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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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But The Rock was not CM Punk. The Rock was not John Cena. The Rock was arguably the greatest talker in the history of the business, and he fed off the hostility like oxygen. "Sandro is not backing down an inch!" Cole whispered, genuinely impressed. "He is going toe to toe with one of the greatest talkers in the history of the business!"
The Rock stared down at Sandro. The playful, mocking smile vanished entirely from his face, replaced by the intense, fiery gaze of the People's Champion.
"You see, Sandro..." The Rock began, his voice dripping with an electrifying, magnetic charisma that completely overpowered Sandro's cold sociopathy. "The Rock listens to you talk. He hears you whispering into that microphone like you're reading a bedtime story to a bunch of jabronis. And The Rock looks at you. He looks at your little plastic crown. He looks at your ridiculous fake fur coat. He looks at those titles you're carrying around."
The Rock began to slowly walk down the top half of the ramp, closing the distance just slightly.
"And The Rock realizes something very important," he continued, a massive, mocking smile on his face. "You don't have a God complex, Sandro. You have a massive, crippling insecurity complex. Because you know that no matter how many titles your daddy buys for you, no matter how many giant, sweaty men you hire to protect your candy ass, you will never, ever have the one thing that The Rock has. You will never have the people!"
The Madison Square Garden crowd erupted into a deafening cheer of validation. The Rock was commanding the building with absolute mastery. Sandro's eyes twitched with genuine anger, his grip tightening on the scepter.
Even though Sandro was brilliant on the mic, the sheer, overwhelming, supernova charisma of The Rock was slightly, undeniably edging him out.
"The Rock came back here for a reason," The Rock declared, his tone turning serious, the humor fading away. "The Rock didn't come back to make movies. The Rock came back to uphold the people. Because The Rock is, and always will be, the People's Champion. And the people are sick and tired of watching a spoiled, entitled little rich boy hold the most prestigious titles in the world hostage!"
The Rock pointed directly at the gold draped over the shoulders of Sandro and also around his waist.
"So The Rock is making it very simple," The Rock announced, his voice echoing through the arena. "The Rock is officially putting you on notice. The Great One is going to challenge you for one of those World Titles. And The Rock is going to take it right back to the people!"
The crowd exploded at the official challenge. A dream match was forming right before their eyes.
Sandro simply laughed. It was a cold, condescending chuckle.
"You want to challenge me?" Sandro scoffed, shaking his head. "You are not worthy to breathe the same air as me, Dwayne, let alone step into the ring with me. You haven't wrestled a match in seven years. You haven't earned a damn thing. You are completely, utterly unworthy of a shot at the Triple Crown."
The Rock nodded slowly, expecting the answer. He stroked his chin, a dangerous glint in his eye.
"You know what, Sandro? You might be right," The Rock admitted, taking another step down the ramp. "Maybe in the eyes of the corporate boardroom, The Rock isn't 'worthy' right now. But The Rock is a very proactive guy. So The Rock is going to give you two options on how he proves his worth."
The Rock held up one finger.
"Option number one," The Rock said, his voice dropping into a gritty, intense register. "The Rock marches his boots down that ramp right now. The Rock steps into that ring. The Rock fights his way through your entire wall of heavily muscled jabronis, slaps the taste out of every single one of your security guards' mouths. Beats you from pillar to post, and then, The Rock takes that stupid little scepter, shines it up real nice, turns that sumbitch sideways, and sticks it straight up your candy ass!"
The crowd went absolutely ballistic at the legendary threat.
"And while you're busy coughing up splinters," The Rock added with a wicked smirk, gesturing toward AJ, Nikki, and Alexa. "The Rock will personally introduce those three lovely queens to The Rock's world famous strudel!"
AJ Lee's jaw dropped in mock offense, Nikki yelled something inaudible off mic, and the crowd howled with laughter at the sheer, unfiltered Attitude Era disrespect.
The Rock held up two fingers, his expression immediately hardening into stone.
"Or, we can go with option number two," The Rock said, the gravity of his words settling over the roaring arena. "The honorable way. The way that leaves absolutely no excuses. In just a few short weeks, thirty men are going to step into the ring for the Royal Rumble. And The Rock is officially announcing that he is entering that match."
The pop for the Royal Rumble declaration was seismic.
The Rock pointed directly at Sandro Zhang, his eyes locked onto the God King with absolute, unwavering intensity.
"The Rock is going to win the Royal Rumble for the second time in his career," The Rock promised, his voice echoing with absolute certainty. "The Rock is going to throw twenty nine other men over the top rope. The Rock is going to point at that WrestleMania sign. The Rock is going to point straight at you. And he is going to challenge you in the main event of WrestleMania. And at WrestleMania, The Rock is going to slap the taste out of your mouth, take your gold, and end the reign of the God King permanently!"
The Rock lowered the microphone, staring a hole straight through the Triple Crown Champion.
"IF YA SMELLLLLLLLLLL..." The Rock roared, the entire arena screaming the words along with him. "...WHAT THE ROCK... IS... COOKING!"
The Rock's legendary theme music blasted through the stadium once again. He didn't break eye contact with Sandro Zhang. He stood at the top of the ramp, an immovable object, while the God King stood in the ring, an unstoppable force.
"The challenge has been laid down!" Cole screamed as he thought Monday Night RAW prepared to go off the air. "The Rock is entering the Royal Rumble! If he wins, we are looking at the biggest main event in the history of WrestleMania! The Great One against the God King!"
"Sandro Zhang just realized his empire is under attack by the biggest star in the world!" Lawler cheered, a massive smile on his face. "Goodnight from New York! What an unbelievable start to 2011!"
In the ring, Sandro's knuckles were stark white as he gripped his scepter. His chest heaved with fury. He had thought his conquest was complete. He had thought the WWE Universe belonged to him entirely.
But as everyone in Madison Square Garden, and the millions watching at home, thought that this was the definitive end of the first Monday Night RAW of 2011, with the legendary return of The Great One laying down a massive promo smackdown, the atmosphere in the arena violently ruptured for a second time.
BZZZT.
The stadium lights shut off. The Titantron went completely black. The Rock's iconic theme music was abruptly severed, plunging the roaring arena into a suffocating, pitch black silence.
The fans let out a collective, confused murmur, the celebratory energy instantly evaporating into a thick, paranoid tension.
"Wait, what is happening?!" Cole yelled into his headset, completely disoriented in the dark. "Did we lose power? Why did the lights turn off again?!"
"I have no idea, Michael!" Lawler stammered, his voice laced with genuine panic. "We were just about to go off the air! Is this part of the broadcast?!"
"I don't like this!" JBL shouted, slamming his fist onto the commentary desk in pure, unadulterated anger. "I don't like any more surprises! This is Madison Square Garden, for crying out loud! Turn the damn lights back on! The God King has suffered enough disrespect for one evening! Security, fix the breaker!"
For five agonizing seconds, the world's most famous arena was buried in darkness.
Then, a single, harsh, brilliant white spotlight snapped down from the rafters, illuminating the very top of the entrance stage.
The visual that was revealed made the blood in twenty thousand pairs of veins run absolutely cold.
The Rock was no longer standing tall, soaking in the cheers of the people. The Great One was collapsed on the steel grating of the stage, violently clutching his ribs and the back of his neck, writhing and groaning in sheer, excruciating pain.
And standing directly over the fallen Hollywood icon was a terrifying, unknown figure.
The man was dressed in a heavy, spiked black leather jacket with the collar popped up, wearing a dark, wide brimmed fedora pulled low over his head. But it was his face that was the stuff of absolute nightmares.
He wore a tight, jet black mask that covered his entire head. Painted directly over the eye holes were two stark, thick, bright white "+" signs, giving the figure an eerie, soulless, and deeply chaotic appearance.
In his right, leather gloved hand, the masked figure casually gripped a solid black, heavily dented baseball bat.
The fans, realizing that their returning hero had just been brutally assaulted in the darkness, immediately unleashed a torrential downpour of vicious, hateful boos.
"Oh my God! Someone get out there! Someone get some help!" Cole screamed, absolutely outraged by the cowardly ambush. "The Rock has just been attacked from behind! Who is that?! Who is that masked maniac?!"
"This is sickening!" Lawler yelled, throwing his headset off halfway. "He's got a baseball bat! He could have fractured The Rock's skull!"
But JBL was having an entirely different reaction. The former WWE Champion began to cackle, a loud, obnoxious, triumphant laugh that cut through the commentary feed.
"It's brilliant! It's an absolute masterpiece of strategy!" JBL cheered enthusiastically, pointing at the stage. "Do you see this, Michael?! Do you see this, King?! The God King is always three steps ahead! He didn't even need to send Wade Barrett or Big E up there! He had an assassin waiting in the wings the entire time! He just orchestrated a hit on The Rock on live television! All hail the strategic mastermind of Sandro Zhang!"
But JBL's sickening happiness did not last for more than three seconds.
On the stage, the terrifying figure slowly reached up with his free hand. He gripped the edge of the black, cross eyed mask, and with a single, dramatic motion, ripped it off his face, tossing it to the steel floor.
The crowd's reaction morphed instantly. The shock and boos immediately fractured into a massive, chaotic mixture of cheers and absolute disbelief.
It was Chris Jericho.
But this was not the flashy, illuminated-jacket-wearing "Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla." This was not the arrogant, suit wearing corporate heel. His face was painted with dark, erratic streaks of black greasepaint around his eyes and mouth. His expression was completely devoid of humor or light. He looked hollow, dangerous, and utterly unhinged.
This was the Painmaker.
"No! NO!" JBL shrieked, his voice jumping an octave as he realized his horrific mistake. "It's not an assassin! It's that piece of trash! Why is he still here?!"
Inside the ring, the defensive circle of the Undisputed System remained tight, but their expressions told a story of absolute dread. The smug satisfaction of seeing The Rock laid out instantly vanished from Sandro's face, replaced by a look of ashen, infuriated disbelief.
Paul Heyman clutched his chest, his mouth hanging open. Wade Barrett and Big E tightened their fists, realizing that the ghost of their past sins had returned to haunt them once again.
It was crystal clear. Even after the brutal TLC Fatal Six Way match, where Sandro had violently executed Jericho with the Last Note, the problem was far from solved. Chris Jericho, operating under his sadistic Painmaker persona, was not going away.
"It's Chris Jericho!" Cole yelled, finding his voice again, elated to see a familiar face but deeply conflicted by his actions. "The Painmaker is back! But why on earth did he attack The Rock?! They both share a common enemy in the Undisputed System! Why would Jericho align himself as a rogue element and attack the Great One instead of teaming up with him to take down the God King?!"
"Because he's out of his mind, Michael!" Lawler analyzed, shaking his head. "Jericho doesn't care about alliances! He has a one track mind right now, and that track is pure vengeance!"
"What is this piece of garbage doing in this building?!" JBL condemned, his voice cracking with anger. "Why is this bitter, washed up, jealous piece of trash still haunting the God King?! He was executed at Survivor Series! He was beaten at TLC! Go away, Jericho! Your time is over!"
"He's still here because his career was almost permanently ended by the man standing in that ring, John!" Cole fired back fiercely, defending the veteran. "Sandro kicked Jericho out of the Undisputed System, ordered his men to shatter his neck, and then humiliated him! You don't do that to a legend like Chris Jericho and expect him to just ride off into the sunset!"
On the stage, Jericho didn't look at the crowd. He didn't acknowledge the massive reaction he was receiving. He casually stepped directly over the writhing body of The Rock, treating the Hollywood megastar like a discarded piece of garbage, and walked over to the podium where the production crew kept a spare microphone.
On the stage, Jericho completely ignored the writhing form of The Rock at his feet. He casually stepped over the fallen legend, tossing the black baseball bat aside, and bent down to pick up the microphone that The Rock had dropped moments earlier.
Jericho slowly stood up, looking around the World's Most Famous Arena with cold, dead eyes, the black greasepaint making him look like a madman. He brought the microphone to his lips, staring directly down the ramp at the ring filled with gold and fear.
"I don't care," Jericho whispered into the microphone. His voice wasn't a scream, it was a low, raspy, terrifying hiss that echoed through the silence of MSG.
"I don't care about the return of 'The Great One,'" Jericho continued, pointing a dismissive finger down at The Rock. "I don't care about the People's Champion. I don't care about nostalgia. And I certainly don't care about some Hollywood movie star trying to steal my spotlight and cut to the front of the line."
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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: 1 - 0