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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The question hanging over Miami wasn't just who would leave with the belt. It was a question of fate. Would Chris Jericho reclaim his glory and his place at the table? Or would he fail the "God" of WWE one last time, triggering an execution live on pay per view?
As excitement, adrenaline, and anticipation hung in the air like heavy static, the darkness of the arena was suddenly shattered.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The opening pyro display exploded from the stage, sending shockwaves of heat and light across the American Airlines Arena. Golden showers of sparks rained down as the camera swept across the sea of fans, twenty thousand strong, waving signs, screaming at the top of their lungs, creating a wall of sound that vibrated in the chest.
"Welcome everyone to Miami, Florida!" Cole shouted over the deafening roar, his voice barely cutting through the noise. "We are live from the sold out American Airlines Arena for one of the most historic nights in our calendar in this historic twenty fourth annual pay per view! This is Survivor Series!"
The camera cut to the commentary table, revealing the four man booth that had become a battlefield of ideologies. Cole, Lawler, and Striker sat on the left, looking eager and anxious. On the far right, adjusting his Stetson hat with a smug grin, sat the self proclaimed Wrestling God, JBL.
"It's electric, Cole!" Lawler beamed, adjusting his crown. "You look at this card, you look at the stakes... we have the traditional elimination match, brand supremacy on the line... but everyone, and I mean everyone, is talking about the World Heavyweight Championship."
"I agree King," Cole responded, "We are mere hours away from finding out the fate of the Undisputed System. After that incredibly tense contract signing on SmackDown, where Sandro Zhang looked Chris Jericho in the eye and told him he was replaceable... the world is watching."
"It's Judgment Day, Cole," Striker added, leaning forward intensely. "Sandro has drawn a line in the sand. If Jericho doesn't defeat CM Punk and bring back the World Heavyweight Championship, the Undisputed System fractures. Tonight could be the beginning of the end for this tyranny. I, for one, hope Punk sends Jericho packing and we see the crumbling of this empire."
"Oh, you people are delusional!" JBL barked, cutting Striker off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You're talking about fracture? I'm talking about fortification! Chris Jericho is a legend, but he needs to prove he still belongs at the table of the Gods. Sandro Zhang isn't a tyrant, he's a leader demanding excellence, Matt! One bad night at Bragging Rights where CM Punk, a criminal, by the way, used a low blow and a steel chair to steal a victory does not erase months of perfection!"
"It wasn't stealing, John," Lawler argued, shaking his head. "It was turning the tables. And tonight, I think we see a changing of the guard. Jericho is rattled. Sandro is distracted. And speaking of Sandro..."
"Speaking of the God," JBL interrupted loudly. "Sandro Zhang isn't distracted. He's focused. He's a shark in a tank full of minnows. You think Jericho losing is going to break him? Please. If Jericho fails, Sandro cuts the dead weight and moves on. That's what winners do. That's what Gods do."
Before the debate could spiral further, the arena plunged into darkness.
A low, rhythmic hum filled the air, vibrating the floorboards.
SHOCK THE SYSTEM.
The screeching guitar riff sliced through the darkness, followed immediately by the heavy, driving beat of "Cult of Personality."
The reaction was a sonic boom of noise, a chaotic, swirling mix of boos from those who despised his arrogance and cheers from those who worshipped his dominance.
The stage lights bathed the entrance ramp in deep, oppressive gold. The titanron flashed the emblem of the Undisputed System, a golden crest that looked more like a royal seal than a wrestling logo.
Out walked the ruler.
Sandro Zhang emerged from the smoke, not as a wrestler, but as a conqueror. He wore his black and gold ring gear, the fabric shimmering under the spotlights. On his right shoulder sat the prestigious WWE Championship. In his left hand, gripped tightly by the strap, was the United States Championship.
He wasn't alone.
Flanking him to his left was Paul Heyman, clutching a microphone to his chest like a holy scripture, his eyes scanning the crowd with disdain. To his right walked the Divas Champion, Alexa Bliss, looking utterly confident with her butterfly belt around her waist. Trailing slightly behind were AJ Lee and Nikki Bella, the lethal enforcers of the System's female division.
"Here comes the gold," JBL whispered reverently. "Look at that. That is what power looks like."
Sandro stopped at the top of the ramp. He looked left. He looked right. A cold sneer curled his lip as he surveyed the Miami crowd. Then, with a sharp exhale, he threw his arms wide.
BOOM!
A massive wall of pyro erupted behind him, framing the faction in fire. Sandro didn't flinch. He simply lowered his arms and began the long walk down the ramp, the bell tolling in the background.
"Listen to that reaction," Cole muttered. "They despise him."
"They fear him," JBL corrected. "There's a difference."
Justin Roberts stood in the center of the ring, the spotlight hitting him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Roberts boomed. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall... and it is for the WWE CHAMPIONSHIP!"
The crowd roared, the stakes suddenly feeling very real.
"Introducing the champion," Roberts continued. "Accompanied to the ring by his Special Speaker Paul Heyman, the WWE Divas Champion Alexa Bliss, AJ Lee, and Nikki Bella... Representing The Undisputed System... From Orlando, Florida... Weighing in at 220 pounds..."
Roberts paused for dramatic effect, letting the boos swell.
"He is the WWE United States Champion... and the WWE CHAMPION... THE GOD OF WWE... SANDROOOO ZHANNNNG!"
Sandro ignored the vitriol, climbing the steel steps with a deliberate, predatory grace. He wiped his feet on the apron, a sign of disrespect to the ring he considered his property, and stepped through the ropes.
He walked to the center of the canvas and slowly, methodically, raised both titles high above his head. The cameras flashed blindingly.
Heyman, Alexa, AJ, and Nikki remained at ringside, taking their positions like sentinels guarding the perimeter.
Sandro handed the titles to the referee, his eyes never leaving the entrance ramp. He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. He was ready.
Then, the static hit.
"You think you know me?"
The opening riff of Alter Bridge's "Metalingus" exploded through the speakers, and the American Airlines Arena came unglued. The boos vanished, replaced by a deafening, rapturous pop that shook the camera lenses.
Through the smoke, running on pure adrenaline, came the Rated R Superstar, Edge.
He wore his signature long coat and sunglasses, looking every bit the rockstar anti hero the fans adored. Beside him, his lifelong friend and tag team partner, Christian, clapped his hands, hyping up the crowd.
"Here comes the ultimate opportunist!" Cole screamed. "Edge! The ten time world champion! A man who knows exactly what it takes to seize a moment!"
"And listen to this ovation!" Lawler screamed. "The Ultimate Opportunist is here! Edge has faced the best in history, Cena, Batista, The Undertaker, and tonight, he looks to add the name of a God to his list of victims!"
Edge stopped on the ramp, threw his hands up, and triggered his own pyro, two massive blasts of smoke and fire. He sprinted down the ramp, sliding into the ring with a manic energy, popping up to his feet and staring a hole through Sandro.
"This is a first time encounter, gentlemen," Striker noted, his voice hushed with excitement. "Sandro Zhang versus Edge. The calculated perfectionist versus the chaotic opportunist. Styles make fights, and this is a clash of philosophies."
"Edge is walking into a slaughter," JBL grumbled. "Let's look at the math, Maggle. The Undertaker defeated Edge in the main event of WrestleMania 24 for the World Heavyweight Title. Hell in a Cell, remember? Sandro Zhang walked into Hell in a Cell just two months ago and defeated The Undertaker. Transitive property, boys! If Sandro beat the Deadman, and the Deadman beat Edge...he can certainly handle a Canadian with a penchant for long hair! Edge doesn't stand a ghost of a chance against the God of Wrestling!"
"Matches aren't decided on paper, John!" Cole fired back. "Edge has something Sandro doesn't—experience in the trenches. He knows how to win when the odds are stacked against him."
Edge climbed the turnbuckle, posing for the fans, soaking in the love. He hopped down, removing his coat and sunglasses, handing them to Christian who took his place in Edge's corner.
The two men met in the center of the ring. The referee held up the WWE Championship, the most coveted prize in the industry. It glinted under the bright lights, reflecting the hunger in Edge's eyes and the possessiveness in Sandro's.
The ref handed the belt to the ringside crew. He checked Sandro. He checked Edge.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The bell rang, and the main card of Survivor Series kicked off with a thunderbolt.
They didn't lock up immediately. They circled each other, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Edge tested the waters with a quick jab, Sandro slapped it away with contempt.
"Sandro looks unimpressed," JBL chuckled. "He's playing mind games."
Sandro lunged for a grapple, but Edge ducked, grabbing a waistlock. Sandro instantly reversed it, spinning behind Edge and taking him down with a smooth amateur wrestling takedown, floating over into a front face lock. It was seamless, liquid motion.
"Look at that technique!" JBL crowed. "He moves like water!"
Edge scrambled, fighting to his feet, pushing Sandro into the ropes. On the rebound, Edge looked for a hip toss, but Sandro blocked it, planting his feet and hitting a stiff European uppercut that rocked the challenger.
The match quickly evolved from a technical exhibition into a high impact chess match. Sandro targeted Edge's surgically repaired neck, focusing his attacks with ruthless precision.
He hit a swinging neckbreaker, followed immediately by a knee drop to the cervical spine. He locked in a cravate, grinding his forearm into Edge's face, forcing the veteran to expend precious energy just to breathe.
"Sandro is dissecting him," Striker analyzed. "He knows the history. He knows about the neck surgery. He's trying to shorten Edge's career right here."
But Edge was resilient. Feeding off the chants of "Let's Go Edge!", he mounted a comeback. He caught a charging Sandro with a big boot to the face. As Sandro stumbled, Edge climbed to the middle rope and hit a diving crossbody.
ONE! TWO!
Sandro kicked out with authority.
The action spilled to the outside. Sandro went for a baseball slide, but Edge pulled the ring skirt, trapping Sandro's legs. Edge capitalized, sliding out and hitting a clothesline that turned the champion inside out on the floor.
Christian cheered him on, keeping a wary eye on Heyman and the girls.
Edge rolled Sandro back in. He signaled for the Edge O Matic. He grabbed the back of Sandro's head, sat out, boom! Face first into the mat.
ONE! TWO! NO!
Sandro got a shoulder up.
"Close!" Cole yelled. "That could have been it!"
Sandro rolled to the corner, angry now. As Edge approached, Sandro exploded with a dropkick to the knee, buckling the challenger. Sandro dragged Edge to the center, hooking the arms. Tiger Driver!
He planted him.
ONE! TWO!
Edge kicked out!
"Resilience from the Rated R Superstar!" Lawler cheered.
The match entered deep waters. Both men were sweating profusely, their chests heaving. Sandro went for a Superkick, but Edge caught the foot. Edge spun him around, Impaler DDT!
The crowd exploded. Edge crawled into the cover.
ONE!
TWO!
THRE, NO!
Sandro grabbed the bottom rope at the last second. Heyman wiped sweat from his brow at ringside, clutching his chest.
"Too close for comfort!" JBL shouted. "Heyman nearly had a heart attack!"
Edge sensed the moment. He backed into the corner. He ran his fingers through his hair. The eyes went wide. The crowd rose to their feet.
"He's tuning up the band!" Cole screamed. "SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR!"
Sandro slowly got to his feet, turning around groggily. Edge charged. The Spear was lined up.
At the last millisecond, Sandro leapfrogged! Edge hit the turnbuckle hard. He stumbled back, dazed.
Sandro grabbed him from behind. Snap Dragon Suplex! Edge landed right on his neck. Sandro held on, rolling through. A second Snap Dragon!
"He's going for the Three Amigos from Hell!" Striker called.
Sandro went for the third, but Edge elbowed his way out. Edge shoved Sandro into the ropes. Sandro rebounded... right into a Spear!
EDGE HIT THE SPEAR!
But Edge was too hurt to cover immediately. He clutched his neck, crawling slowly... slowly... toward the champion. "Cover him! Cover him!" Lawler pleaded.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
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
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0