If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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"They are making it seem like Brock Lesnar was the beneficiary of your charity," Heyman roared, his face beginning to turn a familiar shade of angry red. "They are acting like you handed us the victory! Let me get one point entirely, perfectly straight with you, and with everyone watching around the globe! Brock Lesnar defeated the Undisputed System not because you betrayed them... Brock Lesnar defeated them because he is a Beast! Because he already had the entire match in the palm of his massive hand!"
JBL practically jumped out of his chair at the commentary desk. "Yes! Thank you, Paul! Finally, someone is speaking the absolute truth!"
"My client was already taking Dolph Ziggler, Xavier Woods, and Wade Barrett to Suplex City long before you ever decided to walk away!" Heyman shouted, entirely rewriting the momentum of the match to fit his client's aura of invincibility. "The truth is, Drew, your little mutiny didn't change the outcome of the match whatsoever! Brock Lesnar was going to hospitalize every single member of that pathetic faction, with or without your assistance!"
Heyman took a deep breath, smoothing his suit jacket, allowing the crowd's mixed reaction to wash over him before he delivered his final, beautifully backhanded compliment.
"But," Heyman said, a sinister, appreciative smirk returning to his face. "Just because my client didn't need your help... does not mean that Brock Lesnar doesn't entirely appreciate what you did. Giving Sandro Zhang that incredibly satisfying, catastrophic kick right on his arrogant face? That was an absolute masterpiece. We thoroughly enjoyed the show."
The fans cheered even louder as they heard that, completely loving the sheer disrespect thrown at the God King.
Drew McIntyre, however, was not smiling. The Scottish Psychopath let out a dark, mocking sneer. He didn't look at Heyman; his eyes remained entirely, intensely locked on the Beast Incarnate. McIntyre extended his hand toward the ringside crew, aggressively snapping his fingers.
A technician frantically slid a second live microphone under the bottom rope. McIntyre scooped it up, entirely unfazed by the presence of the most dangerous man in sports entertainment.
"Are you quite finished, Paul?" McIntyre asked, his incredibly thick, gravelly Scottish accent providing a massive, gritty depth to his words that entirely contrasted with Heyman's smooth, silver tongued delivery.
McIntyre stepped forward, entirely closing the distance until he was standing just inches away from Brock Lesnar. The sheer physical spectacle of the two massive titans standing toe to toe had the entire arena buzzing with electricity.
"Let me make something clear to both of you," McIntyre growled into the mic, his eyes never leaving Lesnar's. "I don't give a damn what you think. I don't care about your ego, Paul, and I certainly don't care about yours, Brock. Yes, you defeated the Undisputed System boys last week. And yes, in some technical, bureaucratic sense, you defeated me too, since I was officially a part of that team when the bell rang."
McIntyre paused, letting the reality of the record books settle before he violently countered.
"But what everyone is saying online? What the journalists are writing? It is the absolute, undeniable truth," McIntyre stated, his voice booming with absolute conviction. "And if you two can't accept it, that's fine. It's okay to be delusional. But deep down, behind the advocate and behind the beast, you know exactly what would have happened if I had stayed loyal."
Lesnar tilted his head slightly, a dark, threatening smirk slowly spreading across his scarred face.
"If I had stayed on that apron," McIntyre declared, entirely refusing to back down. "If I had stepped into this ring alongside Big E, Ryback, Wade Barrett, and the others as a unified front... you would not have won that match easily, Brock. The truth is, if I hadn't shattered the golden empire from the inside out, whether you would have walked out of this arena as the winner or not is highly, highly debatable."
"Oh, he is poking the bear!" Cole shrieked on commentary! "Drew McIntyre is absolutely fearless! He is telling Brock Lesnar to his face that the Beast got lucky!"
"He's writing checks his body can't cash, Michael!" Lawler panicked. "Lesnar is going to tear his head off!"
Heyman looked absolutely livid, gripping his microphone tightly, prepared to launch into a vicious verbal tirade to defend his client's honor. But before Heyman could speak, McIntyre aggressively cut him off.
"But let's not stand here and talk about what happened last week," McIntyre commanded, entirely shifting the momentum of the segment. "Because frankly, I am entirely sick of talking about the past. Let's talk about the absolute disrespect you are showing me right now."
McIntyre violently pointed his finger at the entrance stage.
"Let's talk about how you just interrupted my moment!" McIntyre roared, his Scottish accent thickening with raw anger. "I am standing in this ring. I am a free man. And the name that I called out did not belong to you, Paul! The name that I called out did not belong to the Beast! I called out Sandro Zhang! I demanded that the God King come down here and face his judgement! And you two waltzed out here and interrupted my absolute moment!"
"Your moment?!" Heyman shrieked back into his microphone, his voice hitting a frantic, high pitched octave of pure outrage. "You don't have moments when Brock Lesnar is in the building, Mr. McIntyre! Monday Night RAW belongs to the Conqueror! Sandro Zhang is the primary target of my client, and if you think for one solitary second that you are going to jump the line..."
"I don't ask for permission to jump the line, Paul!" McIntyre bellowed back, stepping even closer to Lesnar, the physical tension in the ring reaching an absolute boiling point. "I am not a lackey anymore! If Sandro Zhang walks down that ramp, he belongs to me! And if your boy Brock has a problem with that, then we can drop these microphones right now and find out exactly what happens when a Beast steps into Claymore Country!"
The Albuquerque crowd completely lost their minds! A deafening, sustained chant of "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" instantly erupted, echoing through the massive coliseum.
Brock Lesnar's smile entirely vanished.
The Beast Incarnate let out a slow, heavy breath, casually dropping his microphone onto the canvas. Lesnar slowly raised his massive hands, entirely ready to initiate a catastrophic, heavyweight war right there in the center of the ring. Drew McIntyre mirrored the movement, dropping his own microphone and raising his fists, his eyes wide with absolute, unhinged Scottish aggression.
"It is going to break down!" Cole screamed, entirely coming out of his chair! "We are about to see an absolute heavyweight collision! Drew McIntyre and Brock Lesnar are about to tear this arena apart!"
But before the first devastating punch could be thrown, before the two massive titans could collide in a shower of violence, the entire atmosphere of the Tingley Coliseum was suddenly, violently shattered.
SCREEEEECH!
The iconic, unmistakable, static filled guitar riff of "Cult of Personality" suddenly blasted through the stadium's sound system!
The reaction from the twenty thousand fans was absolutely instantaneous, and it was pure, unadulterated nuclear heat. The boos were so incredibly loud, so entirely filled with sheer, visceral vitriol, that it actually distorted the television audio feed. It was a wall of absolute hatred directed entirely at the entrance stage.
"Oh my God!" Lawler yelled over the deafening noise. "It's him! The God King is here!"
"He actually showed up!" Cole added, entirely shocked. "Sandro Zhang promised judgement, and he is walking right into the line of fire!"
The heavy black curtains at the top of the stage slowly parted.
Stepping out into the blinding white spotlights, entirely ignoring the deafening chorus of boos raining down upon him, was the Triple Crown Champion, Sandro Zhang.
But Sandro did not look like a man who had just survived a horrific, thirty minute war at WrestleMania. He did not look like a man who had been brutally suplexed and completely knocked unconscious by a Claymore Kick just seven days prior.
Sandro was dressed in a ridiculously fancy, absolutely impeccable, custom tailored black suit. The cut of the fabric was entirely flawless, expertly designed to completely mask the thick layers of white medical bandages that everyone knew were wrapped tightly around his bruised ribs and torso. His hair was slicked back perfectly.
Draped heavily over his right shoulder was the massive, gleaming World Heavyweight Championship. Secured tightly around his waist was the prestigious WWE Championship. And clutched in his left hand, shining under the arena lights, was the United States Championship. He looked like exactly what he was, the absolute, untouchable ruler of the WWE.
But as Sandro took his first step onto the stage, the collective breath of the entire WWE Universe was suddenly caught in their throats.
Walking intimately alongside him, flanking the billionaire prodigy on all sides, were the three Queens of the Undisputed System. AJ Lee, wearing her signature Converse and clutching her silver Divas Championship tightly against her chest, stood to his right.
Nikki Bella, looking incredibly fierce in her designer gear, stood to his left. And Alexa Bliss, possessing an aura of pure, toxic arrogance, walked closely behind him.
They looked like a picture perfect, incredibly powerful, utterly dominant royal family.
But the sheer, unmitigated shock of the moment did not come from who was standing with Sandro Zhang. The shock came entirely from who was missing.
"Wait a minute..." Cole whispered into his headset, his eyes entirely wide with absolute confusion as he desperately scanned the entrance stage. "Where is the rest of the faction? Where is the Undisputed System?"
"They're not there!" Lawler gasped, entirely astounded by the visual. "It's just Sandro and the girls!"
To the absolute, profound surprise of everyone in the arena and millions watching around the world, there was absolutely no presence of the rest of the Undisputed System boys. Wade Barrett was entirely absent. Big E and Kofi Kingston were nowhere to be seen. Ryback had vanished. Dolph Ziggler and Xavier Woods, who had just lost their NXT Tag Team Championships just a few days prior, were not standing behind their leader.
For an entire year, Sandro Zhang had never, ever walked down an entrance ramp without an army of massive, heavily muscled enforcers surrounding him. He had always utilized the numbers game to protect his investments and ensure his absolute safety.
But tonight, facing down a rogue Scottish warrior who wanted to tear his head off, and the Beast Incarnate who wanted to send him to the hospital, the God King had walked out completely stripped of his military defense.
"This is completely unprecedented!" JBL shouted, entirely bewildered by the tactical decision. "Why is he out here alone?! Why is he exposing himself to this kind of absolute danger?! Where is the muscle?!"
"Maybe there is no muscle left, John!" Cole countered, his voice trembling with sheer excitement. "Maybe the Undisputed System is completely dead! Maybe Drew McIntyre's mutiny was the final nail in the coffin, and the rest of the boys have finally abandoned ship!"
Inside the ring, the impending brawl between Drew McIntyre and Brock Lesnar had entirely dissolved. Both massive men had stopped in their tracks, completely captivated by the bizarre, entirely unexpected arrival of the God King.
McIntyre sneered, crossing his massive arms over his bare chest, watching Sandro with a look of pure, predatory anticipation. Heyman looked entirely confused, whispering frantically into Lesnar's ear, trying to deduce what kind of sociopathic, manipulative trick the billionaire prodigy was attempting to pull.
Sandro Zhang didn't stop on the stage to pose. He didn't raise his titles into the air. He simply began a slow, methodical, incredibly arrogant walk down the long entrance ramp. The three Queens walked in perfect lockstep with him, their faces entirely devoid of fear, displaying an eerie, unnerving level of absolute confidence.
Sandro reached the bottom of the ramp. He stopped entirely short of the steel steps. He knew exactly who was waiting for him inside the squared circle.
He was an egomaniac, but he wasn't mathematically suicidal. He had absolutely no intention of stepping between the ropes to face the Scottish Psychopath and the Beast Incarnate in a physical confrontation while nursing severely bruised ribs.
Instead, Sandro snapped his fingers. A terrified ringside technician sprinted over, handing a pristine WWE microphone directly to AJ Lee, who lovingly handed it to her boyfriend.
Sandro brought the microphone to his lips. A dark, sociopathic, incredibly dangerous smile slowly spread across his bruised, flawless face.
The twenty thousand fans in Albuquerque immediately fell entirely silent, desperately waiting to hear the words of the God King. The internet had speculated for an entire week about what the promised "judgement" would entail. They had wondered how Sandro would respond to the mutiny, to the loss of the NXT titles, and to the terrifying threat of Lesnar.
Sandro looked at McIntyre. He looked at Lesnar. He looked at Paul Heyman.
"I told you all..." Sandro's voice echoed softly through the PA system, entirely calm, completely devoid of the unhinged panic he had displayed the week prior. It was the chilling, calculated voice of a billionaire who had just re established total, absolute control. "...that tonight, there would be hell to pay."
Sandro slowly adjusted his suit jacket, his eyes gleaming with absolute, terrifying malice. The true, definitive destruction of the golden empire was not a tragedy that had happened to Sandro Zhang, it was a completely new, horrific psychological game that he had entirely, masterfully orchestrated. And the entire WWE Universe was about to find out exactly what happens when the God King decides that he no longer needs an army to maintain his absolute control over the sports entertainment industry.
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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