If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"I'll tell you his next move!" JBL roared, leaning over the desk with a massive grin. "He's going to sit back on his throne, count his money, and watch these peasants fight for a cheap crown while he prepares to become the first Triple Champion in history! Welcome to the era of the God, gentlemen! Enjoy the ride!"
The fans were still cheering loudly, the residual energy from JBL's bold proclamation echoing through the Thomas & Mack Center. The anticipation for the King of the Ring tournament hung thick in the Las Vegas air, a city built on high stakes, crowning winners, and crushing losers. The bracket had been kept a closely guarded secret, adding an air of absolute mystery to the evening.
Suddenly, the pulsing, rock infused beat of "Ain't No Make Believe" blasted through the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers as John Morrison, representing Friday Night SmackDown, stepped through the curtain.
The Shaman of Sexy walked out in slow motion, his signature fur coat trailing behind him, his abs glistening under the arena lights as the wind machines caught his hair.
"Here comes a man who thrives under the bright lights of Vegas!" Striker noted. "John Morrison has the agility of a gymnast and the striking capability of a martial artist. If he can secure the crown tonight, it elevates him to the main event picture permanently."
But Morrison's celebration was cut short by the blaring, majestic horns of "Written in My Face." The cheers morphed into a mix of boos and awed silence as the Celtic Warrior, Sheamus, marched out to represent Monday Night RAW. Pale as a ghost and built like a brick wall, Sheamus pounded his chest, letting out a primal roar that resonated through the arena.
Morrison and Sheamus stepped into the ring, shedding their entrance gear. The referee, ensuring both men were ready and understanding the rules of this single elimination tournament, signaled for the bell to officially start the match.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The dynamic was established immediately, elite agility versus raw, unbridled strength. Morrison tried to keep his distance, utilizing his parkour inspired offense to dart in and out of Sheamus's reach.
He launched a beautiful springboard chuck kick that caught Sheamus flush on the jaw, sending the big Irishman staggering into the ropes. Morrison followed up with a running knee strike, moving at a blistering pace to keep the powerhouse grounded.
"Look at the footwork of Morrison!" Lawler praised. "He's like a phantom in there! Sheamus is swinging at air!"
But Sheamus only needed to connect once. As Morrison bounded off the ropes for a crossbody, Sheamus caught him mid air with terrifying ease.
With a guttural yell, Sheamus transitioned the catch into a brutal fallaway slam, throwing Morrison halfway across the ring like a ragdoll. The thud of Morrison's back hitting the canvas made the front row wince.
The commentary team expertly called the action, weaving the history of the King of the Ring into the current bout. They talked about how legends like Stone Cold Steve Austin, Brock Lesnar, and Booker T had used this exact tournament to launch themselves into the stratosphere of WWE immortality.
For the next ten minutes, Morrison and Sheamus put on an absolute clinic, proving exactly why they wanted to advance and why they deserved to become the King of the Ring.
Morrison managed to mount a desperate comeback, hitting a mesmerizing corkscrew plancha to the outside that wiped Sheamus out on the arena floor. Rolling Sheamus back in, Morrison dragged him toward the corner, ascending the turnbuckles for his signature Starship Pain.
Morrison launched himself, twisting elegantly through the air, but Sheamus rolled out of the way! Morrison crashed hard into the canvas, clutching his ribs in agony.
Sheamus didn't hesitate. He grabbed Morrison by the hair, hauling him up to his feet, and hooked his arm, lifting him high into the air before dropping him across his knee with a spine shattering Irish Curse Backbreaker.
Morrison arched in pain, but Sheamus wasn't done. The Celtic Warrior retreated to the corner, beating his chest, waiting for Morrison to groggily rise to his feet.
The moment Morrison turned around, Sheamus exploded forward, nearly taking Morrison's head off with a devastating Brogue Kick.
One. Two. Three.
"Sheamus advances!" Cole yelled over the roar of the crowd. "Raw takes the first victory of the night in an incredibly physical contest!"
There was no time to breathe. The tournament structure was relentless. Immediately following Sheamus's exit, the blaring trumpets of a mariachi band filled the arena.
Alberto Del Rio, representing SmackDown, drove out onto the stage in a vintage, pristine white Rolls Royce, his personal ring announcer Ricardo Rodriguez singing his praises in rolling Spanish. The Las Vegas crowd rained down thunderous boos.
As Del Rio posed in the ring with his trademark arrogant smile, the narcissistic theme of "Dashing" Cody Rhodes hit, representing RAW. Rhodes walked out holding his signature jacket, pausing to check his reflection in the digital mirror on the TitanTron, smoothing his eyebrows before walking down the ramp with a look of utter disdain for the fans.
The chorus of boos only intensified. Both men were technically heels, reviled by the WWE Universe for their overwhelming arrogance and superiority complexes.
"Vegas doesn't like narcissists or aristocrats," Lawler joked, chuckling at the crowd's hostile reaction. "They like hard workers and high rollers. These two think they're better than everyone in this building!"
"Because they are, King!" JBL defended, adjusting his headset. "You're looking at pedigree! You're looking at wealth and perfection! This is a gentleman's contest!"
The referee made sure both men were ready before signaling for the bell.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Both men immediately came to blows in the center of the ring, discarding any pretense of a slow, technical feeling out process. They wanted the crown, and their egos wouldn't allow them to back down.
They showcased their incredible talents and deep movesets, their match progressing at a shockingly high speed. Because they shared a similar, ground based, technical style, the theme of the match quickly became a contest of agility, speed, and counters.
Cody focused heavily on protecting his "dashing" face, dodging Del Rio's strikes with beautiful evasive maneuvers and answering with sharp, snapping jabs and a beautiful Beautiful Disaster kick off the middle rope that earned him a near fall.
Del Rio, furious at being shown up, unleashed his vicious side. He targeted Cody's left arm, using the ropes to hyperextend the elbow and delivering stiff, echoing enzuigiris to the side of Rhodes' head.
The counter wrestling was breathtaking. Cody attempted his Cross Rhodes finisher, but Del Rio smoothly slipped out the back, shoved Cody into the ropes, and caught him on the rebound with a flawless tilt a whirl backbreaker.
In the final moments, Cody attempted a springboard maneuver, but Del Rio caught the arm in mid air! With lightning speed, Del Rio rolled Cody down to the mat, wrapping his legs tightly around Cody's trapped limb, locking in his devastating Cross Armbreaker, the Rompe Destinos.
Cody screamed in agony, his pristine face contorted in pain. He tried to reach the ropes, but Del Rio leaned back, applying maximum pressure. Left with no choice and wanting to save his arm for his modeling career, Cody furiously tapped the mat.
"Del Rio wins it by submission!" Striker announced. "The aristocrat advances for SmackDown, tying the tournament up at one win for each brand!"
The pacing of the show was relentless. The graphic for the next first round match flashed across the screen, Mark Henry representing RAW taking on Christian representing SmackDown.
"Just Close Your Eyes" hit the speakers, and Captain Charisma stepped out to a massive ovation from the Las Vegas crowd. Christian pointed to his "Peeps" in the stands, slapping hands as he ran down the ramp.
Moments later, the heavy, oppressive beat of "Somebody Gonna Get Their Ass Kicked" shook the arena. The World's Strongest Man, Mark Henry, walked out, looking like a terrifying wall of muscle. He was representing RAW, and despite his intimidating presence, the fans cheered him loudly as well.
"A rare matchup where the fans love both competitors!" Cole noted. "Mark Henry has been on an absolute tear lately, but Christian is a wily veteran who knows how to survive against bigger men."
After both men entered the ring, the referee checked them and signaled for the bell to officially start the match.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The story of the bout was immediately apparent, an indomitable force going up against quick thinking.
Christian used his superior agility and speed to completely dodge the enormous power of the World's Strongest Man in the early going. Every time Henry reached out with his massive, frying pan sized hands, Christian ducked, rolled, or slipped through the ropes.
Christian hit a pendulum kick from the apron, followed by a top rope missile dropkick that finally brought Henry down to one knee. The fans roared, sensing an upset. Both men showcased their talents the best they could, putting on a highly entertaining David versus Goliath contest.
Henry, however, only needed to get his hands on Christian once to change the tide. As Christian came off the ropes for a flying forearm, Henry caught him perfectly in a bearhug.
He squeezed the life out of Captain Charisma, driving the air from his lungs. Christian fought valiantly, raking the eyes and biting Henry's forehead to force a break.
Christian climbed the top turnbuckle, looking for a diving European uppercut. He leaped into the air, soaring across the ring. But Henry simply stepped forward and caught Christian in mid air like he weighed nothing more than a pillow.
With a terrifying roar, Henry shifted Christian's weight, dropping him face first into the canvas with a catastrophic reverse World's Strongest Slam.
The impact literally shook the ring cameras.
One. Two. Three.
"Mark Henry advances!" Lawler cheered. "Raw takes the lead again! The World's Strongest Man is one step closer to sitting on the throne!"
The crowd applauded the effort of both men as Christian rolled out of the ring, clutching his ribs.
The broadcast team barely had a moment to analyze the bracket before the arena plunged into an eerie, blood red darkness.
BOOM!
A massive explosion of flame pyro shot out from the stage ring posts, the heat radiating all the way to the upper decks. The sinister, organ heavy entrance music of the Big Red Machine hit the speakers, and Kane marched out from the curtain.
He was representing SmackDown in this final match of the first round. He was maskless, his face twisted into a sadistic scowl, marching down the ramp and entering the ring to the loud, respectful cheers of the fans who recognized him as one of the most destructive forces in WWE history.
Kane stood in the center of the ring, pacing back and forth, waiting.
"The Big Red Machine looks ready for war!" Striker hyped. "He is SmackDown's final hope to advance in the first round. The question is... who has RAW selected to face him?"
"We've seen Sheamus and Mark Henry," Cole pondered aloud. "Who else on the RAW roster would step up to face Kane? Maybe John Cena? Maybe Randy Orton? Maybe the Miz seeking redemption after being eliminated at Survivor Series?"
The arena sat in breathless anticipation. The silence stretched for five, ten, fifteen seconds.
And then... the arena went pitch black.
"SHOCK THE SYSTEM!"
The screech of digital feedback cut through the darkness, followed instantly by the heavy, iconic guitar riff of "Cult of Personality".
The Las Vegas crowd didn't just boo; they erupted into a cacophony of absolute, nuclear heat. It was a visceral, angry reaction, mixed with the shock of disbelief.
At the commentary table, chaos reigned.
"Are you kidding me?!" Cole screamed, throwing his pen onto the desk in sheer outrage. "What is he doing out here?! He's already the WWE Champion! He's already the United States Champion! He just bullied Vince McMahon into a World Heavyweight Championship match!"
"This is sickening!" Lawler groaned in disgust, slamming his hands on the desk. "He doesn't need to be in this tournament! This is supposed to be an opportunity for other superstars to climb the ladder! Sandro Zhang is just hoarding the spotlight! He is an egomaniacal tyrant!"
"It's about greed, King!" Striker added, shaking his head. "He wants every accolade, every title, every piece of history in this company to belong to the Undisputed System!"
"Oh, shut your mouths, all three of you!" JBL roared, his voice booming over their complaints. "Of course he is involved! He is the God of WWE! The only person who has the divine right to declare himself the King of this Ring is Sandro Zhang! He's not hoarding the spotlight, he is the spotlight!"
Cole whipped his head around, glaring at JBL. "Wait a minute! Didn't you literally just say, not an hour ago at the start of this broadcast, that Sandro doesn't need this cheap crown?! Didn't you say he would just sit back on his throne and watch the peasants fight for it?!"
JBL's face turned bright red, but he didn't miss a beat, pivoting with the shamelessness only a true heel commentator could muster. "When have I ever said that, Michael?! Are you hallucinating?! Who am I to say what is in the mind of the God of WWE?! I am merely a humble observer of his greatness! If he wants the crown, it belongs to him! And calling it a 'cheap crown' is highly disrespectful to the King of the Ring legacy, Cole! You should apologize!"
"You literally called it a cheap crown!" Cole yelled, completely exasperated.
As the commentary team bickered and shouted over one another, the golden lights flooded the entrance stage.
Out walked Sandro Zhang.
But something was different. The visual was jarring.
He came out entirely alone. There was no Paul Heyman walking a step behind him with a microphone. There were no queens, AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss, flanking his sides. There was no wall of muscle in Wade, Drew, Ryback, Big E, Ziggler, Kofi, or the newly minted Xavier Woods.
Furthermore, he wasn't carrying his gold. The WWE Championship and the United States Championship were nowhere to be seen. He was dressed strictly for combat, sleek black wrestling trunks with thin gold trim, black knee pads, and his wrists heavily taped.
He looked around the arena, drinking in the deafening boos of the Las Vegas crowd like a man enjoying a fine wine. He spread his arms wide, his head tilted back, and a massive shower of golden pyro shot out from the stage behind him, illuminating his arrogant features.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
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
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0