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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"...you aren't going to lose a single dime. I have already structured the financials. Nexum Core is entirely footing the bill. I am paying their wages, their guarantees, and their travel accommodations directly out of my own corporate budget. It is a zero risk investment for the WWE. You get the ratings, you get the buyrates, and Nexum Core gets the ultimate brand integration at WrestleMania. There is no need to worry."
Vince McMahon stopped pacing. He stared at Sandro for a long, quiet moment. The Chairman of the Board loved control, but there was one thing he loved even more than control, free money.
Vince let out a sharp, amused snort, a rare genuine smile breaking across his face.
"Well, pal," Vince said, slapping Sandro firmly on the shoulder. "If you're writing the checks, and you're guaranteeing the behavior... then I agree to it. It's brilliant."
Vince immediately pivoted, turning his attention to his daughter and his son in law. Triple H and Stephanie had been listening quietly, their corporate minds already racing with marketing strategies and storyline implications.
"Hunter. Steph," Vince barked, his authoritative tone returning instantly. "You two are going to be the ones handling this matter from a talent relations and creative standpoint. This needs to be completely locked down. I want absolute, black ops level security on this. Make sure it is handled discreetly. Nobody on the roster, nobody in the production truck, and absolutely nobody in the dirt sheets can know about this matter until we pull the trigger on the broadcast of WrestleMania. We are going to maximize the shock value."
Triple H, the Cerebral Assassin, nodded his head in complete understanding. "Consider it done, Vince. We'll fly them in on private charters and keep them completely off the grid. Nobody will see them until their music hits."
"I'll handle the legal drafts and the NDA paperwork," Stephanie added, her eyes flashing with excitement. "I'll make sure the Nexum Core integration is seamless. We will keep this completely airtight."
"Good," Vince nodded, entirely satisfied. "Let's get back to work. We have a live television show to run in a few hours."
The secretive, high-stakes conversation ended. The four most powerful figures in the industry dispersed, stepping out of the ring to handle their respective empires, leaving the crew to finish the final preparations for Monday Night RAW.
Time passed rapidly. The California sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Oracle Arena parking lot. The massive, winding lines of fans that had formed outside the gates hours ago finally began to move.
The WWE Universe flooded back into the arena, bringing with them a completely renewed, utterly frantic energy. The exhaustion of the previous night had been entirely replaced by a desperate, burning anticipation to see the live fallout of the Elimination Chamber.
They rushed down the aisles, filling the steep tiers of the stadium, clutching replica titles, wearing their favorite superstars' t-shirts, and proudly displaying an entirely new wave of freshly painted, highly reactionary handmade signs.
"EDGE & ORTON SAVED THE DIVISION!"
"JUSTICE FOR THE GLAMAZON!"
"THE GOD KING BLEEDS!"
"WHERE WAS SANDRO?!"
As the clock ticked down to 5:00 PM Pacific Time, 8:00 PM Eastern, the arena lights went completely dark. The low, buzzing hum of eighteen thousand fans suddenly fell silent in sheer anticipation.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The opening pyro show shot out from the entrance stage with catastrophic, concussive force! Massive pillars of fire, sparks, and localized explosions illuminated the frantic Oakland crowd.
The fans cheered out loud, a deafening, unified roar that shook the very foundations of the building. They leaped to their feet, holding their neon colored signs high into the air, creating a vibrant, chaotic sea of absolute sports entertainment passion.
The camera swept dynamically over the massive, sold out crowd, capturing the sheer electricity in the building. It panned across the front rows, zoomed in on a fan wearing a Macho Man cowboy hat, and finally swooped down to the ringside area, arriving at the brightly lit commentary table.
Cole, Lawler, and JBL sat with their headsets strapped on, looking directly into the hard camera.
"Welcome, everyone, to the most anticipated edition of Monday Night RAW of the entire year!" Cole yelled, his voice immediately straining to cut through the sheer volume of the arena. "We are coming to you live, twenty four hours after the Elimination Chamber, right back here from the Oracle Arena in Oakland, California!"
"I don't think my heart rate has slowed down since last night, Michael!" Lawler cheered, a massive, giddy smile plastered across his face. "What a pay per view! What an unbelievable night of action! The entire landscape of the WWE has been completely shaken to its core!"
"It was a night of absolute triumph and a night of sickening tragedy!" JBL immediately interrupted, his voice booming with irate, defensive indignation. "We witnessed the God King secure his legacy, but we also witnessed the most disgusting, coordinated robbery in the history of the tag team division!"
"We have to talk about the results, John, whether you like them or not!" Cole argued, diving straight into the massive repercussions of the pay per view. "Last night, the WWE Tag Team Championships changed hands! The reunited Rated RKO, Edge and Randy Orton, did the absolute unthinkable! They pinned Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre, completely fracturing the Undisputed System's monopoly on the golds yet again!"
"It wasn't just a win, Michael, it was a message!" Lawler added, pointing emphatically. "It proved that when you strip away the numbers game, when you put the Undisputed System in a fair, even fight against elite competition, they absolutely can be beaten! The golden armor is cracked!"
"It was a fluke!" JBL wailed, slamming his pen onto the desk in absolute fury. "It was a lucky, desperate combination of moves! Wade Barrett was dominating that match! Drew McIntyre was destroying Edge! Orton got a lucky RKO out of nowhere, and you two are acting like the empire has fallen! The Undisputed System is still the most powerful faction on the face of the earth!"
"And what about the Divas Championship, John?!" Cole fired back. "Beth Phoenix had AJ Lee dead to rights! The Glamazon was seconds away from becoming the new champion, and Nikki Bella intentionally got her own team disqualified just to save the gold! It was a coward's way out!"
"It is called protecting the investment, Cole!" JBL argued frantically, spinning the narrative with blinding speed. "The Queens of the Undisputed System operate on a higher intellectual plane! Nikki Bella sacrificed herself for the greater good of the God King's empire! AJ Lee is still the champion, and that is the only metric that matters in the record books!"
"Well, the record books are also going to show that the Triple Crown Champion survived the Devil's Playground," Cole admitted, shifting the conversation to the monumental main event. "Sandro Zhang walked into the Elimination Chamber against John Cena, The Rock, Alberto Del Rio, The Miz, and the Macho Man Randy Savage. And against all odds, the God King walked out with his World Heavyweight Championship intact."
"It was an absolute war," Lawler said, his tone turning grave and respectful. "I have never seen a performance like we saw from Randy Savage. That man gave every single ounce of his soul to dethrone Sandro Zhang. He took a diving double knee drop off the top of a plexiglass pod and still kicked out! He hit the elbow drop! He had Sandro beaten!"
"But he didn't beat him, King!" JBL laughed, a cruel, vindicated sound. "That is the point! The Macho Man gave it his absolute best, and it simply wasn't enough! Sandro Zhang executed the Heavensfall and The Last Note, and he put the Rebellion's final hope to sleep! The God King is inevitable!"
"But John, you have to admit, the questions are swirling today," Cole pressed, refusing to let the dominant narrative stand unchallenged. "Why didn't Sandro Zhang come out to help Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre when they were losing the tag team titles? The God King was in the building. He could have saved his faction's gold. Was he sending a message to his own men? Is the Undisputed System turning on itself?"
"How dare you question the motives of the Triple Crown Champion?!" JBL shrieked, his face flushing red. "Sandro Zhang is a master tactician! He was preparing for the most dangerous match of his career! He trusted Wade and Drew to handle their business, and they failed him! If anyone is to blame, it is Rated RKO for their underhanded tactics! The God King remains untouchable, and tonight, I guarantee you, Sandro Zhang is going to address the WWE Universe and demand absolute obedience!"
"Well, we are going to find out very shortly, ladies and gentlemen!" Cole shouted as the crowd roared in the background. "The fallout from the Elimination Chamber is happening right now! Do not go anywhere, Monday Night RAW rolls on!"
The camera immediately cut away from the brightly lit ringside commentary desk, plunging the broadcast into the gritty, chaotic, and dimly lit concrete labyrinth of the Oracle Arena's backstage area.
Production assistants sprinted past holding clipboards, heavily muscled stagehands pushed massive equipment crates, and the low, muffled roar of the Oakland crowd echoed through the thick cinderblock walls.
Standing in the middle of a bustling hallway, gripping a microphone with a look of serious journalistic intent, was veteran broadcaster Josh Mathews.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the fallout from the Elimination Chamber is not just happening out there in the ring, it is happening right here behind the curtain," Mathews announced, looking directly into the camera lens.
"Tonight, I have been granted exclusive access. I am currently making my way to the personal locker room of the man who arguably stole the entire show last night. I am going to be sitting down with the Macho Man, Randy Savage, to discuss the physical toll of the Devil's Playground, the agonizing defeat at the hands of the God King, and what the immediate future holds for the leader of the Rebellion."
Mathews turned, signaling the camera operator to follow him down a long, narrow corridor lined with heavy metal doors. The nameplates on the doors read like a who's who of professional wrestling royalty, but Mathews was focused entirely on a door at the very end of the hall.
As they approached, the heavy metal door swung open. Stepping out into the hallway were two of the most iconic figures in the industry, The Great One, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, and the Painmaker, Chris Jericho.
Both men looked visibly battered. The Rock had an ugly, purple bruise swelling along his jawline, and Jericho was walking with a noticeable limp, his ribs heavily wrapped in thick white medical tape.
Mathews and the camera crew slowed their pace, capturing an incredibly rare, candid moment of absolute mutual respect. The Rock and Jericho turned back toward the open doorway.
"You rest up, brother," The Rock said, his voice quiet, stripped entirely of his usual bombastic Hollywood bravado. He extended his massive hand into the room.
A hand wrapped in brightly colored, tattered wrist tape reached out from the shadows of the locker room, firmly gripping The Rock's hand.
"We held the line," Jericho added, nodding respectfully. "You took him to the absolute limit. Nobody blames you."
The Rock and Jericho offered final nods of solidarity before turning and walking past Josh Mathews, their faces instantly hardening back into masks of intense, locker room focus as they disappeared down the corridor.
Mathews took a deep breath and stepped forward, pausing right at the threshold of the open door.
Sitting on a metal folding chair in the center of the sterile, cinderblock room was the Macho Man. Randy Savage looked like he had survived a multi car pileup. He was not wearing his flamboyant, sequined jackets or his neon cowboy hats.
He was dressed simply in a pair of dark athletic shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt. Massive, industrial sized ice packs were strapped tightly to his left shoulder and across his lower ribs. His iconic beard was slightly unkempt, and the deep, heavy bags under his eyes spoke of a man who had not slept a single second since the pay per view ended.
"Macho Man," Mathews greeted softly, not wanting to startle the veteran. "Thank you for taking the time."
Savage, who had been leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the concrete floor, slowly raised his head. He offered a weary, exhausted nod, returning the greeting.
"What can I do for you, Josh?" Savage asked, his voice lacking its usual explosive, chaotic volume. It was gravelly, quiet, and grounded in a stark, sobering reality. "I'm just sitting here... trying to put the pieces back together. Trying to recuperate from the absolute madness of last night."
Mathews stepped into the room, signaling the camera to follow.
"That is exactly what the WWE Universe wants to hear about, Randy," Mathews said, keeping his tone respectful. "The main event of the Elimination Chamber. We all saw you leap from the top of that pod. We saw you survive the heavily protected finishing sequence of the God King, at least for a moment. But we also saw the toll it took. What is going through your mind twenty four hours later?"
Savage let out a long, heavy sigh. He reached up with his uninjured arm, pulling off his signature wrap-around sunglasses, revealing eyes that were filled with a profound, emotional weight.
"I'm not going to sit here and lie to you, Josh. I'm not going to lie to the millions of fans watching at home who poured their hearts out for me last night," Savage began, his voice trembling slightly with raw honesty.
"I don't have the energy anymore. I woke up this morning, and for the first time in my entire life, I didn't know if I could get out of bed. The Elimination Chamber... it left its mark on me. Not just physically. My ribs feel like powder, my spine is screaming... but mentally, Josh. Mentally, it took a piece of my soul."
Savage leaned back in the folding chair, staring up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
"I have been in this business for decades," Savage continued, the grit returning to his voice. "I have fought in steel cages, I have fought in street fights, I have bled in every major arena across the globe. But last night? That was the most violent, unforgiving, sadistic environment I have ever experienced. Sandro Zhang... he is a cold, calculated monster. But I'll be damned if it wasn't the most epic, defining battle I've had in years."
Mathews nodded slowly. "You took the Triple Crown Champion to the absolute limit, Randy. Nobody expected that."
"Nobody wants to admit the truth, Josh," Savage said, looking directly into the camera lens. "It's the hardest thing for a warrior to say out loud. But my age is catching up with me. The tank is running empty. The Madness... it burns as bright as ever in my heart, but the vessel carrying it is cracking."
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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