If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
________________________________
(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)
...
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!
"He's got it locked in!" JBL cheered loudly. "This is it! Goodnight, Daniel Bryan!"
Miz tried to drive Bryan face first into the canvas, but Bryan fought the momentum. Relying on his elite mat wrestling background, Bryan shifted his weight instantly. He threw his body forward, rolling through the maneuver, and broke the grip on his arms.
As Miz stumbled forward, off balance from the broken finisher, Bryan was already moving.
Bryan scrambled to the opposite corner of the ring, crouching down like a predator. He waited for Miz to turn around. As the A-Lister staggered to his feet, rubbing his jaw, Bryan launched himself across the ring with blinding speed.
SMACK!
Bryan connected with a catastrophic, high impact Busaiku Knee Kick flush to the side of the Miz's head!
The Buffalo crowd absolutely exploded!
"HE HIT THE KNEE!" Cole shrieked over the deafening noise.
Miz went completely limp, crashing heavily to the canvas.
But Bryan wasn't taking any chances. Instead of going for the immediate pinfall, he grabbed Miz's right arm. Bryan stepped over, twisting the limb violently, and locked his arms securely around Miz's neck, locking in a deep, agonizing LeBell Lock right in the dead center of the ring!
"The LeBell Lock is applied!" Lawler yelled. "The Miz has nowhere to go!"
Miz screamed in pain, his eyes wide as Bryan applied maximum torque to the shoulder and neck. Miz clawed desperately at the canvas, trying to drag his body toward the ropes.
"Crawl, Miz! Crawl!" JBL begged from the desk.
Miz inched his way forward, the pain blinding him. He reached his hand out, his fingertips agonizingly close to the bottom rope.
But Bryan simply adjusted his weight. He rolled backward, pulling the Miz entirely away from the ropes and back into the dead center of the ring, securing the crossface even tighter!
With nowhere left to go, his arm feeling like it was about to snap in half, the Miz finally raised his hand and slapped the canvas three times.
DING! DING! DING!
The triumphant horns of Ride of the Valkyries hit the stadium speakers, washing over a crowd that was giving the ultimate underdog a massive standing ovation.
"He tapped out!" Cole yelled, his voice raw. "Daniel Bryan forces the A-Lister and forner mid cards champions to submit! What an incredible victory!"
"That was a masterpiece of technical wrestling!" Lawler cheered, applauding wildly. "The Miz brought everything he had, but Daniel Bryan simply out wrestled him at every turn!"
"It was a lucky break!" JBL complained bitterly, crossing his arms. "Miz had him beat with the Skull Crushing Finale, and he just got caught!"
Inside the ring, Bryan released the hold, rolling backward and pushing himself up to his knees. He raised both arms into the air, a massive smile on his face, leading the crowd in another thunderous "YES!" chant.
The Miz slowly rolled out under the bottom rope, clutching his damaged shoulder. He staggered backward up the steel ramp, his face twisted in absolute fury and humiliation. He glared at Bryan celebrating in the ring, promising a violent retribution down the line.
The broadcast kept the momentum high, transitioning directly into the highly anticipated United States Championship Open Challenge.
John Cena made his entrance, looking determined and ready for a fight. R-Truth answered the challenge, bringing his energetic, unorthodox offense to the ring. The match was a fast paced, highly entertaining bout that kept the crowd invested.
Truth pushed Cena, utilizing his agility to dodge the champion's power moves, but in the end, Cena caught him with a devastating Attitude Adjustment to retain his title, further cementing his status as the fighting champion of Monday Night RAW.
As Cena celebrated in the ring, the live feed abruptly cut away, shifting back to the backstage area.
The camera focused on the heavy, polished wooden door of Sandro Zhang's executive suite.
The Three Terrors were standing in the hallway, staring at the closed door. They had showered and changed out of their ring gear, wearing casual but stylish clothing. They looked incredibly nervous, exchanging anxious glances. The adrenaline from their earlier brawl had faded, replaced by the heavy reality of the impending confrontation.
"Are we really going to do this?" Alexa whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
"We have to," AJ replied firmly, though she was twisting a ring on her finger anxiously. "We can't let him go out there tonight acting like a machine. We need to know where his head is at."
Nikki didn't say a word. She simply reached out and turned the brass handle, pushing the door open.
The Three Terrors stepped quietly into the luxurious suite.
Sandro Zhang was not sitting in the leather chair staring at a blank television screen this week.
He was standing in the center of the room, already dressed in his full wrestling gear. He wore his expensive, customcmade dark maroon and gold trunks, his kickpads laced tightly. The heavily taped ribs, a lingering reminder of the brutal war with Bray Wyatt, were clearly visible.
But it was his face that stopped them cold.
The cold, detached, robotic emptiness from the previous week was gone. It was replaced by a look of intense, quiet, almost terrifying focus. His dark eyes were sharp, burning with a dangerous, calculating fire. He looked like a predator that had finally finished mapping out its hunting grounds.
Sandro didn't look surprised to see them. He slowly turned his head, acknowledging their presence.
"What is it?" Sandro asked, his voice low and incredibly steady.
The girls hesitated, slightly thrown by the shift in his demeanor. He didn't sound insane. He didn't sound broken. He sounded incredibly dangerous.
Nikki stepped forward, taking a deep breath.
"Sandro... we need to talk about tonight," Nikki began, her voice cautious. "We need to talk about this match."
"The situations of the match have been prepared," Sandro replied smoothly, adjusting the glove on his wrist. "Mick Foley has selected a mystery opponent. I will execute the match in mind and secure the victory."
"But that's exactly the problem!" AJ argued, stepping up beside Nikki. "Foley is setting you up! He hates you, Sandro! He isn't going to send some rookie out there. He is going to send someone completely unexpected. Someone you haven't prepared for. Someone who might legitimately hurt you!"
"AJ is right," Alexa added, her voice pleading. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to prove anything to Foley. You can walk away. You can wait until you have a guaranteed match for the titles."
Sandro stopped adjusting his tape. He slowly lowered his hands, staring at the three women standing in front of him. The silence in the room stretched, heavy and suffocating.
"You think I haven't prepared," Sandro stated quietly, almost amused by the assumption.
He took a slow step toward them. The Three Terrors instinctively held their ground, though the intensity radiating off him was palpable.
"You think I have spent the last week sitting in this room, mourning the loss of my championships?" Sandro asked, his voice dropping into a dark, hypnotic register. "You think the failure in Paris broke me?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Paris was an education," Sandro declared, his eyes locking onto Nikki's. "It illuminated the flaws in the way I acted and facing the situation. It showed me exactly where I was vulnerable. I allowed myself to believe that my control was untouchable. I allowed myself to be distracted by the aesthetics of power, rather than the brutal reality of maintaining it."
Sandro turned to AJ.
"Foley believes he is playing a psychological game with this mystery opponent," Sandro continued, a cold, predatory smile finally touching the corners of his mouth. "He believes the unknown variable will cause me to panic. He believes he can recreate the trauma of the cash in."
Sandro looked at Alexa.
"But Foley is a fool," Sandro whispered, the intensity in his voice chilling them to the bone. "I am more than ready for whoever walks through that curtain tonight. I have improved myself. I have eliminated the weaknesses. I have prepared plan B. I will not lose."
Sandro stepped past them, heading toward the door. He stopped in the frame, looking back over his shoulder.
"This victory tonight is not about proving anything to Mick Foley," Sandro promised, the God King finally awakening from his dormancy. "This victory is the first calculated step in taking back what is mine. Watch closely."
Sandro walked out of the suite, the heavy door clicking shut behind him, leaving the Three Terrors standing in the silence, entirely unsure if the man who just walked out was their salvation, or a monster they had severely underestimated.
The door of the executive suite clicked shut, and the TitanTron in the arena faded to black. The live feed cut back to the commentary desk, where the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"Look at the absolute chilling focus in the eyes of Sandro Zhang," Cole said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "He isn't talking about spreadsheets or algorithms anymore. He is talking about eliminating weaknesses. He is talking about taking back his empire."
"It's a front, Michael," Lawler argued, shaking his head. "It's a defense mechanism. He lost everything in one night, and he is desperately trying to project this image of absolute control because, on the inside, he knows he has lost control. He is a wounded animal trying to look like a predator. Mick Foley knows exactly what he is doing. He is going to exploit that."
"Are you out of your mind?!" JBL shrieked, practically leaping out of his chair. "Did you not just listen to the man?! He has recalibrated! He has evolved! Sandro Zhang didn't break, he learned! He realized that emotion is a liability, and he stripped it away! This is the most dangerous version of the God King we have ever seen!"
"He isn't a machine, John!" Cole fired back. "He is a human being, and human beings have breaking points! Mick Foley promised a mystery opponent tonight. He promised someone that Sandro Zhang has never prepared for. If Sandro gets out there and gets overwhelmed, if his 'calculations' fail again, we are going to see a total collapse on live television!"
"Foley is a coward!" JBL roared, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. "He couldn't beat the God King himself, so he is hiding behind mystery opponents! It doesn't matter who he sends out there! Sandro Zhang is going to dismantle them piece by piece, and he is going to prove that the God King is still the most dominant force in this industry!"
Before the argument could escalate any further, a harsh blast of static ripped through the stadium speakers.
KSSSHHH!
The heavy, grinding guitar riff of Cult of Personality blasted through the PA system. The Buffalo crowd erupted into a deafening, visceral wave of boos, instantly recognizing the arrival of the former Double Champion.
Sandro Zhang stepped out from the curtain.
The crowd's reaction shifted slightly, the boos mixing with a low murmur of genuine unease. Sandro didn't have his usual predatory swagger. He wasn't looking out at the fans with arrogant disdain. He walked with a stiff focus, almost mechanical precision. His dark eyes were locked dead ahead on the ring.
He didn't wear his expensive entrance robes. He was stripped down to his silver and red trunks, his taped ribs a stark reminder of the physical trauma he had endured.
He walked past the pyrotechnic triggers. The usual massive explosion of sparks that accompanied his signature pose didn't happen, because Sandro didn't stop to pose. The production crew, realizing he was entirely ignoring his usual entrance cues, fired the pyrotechnics late. The sparks showered down behind him as he marched toward the ring, entirely unbothered by the delayed explosion.
"Look at the complete lack of theatrics," Cole noted quietly. "He doesn't care about the entrance. He doesn't care about the crowd. He is completely locked in."
"He looks like an assassin, Michael," JBL praised, a massive smile returning to his face. "This is a man who is ready to go to war! He doesn't need pyrotechnics! He is the pyrotechnic!"
Sandro climbed the steel steps, wiping his boots on the apron before stepping through the ropes. He walked to the center of the canvas, standing perfectly still. He turned his head slowly, looking directly into the hard camera. The cold, unreadable emptiness in his eyes sent a genuine chill through the arena. He didn't blink. He just stared, waiting for his opponent.
Sandro slowly backed into his corner, resting his arms on the top rope, his gaze fixed on the entrance stage.
The heavy rock music faded, leaving a tense, heavy silence hanging over the KeyBank Center.
"The God King is ready," Lawler whispered. "But who in the world did Mick Foley find to face him?"
"It has to be someone massive," Cole speculated. "It has to be someone who can match Sandro's intensity. Foley wouldn't send a rookie out there to get slaughtered."
Ten agonizing seconds passed. The silence stretched. The fans were on the edge of their seats, staring at the dark TitanTron.
Suddenly, a rhythmic, driving drumbeat hit the stadium speakers, instantly followed by a soaring, anthemic Japanese rock melody.
The commentary team fell completely silent as they are confused. The Buffalo crowd murmured, trying to place the unfamiliar entrance music.
But then, a small, highly vocal section of hardcore wrestling fans in the front rows recognized the song. A ripple of genuine shock and excitement quickly spread through the arena as Kaze ni Nare blasted at maximum volume.
The TitanTron flickered to life, displaying gritty, hard hitting highlight packages of brutal strikes and agonizing submission holds from across the globe.
"Wait a minute..." Cole gasped, leaning so close to his monitor his nose almost touched the screen. "That music... that video package... no. No, it can't be."
"Are you serious?!" Lawler shrieked, completely losing his mind. "Mick Foley didn't!"
"Who is it?!" JBL demanded, looking frantically between his broadcast partners. "Who is coming out?!"
Stepping out onto the entrance stage, wearing a plain black towel draped over his head and simple black wrestling trunks, was a man whose mere presence commanded terrifying respect.
The Buffalo crowd exploded as the realization set in!
"OH MY GOD!" Cole screamed at the top of his lungs. "IT IS MINORU SUZUKI! THE KING OF PRO WRESTLING IS ON MONDAY NIGHT RAW!"
"I don't believe it!" Lawler yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Mick Foley went to Japan! He brought in The Man Who Enjoys Breaking People! This is unbelievable!"
"Who the hell is this?!" JBL barked, highly offended by the massive reaction. "This isn't a WWE superstar! Foley brought in some foreign mercenary to fight the God King?! This is an outrage!"
"John, you clearly don't understand the danger that is walking down that ramp!" Cole corrected frantically. "Minoru Suzuki is a veteran! He is a pioneer of mixed martial arts! He is one of the most sadistic, violent, unforgiving wrestlers on the planet! He doesn't wrestle matches, he inflicts trauma!"
Suzuki walked slowly down the steel ramp, a dark, twisted smile spreading across his weathered face. He looked around the massive arena, completely unfazed by the bright lights and the roaring crowd. He thrived on the violence.
"Foley didn't just find an opponent, he found a hitman!" Lawler laughed, clapping his hands together. "Suzuki doesn't care about Sandro Zhang's money or his corporate thinking! Suzuki just wants to hurt him!"
Suzuki climbed the steel steps, taking his time. He stepped through the ropes, pulling the black towel off his head, revealing his short, bleached hair and intense, manic eyes. He didn't go to his corner.
Suzuki walked directly to the center of the ring, stepping right up to Sandro Zhang. The two men stood nose to nose, the size difference minimal, but the contrasting auras incredibly stark. Sandro's cold, emotionless, calculating stare met Suzuki's wild, sadistic, bloodthirsty grin.
Suzuki tilted his head, looking Sandro up and down. He let out a harsh, barking laugh right in the billionaire's face.
"Omae wa kamida to omotte iru noka?" Suzuki taunted loudly in Japanese, his voice picked up clearly by the ringside fans. "Omae wa tada no yowai kodomoda. Ore ga omae o kowashite yaru. (You think you are a God? You are just a weak child. I am going to break you.)
Sandro didn't flinch. He didn't step back. He didn't even blink. He just stared at the Japanese veteran with terrifying, dead eyed focus.
"Suzuki is trying to get in his head immediately!" Cole noted. "He is taunting the former Double Champion!"
"He should be arrested!" JBL yelled. "This man is a criminal! He has a history of legitimately injuring people in the ring! Mick Foley is trying to end Sandro Zhang's career!"
The referee quickly stepped between the two volatile competitors, physically shoving Suzuki backward toward his corner. Suzuki laughed again, holding his hands up in mock surrender, highly amused by the situation. The official warned Sandro to stay in his corner as well.
The referee checked the boots and wrists of both men, his hands shaking slightly from the sheer intensity radiating off them. He moved to the side, signaling to the timekeeper.
DING! DING! DING!
The highly anticipated, cross promotional dream match was officially underway.
The Buffalo crowd buzzed with a unique, nervous energy. This wasn't a standard WWE main event. They knew they were about to witness a level of violence that rarely occurred on Monday Night RAW. Suzuki didn't circle the ring. He didn't look for a collar and elbow tie up. He casually walked toward the center of the canvas, lowering his hands, leaving his chin completely exposed, and offered a wide, taunting smile. He wanted Sandro to hit him.
_______________________________
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