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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Inside the squared circle, Harper slowly pushed himself up to a vertical base. His wild hair was plastered to his face with sweat, his tank top entirely torn, but his eyes were completely alive with the thrill of absolute victory. Rowan slowly climbed the steel steps, stepping entirely over the top rope. The massive giant stood beside his brother. The referee approached them, holding the two gleaming NXT Tag Team Championships. The official raised their massive arms high into the air, officially declaring the result to the entire world.
"And look at the historical significance of this moment, Michael!" Mathews shouted over the incredibly loud cheers. "We are not just looking at the new champions! We are looking at absolute history!"
"You are exactly right, Josh!" Cole agreed, entirely highlighting the massive accomplishment. "Luke Harper and Erick Rowan were the very first, the inaugural NXT Tag Team Champions! And tonight, by pinning Dolph Ziggler, they have cemented their legacy forever! They are officially not only the inaugural champions, but they are now the first and only two time NXT Tag Team Champions in the history of this entire brand!"
The cameras panned across the absolute wreckage of the arena. Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose were slowly helping each other to their feet on the outside, entirely exhausted but nodding in sheer, begrudging respect toward the new champions inside the ring.
They had fought a war, and while they didn't walk away with the gold, they had successfully helped entirely eradicate the toxic grip of the Undisputed System from development al center arena.
On the opposite side of the ring, the visual was entirely pathetic.
Xavier Woods was laying completely motionless against the steel steps. Dolph Ziggler was still entirely unconscious in the center of the ring, staring blankly up at the ceiling lights.
The two arrogant superstars who had hidden behind the God King's skirts for an entire year were finally, brutally exposed. They were completely alone, entirely defeated, and completely stripped of their championships.
"The Undisputed System is collapsing at a terrifying, accelerated rate!" Cole concluded, his voice echoing with absolute finality as the broadcast prepared to fade to black. "Sandro Zhang was beaten to a pulp by Brock Lesnar! Drew McIntyre has entirely mutinied! And now, the NXT Tag Team Championships have been forcefully, violently ripped from their grasp by the Wyatt Family! The golden empire are officially left with only the two world titles, the United States titles, and the Divas title!"
As the copyright graphic flashed onto the screen, the final, lingering image was of Luke Harper and Erick Rowan standing tall in the center of the ring, holding the NXT Tag Team Championships high into the air, entirely bathed in the flickering lights of the fireflies.
The God King's absolute control over the developmental territory had been completely severed, and the WWE Universe rejoiced, fully knowing that the systemic destruction of the greatest faction in sports entertainment history have entered into a new step.
The screen cut to black, leaving the entire wrestling world to process the absolute, monumental paradigm shift they had just witnessed.
But the silence in the physical arenas and living rooms was immediately, violently replaced by the absolute, deafening roar of the digital landscape. Immediately, right away, before the broadcast copyright logo had even fully faded from millions of television screens across the globe, Twitter and the official WWE fan forums were completely and utterly on fire.
The servers for the WWE Universe message boards actively struggled under the sheer, unprecedented influx of traffic. When the timelines finally stabilized, it was an absolute avalanche of megathreads, reaction posts, and furious, adrenaline fueled celebrations.
The fans were obsessively discussing every single granular detail of what they had just seen transpire on the most chaotic week of WWE programming in recent memory.
On Twitter, the overarching sentiment was pure, unadulterated euphoria. The fans were loudly, aggressively sharing their happiness that all of the Undisputed System boys had finally lost their titles.
For over a year, the mid card and tag team divisions of both the main roster and the developmental territory had been held in a suffocating, toxic chokehold by Sandro Zhang's enforcers.
Seeing Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Ryback lose their gold at WrestleMania was a massive victory, but watching Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods get entirely humiliated and pinned by the Wyatt Family on NXT was the absolute icing on the cake.
The internet was flooded with memes mocking the fallen champions. Videos of Ziggler being powerbombed and Woods being driven into the mat were looping endlessly on the timeline. The golden empire had officially been reduced to just Sandro's World Heavyweight, WWE, and United States Championships, along with the Divas Championship held by his Queens.
But just as the global celebration was reaching its absolute peak, the collective digital landscape was brought to a sudden, terrifying halt.
At exactly 11:00 PM Eastern Standard Time, a notification popped up on the phones of millions of WWE fans around the world. Sandro Zhang's official Twitter account, which had been completely dark since the catastrophic events of Monday Night RAW, suddenly let out a tweet that shocked everyone to their absolute core.
@SandroZhang_NexumWWE: "Enjoy the celebrations while you can. Because next week on Monday Night RAW, there will be absolute judgement. There will be hell to pay. For Brock Lesnar, the mindless mercenary. For the coward and traitor, Drew McIntyre. For the Big Show, who foolishly thinks he can cash in his little trophy for my United States Championship. And most importantly... for the useless, pathetic men I once called my Undisputed System. I promise every single one of you, there is no authority on this earth, no board of directors, and no man alive who can stop me from doing exactly what I am going to do next Monday. The God King will have his pound of flesh."
The timeline immediately exploded. The tweet racked up hundreds of thousands of retweets and quote tweets within minutes. This cryptic, highly aggressive post, absolutely filled to the brim with threatening words and promises of violence, caused the fans to instantly shift from celebration to rampant speculation.
What did Sandro Zhang mean by "absolute judgement"? What was he going to do to his own boys?
The forums were flooded with deep dive analyses of Sandro's current mental state. Fans pointed out that since the brutal, physical toll of his WrestleMania match against Chris Jericho, the God King had been acting increasingly, terrifyingly unhinged.
They noted that the cold, calculating billionaire prodigy was gone, replaced by a man having a full blown emotional meltdown on live television. His sociopathic tendencies could no longer be blocked or masked by his corporate consciousness. He was a wounded animal backed into a corner, and the WWE Universe knew that made him incredibly dangerous. They legitimately could not wait for RAW next week.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away from the digital chaos and the screaming wrestling fans, the reality of Sandro Zhang's life was entirely different.
High above the clouds, cruising at an altitude of thirty thousand feet, a massive, state of the art Nexum Core private jet cut silently through the night sky. Inside the opulent, heavily customized first class cabin, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the violence of the squared circle. Soft, warm ambient lighting illuminated the rich mahogany paneling and the plush, cream colored leather seats.
Sandro Zhang sat in a massive recliner near the window, staring out into the pitch black darkness. He was dressed in loose fitting designer sweatpants and a silk button down shirt left entirely open to accommodate the thick, stark white medical bandages tightly wrapped around his bruised ribs and torso.
The adrenaline of the past week had entirely faded, leaving him with the dull, throbbing ache of a battered human body.
But he was not alone in the luxurious cabin.
Seated around him, drinking expensive champagne and speaking in hushed, excited tones, were the Queens of the Undisputed System, AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss.
Sandro had some rare free time between television tapings and media appearances, and he had made the decision to fly back to his family's estate in Orlando, Florida, to meet with his father and mother. When the girls heard about the trip, they had immediately, unanimously decided to go with him.
For AJ, Nikki, and Alexa, this was not just a vacation; it was a highly strategic personal mission. The polyamorous relationship they shared with the billionaire prodigy had elevated them to the absolute pinnacle of the sports entertainment industry. But they were incredibly ambitious women.
They didn't just want to be the Queens of a wrestling faction, they wanted to secure their places in the overarching Nexum Core empire. Going to the Zhang estate was the ultimate opportunity to get massive brownie points with their future in laws.
"Do you think your mother likes lilies or orchids?" Alexa asked quietly, leaning over her leather seat to look at Sandro, her blue eyes wide with genuine nervousness. "I read in an interview that she does a lot of gardening at the estate, but I don't want to bring up the wrong flower."
Sandro slowly turned his head away from the window. Despite the exhaustion etched deep into his bruised face, a faint, genuine smile touched his lips. It was a completely different smile than the sociopathic grin he wore on television. It was human.
"She likes orchids, Lexi," Sandro replied softly, his voice slightly raspy. "But you don't need to worry about the flowers. Just be yourself. My mother already likes you all."
"It's easy for you to say," Nikki chimed in, adjusting her designer blouse and checking her reflection in her compact mirror for the fifth time. "We're walking into the lion's den, Sandro. Your parents built a global empire. We just want to make sure we make the absolute perfect impression."
AJ Lee, sitting across the aisle with her legs tucked under her, closed her book and smiled reassuringly at her sister wives. "We're going to be fine. We just have to show them that we care about him, and not just the titles or the cameras."
Sandro leaned back against his plush headrest, letting his eyes slide shut as the private jet began its initial descent into Orlando. For the first time in weeks, the suffocating pressure of Brock Lesnar, Paul Heyman, and the mutiny of Drew McIntyre melted away. Here, in the sky, he wasn't the God King. He was just a son going home.
The massive black SUV, flanked by two heavily armored security vehicles, rolled smoothly down the long, winding, palm tree lined driveway of the Zhang estate.
The property was an absolute masterpiece of modern architecture mixed with classic Floridian luxury. Sprawling green lawns, massive fountains illuminated by underwater lights, and pristine white columns painted a picture of unfathomable, generational wealth.
As the car pulled to a gentle stop in front of the massive double doors of the main terrace, Sandro could already see them waiting.
Jack and Taylor Zhang stood together under the warm glow of the terrace lights. Jack, the shrewd billionaire patriarch, looked incredibly sharp in a tailored, casual gray suit, his posture exuding absolute authority.
Beside him, Taylor radiated an entirely different energy. She possessed a warm, elegant beauty, dressed in a flowing evening dress, but her hands were clasped tightly together in front of her chest, betraying her deep, maternal anxiety.
The moment the SUV doors opened and Sandro stepped out into the humid Florida night, the stoic composure of the Zhang family matriarch entirely dissolved.
Taylor practically sprinted across the cobblestone driveway.
"Sandro!" Taylor cried out, entirely ignoring the presence of the security detail and the three beautiful women stepping out of the car behind her son.
She threw her arms around him, wrapping him in a desperate, incredibly tight hug. Sandro let out a soft, involuntary grunt as her embrace come out of nowhere, but he immediately wrapped his own arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder.
"Look at you," Taylor said, stepping back slightly, keeping her hands firmly on his shoulders. Her eyes darted frantically over his body, taking in the bruised jawline, the small cut near his hairline, and the thick, medical bandages peeking out from beneath his silk shirt.
She had watched his grueling, brutal thirty minute war against Chris Jericho at WrestleMania, and she had watched the terrifying, chaotic brawl against Brock Lesnar on Monday Night RAW. As a mother, seeing her child wrapped in medical tape was pure torture, far more extreme compared to his past matches.
"My poor boy," Taylor whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Are you okay? Do we need to call Dr. Aris? Your ribs look terrible. I told you that working with Lesnar on your condition was dangerous!"
Sandro let out a soft, genuine laugh, immediately stepping forward to console his mother. He placed his large hands over hers, flashing a warm, reassuring smile that absolutely never made it onto WWE television.
"Mom, please, I'm absolutely fine," Sandro promised, his tone incredibly gentle and nonchalant. "I swear to you, it looks significantly worse than it actually is. I don't feel anything anymore. It's just superficial skin wounds. The tape is mostly just a precaution."
Taylor stared at him for a long, silent moment, entirely unconvinced by his bravado. She slowly shook her head, letting out a heavy, exasperated sigh at how incredibly nonchalant her son could be about getting thrown around a wrestling ring by a three hundred pound monster.
"Superficial," Taylor muttered, gently touching his cheek. "You're just as stubborn as your father."
"Hey, leave me out of this," Jack chuckled, stepping forward and placing a firm, proud hand on Sandro's uninjured shoulder. "He's a champion, Taylor. Champions take a few hits. Good to have you home, son."
"Good to be home, Dad," Sandro nodded.
With her maternal check in complete, Taylor finally turned her attention away from her battered son and toward the three women standing respectfully near the SUV.
AJ, Nikki, and Alexa instantly stood a little straighter, offering their most polished, charming smiles.
Taylor face broke into a wide, brilliant smile. She stepped forward and hugged Nikki Bella warmly.
"Nikki, it is so wonderful to finally see you again," Taylor beamed, before moving on to hug AJ and then Alexa. "AJ, Alexa, you both look absolutely stunning. I am so glad you girls decided to come. Sandro needs someone to keep him grounded, and Lord knows I can't do it alone anymore."
The visible tension in the girls' shoulders instantly evaporated. The warmth from Taylor was entirely genuine, and the brownie points they had hoped to earn were already being deposited.
"Thank you so much for having us, Mrs. Zhang," Alexa said politely, her confidence returning.
"Oh, please, call me Taylor," the matriarch insisted, linking her arms smoothly through Nikki and AJ's. "Now, you three come with me. We have an entire evening planned, and I want to hear absolutely everything about how you manage this stubborn boy on the road. We have so much to catch up on."
The ladies immediately formed their own inner circle, their voices blending into a chorus of light laughter as they walked toward the sprawling eastern wing of the mansion, having their own specific topics to talk about, entirely leaving the men behind on the terrace.
Jack watched his wife and the girls disappear into the house, a knowing smile on his face. He turned back to Sandro.
"They're good girls," Jack noted quietly. "Loyal."
"The most loyal," Sandro agreed, his eyes darkening slightly as he remembered the mutiny of Drew McIntyre. "Which is more than I can say for some people on my payroll."
"Business is business, Sandro," Jack said, his tone instantly shifting from a warm father to a cold, calculating CEO. "Come with me to the office. We have a lot of numbers to review."
Jack led Sandro through the massive, echoing halls of the Zhang estate, eventually arriving at the heavy, soundproof mahogany doors of the primary home office.
The room was a sanctuary of global power. Massive floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, a massive antique globe sat in the corner, and a colossal, polished oak desk dominated the center of the room, covered in financial reports and glowing tablets. Jack walked over to a crystal decanter, pouring two glasses of incredibly rare, aged scotch, handing one carefully to his son.
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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