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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Lashley dragged Lesnar up by his taped gloves, forcing the Beast back down the stairs toward the ringside area. With every step down the aisle, Lashley delivered a punishing headbutt. By the time they reached the barricade, Lesnar was staggering, his eyes glazed over. Lashley grabbed Lesnar by the throat and threw him over the barricade, sending the Beast crashing back to the ringside floor.
"Lashley is taking over!" Cole yelled. "The Dominator is showing us exactly why Sandro Zhang paid him millions of dollars!"
"He's showing us he's an ungrateful thug!" JBL snapped back. "Sandro Zhang paid for a professional hitman, not a rogue brawler who turns on his employer!"
Lashley hopped over the barricade. He saw Paul Heyman backing away, his eyes wide with fear. Lashley sneered at the Advocate but kept his focus on the prize. He grabbed Lesnar by the shorts and tossed him under the bottom rope, rolling the Beast back into the squared circle.
Lashley slid in after him. He stalked Lesnar, waiting for the Beast to rise. The Dominator backed into the corner, crouching low. He slapped his hands against his thighs, signaling for the end.
"He's loading up the Spear!" Lawler warned. "If he hits this, Lesnar is done!"
Lesnar slowly pulled himself up using the ropes. He turned around, barely able to stand.
Lashley exploded out of the corner, moving with terrifying speed.
But Brock Lesnar was a freak of nature. The Beast caught Lashley charging in, wrapped his arms around the Dominator's torso, and used Lashley's own momentum against him. Lesnar dropped his hips and launched Lashley overhead with a breathtaking overhead belly to belly suplex!
Lashley flew across the ring, crashing violently into the opposite turnbuckles.
The crowd roared as Lesnar immediately popped back to his feet, the damage somehow melting away beneath a wave of pure, homicidal adrenaline. Lesnar didn't wait for Lashley to recover. He stalked forward, grabbed Lashley by the waist, and hit a massive German Suplex.
He held on.
He dragged Lashley up and hit another German Suplex.
He held on again.
The crowd began to count aloud. "THREE!" they yelled as Lesnar planted Lashley for a third consecutive time.
"Suplex City is open for business!" Cole yelled over the noise. "Brock Lesnar is dismantling the mercenary!"
Lesnar let go after the fifth suplex. He stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, a terrifying smile spreading across his blood stained lips. He looked out at the crowd, raising his arms, soaking in the fear and awe of the thousands in attendance.
On the outside, Paul Heyman was back to his arrogant self, clapping his hands together. "Finish him, Brock! Put him to sleep! Show the world that the Beast serves no king!"
Lesnar nodded. He walked over to Lashley, hauling the limp Dominator onto his massive shoulders. Lesnar set his feet, preparing to deliver a second, definitive F-5.
But Bobby Lashley was not a normal man.
As Lesnar spun him out, Lashley wildly threw his elbows, catching Lesnar flush on the side of the head. The strikes threw Lesnar off balance, causing him to stumble. Lashley landed on his feet, immediately wrapping his arms around Lesnar's waist, and drove the Beast into the mat with a thunderous spinebuster!
The ring shook. The fans leaped out of their seats.
Lashley didn't go for the pin. He knew he was in an Unsanctioned Match. He knew there were absolutely no rules, no boundaries, and no disqualifications to save either of them. And Bobby Lashley was tired of playing by the rules of a God King or the expectations of a wrestling audience.
He wanted to survive.
As Lesnar tried to push himself up from the spinebuster, shaking the cobwebs from his head, Lashley stepped forward.
With ruthless, unhesitating precision, Lashley drove his combat sneaker directly into Brock Lesnar's groin.
A loud, collective gasp echoed through the KeyArena.
"A low blow!" Cole cried out in shock. "Lashley just went straight below the belt!"
"It's an Unsanctioned Match, Michael!" Lawler reminded him. "It's perfectly legal! There are no rules!"
Lesnar's eyes widened in agonizing pain. The Beast let out a high pitched wheeze, dropping directly to his knees, his hands instinctively clutching his midsection. The aura of invincibility was shattered in a single, desperate strike.
But Lashley wasn't taking any chances. The Dominator knew better than anyone that a wounded beast is the most dangerous kind.
While Lesnar was on his knees, Lashley pulled his leg back and delivered a second, sickeningly brutal low blow!
SMACK!
Lesnar collapsed forward, burying his face in the canvas, utterly incapacitated by the excruciating pain.
"This is disgusting!" JBL wailed, genuinely appalled. "This is the man Sandro Zhang trusted to protect his empire! A man who resorts to kicking his opponents in the groin like a coward! He has no honor! He has no integrity!"
"He wants to win, John!" Cole fired back. "Lashley wants to secure his spot at the top of the food chain, and he doesn't care how he has to do it!"
On the outside, Paul Heyman was hyperventilating, grabbing his own hair in pure panic. "No! Get up, Brock! Fight him! Please!"
Lashley ignored the pleading Advocate. The Dominator reached down, grabbing the paralyzed Beast by his shoulders.
With a terrifying display of raw, functional strength, Lashley hauled the 280 pound Lesnar up to his feet. Lashley ducked his head, wrapping his arms around Lesnar's massive torso, and hoisted the Beast up into an inverted front powerslam position.
"He's got him up!" Lawler screamed. "He's setting up for the Dominator!"
Lashley let out a guttural roar and dropped forward, violently driving Lesnar face first into the canvas with the Dominator slam!
The impact was brutal. Lesnar lay completely motionless, his face buried in the mat.
But Lashley wasn't done. The rage from the past week, the humiliation of being left behind by the God King, and the physical toll of this war drove him to exact ultimate punishment.
Lashley dragged Lesnar up by his hair, propping the unconscious Beast against the turnbuckles. Lashley backed up to the opposite corner of the ring. He slapped his hands against his thighs, his dark eyes locked onto his prey.
"Lashley is going for the kill!" Cole shouted, his voice reaching a fever pitch.
Lashley exploded out of the corner. He sprinted across the ring with the speed of a runaway train and launched himself into the air, driving his shoulder squarely into Lesnar's midsection with a catastrophic Spear!
The force of the blow folded Lesnar in half. The Beast crashed back into the canvas, his arms splayed out, completely dead to the world.
Lashley hooked the massive leg, pressing his full body weight down onto Lesnar's chest.
The referee dropped to the mat, his hand slamming against the canvas.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
DING! DING! DING!
The heavy, intimidating brass horns of Lashley's theme music flooded the arena. The Seattle crowd sat in a state of stunned, buzzing silence for a brief moment before erupting into a massive, mixed reaction of shocked cheers and loud boos.
Nobody could quite believe it. Bobby Lashley had just conquered the Beast Incarnate.
"It's over! He did it!" Cole yelled, trying to be heard over the noise. "Bobby Lashley has just defeated Brock Lesnar in an Unsanctioned war! He used every weapon at his disposal, he broke the rules, and he took out the apex predator!"
"He looks like an absolute monster," Lawler breathed, shaking his head in awe. "It took low blows, a Dominator, and a Spear, but Lashley just proved that he is the most dangerous man in this industry right now after defeating Lesnar!"
JBL was fuming, tossing his pen onto the desk. "He proved he's a cheap, backstabbing thug! He cheated to beat a man who cheated Sandro Zhang! This isn't a victory, this is an embarrassment to professional wrestling!"
Inside the ring, Bobby Lashley slowly pushed himself up to his feet. He was covered in sweat, his combat gear torn, his face bruised and swollen. He looked down at the unconscious body of Brock Lesnar, a dark, vindictive smile spreading across his face.
On the outside, Paul Heyman had collapsed to his knees, openly weeping as he stared at his fallen client, his grand plan to conquer the WWE was destroyed.
Lashley walked over to the ropes, glaring down at the pathetic Advocate. Then, the Dominator turned his gaze directly toward the hard camera. He didn't ask for a microphone. He didn't need to speak. His eyes burned with a terrifying, homicidal promise.
He raised his heavily taped hand, pointing his finger directly into the camera lens, sending a silent, chilling message to the penthouse in Tampa.
I took out the Beast. You're next.
The broadcast cameras lingered on Lashley as he stood tall in the center of the ring, looking like an unstoppable, remorseless juggernaut. He had severed his ties with the Undisputed System, he had survived Suplex City, and he had claimed his throne atop the food chain.
The WWE Universe was left in absolute awe, completely believing they had just witnessed a legendary, brutal classic that would alter the landscape of Monday Night RAW forever.
The road to the World Heavyweight Championship had just been violently paved, and the God King's greatest nightmare was now officially hunting him down.
But professional wrestling is a landscape where moments of triumph are often fleeting, especially when your opponent is a wounded animal.
As Lashley stood near the ropes, soaking in the mixed reaction of the Seattle crowd and keeping his eyes fixed on the hard camera, he made a crucial mistake. He took his focus off the Beast.
Behind him, Brock Lesnar was not unconscious. The excruciating, paralyzing agony of the consecutive low blows had temporarily shut down his nervous system, leaving him vulnerable to the Dominator slam and the Spear.
But as the bell rang and the seconds ticked by, the sharp, blinding pain began to recede, rapidly replaced by a dark, boiling, uncontrollable rage. Lesnar's eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths.
The crowd's murmurs began to shift. The fans in the front rows pointed toward the canvas, a low buzz of anticipation rippling through the arena.
Lashley couldn't hear the shift in the atmosphere over his own heavy breathing and the blaring brass horns of his entrance music. He raised his arms one more time, turning slowly to face the center of the ring.
He walked right into a nightmare.
Lesnar was already on his feet. The Beast didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. Before Lashley could even raise his hands to defend himself, Lesnar ducked low, wrapped his thick, taped hands tightly around the mercenary's waist, and launched him backward with a terrifyingly fast German Suplex.
Lashley flew through the air, crashing high on the back of his neck. The sudden, violent impact sucked the wind right out of his lungs.
On the outside of the ring, Paul Heyman stopped weeping. The Advocate looked through the ropes, his tear streaked face instantly transforming into a mask of pure, manic joy. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the bottom rope and screaming into the ring.
"Yes! Yes, Brock! Tear him apart! Decimate him! Show them what happens when they cheat the Beast!"
Lesnar let out a primal scream that echoed into the upper decks. He grabbed Lashley by the combat vest, hauling the dazed Dominator back to his feet, and threw a series of heavy, bare knuckle right hands directly into Lashley's jaw. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, dropping the newly crowned winner to his knees.
The reaction from the KeyArena was fiercely divided. Half of the audience rained down loud, angry boos, hating the sight of a sore loser attacking a man after the bell had already rung. The other half cheered wildly, fueled by the sheer, unbridled chaos and viewing Lesnar's retaliation as justified revenge against a man who had to kick him below the belt to win.
But Lesnar didn't care about the cheers or the boos. He only cared about leaving a permanent mark.
He dragged Lashley toward the corner, shoving the heavy powerhouse against the turnbuckles. With surprising agility, Lesnar climbed up to the middle rope. He reached down, grabbing Lashley by the head and the waistband of his shorts, and hauled the 270 pound man up the ropes with him. The ring posts groaned under the combined weight of the two massive heavyweights.
"What is he doing?!" Cole shouted, his voice laced with genuine panic. "The match is over! He's going to end this man's career!"
Lesnar secured Lashley across his broad shoulders, balancing precariously on the second rope. He looked out at the screaming crowd, his face twisted in a snarl, and then leaped forward.
The Avalanche F-5 sent both men plummeting toward the canvas.
The impact was deafening. The ring boards violently flexed, the shockwave nearly sending the referee tumbling out of the ring. Lashley lay crumpled and broken in the center of the mat, completely unresponsive, his limbs splayed out at awkward angles.
"Good lord!" Lawler yelled, holding his headset tightly against his ears. "That was completely uncalled for! The bell rang! Lashley won the match, and Brock Lesnar just committed assault!"
"Oh, cry me a river, King!" JBL barked back, a huge, vindictive smile plastered across his face. "This was an Unsanctioned Match! They practically signed their lives away! Lashley took the coward's way out with those low blows, and Lesnar is just giving the traitor exactly what he deserves! Look at the mercenary now! He's not pointing at cameras anymore, is he?!"
"It's legal that low blow, but this is unsportsmanlike, John!" Cole argued over the noise. "Lashley survived a war, he earned the pinfall, and Lesnar couldn't handle the taste of defeat!"
Inside the ring, Lesnar slowly pushed himself to his feet. He stood over Lashley's ruined body, his chest covered in sweat and red welts. The Beast threw his head back and let out a terrifying, high pitched shriek of pure aggression, a sound that chilled the blood of everyone in the front rows.
His vengeance satisfied for the moment, Lesnar turned and rolled under the bottom rope. Paul Heyman was waiting for him, bowing repeatedly and patting his client on the massive shoulders. They walked up the long entrance ramp together, ignoring the officials who were finally rushing down the aisle to check on Lashley.
At the top of the stage, Lesnar turned back one last time, glaring down at the ring, before disappearing through the heavy black curtain.
The broadcast cameras zoomed in on Bobby Lashley, who was now surrounded by concerned medical staff. The visual of the victor lying broken while the loser walked away under his own power painted a complex, gritty picture of the current WWE landscape.
"Well, fans, we are out of time here in Seattle," Cole said, his voice heavy as the show prepared to go off the air. "Bobby Lashley may have secured the pinfall, and he may have won the battle tonight... but as you look at this scene, you have to admit that Brock Lesnar still owns the war. The score between these two monsters is officially tied at one apiece. Will there be a third battle to finally conclude this violent rivalry? Only time will tell. With my commentary partner Jerry Lawler and JBL, I'm Michael Cole. Goodnight from Over The Limit!"
The WWE copyright logo flashed across the bottom of the screen, and the chaotic scene slowly faded to black.
As the television screens across the globe went dark, the digital world instantly caught fire.
Twitter and wrestling forums exploded with a massive wave of rapid fire posts, video clips, and heated debates. The Over The Limit Pay Per View had delivered heavily on its promises, and the fans had a lot to unpack.
The first major topic dominating the timelines was the crowning of the new World Tag Team Champions. The belts had been sitting in a state of frustrating vacancy for two long months since WrestleMania, and the fans were thrilled to see them finally placed around the waists of Jimmy and Jey Uso.
The timeline was flooded with praise for the opening bout. "Match of the night right out of the gate," one popular wrestling journalist tweeted. "The Usos deserve this run on the main roster. They've been putting in the work for years."
But there was also a massive outpouring of support for The New Day. Kofi Kingston, Big E, and Xavier Woods had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were much more than a colorful comedy act. They had taken the experienced tag team to the limit, and the fans recognized their potential. "New Day didn't win the belts, but they won my respect tonight," a top Twitter comment read. "Their time is coming. Keep those three together."
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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 (1st - 376 days), 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