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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"Uh oh," Lawler said, his voice dropping in dread. "This looks bad. This looks very, very bad." Drew hooked Billy Gunn's arms, setting him up for a spinebuster off the apron. Wade hooked Road Dogg, setting him up for a massive powerbomb.
"They're going for stereo eliminations!" Striker yelled.
Wade and Drew nodded at each other simultaneously.
With a terrifying display of synchronized power, Wade hoisted Road Dogg into the air, and Drew hoisted Billy Gunn.
CRASH!
The sound of two wooden tables exploding simultaneously filled the arena. Wade Barrett powerbombed Road Dogg through the table in the center of the ring, while Drew McIntyre drove Billy Gunn through the table on the outside with a devastating apron spinebuster.
Both Outlaws lay broken amidst the splintered wood.
The referee checked the wreckage and immediately called for the bell.
"Here are your winners... and STILL WWE Tag Team Champions... Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre!"
"They did it!" Cole sighed in defeat. "They just put the New Age Outlaws through the wood simultaneously! The Undisputed System retains yet again!"
"It is a flawless victory!" JBL cheered, giving a standing ovation. "Wade and Drew are untouchable! The System is perfect tonight! They are purging the past and solidifying their empire!"
Wade and Drew were handed their championships. They stood amidst the debris, raising their gold high, completely unbothered by the chorus of boos. The Undisputed System had systematically dismantled every challenger put in front of them tonight. They were perfect.
But the night wasn't over.
The commentary team shifted their tone from the chaotic aftermath of the tag match to a hushed, incredibly serious timbre.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Cole said, looking directly into the camera as the crew frantically began to clear the ring and lower the two major championships from the rafters. "We have arrived. Every match tonight has been incredible. But it has all been building to this."
"The moment of truth," Lawler added, shaking his head. "The God King of WWE. Sandro Zhang. He has to defend the United States Championship and the WWE Championship in a Fatal Six Way TLC match. He has to climb the ladder against five hand picked assassins chosen by the Chairman himself."
"It's a travesty!" JBL yelled, pointing a finger at Cole and Lawler. "But the God King will overcome! He will survive this conspiracy, and he will march into Tribute to the Troops to claim the World Heavyweight Title! History will be made tonight, and you three are going to watch it happen!"
"We will see about that, John," Striker said quietly, looking up at the titles glittering high above the ring. "The odds are impossible. The danger is absolute. Up next... the main event."
The atmosphere in the Toyota Center had grown so thick with anticipation that it felt heavy in the lungs. High above the ring, suspended by a steel cable, the WWE Championship and the United States Championship glinted under the arena spotlights.
They hung twenty feet in the air, a twin beacon of ultimate power, completely out of reach. Below them, the ring was a pristine canvas, soon to be littered with splintered wood and twisted metal.
"This is it," Cole said, his voice dropping into a register of absolute gravity. "The waiting is over. The talking is over."
Suddenly, the arena was plunged into total darkness.
The heavy, distorted bass drop of SHOCK THE SYSTEM blared through the speakers, hitting with such physical force that it rattled the barricades. The Houston crowd erupted into a deafening, unified chorus of boos.
The low, menacing hum of the System's anthem echoed for a few moments before a sudden blast of static cut through the arena, seamlessly transitioning into the screeching, rebellious guitar riffs of "Cult of Personality."
Golden light flooded the entrance stage. Through the billowing smoke on the entrance stage emerged the dual champion, but he was dressed unlike ever before. The fans gasped, their boos briefly hitching in their throats out of sheer visual shock.
Sandro was wearing his usual, custom tailored in ring attire, black and gold trunks, his gloves, and sleek boots, but he had draped himself in the extravagant spoils of his recent conquests.
Atop his head sat the glittering golden crown he had won three weeks prior. Draped over his broad shoulders was a thick, incredibly luxurious, floor length fur coat that made him look like a ruthless medieval warlord.
In his right hand, he casually gripped a heavy, ornate black metallic scepter topped with a dark, polished gemstone. It was a look of absolute, unapologetic megalomania.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Cole groaned, completely disgusted by the display. "Look at the sheer arrogance of this man. He actually believes he is royalty."
Jerry Lawler groaned in disgust, shaking his head at the monitor. "He's treating a Fatal Six Way TLC match like it's a royal parade! The arrogance is sickening!"
"He doesn't just believe it, King, Michael, he proved it!" JBL roared, standing up at the desk to applaud the entrance. "He won the tournament! He holds the gold! He is the God King of WWE, and you better start bowing! Also, he earned the right to look down on every single peasant in this arena!"
Sandro stopped at the top of the ramp. He looked around the sold out Toyota Center, his expression locked in a cold, disdainful sneer. He slowly raised the black scepter, pointing it toward the titles hanging high above the ring, and then swept it across the crowd.
As he spread his arms wide, the heavy fur coat billowing behind him, and a massive wall of golden pyrotechnics shot up from the stage behind him, bathing him in a shower of sparks.
He walked down the long ramp with a slow, deliberate strut, the physical embodiment of unchecked power.
Justin Roberts stood in the center of the ring, a spotlight hitting him as he raised the microphone to his lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Fatal Six Way Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match! And it is for the United States Championship AND the WWE Championship!"
The crowd cheered at the incredibly high stakes.
"Introducing first," Roberts' voice boomed as Sandro climbed the steel steps. "Representing the Undisputed System... from Orlando, Florida... weighing in at 220 pounds. He is the WWE United States Champion and the WWE Champion... the GOD KING OF WWE... SANDROOO ZHAANGGGG!"
Sandro stepped through the ropes, the boos reaching a fever pitch. He walked to the center of the ring, planting the base of the scepter onto the canvas, and struck several regal, arrogant poses, demanding the crowd bow to their ruler.
He then strolled to his corner, carefully handing his crown and scepter to a ringside official, never once taking his eyes off the entrance ramp. He was waiting to see exactly what kind of hell Vince McMahon had prepared for him.
He didn't have to wait long.
A massive explosion of hellfire erupted from the stage, washing the front rows in intense heat. Kane's iconic, terrifying entrance music hit.
The unmasked Big Red Machine stomped out from the back to huge, thunderous cheers from a crowd desperate for a monster to slay a God. Kane marched down the ramp, his eyes locked on the champion who had humiliated him with a knockout blow in the King of the Ring tournament.
"Introducing the first challenger," Justin Roberts announced over the heavy organ music. "From Parts Unknown... weighing in at 323 pounds... KANE!"
Kane stepped over the top rope, his sheer mass making the ring creak. He stood in the center of the canvas and forcefully threw his arms down, triggering his iconic maneuver as massive pillars of fire erupted from all four ring posts.
Moments later, the heavy, thumping bass of "Somebody Gonna Get Their Ass Kicked" shook the floorboards. The fans roared again as the World's Strongest Man, Mark Henry, stepped through the curtain. Henry looked entirely devoid of his usual jovial nature, he was a silent, marching tank of muscle, his eyes locked dead on Sandro.
"Look at the size of the men Vince McMahon has selected!" Matt Striker pointed out nervously. "Kane and Mark Henry! Two of the most physically dominant forces in WWE history, and Sandro has to fight them both at the same time!"
Henry walked down the ramp to the heavy beat of his music, looking incredibly focused and incredibly dangerous.
"Introducing the next challenger," Roberts called out. "From Silsbee, Texas... weighing in at 390 pounds... the World's Strongest Man... MARK HENRY!"
Henry entered the ring, stepping through the ropes with imposing authority. He immediately bypassed the center of the ring and went straight to a neutral corner, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Kane. Both behemoths glared down at Sandro, who was now trapped in his corner, holding his scepter like a shield. Both men had a massive bone to pick with the champion, and the tension was palpable.
The hits kept coming. The blaring, Celtic war horns of Sheamus's entrance music hit to a massive pop from the Houston crowd. The Celtic Warrior stepped out, beating his chest and shouting, "Fella!" to the roaring fans. He marched down the ramp, his pale skin a stark contrast to the red and black arena lighting, seeking vengeance for losing the King of the Ring finals.
"Introducing next," Roberts announced. "From Dublin, Ireland... weighing in at 272 pounds... the Celtic Warrior... SHEAMUS!"
Sheamus slid into the ring, climbing the turnbuckle and throwing his arms out in his signature cross pose before backing into his designated corner. He joined the silent, intimidating firing squad staring daggers at Sandro.
"That's three men Sandro has deeply wronged!" Cole shouted. "Three men he beat in the King of the Ring tournament! This isn't just a championship match; this is a firing squad!"
"It's a conspiracy!" JBL yelled, slamming his fist on the desk. "Vince McMahon is intentionally putting the God King in an unsafe working environment!"
The arena lights flickered wildly, and the iconic static hissed through the speakers. "You think you know me..." The heavy alternative metal riffs of Alter Bridge's "Metalingus" hit, and the fans completely lost their minds.
The Rated-R Superstar, Edge, burst through the curtain as fireworks exploded around him. He ran back and forth across the stage, feeding off the energy of the fans, before charging down the ramp.
"And the next challenger!" Roberts boomed. "From Toronto, Ontario, Canada... weighing in at 241 pounds... the Rated-R Superstar... EDGE!"
Edge sprinted down the ramp with manic energy. He hadn't forgotten Survivor Series. He hadn't forgotten the brutal Last Note that had nearly ended his career. He slid into the ring, his wild eyes immediately finding Sandro, pointing a threatening finger directly at the champion.
There were five men in the ring. The champion and four absolute killers. But Vince McMahon had promised a Fatal Six-Way. There was one spot left.
The music faded. The arena fell into a state of hushed, agonizing anticipation. Everyone was waiting for the final entrant to come out.
Suddenly, the TitanTron flickered to life. A massive digital clock appeared on the screen.
10... 9... 8...
The entire arena immediately went absolutely nuclear. The fans realized what was happening. The commentary team collectively lost their minds.
"Wait a minute!" Cole screamed, grabbing Lawler's arm. "No! It can't be!"
"Is it?!" Striker yelled, standing up from his chair.
In the ring, the smug, arrogant smirk was instantly wiped clean off Sandro's face. His eyes widened in genuine shock, his grip tightening around the black scepter until his knuckles turned white. The God King's expression cracked, revealing a flicker of sheer, unadulterated dread.
3... 2... 1... 0.
BREAK THE WALLS DOWN!
The explosive pyro hit, and the Houston crowd let out a roar so loud it shook the very foundations of the Toyota Center. Chris Jericho stepped out onto the stage, but it wasn't the Y2J the fans remembered. It wasn't the man who wore light up jackets and flashed arrogant smiles.
This was a man who had been executed by the Undisputed System. A man who had his career nearly ended. And he had returned entirely reborn in darkness.
Jericho was adorned in a terrifying new persona. He wore a heavy, spiked black leather jacket, dark jeans, and a black fedora pulled low over his eyes. But the most shocking element was his face, smeared in chaotic, aggressive black and white face paint, resembling a sadistic, back alley brawler straight out of a nightmare. It was the birth of the Painmaker.
"Look at him!" Lawler gasped, completely stunned by the visual. "That's not Chris Jericho! That's a man possessed!"
"He's back from the dead!" Cole screamed over the deafening cheers. "Sandro Zhang tried to erase him from history! He kicked him out of the System, he shattered his neck, and now Jericho has returned for absolute vengeance! The Ayatollah of Rock 'n' Rolla has returned to exact his revenge on the man who tried to end his career!"
"This is poetic justice!" Lawler yelled, his voice cracking. "Vince McMahon is a genius! He brought back the one man whose hatred for Sandro Zhang burns hotter than a thousand suns!"
"This isn't fair!" JBL panicked, his voice pitching up in genuine fear for his favorite superstar. "Jericho shouldn't even be medically cleared! Vince McMahon has gone too far this time!"
Chris Jericho, the Painmaker, looked around the arena with cold, dead eyes. He didn't pose. He didn't interact with the fans. He simply locked his terrifying gaze onto Sandro and began a furious, determined march down the ramp.
"And the final challenger!" Justin Roberts announced, his own voice trembling slightly at the dark aura radiating from the legend. "From Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada... weighing in at 226 pounds... CHRIS JERICHO!"
Jericho didn't even wait to fully enter the ring. The moment he slid under the bottom rope, he didn't go to a neutral corner. He lunged directly across the canvas like a rabid dog, launching himself at the God King.
Seeing the sheer violence of Jericho's immediate assault, the referee didn't even wait for the combatants to separate. He desperately signaled the timekeeper.
DING! DING! DING!
All hell broke loose instantaneously.
Jericho tackled Sandro into the corner, throwing his fur coat and crown to the canvas. Jericho unleashed a flurry of rapid, heavy, closed fist right hands directly into Sandro's face. There was no wrestling logic here, it was pure, unadulterated street fighting.
"Get off me!" Sandro roared, trying to push the wild-eyed veteran away, but Jericho was fighting with the strength of a madman.
"You took my life!" Jericho screamed, spit flying from his lips as he rained down punches. "I'm taking yours, you arrogant son of a bitch!"
"The match has started!" Cole yelled. "And Jericho is trying to rip Sandro's face off!"
The other four men didn't try to stop it. In fact, they joined in. Edge sprinted across the ring, stomping viciously on Sandro's ribs. Sheamus joined the fray, delivering massive, clubbing blows to the champion's back.
Even Kane and Mark Henry stepped forward, grabbing Sandro by his arms and pulling him out of the corner, hurling the God King effortlessly over the top rope so he crashed violently to the hard floor outside.
"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!"
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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