If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my Patreon!!!
Go to https://www.patreon.com/Tang12
___________________________
AJ rolled onto her knees, chest heaving, eyes wide with disbelief and joy. She had done it. Making her RAW debut and got a huge win. Cole summed it up quietly. "Tonight, AJ Lee just made a statement by winning her debut match."
The celebration didn't linger long.
AJ Lee was still catching her breath on the stage, smiling as she backed through the curtain, when RAW rolled on like it always did, relentless, stacked, and hungry.
The show flowed from match to match, promos stitched between bouts like connective tissue. Rivalries advanced. Words were thrown. Challenges teased. The crowd never truly settled, because the shadow hanging over the entire night was impossible to ignore.
The Undisputed System was still coming.
Backstage segments showed tension rippling through the locker room. Veterans watched monitors with narrowed eyes. Younger talents whispered among themselves. Some scoffed. Some looked worried. Some looked motivated.
Because whether anyone wanted to admit it or not, RAW no longer felt like neutral ground.
It felt occupied.
By the time the main event hour approached, the arena buzzed with anticipation and unease. Fans stood more often. Chants broke out randomly, rising and falling like waves crashing against concrete.
And then—
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Before plunging the arena into darkness.
"BOOOOOOOOO!"
The reaction was instant and deafening.
A low, distorted hum crept through the speakers, followed by a familiar, chilling phrase that echoed through the building like a warning shot.
SHOCK THE SYSTEM!
The arena detonated with boos as gold light slashed across the darkness. Spotlights ignited in sharp bursts, cutting through the haze as the Undisputed System's theme roared to life at full volume.
Michael Cole let out a long breath. "Here we go."
Jerry Lawler shook his head. "Every time they show up, Cole, it feels like they've taken more ground."
The curtain parted.
Sandro stepped out first.
The United States Championship hung loosely in his right hand, tilted just enough for the plates to catch the light with every step. His expression was calm, almost serene, as if the hostility washing over him was nothing more than background noise.
Behind him, the procession followed.
Paul Heyman emerged next, clutching the Money in the Bank briefcase to his chest like a sacred relic, eyes darting between the crowd and Sandro with manic energy.
Alexa Bliss followed, Divas Championship raised high, her smile confident, unapologetic.
Wade Barrett and Drew McIntyre came next, the WWE Tag Team Championships draped over their shoulders, their strides heavy and deliberate.
Big E and Ryback thundered out side by side, World Tag Team Titles gleaming, sheer power radiating off them.
Kofi Kingston stepped through with the Intercontinental Championship strapped around his waist, nodding rhythmically to the music.
Then Dolph Ziggler.
Focused. Silent.
And finally, Chris Jericho.
Arms spread wide, soaking in the boos, a knowing smirk on his face.
The entire stage was filled with gold.
The boos intensified, raining down like a storm.
Cole said it quietly, almost reluctantly. "Look at that lineup. Look at the championships. Love them or hate them, you are witnessing the most decorated faction we may have ever seen."
Lawler grimaced. "And that man at the front, Sandro, he's the common denominator. He's the architect of all of this."
On the stage, Sandro stopped.
He slowly spread his arms wide, palms open, head tilted back slightly as pyro erupted behind the group in brilliant golden bursts. The explosion of light framed them like conquering heroes or invading kings, depending on who you asked.
The boos were relentless.
Sandro smiled.
He turned, motioned once with his head, and led the Undisputed System down the ramp.
Every step felt deliberate. Controlled. Ownership in motion.
They filled the ring, surrounding it, stepping through the ropes one by one. Titles were raised again, each belt catching the hard cam just long enough to send another ripple of hatred through the crowd.
Alexa reached through the ropes and accepted a microphone from the ringside crew. She turned, handed it to Sandro, and stepped back, folding her arms with quiet confidence.
Sandro brought the mic up, waiting.
The boos continued.
He didn't speak.
He just stood there, arms spread again, soaking it in.
Finally, he lowered the mic slightly and chuckled.
"Detroit," he said, voice calm, measured, almost amused, "welcome… to the embodiment of sports entertainment."
The boos intensified.
"Welcome," Sandro continued, turning slowly in a circle, gesturing to each member behind him, "to professional wrestling at its absolute peak."
More boos.
"Welcome… to the Undisputed System."
He lowered the mic, spreading his arms again as the crowd showered him with venom. Heyman laughed hysterically behind him. Alexa smirked. The others stood stone-faced.
Cole muttered, "The arrogance…"
Sandro raised the mic again. "You don't have to like it," he said. "But you will acknowledge it."
He pointed to Kofi. "Intercontinental Champion."
To Big E and Ryback. "World Tag Team Champions."
To Barrett and Drew. "WWE Tag Team Champions."
To Alexa. "Divas Champion."
"And me," Sandro said, lifting the United States Championship slightly. "Still your United States Champion."
The boos were thunderous.
"And yes," Sandro added, glancing back toward Ziggler and Jericho, "I can already hear you counting. Ziggler. Jericho. No gold yet."
He shrugged. "Yet."
The crowd erupted in jeers.
"Kane," Sandro continued, voice sharpening, "is on borrowed time. Just like Big Show."
Lawler groaned. "Oh come on…"
"They're placeholders," Sandro said coldly. "Holding championships for men who haven't realized yet… that their era is already over."
He smirked. "That World Heavyweight Championship? It's coming to us. One way or another."
The boos somehow grew louder.
"And because of everything you see standing in this ring right now," Sandro said, spreading his arms again, "because of what we've accomplished, because of what we control, there is no WWE anymore."
The crowd paused, confused.
Sandro's smile widened.
"There is only…" he paused deliberately, "…Undisputed System Entertainment."
The arena exploded with chants.
"NO! NO! NO!"
"NO! NO! NO!"
Cole nearly shouted over it. "Listen to this crowd!"
Sandro nodded, unfazed. "USE," he repeated. "It's catchy, isn't it?"
The chants intensified.
Sandro chuckled. "But I didn't come out here just to talk."
That got attention.
Even Lawler straightened up. "What?"
Sandro leaned on the ropes, resting an arm casually. "My family has done incredible work. Titles retained. Titles won. Statements made."
He straightened. "So tonight… I'm feeling generous."
The crowd quieted slightly, confused murmurs spreading.
"I'm issuing an open challenge," Sandro said. "Right now."
Cole's voice shot up. "What?!"
Lawler sounded stunned. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Sandro nodded. "United States Championship. Open challenge. Anyone in that locker room who thinks they're brave enough… step up."
The arena went quiet for half a heartbeat.
Then—
MARK HENRY'S MUSIC HIT.
The crowd erupted into massive cheers.
Cole nearly jumped out of his chair. "OH MY GOD!"
Lawler was ecstatic. "THE WORLD'S STRONGEST MAN!"
Mark Henry stormed onto the stage, eyes locked on the ring, jaw clenched, veins visible in his neck. He pointed directly at Sandro, shouting words that couldn't be heard over the roar of the crowd.
"This is unbelievable," Cole said. "This is the first time these two have ever crossed paths!"
In the ring, Sandro watched calmly.
Then he smirked.
He turned and raised one finger.
The Undisputed System began to exit the ring, one by one.
Heyman leaned in, mic still catching his frantic whisper. "My Maestro, no, no, we don't need to—"
Sandro turned sharply. "Be quiet."
Heyman froze.
"This," Sandro said firmly, "is what leaders do."
He looked back at his family. "I don't hide behind you. I stand in front of you."
Heyman swallowed and nodded, clutching the briefcase tighter as he backed away.
Mark Henry stepped into the ring, towering, the crowd roaring his name.
A referee sprinted down the ramp and slid in, standing nervously between them.
Sandro removed the United States Championship and handed it over. The referee held it up high, showing it to Henry, then to the crowd.
The title gleamed.
The referee backed away, checked both men one last time, then—
Rang the bell.
DING DING DING!
The match exploded immediately.
Henry charged forward, overwhelming Sandro with raw power, backing him into the corner with crushing body shots. The crowd roared with every blow.
"THIS is what Sandro asked for," Lawler shouted.
Henry lifted Sandro and slammed him down hard with a spinebuster that shook the ring.
ONE!
TWO!
Kickout.
The crowd gasped.
Henry stayed on him.
He didn't give Sandro a second to breathe after the kickout. The World's Strongest Man hauled him up by the arm like dead weight and hurled him across the ring with a brutal snap throw. Sandro skidded on his back, rolling instinctively toward the ropes, chest already heaving.
Lawler's voice carried excitement and concern. "Mark Henry is doing exactly what he needs to do. He cannot let Sandro dictate pace. He has to keep smashing him."
Henry stalked forward, boots thudding with purpose. He drove a heavy knee into Sandro's ribs as he tried to rise, then another. Sandro grimaced, clutching his side, but forced himself upright anyway, jaw clenched, eyes sharp even through the pain.
Henry grabbed him again.
This time Sandro reacted faster.
He slipped under Henry's arm, firing a sharp back elbow into the ribs. It barely staggered the big man, but it bought Sandro half a second. He used it, snapping a quick kick to Henry's knee.
Henry growled.
Another kick.
Henry swung.
Sandro ducked, firing a stiff forearm to the jaw that snapped Henry's head back just a fraction.
The crowd buzzed.
Cole leaned forward. "Sandro is realizing he cannot trade power. He has to break Henry down piece by piece."
Henry answered with a headbutt.
Sandro stumbled back hard into the corner, nearly collapsing. Henry followed immediately, crushing him with a massive body splash that rattled the turnbuckles. Sandro folded, gasping for air as Henry leaned into him, pressing his weight down, smothering him.
The referee started a count.
Henry broke at four, smirking, soaking in the boos as Sandro dropped to one knee.
Henry lifted him again, hoisting Sandro across his shoulders.
The crowd erupted, knowing what was coming.
World's Strongest Slam attempt—
Sandro wriggled desperately, raining elbows into Henry's head. One. Two. Three. Henry staggered just enough.
Sandro slipped down behind him.
Low kick.
Henry dropped to one knee.
Another kick.
Henry snarled and swung blindly, but Sandro ducked again, chopping the leg from under him with a brutal sweep. Henry crashed to the mat on one knee, then both hands, breathing hard now.
The Undisputed System at ringside leaned forward, eyes locked, but they stayed still. No interference. No words.
This was Sandro's test.
Sandro backed up, wiping sweat from his brow, then hit the ropes. He charged and drove a sharp knee strike into Henry's shoulder, then another to the side of the head.
Henry fell onto his side.
The crowd gasped as Sandro went for a cover.
ONE!
TWO!
Henry powered out, shoving Sandro off like a fly.
Lawler nearly laughed in disbelief. "That's Mark Henry. That's raw strength."
Sandro rolled to his feet quickly, nodding to himself, recalibrating. He circled Henry, watching every movement, every breath.
Henry pushed up to one knee.
Sandro rushed in—
Henry exploded upward, catching Sandro in a thunderous bear hug.
The air left Sandro's lungs instantly. His face contorted as Henry squeezed, muscles bulging, crushing him in the center of the ring.
Cole raised his voice. "That bear hug can break ribs!"
Sandro thrashed, feet kicking, hands clawing at Henry's arms. He tried elbows, but Henry only tightened his grip, roaring as the crowd rallied behind him.
"LET'S GO HENRY!" chants filled the arena.
Sandro's movements slowed.
Then, with a last burst of desperation, he slammed his head forward, cracking Henry in the jaw.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Henry staggered, releasing the hold.
Sandro collapsed to one knee, coughing, chest burning.
Henry shook his head, eyes blazing, and charged,
Sandro sprang up, snapping a sudden superkick.
It landed flush.
Henry reeled back into the ropes, stunned. Sandro didn't hesitate.
He hit the ropes again, sprinting—
Running knee strike!
Henry collapsed forward to both knees.
The crowd rose to their feet.
Sandro grabbed Henry's head, pulling him in, twisting—
He tried to snap him down into his submission.
Henry powered up instead, hoisting Sandro again—
World's Strongest Slam—
Sandro slipped free at the last second, landing behind Henry and shoving him forward.
Henry hit the turnbuckles chest first. Sandro charged, blasting him with a dropkick to the back of the head. Henry slumped into the corner, dazed. Sandro backed up, eyes narrowing.He sprinted forward and drove a massive corner knee strike into Henry's chest, then another. Henry sagged, barely upright.
_______________________________
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 & 1x Mr. Money In The Bank
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0