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He was going to get to sit back, watch his empire do his dirty work, and witness the absolute, systematic execution of Brock Lesnar on live television. The battle lines were officially, incredibly drawn. The main event was set. Seven elite enforcers against one incredibly angry Beast, and Monday Night RAW was entirely guaranteed to end in absolute, unmitigated carnage.
The chaotic, sprawling warzone inside the squared circle had reached a total stalemate.
The human blockade of WWE superstars, bleeding, bruised, and completely exhausted, had finally managed to forcefully wedge themselves between the two apex predators. Sandro's chest heaving under his blood spotted medical tape, realized that with the entire locker room currently mobilized against him, he was not going to get the definitive kill shot he so desperately craved.
Sandro let out a venomous, frustrated snarl. He aggressively shrugged his shoulders, violently shaking off the grip of Randy Orton and The Miz.
"Get off me!" Sandro spat, smoothing down his rumpled suit jacket with trembling hands. "I'm done with this garbage!"
Sandro turned his back on the mob and signaled aggressively to his heavily armed hit squad.
The Undisputed System boys, Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, Ryback, Dolph Ziggler, and Xavier Woods, lowered their steel chairs and splintered kendo sticks. They maintained a tight, protective perimeter around their leader as they slowly backed toward the ropes.
They slipped out of the ring one by one, dropping down to the ringside floor.
Inside the ring, the absolute devastation they had caused was apparent. Several superstars who had tried to hold them back, John Morrison, Jack Swagger, and a handful of local security personnel, were still writhing in absolute, paralyzing pain on the canvas, clutching their ribs and their backs from the vicious weapon strikes.
On the far side of the ring, Brock Lesnar was still actively fighting the restraint of John Cena, Sheamus, and Mark Henry. The Beast watched the Undisputed System retreat, his face twisting into a mask of pure, homicidal fury. Lesnar wanted to rip free. He wanted to leap entirely over the top rope, chase Sandro Zhang up the ramp, and physically tear the God King limb from limb.
"Let him go! Let me at him!" Lesnar roared, his deep voice carrying over the crowd as he violently threw his shoulders forward, nearly dislodging the World's Strongest Man.
But the superstars held on for dear life, refusing to let the Beast initiate another catastrophic brawl.
Sandro Zhang began his slow, arrogant walk backward up the incredibly long entrance ramp. He was surrounded by his seven enforcers, his three massive championships slung over his aching shoulders. Halfway up the steel ramp, Sandro stopped. He turned his bruised, battered face back toward the ring.
Sandro looked directly at the struggling, furious Beast Incarnate. Slowly, deliberately, the Triple Crown Champion raised his taped right hand high into the air and flashed a completely unapologetic, blatantly disrespectful middle finger directly at Brock Lesnar.
The Philips Arena erupted into a massive chorus of boos, entirely appalled by the sheer, sociopathic arrogance of a man who had just used a small army to save his own life.
Sandro lowered his hand, his expression turning terrifyingly cold. He turned to the seven massive men standing around him. He didn't bother covering his mouth. He didn't care who heard him.
The ringside tracking camera, stationed just a few feet away, perfectly picked up the chilling, executive order the God King was issuing to his faction.
"Listen to me very closely," Sandro hissed, his voice a ragged, breathless whisper that echoed perfectly through the live television feed. "Tonight, there are absolutely no rules for you. You have the numbers. I don't care if you get disqualified. I don't care if you get fined. You do anything and everything you possibly can to that animal. You break his legs. You snap his neck. You make absolutely sure that Brock Lesnar is injured so severely that he never, ever comes back to my company again. End his career tonight, or your careers are over. Do you understand me?"
Wade Barrett swallowed hard. Ryback nodded slowly. The seven men looked at each other, the terrifying gravity of the situation completely washing over them. They weren't just stepping into a wrestling match tonight, they were stepping into an execution, and they were ordered to be the firing squad.
Sandro turned and marched through the heavy black curtains, entirely disappearing into the backstage area, leaving the twenty thousand fans in Atlanta buzzing with sheer, unadulterated anticipation for the main event.
The broadcast of Monday Night RAW had to continue, but the shadow of the impending seven on one massacre loomed massively over every single remaining minute of the show.
Match after match took place in the squared circle. A high flying cruiserweight bout served to temporarily distract the crowd. A tense, aggressive Divas matchup kept the energy alive. Promos and chaotic backstage segments were strategically inserted between the bouts, trying to advance the storylines of the mid card roster.
But it was entirely impossible to ignore the elephant in the room. The fans in the arena were distracted, constantly looking toward the entrance stage, buzzing with conversations about the sheer logistical insanity of what Vince McMahon had just booked.
The commentary team spent every single transition hyping the absolute chaos that was to come.
"I have been calling professional wrestling matches for decades, Michael," Lawler said, shaking his head as the broadcast returned from a commercial break. "And I have never, ever seen a situation quite like this. Vince McMahon has essentially sanctioned a gang assault on live television! Seven elite, massive, world class athletes against one man!"
"But that one man is Brock Lesnar, King!" Cole replied, desperately trying to sell the hope. "If there is a single biological organism on this planet who can survive a seven on one handicap match, it is the Beast Incarnate! He just destroyed the entire Undisputed System single handedly earlier tonight!"
"That was an unorganized brawl, Cole!" JBL barked, his arrogant swagger fully restored. "That was chaos! But tonight, the Undisputed System has time to plan. They have time to strategize! Sandro Zhang is a tactical genius, and he is going to orchestrate a masterpiece of destruction! Lesnar is walking into a meat grinder, and he is going to leave this arena in the back of an ambulance! The God King guarantees it!"
As the clock crept closer and closer to the top of the final hour, the anticipation in the Philips Arena reached a fever pitch. The fans were completely ready. They wanted the violence. They wanted the Beast. They wanted to see the Undisputed System finally, truly broken.
The arena lights abruptly, violently cut to pitch black.
The crowd leaped to their feet in perfect unison, letting out a deafening roar.
The heavy, arrogant, triumphant bass drop of "SHOCK THE SYSTEM" immediately blasted through the massive stadium sound system!
The reaction was instantaneous and entirely hostile. The twenty thousand fans inside the Philips Arena unleashed a torrential, deafening wave of pure, visceral boos. It was a wall of sound so aggressive it physically vibrated the commentary monitors.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, looking incredibly serious and entirely focused, were the seven boys of the Undisputed System.
They did not look like arrogant enforcers tonight. They looked like a military hit squad. They walked out in a tight, synchronized formation. Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods were the only two men wearing gold, their NXT Tag Team Championships fastened tightly around their waists, a stark reminder of the massive title losses the faction had suffered at WrestleMania. Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback stepped out beside them, their massive chests heaving, their eyes locked completely on the ring.
The seven men spread out entirely across the wide entrance stage, forming an impenetrable, terrifying human wall of elite muscle.
They stopped. They waited.
A moment later, the mastermind emerged.
Sandro Zhang stepped out from the curtain, bathed in a single, blinding white spotlight. The Triple Crown Champion was still covered in stark white medical bandages, the bruises on his face looking even darker under the arena lights. But his posture was entirely perfect. He carried the World Heavyweight Championship over his right shoulder, the United States Championship over his left, and the WWE Championship secured around his waist.
Sandro looked left. He looked right. He surveyed his massive, seven man army. A cold, incredibly dark smile touched the corners of his lips.
Sandro took a single step forward, and the entire faction moved with him.
He led the boys down the incredibly long entrance ramp. The fans relentlessly poured their hatred down upon the God King, screaming insults, throwing thumbs down gestures, completely disgusted by his cowardly reliance on the numbers game. Sandro didn't blink. He marched his troops directly up the steel steps and into the squared circle.
The seven men fanned out, entirely taking over the ring, leaning against the ropes and glaring up the empty ramp, waiting for the execution to begin. Sandro remained on the outside, standing at ringside, clutching his titles, fully prepared to micromanage the absolute destruction of his greatest threat.
The heavy beats of the Undisputed System theme faded into a tense, suffocating silence.
SCREECH!
The electric guitar riff violently ripped through the arena, followed immediately by the apocalyptic drumbeat of "The Next Big Thing"!
The Philips Arena completely and utterly exploded! The pop was monumental, a deafening, visceral roar of sheer adoration and desperate hope. The fans were cheering so loudly that the cameras visibly shook on their mounts.
Stepping through the curtain, looking entirely unbothered by the mathematical impossibility of the match he was about to step into, was the Beast Incarnate.
Brock Lesnar walked out onto the stage, entirely ignoring the deafening noise. Beside him, clutching the WWE microphone with absolute, reverent care, was the Advocate, Paul Heyman.
Lesnar didn't pace. He simply jumped in place, his massive, heavily tattooed legs acting like coiled springs. He looked around the arena, his eyes completely dead and focused. He planted his left foot, let out a terrifying roar, and unleashed his signature, high angle kick!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The massive pyrotechnics violently exploded from the stage, sending thick smoke and heat into the air!
Lesnar didn't wait for the smoke to clear. He began his terrifying, bouncy, purposeful march down the entrance ramp. He didn't look at the crowd. His eyes were locked with absolute, homicidal intent on the seven men waiting for him in the ring.
Lesnar reached the bottom of the ramp. He didn't bother using the steel steps. He simply grabbed the top rope and effortlessly, terrifyingly vaulted his massive 280 pound frame entirely up onto the ring apron in one fluid motion!
Paul Heyman, meanwhile, slowly and deliberately walked up the steel ring steps. The Advocate stepped through the ropes, holding the microphone to his lips, an incredibly wide, arrogant smirk on his face. He looked at the seven armed men, he looked down at Sandro Zhang on the outside, and he raised the microphone.
"Ladies and Gentlemen..." Heyman's voice echoed with absolute, theatrical perfection. "My name... is Paul Heyman."
The crowd cheered, fully captivated by the master orator.
"And tonight," Heyman continued, turning his body to gesture entirely toward his massive client. "I have the supreme honor, the absolute privilege, of introducing to you the man who is about to systematically dismantle the greatest mistake in WWE history!"
Heyman pointed a dramatic, sweeping finger at the Beast.
"He is the Conqueror! He is the UFC Heavyweight Champion! He is the absolute Destroyer of the Undisputed System! He is the true, undeniable SYSTEM BREAKER! He is the Beast..."
Heyman took a deep breath, his face turning red as he screamed into the microphone at the absolute top of his lungs.
"BROCKKKK... LESNARRRRR!"
The fans cheered so loudly the sound barrier in the arena nearly shattered! The new monikers, The System Breaker, The Destroyer of the Undisputed, instantly resonated with the crowd.
They were absolutely starved for a hero, and tonight, their hero was an unhinged, violent mercenary.
Heyman confidently dropped the microphone, rolling out of the ring to safety, standing on the opposite side of the ringside area from Sandro Zhang.
The WWE official, looking entirely terrified of the sheer amount of massive humanity inside the squared circle, desperately tried to establish order. He forced six of the Undisputed System members to step onto the ring apron, holding the tag rope.
The referee looked at Brock Lesnar, who was bouncing in his corner, cracking his knuckles. He looked at Wade Barrett, the elite bare knuckle brawler who had been chosen to start the match for the faction.
The referee raised his hand, took a deep breath, and signaled for the bell.
DING! DING! DING!
The absolute second the bell echoed through the arena, the tactical genius of Sandro Zhang's master plan became entirely, terrifyingly apparent. This was not going to be a wild, chaotic brawl. This was going to be a systematic, highly coordinated mugging.
Wade Barrett didn't charge forward. He stayed perfectly perfectly backed into his own corner, entirely protected by the six massive men standing on the apron behind him.
Lesnar, aggressive and completely fearless, lunged forward, throwing a massive, looping right hand designed to take Barrett's head off!
But Barrett quickly ducked, instantly tagging the shoulder of Dolph Ziggler.
Ziggler, utilizing his elite speed and amateur wrestling background, immediately springboarded over the top rope, entirely bypassing Lesnar's guard, and delivered a blindingly fast, sharp dropkick directly to Lesnar's left knee!
Lesnar grunted, stumbling slightly, his massive leg buckling for a fraction of a second. Ziggler didn't stay in the pocket. The absolute microsecond he landed the strike, he scrambled backward, diving toward his corner and tagging in Kofi Kingston.
Kofi launched himself off the top turnbuckle, flying through the Atlanta sky, and delivered a devastating, high impact flying clothesline that caught Lesnar squarely on the jaw!
The Beast staggered backward into the center of the ring.
Before Lesnar could even fully recover his equilibrium, Kofi had already sprinted back to his corner, violently slapping the massive chest of Ryback!
Ryback stepped over the top rope, his eyes wide with completely unhinged aggression. The 290 pound powerhouse charged Lesnar, dropping his shoulder, and delivered a catastrophic, full body meat hook clothesline!
The sheer force of the impact actually knocked Brock Lesnar completely off his feet!
The Beast crashed into the canvas, and the Philips Arena let out a collective gasp of sheer shock!
"Look at this!" Cole shrieked on commentary, completely astounded by the opening sequence. "The Undisputed System is executing an absolute tactical masterclass! They are utilizing frequent tags! They are keeping entirely fresh men in the ring at all times! Lesnar is completely overwhelmed!"
"It's the absolute genius of the God King!" JBL cheered wildly, slamming his pen on the desk in pure joy. "Sandro orchestrated this! You don't fight the Beast one on one! You chop the tree down! You use speed, you use aerial assaults, and then you bring in the heavy artillery! This is beautiful!"
"It's a cowardly mugging!" Lawler argued, shaking his head. "They are acting like a pack of rabid wild dogs! Lesnar doesn't even know where the next strike is coming from!"
On the outside of the ring, Sandro Zhang was aggressively pacing back and forth, entirely ignoring the pain in his bruised ribs. He was acting like a crazed orchestral conductor, screaming orders to his men.
"Keep him down!" Sandro roared, slapping the ring apron violently. "Do not let him breathe! Tag in! Tag in right now! Break his collarbone!"
Ryback didn't go for a pinfall. Instead, he grabbed Lesnar's leg and dragged the Beast directly into the Undisputed System's corner. The absolute nightmare scenario for Brock Lesnar had begun. Ryback tagged in Drew McIntyre. As the referee was entirely distracted by forcing Ryback to leave the ring, the remaining five men on the apron initiated a completely ruthless, illegal double teaming assault!
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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