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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"They are forming an impromptu alliance!" Striker analyzed brilliantly. "The psychology of a multi man match dictates that you eliminate the biggest threat first! And right now, every single man in that ring hates Sandro Zhang more than they want those titles!"
But an alliance built on hatred doesn't last long when gold is hanging twenty feet in the air. As soon as Sandro was neutralized on the outside, the five challengers turned on each other.
Kane grabbed Edge by the throat, looking for a chokeslam, but the Rated-R Superstar poked the monster in the eyes, hitting the ropes and delivering a flying forearm that staggered the Big Red Machine. On the other side of the ring, Mark Henry and Sheamus engaged in a brutal test of strength, trading heavy, echoing chops that sounded like gunshots.
Jericho, meanwhile, rolled to the outside. He completely ignored the titles above the ring. He went straight under the ring apron and pulled out a heavy steel folding chair. He didn't bring it into the ring, he stalked around the outside, his face paint smeared with sweat, hunting for Sandro.
He found the champion trying to use the barricade to pull himself up. Jericho swung the chair like a baseball bat, cracking it viciously across Sandro's spine. The metallic thud made the front row wince. Sandro cried out in agony, collapsing to the floor.
"Jericho is a man obsessed!" Lawler noted. "He doesn't even care about winning the match! He just wants to end Sandro's career the way Sandro tried to end his!"
"Someone needs to stop this!" JBL pleaded frantically. "This is an aggravated assault! Sandro is outmatched, he's outnumbered, and he's being hunted!"
Inside the ring, the chaotic violence was escalating rapidly. Edge had slid a ladder into the squared circle, setting it up directly under the hanging United States and WWE Championships. He began to climb, his eyes fixed on the gold.
But before he could reach the top rung, Sheamus grabbed the ladder with his massive arms and violently tipped it over. Edge went flying, crashing shoulder first into the top rope and tumbling awkwardly to the mat.
Sheamus then grabbed the ladder, folded it up, and used it as a battering ram, driving the steel tip directly into Mark Henry's midsection, forcing the World's Strongest Man to double over in pain.
Sheamus raised the ladder to strike again, but Kane caught him with a devastating big boot to the face, sending the Celtic Warrior and the ladder crashing to the canvas.
The match was an instant classic in the making, an absolute car crash of moving parts, brutal weaponry, and high stakes desperation.
On the outside, Sandro had finally managed to utilize his incredible agility and survival instincts. As Jericho raised the dented steel chair for a third strike, Sandro hit a desperate drop toe hold, sending Jericho face first into the steel ring steps.
The God King, gasping for air, clutching his ribs, realized he couldn't fight them all head on. He rolled under the ring, disappearing into the darkness beneath the apron.
"Smart move by the champion!" JBL cheered, relieved. "A tactical retreat! Let the peasants destroy themselves, and the God King will emerge when the time is right!"
"That's not a tactical retreat, John, that's cowardice!" Cole argued.
The carnage in the ring continued to escalate to terrifying new heights. Kane set up a table in the corner of the ring. He grabbed Edge by the throat, marching the Ultimate Opportunist toward the wood.
But Edge fought back, hitting a desperate low blow. As Kane doubled over, Edge hit the ropes and executed a flawless running DDT, driving Kane's head directly onto a steel chair that had been slid into the ring earlier.
Mark Henry, having recovered from the ladder strike, grabbed Sheamus. With terrifying, ungodly strength, Henry hoisted the 270 pound Irishman into the air in a gorilla press position.
He walked toward the ropes and launched Sheamus over the top, sending him crashing through the Spanish announce table at ringside in a spectacular explosion of monitors and splintered wood.
"Holy hell!" Striker screamed as the table completely disintegrated. "Sheamus has been broken in half!"
Henry turned around, only to be met by a returning Chris Jericho. The Painmaker sprinted off the top rope, executing a flying Codebreaker that brought the World's Strongest Man down to his knees.
The match was a brutal, unrelenting masterpiece of violence. Ladders were bent, chairs were shattered, and bodies were laid out across the entire arena floor. All six men were showcasing their immense talents and diverse movesets, utilizing the unforgiving environment to inflict maximum suffering.
Edge, seeing an opening with everyone down, set up a towering, 15 foot ladder directly in the center of the ring. He began the slow, agonizing climb toward the gold. He reached the top, his fingertips brushing the leather of the WWE Championship.
But suddenly, the ring apron flipped up.
Sandro Zhang shot out from under the ring like a bullet. He didn't climb the ladder. He sprinted to the corner, leaped onto the top turnbuckle with incredible, cat like agility, and launched himself into the air.
"Springboard!" Cole screamed.
Sandro flew across the ring, intercepting Edge at the absolute apex of the ladder. He caught the Rated-R Superstar in mid air and executed a breathtaking, high angle modified cutter, dragging Edge all the way down to the canvas with a sickening, bone rattling impact.
Both men lay motionless on the mat as the towering steel ladder wobbled precariously above them. The crowd was on their feet, screaming themselves hoarse.
The Toyota Center was practically shaking on its foundation. The sheer, concussive impact of Sandro's springboard modified cutter had sent a shockwave through the ring, leaving both the God King and the Rated-R Superstar motionless on the canvas. Above them, the fifteen-foot steel ladder wobbled precariously, groaning under the shift in weight, before finally tipping over and crashing heavily against the top rope with a metallic shriek.
"I don't believe it!" Michael Cole shrieked, his voice completely giving out. "Sandro Zhang just pulled off one of the most dangerous, high-risk maneuvers in TLC history! He flew halfway across the ring to intercept Edge! The sheer athleticism... the absolute desperation!"
"That isn't desperation, Michael! That is divine intervention!" JBL roared, pounding his fists on the commentary desk so hard the monitors shook. "That is why he is the God King of the WWE! He doesn't just survive in this environment; he adapts, he innovates, and he destroys! Edge thought he had a clear path to the gold, but Sandro Zhang owns the airspace in this company!"
"He might have just broken his own back doing it, John!" Jerry Lawler argued, wincing as the cameras zoomed in on Sandro, who was clutching his ribs, his face contorted in agony. "You can't take a fifteen-foot drop, drag a two-hundred-and-forty-pound man down with you, and walk away unscathed!"
"The psychology here is absolutely astounding," Matt Striker chimed in, adjusting his glasses, trying to keep up with the chaos. "Sandro knew he couldn't climb the ladder in time. He knew Edge was inches away. So instead of playing Edge's game, he turned his own body into a missile. It's a high-cost maneuver, but it kept the titles out of Edge's hands!"
Inside the ring, the carnage was a modern-art masterpiece of violence. Splintered wood, dented steel chairs, and twisted aluminum ladders littered the mat. Edge was completely neutralized, clutching his surgically repaired neck, gasping for air.
But in a Fatal Six-Way match, there is no time to rest. There is always another monster waiting in the wings.
From the wreckage on the outside of the ring, Kane suddenly sat up. The Big Red Machine's unmasked face was a terrifying portrait of sadistic fury. He rolled under the bottom rope, his eyes locking onto the prone form of the champion. At the exact same moment, on the opposite side of the ring, the World's Strongest Man, Mark Henry, pulled his massive, three-hundred-plus-pound frame over the top rope.
The two behemoths stood in the center of the ring, completely ignoring the gold hanging twenty feet above them. They looked at Sandro, then looked at each other. An unspoken, terrifying alliance was forged in the fires of mutual hatred.
"Oh no," Cole whispered. "Kane and Mark Henry. They're surrounding Sandro."
Sandro pushed himself up to his knees, his chest heaving, sweat and a thin trickle of blood running down his forehead. He looked up, realizing he was trapped between two of the most destructive forces in WWE history.
Kane struck first, wrapping his massive, leather-gloved hand around Sandro's throat. Mark Henry stepped in, grabbing Sandro by the waist. With terrifying, synchronized power, they hoisted the double champion into the air.
"They're going to break him in half!" Lawler screamed.
But before they could execute the double chokeslam, a wild, unhinged Chris Jericho slid into the ring, wielding a heavily dented steel folding chair. Jericho didn't care about alliances. He swung the chair like a baseball bat, cracking it viciously across the broad back of Mark Henry. The metallic thud echoed like a gunshot. Henry roared in pain, dropping his half of Sandro.
Jericho didn't hesitate. He spun around and drove the edge of the steel chair directly into Kane's midsection, doubling the monster over, before leaping into the air and executing a flawless, chair-assisted Codebreaker!
Kane collapsed to the mat, completely unconscious.
"Jericho is a one-man wrecking crew!" Striker yelled. "The Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla is systematically dismantling everyone in his path! He has lost his mind, and it is beautiful to watch!"
Henry, enraged by the chair shot, charged blindly at Jericho. But the veteran was ready. Jericho sidestepped the World's Strongest Man, grabbed the top rope, and pulled it down. Henry's own massive momentum carried him up and over the top rope, sending him tumbling to the outside, crashing heavily onto the ringside mats.
Jericho stood alone in the ring. He looked up at the WWE and United States Championships. For a brief second, the allure of the gold seemed to catch his attention. He looked at the fallen ladder.
But then, his eyes drifted back down to Sandro Zhang, who was crawling desperately toward the corner, trying to use the turnbuckles to stand.
Jericho's face twisted into a snarl of pure venom. He threw the steel chair down in disgust. "I don't want the belts!" Jericho screamed, his voice picked up by the ringside microphones. "I want YOU!"
"He's throwing away the match!" Cole yelled in disbelief. "Jericho has a clear path to the titles, but his vendetta against the Undisputed System is blinding him!"
"It's pathetic!" JBL sneered. "He's a bitter, jealous old man who couldn't cut it in the God King's empire, and now he's throwing a temper tantrum!"
Jericho charged Sandro, executing a brutal running bulldog that drove the champion's face into the middle turnbuckle. Jericho dragged Sandro to the center of the ring, stepping through his legs.
"He's locking it in!" Lawler cheered. "The Walls of Jericho! He's going to snap Sandro's back in half!"
Jericho turned Sandro over, sitting back deep into the Boston Crab submission, applying excruciating pressure to the champion's lower back. Sandro screamed in agony, his hands desperately clawing at the canvas, trying to drag himself toward the ropes. But in a TLC match, there are no rope breaks. There are no disqualifications. Submissions can only cause pain; they cannot win the match.
As Sandro suffered in the center of the ring, a terrifying roar echoed from the remnants of the Spanish announce table on the outside.
From beneath a pile of splintered wood, crushed monitors, and twisted metal wires, Sheamus emerged. The Celtic Warrior's pale skin was covered in red welts, and a thin line of blood trickled down from his forehead, but his eyes were completely glazed over with absolute, primal rage.
"The Celtic Warrior is still alive!" Cole shouted. "He was gorilla-pressed through the announce table by Mark Henry, but the Irishman refuses to stay down!"
Sheamus reached under the ring apron and pulled out a fresh, unmarked wooden table. He slid it into the ring, followed by a heavy, fiberglass stepladder. He slid under the bottom rope, his chest heaving, his eyes locking onto Jericho, who was still wrenching back on Sandro.
Sheamus charged, completely bypassing Sandro, and hit a devastating, running double axe handle to the back of Jericho's neck, breaking the submission hold instantly. Jericho rolled away, clutching his neck.
Sheamus wasn't done. He grabbed Jericho by the hair, hauling him up to his feet. With a guttural battle cry, Sheamus hoisted the veteran onto his shoulders, executing a flawless, spine-shattering White Noise directly onto the folded fiberglass ladder!
Jericho's body bounced off the hard fiberglass, and he rolled out of the ring, completely incapacitated.
"Sheamus is clearing house!" Striker analyzed. "He is eliminating the variables! This is how you win a multi-man match!"
Sheamus turned his attention to Sandro. The Celtic Warrior grabbed the champion by his hair, dragging him toward the corner. Sheamus set up the wooden table near the turnbuckles. He chopped Sandro violently across the chest, the sickening smack echoing through the arena. He lifted Sandro, seating him on the top turnbuckle.
"He's going for the High Cross!" Lawler yelled. "He's going to put Sandro through the wood from the top rope! If he hits this, Sandro is going to the hospital!"
Sheamus climbed the middle rope, wrapping his arms around Sandro, preparing to lift him into the crucifix powerbomb position.
But he had forgotten about the Ultimate Opportunist.
Edge, who had been quietly recovering on the outside, slid back into the ring with the stealth of a predator. He didn't make a sound. He simply backed into the opposite corner, crouching low, his eyes wide and manic, his hands tearing at his own hair.
"Edge is stalking him!" Cole screamed. "The Rated-R Superstar is setting up!"
Sheamus finally managed to lift Sandro onto his shoulders. But just as he turned around to face the table, Edge exploded out of the corner. "SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!" Cole lost his mind as Edge launched himself through the air, catching Sheamus directly in the midsection.
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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) - 2010, & 1x KOTR (2010)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0