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But even then, something felt off. Because wins and losses didn't matter anymore. Only Night of Champions did. Rosemont, Chicago, Illinois. The battlefield was set. And everyone knew, whatever happened next would not be subtle.
The energy in the Allstate Arena in Rosemont, Chicago, was absolutely electric that night. Night of Champions had always been one of those pay per views where the stakes felt sky high, every active title on the line, no excuses, no way out.
Champions had to defend whether they wanted to or not, against whoever had earned the shot, number one contenders, guys demanding rematches, anybody with a legitimate claim. And for once, that ironclad rule was working against the Undisputed System.
Sandro and his crew held almost everything that wasn't the WWE Championship or the World Heavyweight Championship, the United States title, the Divas Title, the WWE Tag Team Titles, the Intercontinental Title, the World Tag Team Titles, and Paul Heyman could pull all the strings he wanted as RAW General Manager, but even he couldn't rewrite the Night of Champions stipulation.
The fans knew it. They'd been around long enough to smell blood in the water. This could be the night the empire cracked.
The place filled up fast, signs waving, chants already bubbling up before the show even started. You could feel the anticipation building like a storm, hope mixed with frustration, three weeks of that eerie quiet from Sandro's group making everyone wonder if tonight would finally shatter the illusion of invincibility.
By the time the clock hit 5 PM Central, the arena was a sea of noise. The opening pyro exploded in a thunderous cascade of red, white, and gold, lighting up the rafters as the cameras swept over the roaring crowd. Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and Matt Striker were at ringside, voices rising over the chaos.
"Welcome everyone to Night of Champions, live from a sold out Allstate Arena in Rosemont, Illinois!" Cole shouted, the excitement genuine in his tone. "Tonight, every championship in WWE is on the line, no exceptions, no escapes!"
"That's right," Lawler jumped in, the King sounding almost giddy. "And folks, that means Sandro and his Undisputed System have to put those titles up whether they like it or not. We've been waiting for this moment!"
Striker added with a smirk you could hear, "I've got a feeling Chicago is ready to see some gold change hands. The Undisputed System has been untouchable for too long, tonight might just be the night it all comes crashing down."
The commentators didn't even try to hide their disdain. They'd spent weeks calling out the cheap tactics, the distractions, the sheer arrogance. And the crowd? They were right there with them, ready to explode at the first sign of justice.
Suddenly, the arena lights dimmed, and a burst of upbeat, quirky music hit, AJ Lee's theme. The place erupted. She'd only been around a month, but Chicago had already fallen hard for the pint sized fireball from New Jersey.
Skipping out onto the stage with that infectious energy, ponytail bouncing, huge smile on her face, AJ soaked in the cheers like they were oxygen. This was her first big title opportunity, and you could see the fire in her eyes.
She strutted down the ramp, high fiving fans, sliding under the bottom rope with that trademark skip, then hopping onto the turnbuckle to throw her arms out wide. The crowd chanted her name, "AJ! A J!", and she ate it up, bouncing to her corner with boundless enthusiasm.
Almost immediately, the mood shifted. A twisted, remixed version of Alexa Bliss's music blended seamlessly into the Undisputed System's ominous theme, and the boos rained down like a monsoon. Out came Alexa alone, no Sandro at her side, no Big E or Ryback looming behind her, no Kofi or Jericho or any of the others.
Just the Divas Champion, title belt cinched tight around her waist, strutting down the ramp with that sultry sway, completely ignoring the hatred pouring from the stands.
She climbed the steps slowly, deliberately, blowing mocking kisses to the front row before slipping into the ring. Alexa posed on the second rope, holding the butterfly belt high, drawing even louder boos. She handed it over to the referee with a smirk, like she knew something the rest of us didn't.
The ref held the Divas Championship aloft in the center of the ring, turning to show it to AJ, then to Alexa, then raising it high for the entire arena to see. The flashbulbs popped like crazy. He passed it off to the timekeeper, checked both women for any illegal objects, asked if they were ready, both nodded, and then the bell rang.
What followed was magic. AJ and Alexa tore the house down in an instant classic that had the Chicago crowd on their feet from the opening lock up. AJ's speed and creativity against Alexa's vicious precision, it was like watching poetry and brutality collide.
AJ flew around the ring with dropkicks, arm drags, hurricanranas that left everyone gasping. Alexa countered with sharp knees, twisted submissions, that nasty DDT she'd perfected.
Near falls came fast and frequent, AJ almost stole it with a shining wizard, Alexa kicked out at 2.9 and the place exploded. AJ locked in a creative octopus hold variation, Alexa clawed her way to the ropes. Back and forth, sweat flying, both women leaving everything in the ring.
But in the end, the System's shadow crept in. Alexa, frustrated, backed the ref into the corner with a fake complaint about her hair being pulled, long enough for her to loosen one of the turnbuckle pads.
When AJ whipped her into the corner moments later, Alexa reversed it, AJ crashed hard into the exposed steel, staggering out dazed. Alexa pounced, raking AJ's eyes when the ref's view was blocked, then spiking her with a vicious DDT right on the mat.
The crowd was screaming warnings, but it was too late. Alexa climbed to the top rope, paused just long enough to blow a sarcastic kiss toward the hard camera, then launched into the Twisted Bliss, corkscrewing moonsault perfectly onto AJ's prone body. One, two, three.
The bell rang, and the boos were deafening. Alexa rolled out, snatched her title back, and held it high with that smug grin as she backed up the ramp. AJ lay in the ring selling the loss, frustration etched on her face as medical staff checked on her. One title defense down, and the Undisputed System was still perfect.
The show rolled on without mercy. Next up, the WWE Tag Team Championships. Out came John Morrison and R-Truth first, the former champs riding a wave of nostalgia and crowd love.
They danced down the ramp, hyping the fans, ready to reclaim what they'd lost. Then the champions' music hit, Drew McIntyre and Wade Barrett, representing the Undisputed System, marching out stone faced, belts over their shoulders. No entourage again, just cold confidence.
This one was a tag team clinic from the jump. Morrison and Truth brought the flash, high flying kicks, synchronized offense, Starship Pain teases that had the crowd buzzing. But Drew and Wade were a different breed, ruthless, efficient, punishing.
They isolated Truth early, cutting the ring in half with brutal precision. Chops that echoed, suplexes that shook the mat. Morrison got the hot tag eventually, cleaning house with moonwalks and springboards, but one tiny misstep, a missed corkscrew plancha, allowed Barrett to catch him mid air and set up for the finish.
Bull Hammer from Wade staggered Morrison, then Drew charged in with the Claymore Kick. Boom. One, two, three.
Titles retained. More boos. Morrison and Truth rolled out dejected while Drew and Wade simply raised their belts and left, no celebration, no gloating, just dominance.
The momentum didn't shift. Kofi Kingston came out next, Intercontinental Championship around his waist, bouncing to the ring with that trademark swagger but drawing pure heat from Chicago. His opponent, Christian, the veteran, the former champ looking for payback. Captain Charisma got a massive pop, the crowd firmly behind him as he promised to end Kofi's reign.
Another instant classic unfolded. Christian struck first, catching Kofi off guard with a beautiful Killswitch just minutes in, Kofi barely kicked out, and the arena thought it was over. But Kofi weathered the storm, using his speed to turn the tide.
He dodged a spear, hit a springboard crossbody, started building momentum. The middle and end belonged to him, frustrating Christian with quick strikes, wearing him down.
Christian rallied with a frog splash for another near fall, but Kofi ducked a second Killswitch attempt, spun around, and cracked Christian with Trouble in Paradise. Christian staggered but stayed up, only for Kofi to spin again and nail a second one flush. That was it. Pinfall clean in the center. Title retained.
The boos grew louder, more frustrated. Three matches for the System, three retentions.
The fourth defense came quick, Big E and Ryback, the monster duo, putting the World Tag Team Championships on the line against the Hart Foundation, David Hart Smith and Tyson Kidd, accompanied by Natalya.
The Harts had burst onto RAW two months earlier as a tight knit faction throwing back to legacy, and they'd clawed their way to this shot. Natalya led them out, barking encouragement, the crowd giving them a solid cheer for the fresh challenge they represented.
Another tag clinic, power against technical precision. Smith and Kidd used speed and submissions to try and ground the behemoths, sharp kicks to the legs, double team maneuvers, even a Hart Dungeon style sharpshooter from Kidd that had Big E roaring in pain.
But the sheer immovable force of Big E and Ryback proved too much. They powered out of everything, started hurling the challengers around like ragdolls. Natalya tried to rally from ringside, but it wasn't enough. Big E speared Smith through the ropes, Ryback followed with Shell Shocked on Kidd, and the pin was academic.
Four matches. Four titles defended. Four retentions.
The Undisputed System stood 4-0 on the night, not a single crack in the armor. The Chicago crowd let them have it, boos cascading down, signs waving in anger, chants of "Bullshit!" starting in sections and spreading.
Cole sounded deflated on commentary. "I can't believe it… they're picking them apart one by one."
Lawler groaned. "This is exactly what we were afraid of. The Undisputed System isn't just winning, they're making it look easy."
Striker added quietly, "And we've still got more titles to defend tonight. If this keeps up…"
The disappointment hung thick in the air, heavier than the pyro smoke still lingering from the opener. Fans looked at each other in the stands, shaking heads, wondering if anything could stop the machine Sandro had built.
The silence between matches felt oppressive now, the cheers for the challengers fading into resigned groans.
The silence didn't last long.
It never did.
Because the moment the arena lights cut out completely, plunging the Allstate Arena into sudden darkness, every single person in the building knew exactly what was coming next.
Because suddenly—
"SHOCK… THE… SYSTEM!
The words didn't just play. They detonated.
The lights dropped out instantly, plunging the arena into darkness, and the reaction was immediate and violent. A nuclear wave of boos erupted from every corner of the building, a deep, furious sound that rattled the hard cam. People were on their feet, middle fingers raised, signs shaking, voices already hoarse before the entrance had even fully begun.
Gold light slashed through the darkness.
The Undisputed System's theme roared to life, that cold, imperial anthem washing over the arena as the stage flooded with metallic gold and white. Smoke curled along the ramp like a battlefield after an explosion.
And then he stepped through the curtain.
Sandro.
The United States Championship was strapped tightly around his waist, gleaming under the lights, polished and pristine like a trophy stolen from the crowd itself. His expression was calm, almost serene, eyes scanning the arena with detached amusement as if the hatred only fueled him. Behind him, one step back and slightly to the side, stood Paul Heyman.
Heyman clutched the Money in the Bank briefcase like it was a holy relic.
The boos grew even louder.
"Listen to this reaction," Michael Cole shouted over the noise. "Chicago is absolutely incensed!"
"They should be!" Lawler snapped. "This man has been hiding behind an army for months, and now he's parading that United States Championship like he owns this company!"
Sandro stopped at the top of the ramp. He slowly turned in a full circle, taking in the crowd, then spread his arms wide. Pyro erupted on both sides of him in perfect synchronization, golden flames shooting skyward as the heat washed over the first few rows. Sandro didn't flinch. He smiled.
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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 & 1x Mr. Money In The Bank
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0