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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"He is a tactical genius, King!" JBL bellowed, standing up and applauding the God King's actions. "He used his resources! He neutralized the two biggest threats in the company with absolute surgical precision! This is why Sandro Zhang has been champion for 365 days!"
Sandro stood in the center of the ring, entirely surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the Beast and the Psychopath. He leaned heavily against the ring ropes, taking several deep, ragged breaths, completely exhausted. Blood was steadily dripping from his nose onto the canvas.
But he wasn't finished making his point.
Sandro looked down at the World Heavyweight Championship in his hand. A sick, entirely unhinged smirk spread across his bloody face. He gripped the leather strap tightly, raising the heavy gold belt high into the air.
With absolute, ruthless malice, Sandro brought the championship crashing down onto the spine of Brock Lesnar!
WHACK!
Sandro then pivoted, driving the edge of the belt directly into the back of the incapacitated Drew McIntyre!
WHACK!
He hit Lesnar again!
WHACK!
He hit McIntyre again!
WHACK!
"Stop it!" Cole pleaded on commentary. "He's just trying to injure them at this point! He is completely unhinged!"
After delivering the final, brutal strike, Sandro dropped the World Heavyweight Championship onto the canvas. He was entirely running on fumes. The God King scrambled wildly toward the ropes, rolling under the bottom cable, desperately fleeing the scene of the crime before either monster could recover.
Sandro dropped to the ringside floor, nearly collapsing against the barricade. The three Queens, AJ, Nikki, and Alexa, immediately rushed to his side. They grabbed his arms, frantically supporting his weight, helping the battered billionaire stay on his feet.
Alexa quickly grabbed the discarded United States and WWE Championships from the floor, handing them to Nikki and AJ, while Sandro clutched the World Heavyweight title.
"Get me out of here," Sandro gasped, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. "Get me to the back."
The royal entourage began a slow, incredibly painful retreat up the incredibly long entrance ramp. They walked backward, Sandro's eyes entirely locked on the ring, paranoid that Lesnar or McIntyre would suddenly rise from the dead.
As they walked, they passed the absolute carnage left in Lesnar's wake. Wade Barrett, Big E, Ryback, Kofi, Ziggler, and Woods were still completely laid out on the steel grating and the ringside mats.
The yellow shirted security guards, who had finally recovered from the Undisputed System's earlier assault, quickly parted ways, entirely terrified of standing in the God King's path.
Sandro Zhang limped backward up the ramp, his three Queens supporting him, his custom suit destroyed, his face a bloody, bruised mess.
But as they neared the absolute top of the entrance stage, something incredibly bizarre happened.
The deafening, visceral boos from the crowd suddenly, violently morphed.
The boos completely disappeared, instantly replaced by a massive, earth shattering, incredibly sustained roar of pure, unadulterated cheers! The pop was so loud it practically shook the TitanTron!
Sandro stopped walking. He looked out at the massive sea of fans. A completely delusional, sociopathic smile slowly spread across his bloody face. In his deeply arrogant, entirely fractured mind, he completely believed that the fans were finally cheering for him.
He thought they had finally recognized his absolute dominance, his incredible survival skills, and his untouchable genius.
"Do you hear that?" Sandro laughed weakly, turning to look at AJ Lee, blood dripping from his chin. "They finally respect me. They know I am the God King."
Sandro confidently stepped away from the Queens. He stood at the absolute top of the stage, looking out at the cheering audience. With extreme, blatant disrespect, the Triple Crown Champion slowly raised both of his hands high into the air, flipping two massive, arrogant middle fingers directly at the entire WWE Universe.
But the fans weren't cheering for Sandro.
They were cheering for the massive, terrifying shadow that had just silently emerged from behind the heavy black curtains.
Suddenly, a massive, incredibly heavy hand clamped violently down onto Sandro Zhang's left shoulder.
Sandro entirely froze. His sociopathic smile vanished in a microsecond, entirely replaced by absolute, paralyzing dread. The hand was the size of a catcher's mitt, and the grip was so incredibly powerful it felt like his collarbone was going to snap.
Sandro was violently, effortlessly spun completely around.
Standing entirely face to face with the billionaire prodigy, absolutely towering over him, was the World's Largest Athlete.
The Big Show.
The giant looked down at the bloodied, battered God King. The Big Show didn't look angry anymore.
He didn't look furious. Instead, a slow, incredibly grim, deeply terrifying smile stretched across his massive face. It was the smile of a predator that had just cornered entirely wounded, defenseless prey.
"Hello, Sandro," Big Show rumbled, his deep voice carrying without a microphone.
"NO!" AJ Lee shrieked hysterically, completely horrified by the sudden ambush!
Nikki and Alexa screamed in pure terror, helplessly watching the execution unfold!
Before Sandro could even attempt to beg, before he could offer millions of dollars or legal threats, the Big Show struck.
The giant's massive right hand entirely enveloped Sandro's throat!
Big Show let out a thunderous, primal roar, lifting the Triple Crown Champion entirely off his feet! Sandro kicked his legs wildly in the air, his eyes bugging out of his skull, entirely suspended in the grasp of the four hundred pound monster!
Big Show didn't just chokeslam him onto the stage. He took two massive steps to the left, positioning Sandro directly over a massive table completely loaded with highly expensive, heavily wired WWE production and lighting equipment.
CHOKESLAM!
Sandro was violently driven straight down through the production table!
CRASH!
The entire table completely splintered into a million pieces! Electrical wires violently sparked, monitors shattered, and a massive cloud of dust and debris exploded into the air!
The God King lay entirely motionless in the wreckage, completely and utterly destroyed.
The Queens screamed hysterically, covering their faces in absolute, traumatized shock, completely unable to process the absolute demolition of their boyfriend.
"OH MY GOD!" Cole shrieked, entirely losing his voice as the crowd absolutely lost their minds! "CHOKESLAM THROUGH THE PRODUCTION EQUIPMENT! THE BIG SHOW JUST SENT THE GOD KING STRAIGHT TO HELL!"
"This is an absolute tragedy!" JBL wailed, completely devastated, clutching his head in sheer panic. "He could be paralyzed! He could be internally bleeding! Somebody get the paramedics out here right now! Sandro Zhang is seriously hurt!"
"He got exactly what was coming to him, John!" Lawler cheered wildly, clapping his hands together! "Sandro Zhang disrespected the giant, and the giant just made him pay the ultimate price!"
The Big Show didn't look down at the wreckage. He didn't care about the Queens screaming in the background.
The World's Largest Athlete simply reached down and picked up the United States Championship that had fallen from Sandro's grasp during the chokeslam. The giant turned his massive body toward the hard camera.
With a look of absolute, undeniable dominance, the Big Show raised the United States Championship high into the night sky!
The Tingley Coliseum erupted into a final, deafening roar of pure, unfiltered adulation!
"The message has been sent!" Cole shouted with absolute finality as the broadcast copyright graphic frantically flashed onto the screen. "The Big Show has completely decimated the Triple Crown Champion! Next week at Extreme Rules, the 365 day reign is officially on life support! The God King has been brought down to Earth, and it was a four hundred pound giant that finally pulled the trigger! Goodnight everyone!"
The screen violently cut to black, leaving the WWE Universe absolutely speechless, entirely captivated by the sheer, unmitigated destruction of Sandro's golden empire, and counting down the absolute seconds until Extreme Rules.
Right away, before the broadcast copyright logo had even fully faded from millions of television screens across the globe, Twitter and the official WWE fan forums were completely and utterly on fire. The servers for the WWE Universe message boards actively struggled under the sheer, unprecedented influx of traffic.
The fans were obsessively discussing every single granular detail of what they had just seen transpire, but the primary focus of the hardcore wrestling community entirely centered around the astonishing, historical statistics Sandro had flaunted before his catastrophic demise.
The timeline was completely dominated by the fact that the God King had officially held the United States Championship for a full, uninterrupted year, exactly 365 days.
Fans and wrestling historians alike were actively pulling up the record books, flooding the forums with massive, multi paragraph essays breaking down the significance of the reign. In the modern era of sports entertainment, and even in the past, golden eras of the territory days, holding a mid card championship for a full calendar year was practically unheard of.
What made it even more terrifyingly impressive was the fact that this was only Sandro's very first reign with the United States title. He hadn't traded it back and forth, he had won it once and clamped onto it with an absolute, suffocating death grip.
And the statistics didn't stop there.
The internet detectives mapped out the sheer, undeniable reality of his Triple Crown status. Alongside the 365 day United States Championship run, his WWE Championship reign sat at a staggering 211 days, while his World Heavyweight Championship reign had reached 117 days.
A massive, highly contentious debate instantly erupted across the forums regarding the frequency of his title defenses.
"He's a part time champion who hides behind his lackeys!" one angry fan tweeted, sparking a thread with thousands of replies. "He doesn't defend the titles every week! He only defends them on Pay Per Views, and half the time he cheats to win!"
But the God King's loyalists, and even the objective, analytical fans, immediately fired back with a completely undeniable counter argument, Quality over quantity.
While it was absolutely true that the defenses for all three titles weren't incredibly numerous, the sheer, unquestionable caliber of the opponents he faced completely validated the prestige of the gold.
Sandro Zhang wasn't defending his championships against mid card talents or flavor of the month challengers. When the God King stepped into the ring to defend his WWE and World Heavyweight titles, he faced absolute titans of the industry. He faced main eventers. He faced legendary icons. He faced future Hall of Famers, and he faced actual, inducted Hall of Famers.
Furthermore, the fans pointed out the intense, gruesome nature of those defenses. Sandro Zhang's title matches weren't ten-minute television sprints, they were incredibly brutal, bloody, deeply psychological wars.
His thirty minute bloodbath with Chris Jericho at WrestleMania was actively being hailed as a modern masterpiece. These catastrophic, high stakes defenses elevated his prestige to an entirely different stratosphere.
Even though Sandro didn't have a massive quantity of defenses, the sheer gravity, violence, and historical weight of the matches he did have were more than enough to make up for all of it.
The professional wrestling media landscape completely caught fire with this narrative. The most prominent wrestling journalists, industry analysts, and popular podcasters all rushed to their microphones to record emergency recap episodes.
"You have to look at the absolute brilliance of the booking," a leading wrestling journalist stated on his widely downloaded podcast. "Sandro's title reigns have already been long enough to permanently, undeniably cement his position at the absolute pinnacle of the main event scene. He is a made man. But the consensus across the board is that something incredibly big needs to happen now. He has elevated the United States title to world class status, but that title desperately needs to be liberated so the rest of the roster can breathe."
The discussion was on fire, a massive, digital wildfire that burned white-hot as time passed for an entire week. The WWE Universe was holding its collective breath, waiting to see the physical fallout of the chokeslam that had driven the God King through a mountain of production equipment.
The following week, Monday Night RAW rolled into the arena, and the atmosphere was incredibly, deeply tense.
From the absolute second the broadcast went live, it was entirely apparent that the landscape of the show had been violently altered.
There was absolutely no presence of Sandro. There was no sign of the newly hired mercenary, Lashley. And the broken, traumatized boys of the Undisputed System, Wade, Big E, Kofi, Ryback, Dolph, and Woods, were completely absent from the backstage area.
"The God King is not in the building, ladies and gentlemen!" Cole announced at the top of the broadcast. "And can you blame him?! The Big Show drove Sandro Zhang straight through a production table last week! The medical staff has confirmed that the Triple Crown Champion is at home in Orlando, recovering from severe whiplash and deep tissue contusions!"
"It's a travesty!" JBL wailed, slamming his fist on the desk. "The World's Largest Athlete committed aggravated assault on our champion! Sandro Zhang is nursing his wounds, but when he returns, there will be hell to pay!"
While the golden empire licked its wounds in the shadows, the enemies of the state were more than happy to step into the spotlight.
Midway through the first hour of RAW, the heavy, haunting wail of Scottish war pipes blasted through the arena!
The fans absolutely erupted as Drew McIntyre marched out from behind the curtain. The Scottish Psychopath was no longer wearing his heavy leather duster, he was dressed in his dark tartan trunks, ready for a fight, a massive, incredibly satisfied smile plastered across his bearded face.
McIntyre climbed into the ring, grabbing a microphone from the ringside crew. He didn't pace. He stood dead center, soaking in the adulation.
"I have to admit," McIntyre began, his thick Scottish brogue echoing through the arena, entirely dripping with smug satisfaction. "I was sitting in the back last week, nursing a low blow that I'm pretty sure made my ancestors wince. I was angry. I was frustrated."
McIntyre let out a deep, booming laugh.
"But then... I looked up at the monitor," McIntyre continued, his eyes gleaming. "And I watched that arrogant, sociopathic, billionaire prick get picked up by his throat and driven straight to hell by the Big Show!"
The crowd popped massively, chanting "THANK YOU BIG SHOW!"
"And honestly?" McIntyre smiled, rubbing his jaw. "It was the sweetest thing I have ever seen. But let me tell you what was even sweeter."
McIntyre stepped closer to the ropes, his voice dropping into a dark, intense register.
"Getting my own massive hands on Sandro
again," McIntyre declared, the pure, unadulterated joy evident in his voice. "For a year, I had to stand behind him and protect his pretty face. But last week... when I grabbed him by those expensive lapels, pulled him in, and hit him with that Glasgow Kiss headbutt? When I felt the cartilage in his nose completely shatter against my skull?"
McIntyre closed his eyes, taking a deep, entirely dramatic breath as if savoring a fine wine. "It was absolute poetry," McIntyre whispered. "It was the physical manifestation of freedom. The Undisputed System is dead, Sandro is broken, and I am finally truly off the leash!"
But the Scottish Psychopath's celebration was suddenly, violently cut off.
SCREEEEECH!
The apocalyptic guitar riff of "The Next Big Thing" absolutely ripped through the sound system!
The fans instantly shifted gears, letting out a massive, deafening roar as the Beast Incarnate emerged from behind the curtain!
Brock Lesnar marched out onto the stage. He was wearing his black MMA fighting shorts, and the thick white medical tape wrapped around his ribs was still highly visible. Beside him, looking incredibly smug and entirely recovered from the chaos of the previous week, was his Advocate, Paul Heyman.
Lesnar and Heyman marched down the ramp, the Beast never taking his cold, dead eyes off the massive Scotsman in the ring. Lesnar vaulted onto the apron, stepping over the top rope, while Heyman slowly walked up the steel steps, raising a live microphone to his lips.
"Ladies and Gentlemen... my name is Paul Heyman," the Advocate began, entirely ignoring the crowd's reaction. "And I am the Advocate for the Beast, BROCKKKK LESNARRRRR!"
Heyman stepped forward, hiding safely behind Lesnar's massive frame, pointing an accusatory finger directly at Drew. "I listened to you brag, Mr. McIntyre," Heyman sneered, his voice dripping with pure corporate venom. "I listened to you talk about your poetry. I listened to you brag about breaking Sandro's nose. But let's deal in absolute, undeniable reality for a moment, shall we?"
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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