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Sandro's music Cult of Personality by Living Colour, hit. He strutted out with swagger, sunglasses on despite the night, TNA World Heavyweight title slung across his shoulder. Big E followed close behind, clapping his hands and hyping up their side of the crowd. They posed together at the top of the ramp, Sandro with his arms outstretched, soaking in the boos like they were praise.
"Say what you will about Sandro," the voice of play by play commentator came over the broadcast, "but the kid owns the moment. That confidence… that edge… It's why he's the TNA World Heavyweight champion and our first double heavyweight champion."
"Confidence? Please," his partner scoffed, hearing what he said, shot back, scoffing audibly. "That's arrogance wrapped in disrespect. Let's see how cocky he is when Kurt Angle and Sting get their hands on him and Big E tonight."
Inside the ring, Kurt Angle and Sting stood side by side, unwavering as they watched their opponents make their way down the ramp. Kurt was bouncing on the balls of his feet, laser focused, wearing that signature intensity in his eyes.
Sting stood still, his iconic face paint glistening under the lights, bat resting on his shoulder, until he handed it off to the timekeeper. The crowd roared with anticipation.
Sandro and Big E walked the rest of the way to the ring, ignoring the fans' vitriol like veterans, eyes locked on the two legends inside the squared circle. Big E cracked his neck. Sandro smirked.
Once inside the ring, the referee positioned himself dead center, one arm out toward each team, trying to keep the combustible atmosphere from erupting too early. He took the TNA World Heavyweight title from Sandro and handed it to the ringside crew. The four men backed into their corners, and the ref gave the signal.
DING! DING! DING!
"And here we go!" The first commentator exclaimed. "What a tag team clash this is going to be, folks, Sandro and Big E versus two bona fide legends, Kurt Angle and Sting. This has all the makings of a five star classic."
Sandro started the match for his team while Sting stepped forward for his. The crowd rose to their feet as the two stared each other down. Sandro slowly removed his sunglasses and flicked them outside the ring, drawing a fresh wave of boos. Sting didn't flinch.
They circled one another, Sandro bouncing slightly on his heels, hands low, smirking. They locked up in a classic collar and elbow tie up. Sting, the veteran, quickly transitioned into a side headlock. Sandro tried to muscle out, but Sting wrenched it tight.
"Old school tactics from The Icon," The second commentator commented. "And they still work!"
Sandro backed them into the ropes and shoved Sting off. Sting hit the ropes and came back fast, but Sandro leapfrogged him. Sting rebounded again, only to catch a quick dropkick from Sandro right to the chest! Sting stumbled back but stayed upright.
"Beautiful athleticism from Sandro!" The first commentator called. "The kid's not just mouth, he's got moves to back it up."
Sandro waved Sting in. Sting accepted the challenge and charged forward, but Sandro ducked a clothesline and caught Sting with a slick Russian leg sweep, rolling through into a grounded headlock.
"See, that's what I'm talking about," The second commentator admitted reluctantly. "He's a punk, but he's no slouch."
Sting worked his way back to his feet, using his strength to force Sandro into the corner. The ref counted the break.
"One! Two! Three! Four—"
Sting released cleanly, but Sandro, ever the opportunist, slapped him across the face on the break.
"Oh, come on!" the second commentator barked. "What a cheap shot! Such disrespect!"
Sting's expression shifted immediately. No more fun. He lunged forward and drove Sandro into the opposite corner with machine gun like strikes, knife edge chops, shoulder thrusts, and elbows. Sandro gasped with each hit before collapsing to the mat.
"That's what happens when you poke the bear!" the first commentator exclaimed.
Sting tagged in Kurt Angle, and the crowd exploded.
Angle stepped in like a man possessed, immediately dragging Sandro up and hurling him across the ring with a release belly to belly suplex that flipped the young champion end over end. Sandro rolled to the corner, wide eyed, and tagged in Big E.
"Big E stepping in to slow this down, look at the size of him!" The first commentator shouted.
Big E stepped through the ropes and squared off with Kurt. The two men locked up, but neither budged. A second lockup, again, nothing. Finally, Big E landed a surprise knee to the gut and followed up with a thunderous overhead toss of his own.
Kurt popped back up, but Big E was waiting with a big splash attempt. Kurt rolled away, and Big E hit the mat with a loud thud.
"Angle's too quick, even for a powerhouse like E, who can move fast," the second commentator remarked.
Kurt tagged back in Sting, who scaled the second rope and dropped a precision elbow right on Big E's collarbone. The two legends took control, tagging in and out with seamless teamwork, isolating Big E and cutting the ring in half.
For minutes, Sting and Kurt wore Big E down with methodical precision, leg holds, chinlocks, and suplexes. The crowd was on fire, chanting for Angle and Sting. Every time Big E tried to crawl to Sandro, one of the legends dragged him back to the wrong side.
"Big E is in a bad way here," the first commentator observed. "They've got him trapped like a caged animal."
But Big E, resilient as ever, absorbed the punishment. When Kurt went for another suplex, Big E blocked it, then muscled him up and over with a desperate belly to belly. The crowd gasped. Both men were down.
Big E crawled, inch by inch, hand outstretched.
"Tag, E! Come on!" the first commentator shouted. "He's almost there!"l"
Kurt grabbed his ankle, Big E kicked him off, and TAG!
Sandro exploded into the ring, leaping over the ropes and catching Kurt with a spinning back elbow. Sting tried to enter, but Sandro met him with a running enzuigiri that knocked him off the apron. Sandro turned his attention back to Kurt and dropped him with a snap DDT!
"Sandro is on fire!" the first commentator yelled. "Love him or hate him, this kid brings intensity!"
He dragged Kurt up and nailed a gutwrench powerbomb that shook the ring. Cover!
One! Two! Kickout!
Sandro didn't waste a second, he pulled Kurt up again and whipped him into the ropes. But Kurt ducked a lariat and came back with a huge German suplex!
"Angle turns the tide!" the second commentator exclaimed. "Vintage Kurt!"
Kurt held on, another German! And then, a third!
Sandro clutched his neck, trying to stand. Angle pulled down the straps. The crowd went wild.
"You know what that means!" The first commentator shouted. "Kurt's locking in!"
He went for the ANKLE LOCK, but Sandro kicked him off with his free leg and rolled away.
Both men struggled to their feet, and Sandro caught Kurt with a sudden superkick! Kurt staggered and went to his knees. Sandro ran to the top rope and flew backward to Kurt—
"The Top System Cutter!" The first commentator screamed. "He hit it!"
Cover!
One! Two! Sting breaks it up!
Big E now stormed the ring, tackling Sting and throwing punches as the ref tried to regain control.
"This is breaking down!" The second commentator yelled. "This match is a war!"
Big E tossed Sting over the ropes. He turned, and Kurt nailed him with an Olympic Slam from out of nowhere!
Sandro tried to blindside Kurt again, but Kurt ducked and hit a German suplex, sending Sandro bouncing off the mat. The crowd roared again.
Sting rolled back in and joined Kurt. Together, they hit a double suplex on Sandro. Sting covered.
One! Two! Kickout!
The pace slowed as Sting grounded Sandro with a rear chinlock. The crowd clapped, rallying both men. Sandro's face twisted in pain as he tried to fight out.
Eventually, Sandro dug deep and elbowed his way free. He landed a jawbreaker, then a roundhouse kick that gave him enough room to tag Big E back in.
Big E exploded into the ring, taking down Sting with a lariat, then dropping Kurt off the apron with a running shoulder block. He turned back to Sting and hoisted him up—
"BIG ENDING!"
"He nailed it!"
Big E dropped into the cover.
One! Two! Kurt breaks it up again!
"They just won't let this end!" the second commentator bellowed.
The crowd roared. Everyone was running on fumes, sweat pouring, chests heaving. All four men had been in the fight of their lives. The ref tried to restore order as Kurt and Sandro brawled outside the ring, slamming each other into barricades and steel steps.
Inside, Sting and Big E were still going at it. Sting hit a sudden Scorpion Death Drop, but was too exhausted to capitalize immediately. Both men lay sprawled, catching their breath.
"This is a war of attrition," the first commentator said breathlessly. "Neither team wants to give an inch. Sting and Kurt may have a slight edge right now, but Sandro and Big E are not backing down. Not for a second."
"This is what tag team wrestling is all about," the second commentator agreed. "Strategy. Heart. Brutality. Respect or not, Sandro and Big E came to fight, and they're showing the world they can hang with the best as a team."
The match continued, the crowd chanting "THIS IS AWESOME!" as the camera panned across the exhausted wrestlers.
The match continued at a blistering pace, both teams refusing to give an inch. Each tag, each exchange of strikes and suplexes, was met with deafening roars from the crowd.
Every slam echoed like thunder, every near fall drew gasps and cheers. It had become a test of endurance, of will, of pride. Sandro and Big E had more than proven they could stand toe to toe with icons, but Sting and Kurt Angle were not just legends, they were battle tested warriors with decades of experience between them.
Momentum swung like a pendulum. Sandro unleashed bursts of technical precision, stringing together crisp suplexes and slick reversals.
Big E powered through with brute strength, nearly decapitating Sting with a massive lariat that sent "The Icon" flipping through the air. On the other side, Angle's explosiveness and precision takedowns kept the younger team constantly on the defensive, while Sting's grit and in-ring savvy allowed him to weather everything thrown his way.
But finally, after an exhausting back and forth, the legends started to pull away.
Big E had just saved Sandro from a near fall, dragging his partner back to their corner, but their energy reserves were visibly depleted. Every movement had weight, every breath came harder. Kurt tagged in Sting, who was still fired up despite the punishment he'd taken. Sandro staggered to his feet after a double clothesline exchange, and Sting was waiting.
With a sudden burst, Sting caught Sandro by the neck and drove him backward into the mat with the Scorpion Deathdrop. The crowd exploded.
"SCORPION DEATHDROP! This could be it!" the first commentator yelled, leaping from his seat.
Sandro lay sprawled, arms out, chest heaving. Sting went for the pin, hooking the leg deep. But just as the referee's hand hit the mat for the second count, Big E surged into the ring to break it up.
Only he never got the chance.
Kurt met him at full speed and, in one fluid motion, intercepted Big E with a perfectly timed Angle Slam.
The ring shook.
"OH MY GOD! Angle with the Angle Slam out of nowhere!" the second commentator bellowed as the arena went into a frenzy.
The audience was on fire, chanting, screaming, holding their heads in disbelief. Flashbulbs went off as cameras captured the chaos unfolding in the ring. Sting glanced over at Kurt, who gave him the nod.
Then, slowly, Angle reached down and dragged Sandro's limp body off the mat. The young champion twitched, trying to fight back, but Kurt had him. With a shout, he hoisted Sandro into the air and planted him with another Angle Slam. Sandro bounced once on impact and lay still.
But it wasn't over.
Sting crouched low, staring at Sandro with cold fury, then turned him over and locked in the Scorpion Deathlock in the center of the ring.
The crowd was on its feet, screaming.
"He's got him! Scorpion Deathlock locked in! Sandro's got nowhere to go!" the first commentator yelled.
Sandro's face contorted in agony. He reached out, clawing at the mat, trying to drag himself toward the ropes. Each inch felt like a mile. He acted like he could feel the pain and he showed it clear on his face. He screamed, teeth gritted, then buried his head into his forearm, trying to hide the torment.
He stretched out again… fingertips grazing the canvas… but it was no use.
He tapped.
The referee saw it and immediately called for the bell.
DING DING DING!
The arena erupted.
"HE TAPPED! SANDRO TAPPED OUT! KURT AND STING WIN IT!" the second commentator shouted over the chaos.
The referee raised Sting's arm. Kurt stood beside him, sweat pouring down his face, nodding as the crowd chanted their names.
"That… was incredible," the first commentator breathed. "An absolute classic. But in the end, the veterans still know how to get it done." Sandro sat slumped in the corner, back against the bottom rope, his chest heaving. Big E crawled over to him, checking on his partner. The fans gave a respectful applause for Sandro and Big E's efforts, even if they'd been brash, even if they'd pushed the line, they'd made a statement.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: None
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion