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He took a step forward, looking between Triple H and Sandro. "That match wasn't just great, it was legendary. You delivered one of the most brutal, emotional main events this company's ever seen. It's going down in the books as one of the defining moments of modern WWE. You didn't just live up to expectations… you exceeded them."
Both men nodded respectfully, their exhaustion momentarily replaced by pride.
Triple H sat up a little straighter, despite the pain in his ribs. "Appreciate that, boss."
"Thank you, boss," Sandro said first, his tone earnest. "Means a lot coming from you."
"Yeah," Triple H added, nodding. "We wanted to make sure it lived up to the legacy."
Vince's expression softened just slightly, the kind of rare moment that only came when he was genuinely impressed. "You did. Both of you. The brutality, the storytelling, the shock factor, everything was perfect. This is the kind of stuff that reminds the world why we're still number one."
Then his tone shifted slightly, more concerned, though still firm and intimidating. ""Now… both of you, listen to me. You're going to separate hospital tomorrow as I have made the appointments. No arguments. I want a full check up,X-rays, blood work, the whole thing. You two went through hell out there, and I'm not risking long term injuries on my watch."
Stephanie immediately chimed in, crossing her arms. "My dad's right. You're both going. I don't care how stubborn either of you are. You can't just walk off something like that."
Alexa quickly agreed. "Yeah, seriously. They'll fit you both in tomorrow morning."
Triple H looked at Stephanie, then at Vince, then finally sighed. "Alright, alright. We'll go."
Sandro raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. We'll go. Promise."
Vince nodded approvingly. "Good. Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, you go straight in. I want to make sure we didn't miss anything internal. We can't afford either of you breaking down on me."
Triple H smirked faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it, boss."
With that, the tension eased slightly. The two men continued receiving their treatment, EMTs moving between them, bandaging wounds and checking vitals. Stephanie and Alexa stayed close, each still whispering quiet words of worry and frustration to their partners.
The next morning came quickly. Both men, sore but surprisingly energized, followed through on their orders. Triple H arrived at the hospital first, accompanied by Stephanie, her hand intertwined with his as they walked through the sterile corridors. Despite his insistence that he was fine, she refused to leave his side, occasionally squeezing his hand whenever a nurse mentioned scans or tests.
Meanwhile, in another part of town, Sandro arrived at a private medical facility with Alexa by his side. The two walked quietly through the hallway, Sandro wearing sunglasses to hide the faint purple bruises still forming on his face. Alexa carried a small duffle bag, mostly water, snacks, and a book, but her eyes never left him, as though making sure he wouldn't suddenly collapse.
They went through hours of examinations. X-rays, scans, bloodwork, the full rundown really. For Triple H, the news came back as expected, bruised ribs, a strained shoulder, and some deep tissue trauma, but nothing that would sideline him permanently. The doctors recommended rest, physical therapy, and minimal strain for the next few weeks. His age was catching up, but his conditioning remained top tier.
Sandro's results, however, were almost uncanny. Despite the visible external bruises, scrapes, cuts, and some swelling here and there, but his insides were perfectly fine. No fractures. No torn tissue. No internal bleeding. Nothing. It was as though his body had shrugged off the entire war like it was a mere sparring session.
The doctor glanced at the scans, then at Sandro, almost disbelieving. "Honestly Mr. Zhang," the man said, "I don't know how you're not in agony right now. After a match like that, I'd expect at least a mild concussion or rib trauma. But you're… fine. It's like your body just shrugged it all off."
Sandro offered a polite, disarming smile. "Guess I got lucky, huh?"
Alexa, standing beside him, squeezed his hand, still half in disbelief herself. "You always come out of these things like nothing happened. I don't know how you do it."
Sandro just shrugged, his smile faint but unreadable. "Maybe I was just built for this."
Meanwhile, at the other hospital, Stephanie was helping Triple H put his jacket back on. "You're gonna rest, right?" she asked, raising a brow.
Triple H smirked, brushing a kiss on her forehead. "For a day or two. Then I'm back at it. Can't let the kids think I'm getting soft."
Stephanie rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. "You're impossible."
Later that afternoon, as both men finished their hospital visits, they exchanged WhatsApp messages, simple messages of mutual respect and care.
Triple H: All clear. Just bruises. You?
Sandro: Same. Guess we're both still alive.
Triple H: Good. Keep making them talk. You've got the ball now. Don't drop it.
Sandro: Wouldn't dream of it.
By evening, the social media buzz hadn't stopped. #UndisputedSystem, #KofiHeelTurn, and #SandroVsTripleH were still trending worldwide. WWE uploaded a behind the scenes exclusive, a slow motion recap of the final moments of the match, set to haunting orchestral music, ending with the image of Sandro and Kofi standing tall over Triple H and Shawn.
It instantly hit a million views.
The fans were still divided, but that division was exactly what WWE wanted. Every argument, every theory, every furious post, it all added to the mythos.
Inside the industry, however, there was nothing but respect. Backstage producers called it a masterpiece. Other wrestlers texted Sandro privately, praising his performance. Some even admitted, grudgingly, that he had cemented himself as the face of the modern era, the man to beat.
After returning from the hospital with Alexa to the hotel where they were staying, Sandro was looking forward to nothing more than a shower and a long nap. The exhaustion from the last 48 hours was finally catching up with him, the chaos of the pay per view, the media storm, the hospital tests. His mind buzzed with all the headlines and tweets, the world still spinning around his name. All he wanted now was quiet.
But as the elevator doors opened into the hotel lobby, Sandro immediately noticed something that made him stop in his tracks. Sitting near the lobby's lounge area, surrounded by four suited bodyguards, were his parents, Jack and Taylor Zhang.
Alexa noticed them at the same time and blinked. "Oh my God… are those—?"
"Yeah," Sandro muttered, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "Those are my parents."
Taylor was the first to spot her son. The moment her eyes landed on him, she shot up from the sofa so fast that even the bodyguards stepped back out of instinct. Her expression was a mix of relief, anger, and pure maternal panic. She rushed toward him without hesitation, ignoring the curious glances from hotel guests who immediately recognized the bruised wrestling star being ambushed by his mother.
"Sandro!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling as she reached him. Her eyes scanned every inch of his body, the bandages, the cuts, the swelling on his cheek. "My God, look at you! What are you thinking of doing out there?!"
Before Sandro could respond, she was already touching his shoulders, his face, his arms, her eyes glassy with distress.
"Mom, it's fine—" Sandro tried to say, but Taylor cut him off.
"Fine?!" she scolded, her voice soft but sharp. "You call this fine? You're covered in bruises, your arm's stitched up, and don't think I didn't see what happened on TV! You were thrown through a table, for heaven's sake! Twice!"
Alexa stood beside him, trying to hide a small smile. It was endearing, seeing this side of Sandro, the cocky, untouchable star suddenly reduced to a sheepish son under his mother's glare.
"Mom," Sandro said gently, taking her hands to calm her. "It looks worse than it is, alright? The doctors checked everything. I'm okay."
By then, Jack Zhang had stood up and joined them. His demeanor was calmer, but his concern was no less genuine. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he carried the kind of commanding presence that could silence a boardroom, the same aura that made him one of the most influential businessmen in the world.
He rested a hand on Sandro's shoulder. "Son," he began, his tone measured, "your mother and I saw the match live. We watched the whole thing. And frankly…" He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "That was one of the most brutal things I've ever seen. Even for professional wrestling, that was… extreme."
Taylor shot her husband a sharp look. "Extreme? It was barbaric!"
Jack gave her a small, knowing smile before turning back to Sandro. "Tell me, what did the doctors say? How bad is it really?"
Before Sandro could answer, Alexa stepped in politely, her tone calm and professional. "Actually, Mr. Zhang, the doctors said he's perfectly fine internally. No fractures, no organ damage, nothing serious at all. Just surface injuries and bruising."
Jack blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Nothing serious?"
Taylor frowned, clearly skeptical. "How could that be? We saw him get smashed through crates from the stage, hit with that barbed bat, and, oh, don't even remind me of that superplex off the ropes into the table!"
Sandro chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mom, really, it's all good. The hospital did a full body scan. They're competent. The doctors know what they're doing."
Jack wasn't convinced. "Are you sure this hospital was up to standard? We can get you checked again somewhere better, private, discreet. I can call my guy in New York or even Zurich if we have to. You took serious punishment out there, Sandro. I don't want any surprises later."
Sandro raised a hand to stop him. "Dad, it's fine. I promise. The hospital was top notch, the doctors were professionals. They cleared me completely. Other than the cuts and bruises, I'm fit. Inside and out."
He smiled reassuringly, though inwardly, he was just as stunned by the results. He remembered looking at the scan himself, no fractures, no internal bleeding, not even swelling around the ribs. It didn't make sense. For all the hell he went through, his body came out almost unscathed.
Maybe this was another part of God's plan, he thought silently. He had already received three gifts, the immunity to pain being one of them, but perhaps this was something more. Maybe God had given him another blessing without him realizing it, strengthening his body beyond the ordinary.
And honestly, he wasn't going to complain. It was a miracle in itself. A blessing that could prolong his career, maybe even his life. But it also meant he had to be cautious. Because not feeling pain didn't mean being invincible. He needed to keep getting checked regularly, to make sure nothing went unnoticed.
Taylor sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Well… if the doctors said you're fine, then that's good," she said softly. "But that doesn't mean you can keep doing things like that. You scared us half to death, Sandro."
Her tone was softer now, but still filled with that motherly authority that even the toughest men couldn't defy.
"Yes, ma'am," Sandro said with a small, guilty grin.
Satisfied, for now, Taylor exhaled deeply, and the tension began to fade.
"Alright," Sandro said, clapping his hands lightly to change the mood. "How about we all go get some dinner? The restaurant here's supposed to be great. My treat."
Taylor gave him a look, but couldn't help smiling. "Trying to butter us up, huh?"
"Always works," Sandro grinned.
A short while later, the four of them, Sandro, Alexa, Jack, and Taylor, were seated at a corner table in the hotel's private restaurant. The place was elegant and quiet, the kind of space where conversations could flow easily. A few guests recognized Sandro and whispered, but no one dared to interrupt.
Once their orders were placed, Jack leaned back in his chair, regarding his son with a faintly proud smile. "You know," he said, "you've come a long way from that kid who used to practice promos in the mirror."
Sandro chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Yeah. I guess I did."
Taylor smiled too, though she still couldn't help glancing at his bandaged hands. "Just don't let that success make you reckless. Fame fades, but your body's what carries you through it."
That seemed to cue Sandro into sharing something he'd been thinking about since the hospital. "Actually, that's something I wanted to talk about," he said, straightening a little. "I've been thinking about taking some additional training. Boxing, kickboxing, MMA, maybe even Krav Maga. I want to tighten my technique, make my strikes look more real, more precise. Not just acting like I hit, actually learning how to hit properly."
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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