," AJ snapped.
The Three Terrors turned and walked away, disappearing down the corridor, leaving a trail of absolute destruction in their wake.
"That was sickening to watch," Cole noted grimly as the broadcast cut back to the arena. "The Three Terrors are lashing out. They are angry, they are frustrated, and they are taking it out on anyone who crosses their path."
"They are sending a message, Michael!" JBL corrected aggressively. "The control might be fractured, but the power are still lethal! The women's division better stay out of their way!"
The heavy, dramatic atmosphere was quickly swept away by the upbeat, triumphant horns of Ride of the Valkyries.
The Buffalo crowd erupted into a massive, unified cheer.
Daniel Bryan burst through the curtain, bouncing on his toes, his signature maroon wrestling trunks and kickpads sharp under the arena lights. He didn't look affected by his grueling, twenty five minute loss to John Cena the previous week. He looked energized, focused, and ready to establish himself as a permanent fixture on Monday Night RAW.
Bryan slapped high fives with the fans as he sprinted down the long steel ramp. He slid under the bottom rope, popping up to his feet, and threw both arms into the air, leading the crowd in a massive, echoing chant.
"YES! YES! YES!"
"Listen to this ovation!" Lawler cheered. "Daniel Bryan took the Franchise Player to the absolute limit last week, and the WWE Universe loves him for it!"
"He is a phenomenal talent," Cole agreed. "He proved he belongs in the main event picture, but tonight, he has to focus on a man who is incredibly jealous of his success."
Bryan moved to his corner, stretching his legs and waiting patiently for his opponent.
The arena lights dimmed slightly, and the arrogant, obnoxious intro of I Came to Play hit the stadium speakers.
The cheers instantly died, replaced by a deafening, visceral wave of boos.
The Miz stepped out from the curtain, wearing his long, dark leather trench coat and dark sunglasses. He didn't smile. He carried himself with the haughty, arrogant swagger of a Hollywood A-lister being forced to interact with the common public.
"And here comes the A-Lister," Cole noted, shaking his head. "The Miz has been very vocal on social media this week, claiming that Daniel Bryan is nothing more than an overrated indie darling who doesn't belong on the flagship show."
"And he is absolutely right!" JBL agreed enthusiastically. "The Miz is a former United States, Intercontinental, and Tag Team Champions! He has main evented RAW and pay per views! Daniel Bryan is a glorified gymnast who got lucky in developmental! The Miz is going to teach him a lesson about respect tonight!"
The Miz walked slowly down the ramp, ignoring the fans completely. He climbed the steel steps and entered the ring. He didn't take off his coat immediately. He walked directly to the center of the canvas, pointing an accusatory finger right in Daniel Bryan's face.
"You think you belong here?" Miz yelled, his voice easily picked up by the ringside microphones. "You think taking John Cena to the limit means anything? You're a flash in the pan! You're an internet meme! You don't have the star power, you don't have the charisma, and you sure as hell don't have the talent to lace my boots!"
Bryan didn't look angry. He didn't look intimidated. A wide, genuinely amused smile spread across his face. He nodded slowly, listening to the tirade, before raising his hands and making a talking motion with his fingers, silently telling the Miz that he talks too much.
The crowd laughed and cheered loudly at the gesture.
Miz's face turned bright red with fury. He ripped off his sunglasses, throwing them out of the ring, and tore off his leather coat. He looked ready to throw a punch before the bell even rang.
The referee quickly stepped between them, shoving Miz back toward his corner. The official warned both men, checking their gear, before turning to the timekeeper.
DING! DING! DING!
The match began with a highly aggressive lock-up. Miz, fueled by sheer frustration, actually managed to overpower Bryan initially, driving him into the corner and delivering a series of stiff, heavy stomps to the midsection.
"The Miz is furious!" Cole noted. "He wants to embarrass Daniel Bryan tonight!"
Miz dragged Bryan out of the corner, looking for a quick suplex, but Bryan shifted his weight brilliantly. He dropped behind Miz, wrapped his arms around the A-Lister's waist, and executed a beautiful, high angle German suplex that sent Miz flying across the ring.
The Buffalo crowd popped for the flawless technical execution.
Bryan didn't let up. As Miz scrambled to his feet, clutching his back, Bryan launched a blistering sequence of stiff, echoing kicks directly into Miz's chest.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Miz winced with every impact, stumbling backward against the ropes. Bryan hit the opposite ropes, building blinding speed, and delivered a devastating running European uppercut that knocked Miz completely out of the ring.
"The speed and precision of Daniel Bryan is unmatched!" Lawler praised as Bryan led the crowd in another "YES!" chant.
The match crossed the ten minute mark, settling into a highly competitive, back and forth classic. The Miz, relying on his veteran instincts and underhanded tactics, managed to ground the high flyer. When the referee was out of position, Miz raked Bryan's eyes and drove his knee brutally into the back of Bryan's neck, taking control of the pace.
Miz locked Bryan in a tight, suffocating grounded headlock, grinding his forearm into Bryan's face, screaming at the crowd to shut up.
"This is exactly what the Miz needs to do," JBL analyzed. "Cut off the ring. Ground the indie darling. Don't let him use his speed."
Bryan fought through the pain, utilizing his incredible core strength to slowly push himself up to a vertical base while still trapped in the headlock. He delivered two sharp elbows to Miz's ribs, breaking the grip. Bryan hit the ropes, but Miz caught him with a massive, running knee lift to the gut, followed immediately by a devastating spike DDT!
Miz quickly hooked the leg, putting his feet on the ropes for illegal leverage.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
The referee saw the boots on the ropes and immediately stopped the count, kicking Miz's feet away.
Miz sat up, arguing furiously with the official, claiming he hadn't done anything wrong.
The distraction cost him. Bryan recovered, grabbing Miz from behind in a tight waist lock. He threw Miz backward with another massive German suplex, this time bridging entirely backward for the pinfall.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Miz kicked out at the last possible millisecond.
The physical toll of the fast paced match was evident. Both men were drenched in sweat, their chests heaving as they fought their way back to their feet.
Miz charged forward, looking for a clothesline, but Bryan ducked under it. Bryan bounced off the ropes and leaped into the air, looking for a flying cross body.
Miz caught him perfectly in mid air. He shifted his weight, hooked Bryan's arms, and dropped him brutally across his knee with a devastating Reality Check neckbreaker!
Miz floated over into the cover.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Bryan thrust his shoulder off the canvas, his resilience refusing to break.
Miz pushed himself up, running his hands through his hair, a look of pure frustration washing over his face. He realized he couldn't keep the underdog down with standard maneuvers. He needed his biggest move. Miz stalked Bryan as he slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees. Miz moved behind him, waiting for Bryan to reach the position he needed. As Bryan stood up, Miz quickly hooked both of his arms from behind, tripping his legs, looking to execute the Skull Crushing Finale!
_______________________________
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 US Champion, 1x WWE Champion (364 Days -1st), & 1x World Heavyweight Champion (281 Days - 1st)
Other Achievements: 1x Inaugural 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), Youngest World Heavyweight Champion, Youngest Triple Crown Champion, & Longest US Title reign In WWE History (376 Days - 1st reign)
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0