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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
But Edge was too hurt to cover immediately. He clutched his neck, crawling slowly... slowly... toward the champion. "Cover him! Cover him!" Lawler pleaded.
Edge finally draped an arm over Sandro's chest.
ONE!
TWO!
THR—
The bell didn't ring. Sandro had kicked out. 2.9.
"IMPOSSIBLE!" Cole stood up. "Nobody kicks out of the Spear this late in the match!"
"He is a GOD!" JBL roared, pounding the table. "You cannot kill what is immortal!"
Edge sat up, staring at the referee in disbelief as he grip his hairs tightly. Christian was on the apron, shouting encouragement, but Edge looked lost. He had hit his best shot.
Edge slowly got to his feet, pulling Sandro up by his hair. He went for the Edgecution DDT. But Sandro twisted himself mid air, landing on his feet. He then shoved Edge into the ropes.
Christian tried to swipe at Sandro, but Sandro ducked, and Christian accidentally distracted the referee for a split second due to that.
In that chaos, Nikki Bella slid a title belt into the ring? No! Christian saw it and he entered the ring to kicked it away! Christian then wa forces to get out by the referre.
"Christian saving the integrity of the match!" Cole yelled.
But the distraction to the referee was enough. As Edge turned back to Sandro, Sandro punched him in the face couple of times, making Edge a bit winded out.
Sandro didn't go for a powerbomb. He didn't go for a suplex.
He took a step back and hit a huge kick to the gut. Edge immediately fallen down to his knees, as he is exhausted in this late part of the match.
Sandro dropped to a knee. He waited.
Edge stopped, confused, trying to regain his energy in the center of the ring. He was trying to get up.
Sandro's eyes went dead. The predator had found the vein.
He took off. He sprinted toward the ropes behind him, hitting them with such force the ring shook. He rebounded with explosive speed, a blur of black and gold.
As he approached the kneeling Edge, Sandro dropped low, sliding across the canvas like a baseball player stealing home plate.
He cocked his right elbow.
The motion was vicious, a sharp, scythe like swing from inward to outward.
CRACK.
THE LAST NOTE.
The elbow connected flush with the base of Edge's skull, right on the surgically repaired neck. It was a kill shot.
"THE LAST NOTE!" JBL screamed, his voice cracking with glee. "Lights out! Goodnight, Canada! That is lethal! That is final!"
"OH MY GOD!" Cole recoiled. "He just executed him! The Last Note right to the brain stem!"
Striker shouted, horrified. "Edge has a history of neck issues! That could be it!"
Edge slumped forward instantly, face planting into the canvas, motionless. The lights were out.
Sandro didn't hook the leg. He didn't look for approval. He simply placed one hand on Edge's back, staring blankly at the hard camera as if this was a chore he had just finished.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
Ding! Ding! Ding!
"Here is your winner... and STILL WWE Champion... SANDRO ZHANG!"
"And the reign of terror continues!" Cole shouted, sounding defeated. "Edge gave it everything he had, he hit the Spear, he had the match won... but in the end, Sandro Zhang is just too dangerous."
"Too good!" JBL corrected, standing up and clapping. "Too dominant! Too perfect! Edge is a Future Hall of Famer, but Sandro Zhang is the future, the present, and the forever! The Undisputed System stands tall!"
"I hate to admit it," Lawler sighed, deflated. "But Sandro is on another level. He took Edge's best shot and answered with a knockout blow."
Sandro stood up, snatching his titles from the referee. He looked down at Edge, who was barely moving, Christian checking on him frantically. Sandro didn't offer a handshake. He didn't offer a nod of respect.
He simply stepped over Edge's body, walked to the turnbuckle, and hoisted the United Statesa and WWE Championship high into the air. His face was a mask of cold indifference. He had survived the first test of the night.
Behind him, Heyman, Alexa, AJ, Nikki, clapped politely, their expressions smug. They knew. The world knew. The God was still on his throne. And the night was only just beginning.
As Sandro exited the ring, passing a concerned Christian who slid in to check on Edge, he paused. He looked at the camera, tapped the title belt, and mouthed two words. "Who's next?"
The first domino had refused to fall. Now, the weight of the entire world shifted to the shoulders of Chris Jericho.
"One down," JBL whispered into his headset. "More to go. Can Jericho match the God? Or is tonight the night the System begins to purge?"
The arena was still vibrating from the impact of Sandro's "Last Note," a collective hum of shock and awe that refused to dissipate even as the ring crew frantically cleared the debris of the championship celebration.
The cameras lingered on Edge, struggling to regain his footing with Christian's help, a stark reminder of the violence that governed the top of the card.
"Sandro has just sent a message to every single locker room in this industry," Cole said, his voice grave, shaking his head as he adjusted his headset. "He didn't just beat a Hall of Fame talent; he dismantled him. And if that's how the night begins, I shudder to think how it ends for Chris Jericho."
"It ends with gold, Michael!" JBL barked, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin that was practically audible. "It ends with the System proving exactly why they run this show. Excellence isn't pretty. It's effective."
As the chatter continued, the TitanTron flickered, shifting from the black and gold of the Undisputed System to the purple and gold swagger of a man on a mission. The crowd's mood shifted instantly from stunned silence to a rhythmic, eager cheer.
"I'm comin'!"
The beat dropped, and MVP emerged from the back, not with his usual carefree swagger, but with a focused intensity that bordered on dangerous. He wore a scowl instead of a smile, marching down the ramp with a purpose that resonated with the Miami crowd. This wasn't just about the Intercontinental Title anymore; this was personal.
"Here comes the Franchise Player!" Lawler exclaimed, pointing to the monitor. "MVP has been a thorn in Kofi Kingston's side for weeks, and frankly, I love it. He's the one guy who hasn't backed down from the System's bullying tactics. He blindsided Kofi, he got in his head, and tonight, he looks ready to take his gold."
"He's a thug," JBL sneered. "He attacked a champion from behind. That's not strategy, that's cowardice. Kofi Kingston is a fighting champion, and MVP is just a pretender looking for a payday."
"He's looking for respect, John," Striker countered. "And tonight, in this ring, he plans to beat it out of Kingston."
MVP slid into the ring, ascending the turnbuckle to a roar of approval. He mimed the championship belt around his waist, signaling his intent. But before he could even finish his warm up, the lights shifted to a sickly green, and the frantic, high energy beat of Kofi Kingston's theme hit, warped, however, by the darker undertones of the Undisputed System.
Kofi walked out, with a cold, calculated stare. He wore the Intercontinental Championship backward around his waist, flanked by the monstrous presence of Heyman and the NXT Champion, Ziggler.
"Look at the eyes of Kofi Kingston," Cole noted. "He's been humiliated by MVP's attacks over the last few weeks. That stupid MVP wanted a rivalry? Well, he got a war."
Kofi didn't wait for the pageantry. He handed his title to Heyman at the bottom of the ramp, stormed up the steel steps, and slid under the bottom rope like a viper.
Before the ring announcer could even begin the introductions, Kofi was on MVP, tackling him into the corner with a flurry of fists.
DING! DING! DING!
The referee scrambled to separate them, signaling for the bell as the fight spilled out of the corner.
"He didn't even wait for the bell!" Lawler shouted. "Kofi is possessed!"
"He's focused!" JBL corrected loudly. "He's striking first! That is Champion IQ right there!"
The match that followed was a brutal, stiff, and deeply personal affair that took the Miami crowd by surprise. This wasn't a technical showcase, it was a brawl born of genuine animosity.
MVP, fueled by the crowd's energy, fought back with heavy hands, turning Kofi around in the corner and unleashing a series of drive by punches that rocked the champion.
They traded momentum back and forth, the action spilling to the outside where Ziggler loomed dangerously close. But MVP was ready. When Ziggler tried to inch toward the action, MVP laid him out with a stiff right hand, sending the NXT Champion sprawling.
"MVP is taking on the whole world tonight!" Striker yelled. "He's not just fighting Kofi, he's fighting the machine!"
Inside the ring, the psychology was masterful. Kofi targeted MVP's knee, looking to neutralize the Playmaker and the Drive By Kick. He used the ring post, the stairs, and even the ropes to hyperextend the joint, dissecting the challenger with a cruelty that felt alien to his former character.
"I've never seen Kofi this vicious," Cole admitted, wincing as Kofi stomped on MVP's ankle. "The influence of Sandro Zhang is poisoning him."
"It's refining him!" JBL argued. "He used to be about clapping and jumping. Now he's about winning. That's evolution, Maggle!"
The climax of the match brought the fans to their feet. MVP, hobbling on one good leg, managed to catch a flying Kofi with a massive overhead belly to belly suplex. He signaled for the end, limping to the corner, measuring Kofi for the Drive By. He charged, but his knee buckled!
Kofi saw it. He didn't just dodge, he capitalized. He swept MVP's legs, sending him crashing face first into the canvas. Then, in a moment of ultimate disrespect, Kofi mimicked MVP's signature "Ballin'" elbow drop, but instead of dropping the elbow, he simply kicked MVP in the back of the head.
Kofi pulled a groggy MVP up, hooked his leg, and executed The Playmaker, MVP's own finishing maneuver.
"He's using his own move against him!" Lawler cried out in disgust. "That is sick!"
Kofi didn't cover. He stood over the fallen challenger, tapping his temple. As MVP stumbled to his feet, dazed and confused, Kofi spun.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE.
The kick connected with a sickening thud, turning MVP inside out.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
"Here is your winner... and STILL Intercontinental Champion... KOFI KINGSTON!"
The boos rained down, thick and heavy, but Kofi stood tall, snatching his title from Heyman and raising it alongside Ziggler.
"That is how you handle business," JBL stated with finality. "No mercy. No hesitation. The Undisputed System rolls on."
The energy in the arena shifted gears as the ring crew reinforced the canvas. The tension of the personal rivalry faded, replaced by a low, rumbling anticipation for something primal. It was time for the monsters to play.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Cole said, resetting the broadcast. "We have seen speed. We have seen technique. We have seen viciousness. But now? Now we are about to see sheer, unadulterated power."
"They call this 'Meat versus Meat' on the internet," Striker added with a grin. "And frankly, I can't think of a better description. We have four of the strongest human beings on the planet about to collide."
"SOMEBODY GONNA GET THEIR ASS KICKED!"
The heavy, thumping bass of Mark Henry's theme shook the foundation of the American Airlines Arena. The World's Strongest Man walked out, looking like a tank in human form. Beside him, towering over the entire production, walked the World's Largest Athlete, The Big Show.
The sight of them together was awe inspiring. Over 800 pounds of challenger marching down the ramp. The fans popped huge, realizing that if anyone could physically break the Undisputed System's grip on the tag titles, it was this wall of humanity.
"Look at the size of them!" Lawler marveled. "Big E and Ryback are massive, don't get me wrong, but they are giving up nearly two hundred pounds in this match!"
"Size doesn't matter when you have the strength of the Undisputed System!" JBL retorted, though his voice held a hint of concern. "Ryback and Big E are pound for pound the strongest athletes in WWE history. This is going to be like Godzilla versus King Kong!"
The lights dimmed, and the familiar gold hue bathed the arena. Big E and Ryback emerged, the World Tag Team Championships looking almost small against their immense chests. They were flanked by a veritable army, Paul Heyman, Wade Barrett, Drew McIntyre, and the freshly victorious Kofi Kingston.
The champions didn't look intimidated. Ryback slapped his chest, screaming "Wake Up!" while Big E clapped chalk dust into the air, staring daggers at the giants in the ring.
The referee cleared the ring of the entourage. Heyman led the other System members to the designated corner, ensuring no interference would taint this clash of titans. Sandro had ordered a clean fight for this one, a test of strength to prove superiority.
The bell rang.
DING! DING! DING!
Big E started against Mark Henry.
They circled each other, the floorboards creaking under their steps. They locked up, and the stalemate was immediate. Neither man budged. The power was equal. Henry shoved Big E back, Big E responded with a massive shoulder block that didn't even knock Henry off his feet.
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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