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Back inside the ring, Sandro stirred first, dragging himself up the ropes, glaring down at Nic, who was barely moving. He limped toward him, muttering, "Stay down. Just… stay down." Nic's hand pressed into the mat. He shook his head slowly, rising to one knee, staring Sandro in the eyes through the sweat and pain. And then he smirked. The crowd lost it.
Sandro's expression twisted into rage as he pulled Nic up again—
But Nic broke free, hitting another superkick out of nowhere! Sandro collapsed to one knee.
Nic hit the ropes, charging, but Sandro caught him mid sprint with a huge pop up powerbomb! He then picked up Nic and hooked both arms, setting up for something big, something that was very recognized by everyone.
Sandro's grip tightened, his boots sliding across the canvas as he hooked both of Nic's arms. The crowd already knew what was coming, the shift in energy was immediate. Gasps, shouts, hands on heads.
The FCW Arena went from roaring chaos to an eerie silence of disbelief. Sandro's teeth were bared, sweat pouring down his forehead, his muscles trembling from exhaustion and fury. With a guttural yell, he dropped, driving Nic's skull into the mat with a picture perfect Pedigree.
The impact echoed through the building. Nic's body folded and sprawled, motionless for a second, and Sandro fell forward onto his chest, hooking the leg with pure desperation. The referee slid in.
One!
Two!
The entire crowd counted with him, and then, before the hand could hit the mat the third time, Nic's shoulder shot up!
The arena erupted. The noise was volcanic, a wave of disbelief and adrenaline flooding through the fans. Sandro sat upright, mouth open, eyes wide. He looked at the referee like he'd just witnessed a crime.
"That was three!" he barked, slapping his hands together for emphasis. The ref shook his head firmly, holding up two fingers.
Sandro's jaw clenched. He dragged himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. His expression turned from disbelief to something darker, frustration twisted with ego. He wasn't just fighting Nic anymore. He was fighting the audience, the rules, the whole damn world for not letting him win when he decided it was time.
He stalked around Nic's prone body like a predator circling wounded prey. Every step was heavy, deliberate. He kicked at Nic's ribs, once, twice, each shot drawing groans from the crowd. Then, with a sneer, Sandro grabbed Nic by the hair and dragged him up again. Nic's legs barely held. His body was limp, his chest heaving.
Sandro muttered through his breath, "You just don't know when to quit, do you?"
Nic's eyes, half lidded, flicked up with defiance. His hand shot up, slap! right across Sandro's cheek.
The sound cracked through the air.
Sandro froze. His cheek burned red. Slowly, he turned back toward Nic, his lips twitching into a dangerous smile. "Oh, you're dead."
Then came the storm.
Sandro exploded with strikes, heavy forearms raining down on Nic's shoulders and head, each one thudding like gunfire. He whipped Nic into the ropes and caught him on the rebound with a snap spinebuster, shaking the ring.
He didn't go for a pin. Instead, he stood over Nic, spreading his arms, soaking in the chorus of boos that filled the air. He yelled out to the fans, "This is still my ring! You get that? Still mine!"
A shower of jeers hit him like rain, but he relished it. The boos only fed him more.
He stomped down on Nic's hand, hard enough that Nic winced and rolled away in pain. Sandro followed, grinding his boot into Nic's back before lifting him up again, this time dragging him toward the ropes. He leaned Nic's throat across the middle rope and pressed his knee into his back, choking him out as the referee rushed over and began counting.
"One! Two! Three! Four!"
Sandro released right before the disqualification, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. He smirked, stepping back and shaking his head as the referee warned him. The crowd hated every second of it, and that was exactly what Sandro wanted.
Nic coughed and gasped, pulling himself off the ropes, his face red from the pressure. Sandro took a running start and hit a knee to the back, sending Nic flying between the ropes and crashing onto the floor outside. The audience groaned at the impact.
Sandro leaned against the ropes, staring down at him, the smirk still carved on his face. He pointed down and shouted, "Stay out there if you know what's good for you!"
But Nic wasn't staying down.
The FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion began to stir, using the guardrail to pull himself up. The fans at ringside patted his shoulders, clapping and cheering to push him on. Sandro rolled his eyes and slid out of the ring.
He grabbed Nic from behind and threw him shoulder first into the steel steps. The crash echoed across the building. Nic's body bounced off and crumpled to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Sandro took a moment to breathe, brushing his hair out of his eyes, then crouched beside him.
"You wanted to steal the spotlight tonight, huh?" he taunted quietly, just loud enough for the nearest camera to catch. "You wanted to show them you're the guy?" He slammed Nic's head against the steps. "You're not the guy. You're just another moment in my story."
He dragged Nic up again and whipped him toward the barricade, but Nic reversed it, sending Sandro flying instead! Sandro crashed hard into the barrier, the shock sending fans stumbling backward. The pop from the crowd was deafening.
Nic staggered, trying to shake the pain from his shoulder, but adrenaline pushed him forward. He lunged toward Sandro, grabbing him by the hair and tossing him back into the ring under the bottom rope. The audience roared as Nic followed.
Sandro was on one knee when Nic entered and Nic didn't hesitate. Superkick!
The kick landed flush on Sandro's jaw, and he fell flat on his back. The crowd screamed. Nic stumbled, trying to stay upright, then grabbed the top rope and pulled himself to the corner. He crouched low, eyes locked on Sandro, waiting for him to move.
Sandro started to stir, groaning, one hand on his jaw. Nic charged again, another superkick! Sandro went limp, collapsing into the mat.
The crowd lost their minds. Everyone was on their feet.
Nic staggered back, arms shaking from exhaustion, every muscle in his body screaming. But he wasn't done yet. He reached down, grabbed Sandro by the neck, and with one last burst of energy, Zig Zag!
The move hit perfectly. Sandro's head bounced off the canvas, and Nic flopped next to him, both men sprawled on the mat.
The fans were in a frenzy, chanting Nic's name. He crawled toward Sandro, inch by inch, his arm draping over his chest. But just as his fingers brushed Sandro's chest, his body gave out. He collapsed, face down, completely spent.
Seconds passed. The referee looked between them, ready to start a double count, when movement caught his eye.
Sandro's body rolled slowly toward the ropes. By sheer instinct or opportunism, he reached out and managed to hook his arm over the bottom rope. His chest rose and fell sharply, eyes half-open, but his mind was working. He was surviving.
Outside, the fans booed furiously, realizing what he'd done. He wasn't out of it, he was playing it smart.
Nic could only looked up as he breath raggedly. He looked toward the ropes, saw Sandro on the outside, and slumped in frustration. He slammed the mat with both hands. He had him. He had him. But the moment was gone.
Meanwhile, Sandro had rolled to the floor, leaning against the apron, trying to collect himself. He wiped blood from his lip and looked back into the ring. Nic was still down, struggling to stand. A crooked grin spread across Sandro's face.
Slowly, he rose, using the ring banner to pull himself upright. His chest heaved. Every breath looked painful, but his eyes, they were burning. The kind of fire that comes from spite and sheer will.
He grabbed the bottom rope and hauled himself up onto the apron, still clutching his ribs. The boos from the crowd grew louder, but he ignored them. He glanced toward the corner. The turnbuckle was calling.
Sandro climbed. One rope. Two. Then he was standing tall on the top turnbuckle, balancing as the lights shimmered off his sweat soaked body. He raised one hand high, signaling. The fans knew what was coming, the Downfall DDT.
He pointed down at Nic, shouting, "Get up! Come on, champ! Show me that heart!"
The audience screamed for Nic to stay down, but he didn't. He pushed up from the mat, arms shaking, head spinning. Sandro crouched slightly, ready to strike.
Nic turned and Sandro launched himself from the top rope. Time slowed. His arm snaked around Nic's head mid air, twisting, driving him down with a thunderous diving Downfall DDT that rattled the ring and echoed through the arena.
The impact was brutal. Nic's body lay motionless, his chest barely moving.
Sandro rolled onto his back, both arms spread wide, staring up at the lights as if his soul had left his body. For a long moment, neither man moved. Then, slowly, Sandro turned over, crawling on hands and knees. Every inch looked like agony. His fingers clawed the mat until he reached Nic.
He draped an arm across his chest, eyes closing, lips moving in a breathless whisper. "Stay down…"
The referee dropped for the count.
One! Two! Three!
The bell rang.
The crowd reaction was a mixture of shock, awe, and heartbreak. Half the fans had their hands on their heads, the others booed relentlessly. Sandro didn't move at first, he was too exhausted even to celebrate. The referee crawled over, gently lifting his arm, but it fell limp again onto his chest.
The ring announcer's voice filled the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your winner… and still WWE UNITED STATES CHAMPION... SANDRO ZHANG!"
The announcement drew an even louder wave of boos. Trash didn't fly, but the feeling in the room was raw, electric, divided. People hated what they'd seen, but they couldn't look away.
Sandro finally rolled to his side, sitting up. He glanced at Nic, who was still flat on his back, then down at his own shaking hands. He was breathing heavy, his face bruised and smeared with sweat and grit.
For a brief second, his expression softened. Maybe it was relief. Maybe respect. But just as fast, it was gone. The trademark smirk returned.
He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the ropes, leaning against them for balance. The referee brought over the United States title and handed it to him. Sandro stared at it, the gold gleaming under the lights, then raised it high above his head with a snarl of pure defiance.
The crowd booed louder.
He shouted into the void, "This is mine! You can hate it, you can loath me, but I earned this!"
Still staggering, he leaned on the ropes, one hand gripping the title against his chest. Then, in a final burst of arrogance, Sandro slid out of the ring, holding the belt high as he limped up the ramp. The fans along the aisle shouted insults, but he didn't care, in fact, he thrived on it.
At one point, he turned, flipping off a group of fans who had been heckling him since the start. They roared louder, and he grinned through the pain.
Every step up the ramp looked like a war in itself. His body was wrecked, but his pride was intact. Behind him, the camera lingered on Nic, slowly rolling onto his side, clutching the back of his head. The audience began to clap, a slow, thunderous show of respect for the man who fought until his body gave out.
But Sandro didn't turn around to acknowledge it.
At the top of the ramp, he stopped, the lights framing his silhouette. He raised the WWE United States Championship once more, looking straight into the hard camera. His voice, rough but defiant, cut through the noise. "Still undisputed." Then he slung the belt over his shoulder and disappeared through the curtain, leaving the ring, and the wreckage of another five star classic, behind him.
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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
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0