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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
As the digital dust settled over the weekend, the reality of the WWE landscape was terrifyingly clear. The Triple Crown Champion was wounded, humiliated, and stripped of his invincible aura, but he still held the gold. The Painmaker was armed with a guaranteed main event contract, driven by pure, sociopathic vengeance. And the entire locker room had officially declared war on the golden empire.
The Road to WrestleMania had officially been paved in blood, sweat, and absolute chaos. As the digital dust settled over the weekend, the reality of the WWE landscape was terrifyingly clear. The Painmaker was armed with a guaranteed main event contract, driven by pure, sociopathic vengeance.
But the visceral hatred and bitter rivalries that were broadcasted to millions of homes around the globe were starkly contrasted by the reality taking place behind the heavy black curtain of the TD Garden.
Deep in the labyrinthine backstage corridors of the arena, far removed from the deafening noise of the Boston crowd, the atmosphere was one of profound respect and historic celebration. The adrenaline from the chaotic, locker room clearing brawl was still pumping through the veins of everyone involved, but the hostility had been left entirely in the squared circle.
Sandro having just survived one of the most grueling, physically punishing World Heavyweight Championship defenses of his entire career, stood in the plush, private Gorilla Position lounge.
The sociopathic, arrogant facade of the God King had been completely shed. His custom tailored suit was wrinkled, his hair was damp with sweat, and he was pressing an ice pack against the back of his neck where CM Punk had nearly kicked his head off. Yet, despite the exhaustion, a genuine, warm smile graced his features.
He was standing in a tight circle with WWE's ultimate power brokers, Vince McMahon, Stephanie McMahon, and Triple H. But the center of attention, the man commanding the room with his sheer, undeniable aura, was the 'Macho Man' Randy Savage.
Savage was still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath a fresh, neon colored Macho Madness t shirt he had thrown on over his ring gear. The iconic bandana was still tied tight around his forehead, and his eyes, normally hidden behind those massive, reflective sunglasses, were shining with an overwhelming, deeply emotional light.
Savage turned his attention directly to Sandro, stepping forward to clasp the young Triple Crown Champion's shoulder with a massive, calloused hand.
"I gotta tell you," Savage said, his voice carrying that unmistakable, gravelly cadence, though softened by genuine gratitude. "When you first called me... when you pitched this idea of coming back... I thought you were absolutely out of your mind. I haven't stepped foot in a WWE ring in over a decade. I thought the bridges were burned. I thought the fans had moved on. But hearing that pop tonight... feeling that building shake when my music hit..."
Savage paused, shaking his head, a bright, fulfilling smile breaking through his iconic beard.
"I feel fulfilled," Savage confessed, looking around the circle. "I feel like a million bucks. To know that the fans still remember... to know that they still wanted the Macho Man... it's a feeling I can't even describe. Thank you, Sandro. You convinced me to take the leap, and I am forever grateful for this one off return."
Sandro lowered his ice pack, looking the absolute legend dead in the eye with profound, unwavering respect.
"Of course they remember you, Randy," Sandro replied, his voice completely devoid of his television persona's arrogance. "You are an absolute pillar of this industry. You are a legend in this business, and there is not a single person on this earth, corporate or otherwise, who can ever strip you of your achievements and your accomplishments."
"You built the foundation that my generation is currently standing on. Half the men in that locker room grew up looking up to you. It was an absolute no brainer for me to reach out and try to convince you to come back for a single night. The Royal Rumble needed the Macho Man, and the fans deserved to say thank you."
Vince McMahon, standing to the side with his hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his expensive suit, nodded in vigorous agreement. The Chairman of the Board had a wide, genuinely happy smile on his face, looking at Savage like a long lost brother who had finally returned home.
"Sandro is entirely right, Randy," Vince boomed, his trademark baritone echoing in the quiet lounge. "We are absolutely thrilled to see you back where you belong. Seeing you in that ring tonight, hitting that elbow drop... it was a truly electrifying moment. It was magic. In fact..."
Vince paused, his promoter instincts inevitably kicking in. He exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Triple H, who offered a subtle nod of support.
"...I was hoping this wouldn't just be a one night thing," Vince continued, stepping closer to Savage. "If your body is feeling good, and if you are willing to give us a little more time, I would love to have you work a short program. Several more matches, maybe leading up to the Elimination Chamber, or even WrestleMania. The fans would absolutely lose their minds. But, of course, if you just wanted this to be a one night spectacle to close the book, I understand that full well."
Savage's smile faltered just a fraction. He looked down at his boots, a deep, internal dilemma visibly playing out across his features. The roar of the crowd was a powerful, intoxicating drug, and the competitor inside of him desperately wanted to lace up the boots and go on one final, legendary run. But reality was a cruel mistress.
"Vince, I appreciate the offer, I really do," Savage admitted, rubbing his knee subconsciously. "But I have to be honest with myself, and I have to be honest with you. I'm not a young man anymore. My age is catching up to me, and my body... it's got a lot of miles on it. I felt every single bump in that ring tonight. I know the condition of my body better than anyone, and I don't know if I can handle the grind of a full program."
As Savage mulled over the physical realities of a prolonged return, Sandro stepped forward, seamlessly inserting himself back into the conversation.
"Randy, listen to me," Sandro said, his tone shifting from a respectful peer to a highly capable, authoritative executive. "If you want to do this, if your heart is truly telling you to go for one last run, you can do it. And you won't have to worry about the physical toll. If you agree, I will personally guarantee that you have the absolute best."
Sandro gestured vaguely with his free hand, casually dropping the immense, billionaire weight of his real-world resources.
"I will provide you with the best doctors in the world," Sandro promised, his eyes locked on Savage's. "The absolute best healthcare, entirely on my dime. I will bring in the top sports nutritionists and the most elite athletic trainers on the planet to make sure your body is in peak shape, to rehabilitate any lingering issues, and to drastically reduce the chance of you getting injured."
Sandro paused, his expression turning deadly serious, highlighting a strict, uncrossable boundary.
"But I am also telling you this right now," Sandro added firmly. "Before you step foot in a ring again, I am flying you out to one of my private medical facilities. You are going to undergo the most rigorous, comprehensive physical check up of your life. If those results show any underlying sickness, any heart conditions, or anything at all that needs to be taken care of... I will personally veto the run. I will not agree to let you return to the ring. Because the risk is simply too great, and your life is worth infinitely more than a television rating."
Hearing the sheer gravity and genuine care in Sandro's voice, Savage looked at the young champion with a renewed sense of awe. This wasn't a promoter trying to squeeze a few more dollars out of a nostalgia act, this was a young man offering a safety net for a dream he wanted to go back to.
Savage reached out and firmly patted Sandro on the shoulder again.
"Thanks, kid," Savage said, his voice thick with emotion, using the affectionate term of endearment. "I appreciate you looking out for me like that. I really do. I'll take you up on that offer. I'll do the tests, and I'll follow exactly what you just said. I want to enjoy more of these moments... but I also want to stay alive and healthy enough to actually enjoy them."
Vince McMahon clapped his hands together, completely thrilled by the arrangement.
"Excellent! That is excellent news, Randy," Vince cheered. "And you are in the best possible hands. Just follow what Sandro says. After all..." Vince chuckled, gesturing toward Sandro with immense respect. "...he is the son of Jack Zhang, and a certified genius in his own right. The medical connections and resources Sandro has access to through Nexum Core definitely surpass anything we have direct access to here in the WWE. If anyone can keep you healthy, it's him."
The group shared a collective laugh, the tension of the evening fully dissipating into a shared, optimistic camaraderie. The Royal Rumble had been a masterpiece of violence and storytelling, but the foundation of the business, the respect between the past and the present, remained stronger than ever.
A whirlwind forty-eight hours passed. The adrenaline of Boston faded, replaced by the relentless, churning machine of the WWE touring schedule.
It was Monday night.
The circus had traveled south, arriving at the massive, sprawling Jacksonville Veterans Memorial Arena in Jacksonville, Florida. The weather was warm and humid, but the atmosphere surrounding the building was absolutely electric.
The fans had flocked to the arena in massive droves, wrapping around the city blocks for hours before the doors even opened. This was the highly anticipated Monday Night RAW immediately following the Royal Rumble, and the WWE Universe was absolutely desperate to witness the fallout.
Inside the sold out arena, the noise level was already deafening before the broadcast even began.
As the clock struck 8:00 PM Eastern, the signature WWE intro package rolled across the television screens of millions of viewers worldwide. The moment it concluded, the arena plunged into darkness for a split second before absolute bedlam erupted.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A massive, concussive sequence of opening pyrotechnics exploded from the entrance stage. Huge pillars of orange and red fire shot toward the rafters, illuminating the frenzied Jacksonville crowd.
The camera dynamically panned across the sea of humanity, capturing the sheer scale of the event. Thousands of handmade signs were thrust high into the air, bouncing to the rhythm of the roaring crowd. The signs told the complete story of the fractured fanbase. "PAINMAKER TO MANIA!", "THE EMPIRE IS CRUMBLING", "SHEAMUS SAVED US", "GOD KING REIGNS SUPREME", and "PUNK WAS ROBBED!"
The camera swooped down from the upper decks, finally settling on the ringside commentary table, where Cole, Lawler, and JBL sat shoulder to shoulder, feeding off the incredible energy in the building.
"Welcome, everyone, to Monday Night RAW!" Michael Cole yelled, practically screaming into his headset with a massive, beaming smile on his face. "We are coming to you live, to a completely sold out crowd here in Jacksonville, Florida! I am Michael Cole, alongside Jerry Lawler and JBL, and gentlemen, we are officially on the Road to WrestleMania, and what a chaotic, unbelievable road it is already shaping up to be!"
"You said it, Michael!" Lawler cheered, adjusting his crown, his eyes wide with excitement. "The 2011 Royal Rumble pay per view was one of the most historic, shocking nights in the history of this entire industry! The landscape of the WWE has been completely turned upside down, and the Undisputed System is finally showing cracks in their golden armor!"
"Oh, please! Spare me the dramatic hyperbole, King!" JBL immediately interrupted, his voice booming with arrogant disdain as he leaned back in his chair. "The landscape hasn't shifted at all! The God King is still sitting comfortably on his throne! The Triple Crown Era is alive and well!"
"Did you two happen to miss the opening match of the pay per view?! Sandro Zhang stepped into the ring with a desperate, cheating CM Punk, and he put him to sleep! He retained the World Heavyweight Championship, and he proved to the entire world that the rebellion is dead!"
"The rebellion is far from dead, John, and you know it!" Cole argued passionately, pointing a pen at his broadcast partner. "CM Punk took Sandro Zhang to the absolute limit! He pushed the Triple Crown Champion harder than anyone has in months! And Sandro only survived by the skin of his teeth! And let's not forget the catastrophic losses the Undisputed System suffered later in the night! Kofi Kingston lost his Intercontinental Championship to the Celtic Warrior, Sheamus!"
"A fluke!" JBL roared, his face turning red as he slammed a hand on the desk. "A complete, unadulterated fluke! Sheamus got lucky with a desperation kick! That title belongs to the empire, and Kofi Kingston will get it back! One minor setback does not mean the system is crumbling!"
"It wasn't a minor setback, JBL, it was a massive shift in momentum!" Lawler shot back happily. "And the momentum carried right into the Royal Rumble match itself! The God King tried to manipulate the match! He sent five of his enforcers into the ring to execute the locker room, but the locker room fought back! The legends united! The Macho Man returned! And the Undisputed System was systematically tossed over the top rope like a bunch of garbage!"
"And out of the ashes of that war," Cole continued, his voice rising in dramatic cadence, "emerged the ultimate nightmare for Sandro Zhang! The man whose career was nearly ended by the Undisputed System! The Painmaker! Chris Jericho survived thirty men, he eliminated The Rock, and he won the 2011 Royal Rumble! Chris Jericho has secured a one on one match at the main event of WrestleMania against the man he despises more than anyone else on earth!"
"He is a scavenger!" JBL yelled, pointing frantically at the ring. "Jericho didn't earn anything! He poked The Rock in the eye! He cheated his way to a victory because he is a coward! And now he thinks he can waltz into WrestleMania and challenge for either the WWE Championship or the World Heavyweight Championship?! It's a joke! Sandro Zhang is going to snap his neck on the Grandest Stage of Them All!"
"Jericho doesn't care which title he challenges for, John!" Cole fired back. "The championships are just an excuse! What Chris Jericho truly wants... what he has been bleeding for over the past month... is simply the guaranteed, contractually obligated opportunity to get his hands on Sandro Zhang with absolutely nowhere for the God King to hide!"
The intense, high volume debate at the commentary desk perfectly mirrored the absolute polarization of the Jacksonville crowd. The fans were vibrating with anticipation, waiting to see what the fallout of the Rumble would truly look like in the cold light of Monday night.
They didn't have to wait long.
Right in the middle of JBL's furious defense of the God King, the arena lights were violently severed.
Total, pitch black darkness enveloped the massive Jacksonville Veterans Memorial Arena.
The crowd didn't panic. They didn't gasp. They unleashed a unified, deafening, visceral roar of pure, adrenaline fueled excitement. They knew exactly who was coming. A slow, grinding, heavy metal guitar riff began to play, shattering the darkness. The ominous, suffocating chords of Fozzy's "Judas" echoed through the arena sound system.
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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