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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The intruder wrenched the hold even tighter, causing Heyman to gag and sputter, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. With a violent shake of his head, the attacker threw the hood backward, revealing his identity to the world. It was the Dominator, Bobby Lashley. The cheers instantly died, morphing into a wave of heavy, hostile boos.
"Oh my god, it's Lashley!" Cole screamed, absolute shock coloring his commentary. "The Dominator just snuck into the building! He's got Paul Heyman in a submission maneuver!"
"Let him go!" Lawler demanded, horrified by the visual. "Heyman is not a cleared athlete! Lashley is going to snap his back!"
JBL threw his headset down on the desk, standing up and pointing furiously at the ring. "You miserable coward! That man is a civilian! Lashley is a traitor to the God King, he's a traitor to the Undisputed System, and now he's trying to cripple an executive! Get the police out here right now!"
Lashley ignored the deafening heat from the crowd. He glared into the hard camera, a dark, vindictive smile spreading across his face as he continued to squeeze the life out of Brock Lesnar's closest confidant. He was sending a direct, violent message to the Beast, after the bittersweet victory Lashley get on the past Saturday.
But Bobby Lashley's message was about to be answered in person.
SCREEEEEEEEEECH!
The apocalyptic, earth shattering guitar riff of "The Next Big Thing" violently hijacked the arena sound system.
The 1st Mariner Arena absolutely exploded!
The fans leaped to their feet, the boos completely washed away by a massive, chaotic roar of pure adrenaline.
Brock Lesnar burst through the curtain like a fired missile. He wasn't bouncing. He wasn't smiling. He was wearing his black fight shorts, his massive chest heaving, his eyes locked dead on the ring. The Beast Incarnate sprinted down the steel ramp with terrifying, unparalleled speed, rushing to save the only man in the industry he truly cared about.
Seeing the Beast charging like a freight train, Lashley didn't panic. He simply released his grip, violently tossing Paul Heyman's crumpled, gasping body through the middle ropes and out onto the ringside floor.
Lashley tore off his hoodie, throwing it to the canvas, and dropped into a low, athletic fighting stance, cracking his knuckles as Lesnar leaped onto the apron.
Lesnar didn't even use the ropes to enter. He launched his massive, 280 pound frame clear over the top rope, landing on his feet in the center of the ring.
The two behemoths violently collided.
It was a car crash of human flesh and bone. They didn't lock up; they simply started throwing heavy, bare knuckle right hands directly at each other's skulls. The sound of the strikes echoed over the roaring crowd.
Lesnar drove a brutal knee into Lashley's midsection, doubling the Dominator over. The Beast grabbed Lashley by the waist, locking his hands, and violently launched the mercenary backward with a devastating German Suplex!
Lashley crashed onto his neck, but the sheer adrenaline pumping through his veins forced him right back to his feet. Lesnar charged forward for a clothesline, but Lashley ducked it, wrapped his arms around the Beast's waist, and returned the favor with a massive Belly to Belly Suplex that shook the entire ring!
"Look at the absolute power of these two monsters!" Cole shouted, completely losing his mind at the desk. "They are tearing each other apart, even after their brutal match a week ago!"
"They can't wait for Capitol Punishment!" Lawler cheered. "This is personal! This is a blood feud!"
Lesnar pushed himself up, wiping a smear of sweat from his forehead. He let out a primal roar and charged again.
Lashley met him in the middle, grabbing Lesnar by the throat, looking for a chokeslam. But Lesnar violently swatted Lashley's arm away, grabbed the Dominator by his combat vest, and drove him straight into the corner turnbuckles with a ferocious shoulder tackle.
Lesnar unloaded a barrage of heavy shoulder thrusts, burying his massive frame into Lashley's ribs over and over again. He stepped back, winding up for a right hook, but Lashley exploded out of the corner, cutting the Beast completely in half with a devastating Spear!
BANG!
Lesnar crashed hard into the mat, the air violently leaving his lungs.
"Spear! Spear by Lashley!" JBL yelled, his voice a mix of awe and disgust. "The traitor just took down the Beast!"
Both men lay on the canvas, heavily breathing, completely matched in strength and sheer aggression. The Baltimore crowd was on their feet, chanting "THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!" at the top of their lungs.
Lashley slowly pushed himself up to his knees, a dark scowl on his face. He grabbed the middle rope, pulling himself to a vertical base, waiting for Lesnar to stagger back to his feet. He wanted to deliver a second Spear and end the night right then and there.
But the one on one war was suddenly, violently interrupted.
The harsh, blaring siren of The Nexus theme music hit the sound system.
The crowd's chants instantly turned into a wall of aggressive heat. Bobby Lashley snapped his head toward the entrance stage, expecting Wade Barrett's army to march down the ramp.
But the stage was empty.
"Behind you!" Lawler screamed into his microphone.
Pouring over the steel barricades from all four sides of the ring, dressed in their signature black and yellow shirts, were the nine members of The Nexus. They hadn't come from the locker room; they had purchased tickets and waited patiently in the front row, completely disguised among the fans.
And they didn't come empty handed.
Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel slid into the ring wielding heavy steel folding chairs. Mason Ryan and Curtis Axel carried thick, wooden kendo sticks.
"It's a trap!" Cole shrieked in absolute panic. "The Nexus is here! And they're heavily armed!"
Before Lashley could even react, Heath Slater violently swung a steel chair, driving the edge directly into the Dominator's back. Lashley roared in pain, stumbling forward, right into the waiting arms of Mason Ryan, who cracked a kendo stick viciously across Lashley's chest. The wood splintered with a loud, sickening CRACK.
Brock Lesnar pushed himself up from the mat, shaking the cobwebs from the Spear. He saw the black shirts flooding his ring.
The Beast didn't run. He let out a psychotic roar and charged straight into the swarm.
Lesnar ducked a chair swing from Justin Gabriel, grabbed the South African high flyer by the throat, and effortlessly tossed him completely over the top rope to the floor. Michael Tarver tried to blindside the Beast, but Lesnar caught him, hoisted him onto his massive shoulders, and delivered a skull rattling F-5 right in the middle of the chaos!
"Lesnar is fighting them off!" Lawler cheered wildly. "The Beast is taking on the whole army!"
On the other side of the ring, Bobby Lashley was putting up an incredible fight of his own. Curtis Axel swung a kendo stick, but Lashley caught the wood in his bare hands, ripped it away, and violently snapped the weapon over his knee.
Lashley grabbed Axel by the collar and hurled him into the steel ring post. Darren Young charged forward, but Lashley caught him mid stride and planted him with a devastating Spinebuster.
For thirty glorious seconds, the two heaviest hitters on Monday Night RAW pushed back the invading tide. Lesnar and Lashley, standing back to back in the center of the ring, effectively neutralized the first wave of the assault.
"Look at this!" Cole yelled, his voice cracking. "Lesnar and Lashley have a temporary truce! They are fighting off the Nexus!"
"They're not allies, Cole, they're just fighting for survival!" JBL corrected. "But God bless them, they are taking out the trash!"
But the sheer numbers game, combined with the heavy weaponry, was simply too much to overcome.
As Lesnar turned to grab David Otunga, Wade Barrett smoothly slid into the ring from the blind side. The Englishman was holding a steel chair. With cold, calculated precision, Barrett swung the steel violently, crashing it directly into the back of Brock Lesnar's left knee.
The Beast roared in agony, his leg buckling instantly.
As Lesnar dropped to one knee, Ryback charged across the ring, hitting the ropes to build maximum momentum. The massive enforcer leveled Lesnar with a devastating Meat Hook Clothesline, sending the Beast crashing flat onto his back.
Seeing Lesnar fall, Lashley turned to attack Ryback. But Heath Slater and Mason Ryan attacked the Dominator's legs, chopping him down from behind. The remaining members of the Nexus swarmed like locusts.
It was an absolute execution.
Justin Gabriel dragged himself back into the ring, picking up a discarded steel chair. He brought it down repeatedly across Lashley's spine. Curtis Axel grabbed a fresh kendo stick, raining heavy, bruising blows across Lesnar's broad chest and shoulders. The crack of wood and the thud of steel echoed loudly, completely drowning out the boos of the Baltimore crowd.
"This is sickening to watch!" Cole cried out, watching the two titans get dismantled. "Brock Lesnar and Bobby Lashley are two of the most dominant forces in WWE history, and they are being reduced to rubble by the numbers game!"
"There are just too many of them, and too many weapons!" Lawler said, shaking his head in defeat.
"I can't stand Bobby Lashley, but nobody deserves to be beaten like a dog in the street," JBL muttered, though his tone shifted as he watched the strategy unfold. "But you have to give credit where credit is due. Wade Barrett is a tactical genius. He waited until the two biggest monsters on the roster had already exhausted themselves, and then he ordered the strike. The Nexus just conquered the top of the food chain."
Inside the ring, the violence finally began to slow down. The message had been sent.
Brock Lesnar lay completely motionless near the bottom turnbuckle, a pool of blood forming under his chin, his back covered in angry red welts from the kendo sticks. Bobby Lashley was sprawled out near the center of the canvas, his arms draped limply over his head, thoroughly beaten into unconsciousness.
Wade Barrett stood in the dead center of the carnage, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket. He didn't have a single scratch on him.
He looked down at the two fallen behemoths, a dark, deeply satisfied smile crossing his face. He extended his hands, snapping his fingers.
Barrett stepped directly onto the chest of Bobby Lashley. He raised his hand high into the air. The rest of the Nexus closed ranks, forming a tight, impenetrable circle around their leader. They raised their fists in unison, the bright yellow 'N' logos on their chests serving as a stark, undeniable warning to the rest of the locker room.
"The absolute destruction of Monday Night RAW continues," Cole whispered into his headset, the broadcast graphics slowly appearing on the screen. "Six days before Capitol Punishment, Wade Barrett and The Nexus stand tall over the broken bodies of Brock Lesnar and Bobby Lashley. If these two monsters couldn't stop them... is there any hope left for this brand?"
"The God King left a void, Cole," JBL replied coldly, leaning back in his chair. "And the Nexus has officially filled it."
The camera lingered on the terrifying visual of the nine black shirted invaders claiming ultimate dominance, while the Baltimore crowd rained down a helpless chorus of boos.
Barrett didn't ask for a microphone again. He didn't need to. The broken bodies of Brock Lesnar and Bobby Lashley communicated his message perfectly.
With a simple nod from their leader, the Nexus slowly backed away. They dropped their weapons, stepped over the top rope, and retreated up the steel ramp, leaving a stunned, breathless arena in their wake.
As Monday Night RAW moved forward, a strange, deeply unsettling atmosphere settled over the building.
The broadcast continued with several scheduled matches. Kofi Kingston took on Evan Bourne in a fast paced singles bout. Beth Phoenix clashed with Kelly Kelly in the women's division. Jack Swagger locked up with Vladimir Kozlov. But the usual energy was completely missing. The Baltimore crowd watched the action with distracted, paranoid eyes.
Every time a superstar hit the ropes too hard, or the entrance music glitched for a fraction of a second, thousands of heads snapped toward the barricades, expecting a sea of black shirts to pour over the walls.
But the Nexus never showed up.
"I don't understand it," Cole whispered into his headset during a commercial break, his hands fidgeting with his notes. "We have had three matches since that brutal assault on Lesnar and Lashley. No interference. No ambushes. The Nexus has completely vanished."
"It's psychological warfare, Michael," Lawler replied, keeping a watchful eye on the timekeeper's area. "Wade Barrett is playing mind games. He wanted to show everyone that he could take down the two most dangerous heavyweights on the roster. Now, he's just letting the fear marinate. He wants the locker room jumping at shadows."
JBL leaned forward, adjusting his tie. "You have to admire the strategy. Sun Tzu wrote about this in The Art of War. You strike with overwhelming force, and then you fade into the background. The anticipation of the next attack is often far worse than the attack itself. These superstars are out here wrestling with one eye on their opponent and one eye on the crowd."
The paranoia was not limited to the fans in the arena. The fear had firmly taken root behind the curtain.
Following a quick tag team match, the TitanTron flickered, and the live broadcast feed shifted away from the ring. The camera cut to the primary men's locker room backstage.
The scene was grim. The air was thick with the smell of medical tape, ice packs, and cold sweat. Several superstars were slumped on wooden benches, nursing bruised ribs and wrapped joints from the unprovoked assaults they had suffered over the past two weeks. The usual lively banter and loud music were gone, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
Standing in the center of the room, wearing his signature denim shorts and a bright green t shirt, was John Cena.
The franchise player was pacing back and forth, looking around at the battered faces of his peers. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly frustrated by the defeated posture of the men around him.
"Look at us," Cena began, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. He wasn't yelling, but the commanding weight of his words forced everyone to look up. "Just take a good look around this room. We are supposed to be the absolute best. We are the toughest, most resilient athletes on the face of the planet. But right now? We look like a bunch of guys waiting for the executioner to knock on the door."
Cena stopped pacing and locked eyes with a heavily bruised Santino Marella, then turned to a grim faced R-Truth.
"Wade Barrett and a handful of rookies have you all terrified to walk down the hallway," Cena continued, a fierce passion bleeding into his voice. "They are picking us off one by one because we are letting them. They rely on the numbers game. But look around! There are many of us in this room right now. If we draw a line in the sand, if we organize and march out there together, the Nexus doesn't stand a chance. We need to lead the charge. We have to take our show back."
For a moment, the locker room remained completely silent. Cena's words were inspiring, but the physical reality of the situation weighed heavily on their minds.
Slowly, from the back corner of the room, a massive figure stood up.
Mark Henry stepped out of the shadows. The World's Strongest Man was wearing a tight black t-shirt, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Henry was a veteran, a man universally respected and feared for his legitimate, bone breaking power. If anyone was fearless, it was him. But tonight, his face carried a heavy burden of pragmatic caution.
"With all due respect, John," Henry rumbled, his deep voice commanding immediate attention. "You are talking a big game. But you weren't on the receiving end of what happened in Kansas City. I've been in this business a very long time, and I have seen a lot of dangerous things. But I have never seen a group of young boys fight with that kind of reckless, blind malice."
Henry stepped forward, shaking his head. "I didn't agree with Sandro at all over the last year, hell I even hated the man. But at least when Sandro Zhang and the Undisputed System attacked you, there was a reason behind it. Sandro is a mastermind. He operates on a completely different level. His schemes were calculated. He put you through a table to win a championship, or to secure a contract. The Undisputed System was like a pack of trained wolves."
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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