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Some fans debated whether Sandro could survive. Others swore this was the end of his reign. Analysts speculated endlessly about the match itself, the brutality, the psychology, the sheer scale of it.
Hell in a Cell.
The structure Undertaker made famous.
Could Sandro hang with the Deadman inside it?
Could he retain his title… or would he be consumed?
Others raised different questions.
What about Paul Heyman?
What about the Undisputed System?
It was Hell in a Cell, no disqualifications, no count outs. If they found a way in, chaos would follow. Fans argued back and forth, some convinced interference was inevitable, others confident that Vince McMahon himself would ensure the match happened clean.
After all, Vince had sanctioned the battle royal.
And now he had his winner.
This match wasn't just a spectacle.
It was business.
Backstage, far from the noise and chaos of the arena, the atmosphere was very different.
Inside the private locker room of the Undisputed System, the door was closed, the lights softer, the sound of the crowd reduced to a distant hum through thick walls. Sandro sat on a bench, towel draped around his neck, championship belt resting beside him.
Across the room, Alexa Bliss leaned casually against a table, arms folded, watching him with an unreadable expression.
Sandro finally broke into a smile, shaking his head slightly. "Can't believe it," he said, calm, almost amused. "Gonna have a one on one match with Undertaker, it's a dream come true."
Alexa raised an eyebrow. "You look… very excited."
"Of course I am," Sandro replied honestly. "Being gable to face one of the wrestlers that inspired me to become one was a great feeling."
Alexa laugh lightly. "Well let's hope you can put up a great match with him babe."
Before Sandro could respond, there was a knock at the door.
Alexa pushed off the table and crossed the room, opening it.
AJ Lee and Nikki Bella stepped inside, rolling their luggage behind them. Both looked slightly apologetic.
"Sorry we're late," AJ said quickly. "We had to wait and accompany Brie to get her ride sorted."
Nikki add in with a sheepish smile. "Traffic backstage was insane."
Sandro stood immediately. "It's okay," he said warmly, walking toward them. "No problem at all."
He hugged AJ first, then Nikki, pulling them both in without hesitation. He kissed AJ softly, then Nikki, lingering just long enough to make both of them smile.
Alexa rolled her eyes playfully. "Wow. Not even a minute."
Sandro laughed and pulled her in too, kissing her as well. For a moment, the tension of the night melted away, replaced by something familiar, something comfortable. The four of them shared a quiet, intimate bubble, teasing, touching, laughing softly.
They didn't notice the door.
It hadn't fully closed.
Down the hallway, a journalist, credentials hanging loosely around his neck, wandered through the backstage area, looking for any last minute reactions. He slowed when he noticed the Undisputed System's locker room.
A smile crept across his face.
This could be good.
He stepped closer, intending to knock—
And then he saw inside.
His eyes widened.
He froze.
What he was seeing didn't match the rumors. It didn't fit the neat little narratives people had whispered about for months. This wasn't cheating. This wasn't scandal in the way people assumed.
This was something else entirely.
The journalist's heart raced.
This was huge.
Alexa Bliss.
AJ Lee.
Nikki Bella.
All with Sandro Zhang.
Together.
Carefully, silently, he stepped back into the shadows and lifted his phone. One photo. Then another. He didn't dare use the flash. His hands shook slightly as he captured the moment, the reality of it all sinking in.
This wasn't just gossip.
This was a story that could blow wide open.
Then—
A soft sound.
A shuffle of his shoe against the floor.
Inside the locker room, the laughter stopped.
Alexa's head snapped toward the door. Nikki frowned. AJ tilted her head, listening.
Sandro's smile faded.
"What was that?" Alexa asked quietly.
The journalist didn't wait.
Panic surged through him as he turned and ran, disappearing down the corridor before anyone could reach the door.
Sandro moved first, striding over and pulling the door fully open.
The hallway was empty.
But the damage had already been done.
He stood there for a moment, jaw tightening slightly, before exhaling and closing the door again.
Inside, the mood shifted.
AJ broke the silence. "Someone was there."
Sandro nodded slowly. "Yeah."
Nikki crossed her arms. "This is going to get out, isn't it?"
Sandro looked at all three of them, then shrugged, a faint, almost defiant smile returning. "Maybe."
AJ stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. "Let them talk. It's not like we are doing something wrong."
Sandro met her gaze, calm and unshaken. "Yes, lets face it together when it comes."
Outside, the world was already buzzing.
Hell in a Cell was coming.
And the entire wrestling world felt like it was holding its breath.
Two days passed.
For two straight days, the debates never stopped. Message boards exploded. Social media timelines refreshed endlessly. Podcasts dissected every possible angle. Analysts argued about pacing, about brutality, about whether Sandro Zhang's cerebral, calculated style could withstand the relentless, supernatural aura of The Undertaker inside a structure designed to destroy men.
Some fans swore this was it.
That no one walked into the Deadman's home and came out the same.
That Sandro's reign,who just started and everyone thought it will be a dominant, historic, arrogant reign, would end in steel and blood before it could even started.
Others pushed back hard.
They talked about Sandro's adaptability. His ability to survive chaos. His mind games. His experience in stipulations where rules didn't exist. They pointed to his battles against monsters, legends, entire factions. They reminded everyone that champions weren't made by avoiding danger, but by walking straight into it, only the roads used are different.
The noise from RAW had barely faded before the next chapter began.
Wednesday arrived with a different kind of electricity, a quieter hum that buzzed beneath the surface rather than crashing over everything at once. This wasn't a massive arena packed with tens of thousands. This was something new. Something raw. Something closer.
It was the debut of NXT.
Live on Syfy.
Broadcast from Tampa, Florida.
Fans from all over the surrounding area filtered toward the WWE Performance Center, the kind of crowd that felt intimate and hungry, the type that wanted to say they were there first.
The NXT arena, tucked neatly inside the complex, could only hold six to seven hundred people, but every single seat was filled. People leaned forward, phones ready, voices already loud despite the small space.
This wasn't just a show.
It was the beginning of something.
Backstage, the atmosphere was controlled chaos.
Production crew members hurried down corridors with headsets on, calling cues and counting seconds. Camera operators adjusted angles. Lighting techs double checked rigs. Stagehands moved equipment with practiced urgency.
At the center of it all were Dusty Rhodes and Steve Keirn.
Dusty stood near the production table, cowboy hat tilted back, microphone headset resting around his neck. He pointed, gestured, laughed loudly, then barked instructions in rapid succession, his thick accent cutting through the noise like a familiar song.
"Alright, baby, listen to me now, when we go live, I want that hard cam tight, real tight, daddy! This is history, don't you miss it!"
Steve Keirn stood beside him, arms folded, nodding as he watched everything come together. He stepped in when needed, calm where Dusty was loud, steady where Dusty was explosive.
Nearby, the catering area buzzed with nervous energy. The talents paced, stretched, talked trash to each other, hyped themselves up. Some sat quietly, eyes closed, visualizing their moments. Others laughed too loudly, trying to hide their nerves.
In one of the private locker rooms, the mood was entirely different.
Sandro sat comfortably on a leather sofa, feet stretched out, one arm draped casually along the backrest. Around him were the members of the Undisputed System, relaxed, joking, far removed from their on screen personas. Titles lay scattered around the room, gold catching the light, proof of where they stood in the company.
Paul Heyman stood off to the side, talking animatedly with Drew McIntyre, gesturing wildly as he made a point. Alexa Bliss leaned against Sandro's shoulder, scrolling through her phone, occasionally smirking at something she read.
Big E laughed loudly at something Ryback said, while Wade Barrett shook his head, already regretting engaging.
This wasn't the Undisputed System the fans hated.
This was family.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Before anyone could react, it opened.
Dusty Rhodes walked in first, Steve Keirn right beside him.
The room lit up immediately.
Sandro stood from the sofa without hesitation, stepping forward with a grin. He exchanged quick, genuine hugs with both men, the kind that came from shared history rather than business obligation.
"Well I'll be damned," Dusty boomed, clapping Sandro on the shoulder. "Look at you now, baby. Double champion. World champion in the WWE. Told ya."
Sandro chuckled, shaking his head. "Couldn't have done it without you, Dusty."
Dusty waved him off. "Nah, nah, don't you start that. I saw it. Two years ago in FCW, daddy, I saw a star walk through that door. You had it. Still got it."
Steve smiled. "He's not wrong."
Sandro shrugged lightly. "I just kept working."
Steve glanced around the room, eyes briefly landing on the titles. "You ready for tonight?"
Sandro leaned back slightly, confidence easy in his posture. "Of course. I've been waiting to see this place go live."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "You know it doesn't happen without you, right? Triple H and Stephanie pushed hard. Vince listened."
Sandro smiled, but didn't boast. "I'm just glad it worked out."
He paused, then added casually, "After all, my faction's winning another title tonight."
The room erupted in laughter.
Steve snorted. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We haven't agreed to that yet."
Dusty waved a hand dismissively. "Don't get ahead of yourself, kid. Don't think just 'cause you're the son of the second largest shareholder that you can just walk in here and make demands."
Paul Heyman laughed loudly. "Perish the thought."
Sandro raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just confident."
Dusty leaned in, eyes twinkling. "Confidence is good. Arrogance gets you punched."
Then he paused, smiled wider, and added the punchline.
"…But hell, it's different now. You're a made man. And I'd be happy to satisfy the boss."
The room exploded with laughter.
Dusty clapped his hands once. "Alright, alright. Jokes aside. Titles are being introduced in the opening segment. Battle royals to crown the first champions tonight."
Sandro nodded. "We understand."
"Good," Steve said. "Enjoy the show."
With that, Dusty and Steve exited the locker room, leaving the Undisputed System behind.
Sandro returned to the sofa, eyes already drifting to the monitor mounted on the wall.
Everyone else followed suit.
The room fell quiet.
The NXT theme hit.
The screen flickered to life.
Inside the NXT arena, the crowd erupted. It was loud in a different way, closer, sharper, every cheer bouncing off the walls. The hard cam caught fans standing, clapping, chanting, soaking in the moment.
Michael Cole's voice filled the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the debut of NXT! Live on Syfy from the WWE Performance Center in Tampa, Florida!"
Josh Matthews chimed in, excitement clear in his tone. "This is the future of WWE, Michael. A brand dedicated to creating the next generation of superstars!"
The camera panned across the crowd, signs waving, faces glowing.
"This is a new era," Cole continued. "A different style. A different atmosphere."
Suddenly—
Dusty Rhodes' music hit.
The building erupted.
Dusty stepped out onto the stage alongside Steve Keirn, both men smiling as the fans showered them with cheers. Dusty waved, pointed, soaked it all in. Steve nodded respectfully, hands clasped.
Savannah's voice rang out.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the General Manager of NXT, Dusty Rhodes… and the NXT Commissioner, Steve Keirn!"
"WELCOME BACK! WELCOME BACK!" the crowd chanted.
Dusty tipped his hat, laughing, visibly touched.
They entered the ring, and the camera revealed four tall pillars positioned at each corner, each covered with a black cloth. The sight immediately sparked curiosity among the fans.
When the chants finally settled, Dusty lifted his microphone.
"Welcome… to NXT!" he boomed.
The crowd cheered again.
"Now, daddy," Dusty continued, pacing the ring. "This brand right here? It's about opportunity. It's about heart. It's about passion."
Cheers.
"These men and women back there?" He pointed toward the stage. "They ain't just wrestlers. They are the future."
Steve stepped forward next, raising his mic. "NXT will be different," he said calmly. "You'll see a faster pace. A more physical style. A place where talent is forged." The fans responded with applause.
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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
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0