If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Also everyone I have a new novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and give some power stone)
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Alexa burst out laughing, walking out of the kitchen and shaking her head. "Oh, great. Just what we need. As if your ego wasn't big enough from being the 'God King' of wrestling, now we have to deal with 'Hollywood Sandro.' I can already see the sunglasses indoors and the demands for sparkling water."
"I am going to have to rethink your entire wardrobe," Nikki gasped, her mind already racing. "Red carpet premieres! Press tours! Oh, we need to get you tailored for new suits!"
Sandro couldn't help but laugh loudly, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture as the three women swarmed him with playful teasing and genuine excitement.
"Calm down, all of you," Sandro chuckled, pulling AJ into his side with his good arm while Nikki grabbed his hand. "I only agreed because Stan personally approached me. I am not blindly attaching my name to a movie just for fame. If the script isn't up to my standards, or if the production looks cheap, I will walk away in a heartbeat."
"Sure, sure," Alexa teased, leaning over the back of the couch and ruffling his hair. "Keep telling yourself that, Mr. Movie Star. Just remember who kept you grounded before you had your own action figure with kung fu grip."
The warm, comedic banter continued throughout the morning, a perfect, joyful contrast to the heavy violence and corporate maneuvering that usually defined his life. For a few hours, Sandro simply allowed himself to enjoy the pride and excitement of the women he loved.
The relaxed atmosphere of Tampa faded into the rearview mirror as the relentless machine of the WWE schedule marched forward.
It was Friday evening, and the bright, flashing lights of the Cow Palace in San Francisco, California, illuminated a completely sold out arena. The fans were packed to the rafters, buzzing with a restless, highly energetic anticipation for the fallout of the chaotic week.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The opening pyrotechnics exploded around the massive, digital SmackDown fist on the entrance stage. The bright blue and white lights swept over the cheering audience as the heavy rock theme song pumped through the stadium speakers. The broadcast camera panned across a sea of wildly enthusiastic fans, capturing countless homemade signs before settling on the ringside commentary desk.
"Welcome, everyone, to Friday Night SmackDown!" Cole shouted, welcoming the global television audience. "We are coming to you live from San Francisco, and the balance of power on the blue brand is shifting at a terrifying pace!"
"You got that right, Cole!" Booker T agreed, his voice filled with intensity. "The landscape is changing, and the danger level is through the roof!"
"We have to talk about what happened last week," Cole transitioned quickly, his tone turning serious. "The Rated-R Superstar, Edge, stood in this very ring and attempted to justify the sickening betrayal of his best friend, Christian. Edge actually claimed that he speared Christian to 'protect' him from the pressure of the Money in the Bank briefcase! It was one of the most delusional, self serving explanations I have ever heard in my broadcast career!"
"Delusional? Or just brutally honest?" JBL fired back, immediately providing a controversial defense. "Edge is an established, main event killer. He knows exactly how heavy that briefcase is. If he looked at Christian and saw a man who was going to crack under the pressure, then Edge did what any smart businessman would do! He prioritized his own career! The Ultimate Opportunist doesn't wait in line, Michael!"
"That wasn't business, John, that was jealousy!" Cole argued.
"And while we are talking about business," Booker T interjected, steering the conversation toward the other massive threat on the brand. "We cannot ignore the Nexus. Wade Barrett, Ryback, and David Otunga walked out here last week accompanied by the entire Nexus members wearing the Intercontinental and Tag Team Championships. They aren't just a gang of rookies anymore. They hold championship gold. They hold leverage. The Nexus has become a serious, organized force on Friday nights, and nobody seems to know how to stop them!"
"They are smart, they are hungry, and they have the numbers," JBL nodded in agreement. "Nexus is taking control, and Teddy Long better figure out a solution before they take over his entire show!"
As the commentary team continued to debate the volatile state of the roster, the arena lights shifted.
The stadium speakers crackled, and the upbeat, energetic guitar riff of Just Close Your Eyes hit the PA system.
The San Francisco crowd erupted into a massive, sustained roar of cheers!
Christian stepped out from behind the curtain, and the visual was immediately striking. He didn't look like the fun loving, charismatic sidekick anymore. He looked incredibly focused, his jaw set in a tight line of pure determination. Dressed in his wrestling gear, he clutched the heavy, green Money in the Bank briefcase tightly in his right hand.
He had survived the brutal ladder match. He had survived the catastrophic spear on the steel ramp. And now, he was officially standing on his own.
Christian walked down the long ramp, raising his free hand to acknowledge the roaring fans. He slapped high fives with the people in the front row, drawing strength from the undeniable connection he shared with the WWE Universe. He slid under the bottom rope, climbing onto the second turnbuckle and raising the glowing green briefcase high into the air.
Standing in the center of the ring, dressed in a sharp tuxedo, veteran ring announcer Tony Chimel raised his microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Chimel's iconic, booming voice echoed through the Cow Palace, hitting the perfect inflection of enthusiasm and prestige. "Please welcome... the current holder of the Money In The Bank contract... he is MISTER... MONEY IN THE BANK... CHRISTIAAAAAN!"
The crowd cheered even louder, validating the years of hard work and sacrifice the veteran had poured into the business.
Christian stepped down from the turnbuckle, walking to the center of the ring. He asked for a microphone, his eyes locked firmly on the hard camera. The audience slowly quieted down, a heavy sense of anticipation washing over the building as they waited to hear exactly how the newly crowned Mr. Money in the Bank would respond to the twisted delusion of his former best friend, and what his plans were for his guaranteed World Championship opportunity.
Tony Chimel gave a respectful nod to the newly crowned Mr. Money in the Bank and quietly exited the ring, slipping through the ropes to give Christian the floor.
Christian stood alone under the bright arena lights. He didn't speak right away. He looked down at the dented, scratched green briefcase in his hand, tracing his thumb over the metal latch. When he finally looked up, his eyes were shining with a mixture of immense pride and lingering exhaustion from the war he had survived just two weeks prior.
He raised the microphone to his lips, his chest heaving as the San Francisco crowd chanted his name.
"Two weeks ago, in Chicago," Christian began, his voice echoing with raw emotion. "I went through absolute hell. I was beaten, I was battered, and I fell off more ladders than I care to count. But against all the odds, against everyone who said I couldn't do it, I climbed those steel rungs and I pulled this briefcase down."
The fans cheered loudly, validating his grueling journey.
"I accomplished something that a lot of people in the back, and maybe even some of you, never expected me to do," Christian continued, taking a slow step forward. "I secured my future. But instead of celebrating the biggest night of my career, I spent the last two weeks answering questions about a man who I used to call my brother."
Christian's expression hardened, the joy of his victory momentarily clouded by the sting of betrayal.
"Last week, Edge came out here and he told you a story," Christian said, pointing toward the entrance ramp. "He tried to justify spearing me in the back by claiming he was protecting me. He said I couldn't handle the pressure. But then, he told you a little secret. He told you that we had a plan before the match started. And you know what? I am not going to stand out here and lie to you. Edge was telling the truth."
The crowd buzzed, a low murmur of surprise rippling through the Cow Palace.
"There was a plan," Christian admitted openly. "We talked in the locker room. We knew the odds were against us, and we agreed to work together. And yes, the understanding was that Edge would walk out with the contract. I knew how badly he wanted it. But acknowledging that plan does not mean I betrayed him."
Christian gripped the briefcase tighter, holding it up for the hard camera to see.
"When we were out there, the match broke down into chaos," Christian explained, his voice rising with intensity. "The plan fell apart. And suddenly, there was a window. I saw the ladder. I saw the briefcase. And the opportunity presented itself. So I took it. I took it, because that is exactly what the Money in the Bank match is all about!"
The fans roared in approval, completely supporting his decision.
"I thought Edge, of all people on this planet, would understand that," Christian said, shaking his head in disbelief. "They call him the Ultimate Opportunist. He built his legacy on seeing a momentary weakness and capitalizing on it. I honestly expected him to look at me, shake my hand, and congratulate me for doing exactly what he made famous. But instead? He attacked me."
Christian paced the ring, his voice losing its disbelief and replacing it with a fierce, undeniable confidence.
"But you know what that spear proved?" Christian asked the crowd. "It proved something very important. It proved that I am not just Edge's tag team partner anymore. I am not the weaker half of some nostalgic duo. I am not a sidekick who needs Edge to hold my hand and tell me what I am allowed to accomplish."
He slammed his hand against his chest, his eyes burning.
"Winning this contract showed me that I finally outworked every single person in that locker room," Christian declared passionately. "I spent a decade taking a backseat. I suffered setbacks. I swallowed criticism. I took the losses, and I kept fighting! I finally reached the level I have spent my life fighting toward, and I did it on my own!"
The arena exploded into a massive ovation, the fans fully embracing his emotional declaration of independence.
"Now," Christian transitioned, his tone shifting from reflective to sharply competitive. "Let's talk about the future. This briefcase guarantees me a World Championship match anytime, anywhere. And I am not going to keep you guessing about my intentions. I already have a target locked in. I want the WWE Championship."
The crowd roared at the mention of the flagship title.
"And I want to take it from Sandro Zhang," Christian stated firmly.
The name of the God King sent a shockwave of cheers and boos through the building.
"Sandro calls himself a God," Christian said, a confident smirk spreading across his face. "He walks around carrying two world championships, acting like he is completely untouchable. But that arrogance? That massive ego? That is exactly why I am going to cash this in at the exact moment he least expects it."
Christian leaned into the camera, narrowing his eyes.
"Maybe I wait until he survives a grueling title defense," Christian teased, the crowd hanging on his every word. "Maybe I wait until he suffers an injury. Or maybe... I just wait until he thinks the night is over, and he lets his guard down. I belong at the absolute top of this industry, and whenever the time is right, I am walking out as the WWE Champion!"
The fans cheered the fiery self-promotion, ready to see Christian finally ascend to the main event.
But the celebration was violently cut short.
"You think you know me."
The heavy, gritty vocals of Metalingus hit the stadium sound system.
The San Francisco crowd initially popped for the iconic music, but the reaction instantly morphed into a deafening, hostile wave of boos as Edge stepped out onto the entrance stage. The Rated-R Superstar didn't wear his leather jacket or sunglasses this time. He was dressed in his wrestling gear, his long hair hanging wildly around his face, a microphone clutched tightly in his fist.
He didn't walk down the ramp. He stopped at the very top of the steel stage, glaring down at the ring with a look of absolute, venomous disgust.
"You just proved my point, Christian," Edge's voice echoed sharply through the sound system, cutting through the boos. "Did you hear what you just said? Did you listen to your own pathetic, whining speech? You just stood out there and gave everyone the exact evidence as to why you are weak and undeserving."
Christian stepped forward, lowering the briefcase, his jaw clenched tight.
"You don't have the instincts," Edge sneered, pacing slowly back and forth on the stage. "You don't have the ruthlessness. You don't have the guts required to be a real main eventer. You talk about waiting for Sandro to get injured? You talk about cashing in when he's tired? That isn't strategy, Christian. That's fear."
Edge pointed a mocking finger down the ramp.
"I created the legacy of that briefcase," Edge boasted. "I cashed it in successfully, twice. I used it to become a multiple time World Champion. I know what it takes to pull the trigger. You? You got your hands on one lucky briefcase, and suddenly you think you belong in the same league as me. You are a fluke."
Inside the ring, Christian raised his microphone, his eyes flashing with genuine anger.
"You can stand up there and list your accomplishments all you want, Edge," Christian fired back, his voice steady but laced with venom. "You won the titles. You manipulated the system. But there is one defining quality that you gave up a long time ago. A quality you don't possess anymore."
Christian paused, staring a hole through his former best friend.
"Character," Christian stated flatly. "Integrity. And most importantly... being a man."
The crowd erupted with a massive "OOHHH!" at the sharp, deeply personal insult.
"If you truly believe you are so superior to me," Christian challenged, throwing his arms open wide. "If you really think I'm just a fluke... then stop hiding at the top of that ramp. Walk down here and face me like a man."
The Cow Palace exploded in cheers, desperately wanting to see the two former brothers tear each other apart.
Edge stopped pacing. A dark, twisted smile crept across his face, but he didn't take a single step forward.
"I don't take orders from you," Edge mocked, waving a dismissive hand. "You need that briefcase just to stay relevant. I don't. But keep running your mouth, Christian. Keep pretending you are on my level. Because if you push me too far, I won't just spear you again. I will make sure you end up in the exact same position as Mr. Kennedy."
The reference instantly triggered a massive wave of heat from the crowd. Years prior, Edge had brutally attacked Mr. Kennedy, forcing the injured superstar into an impromptuadder match where Edge ruthlessly stole the Money in the Bank contract.
"I will beat you within an inch of your life," Edge threatened, his voice dropping into a sinister register. "I will force you to put that contract on the line, and I will take back what is mine."
Christian didn't say another word.
He dropped his microphone. It hit the canvas with a loud thud.
Visibly furious, his face turning a deep shade of crimson, Christian threw caution to the wind. He rolled under the bottom rope, ignoring the referee's warnings, and began marching rapidly up the long steel ramp, his eyes locked dead on the Rated-R Superstar.
"Christian has heard enough!" Cole yelled at the desk. "He is taking the fight to Edge!"
Edge's confident smirk vanished. Seeing Christian charge up the aisle, Edge's eyes widened with manic intensity. He dropped his own microphone, crouching low, waiting for the perfect moment.
When Christian reached the midway point of the ramp, Edge suddenly exploded forward. He sprinted down the steel grating, dropping his center of gravity, launching his body like a guided missile for a devastating Spear.
But Christian was ready.
At the absolute last fraction of a second, Christian stopped his forward momentum, swung his body to the side, and forcefully swung the heavy, metal Money in the Bank briefcase like a baseball bat!
CRACK!
The reinforced metal collided squarely with the side of Edge's skull!
The impact echoed like a gunshot. Edge's momentum was instantly derailed. He stumbled wildly to the side, crashing into the steel barricade and clutching his head.
"He caught him!" Booker T screamed. "Christian just scrambled Edge's brains with the contract!"
Christian didn't stop to admire his work. He lunged forward, tackling Edge to the steel grating. The two men erupted into a vicious, bitter fistfight. It wasn't a wrestling match, it was a wild, desperate brawl. Christian threw heavy, bare knuckle right hands, raining blows down on Edge's face. Edge fought back savagely, gouging at Christian's eyes and throwing stiff forearms to the jaw.
"Get some help out here!" JBL yelled over the chaos. "They are going to kill each other!"
A swarm of yellow shirted WWE security guards sprinted through the curtain, flooding the entrance ramp. They grabbed at both men, desperately trying to pull them apart. Referees joined the fray, shouting for order.
Christian shoved a security guard away, diving back onto Edge, tearing at his hair. Edge snarled like a cornered animal, kicking out wildly and catching Christian in the ribs.
It took a dozen men, but security finally managed to drag the two furious rivals to their feet, wedging a human wall between them. Christian was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, pointing the briefcase at Edge. Edge was wiping a trickle of blood from his temple, screaming obscenities as the guards physically restrained his arms.
"Look at the hatred!" Cole shouted over the roaring crowd. "Years of friendship, decades of brotherhood, completely destroyed! And that briefcase is the wedge that tore them apart!"
The segment ended with a wide, chaotic shot of the entrance ramp, cementing one of the most deeply personal, violent rivalries on the SmackDown brand.
As the broadcast pressed forward, the high-stakes drama on Friday nights showed no signs of slowing down. Additional matches, backstage interviews, and developing storylines kept the momentum rolling at a blistering pace. But a distinct, heavy tension settled over the Cow Palace as the time for the main event finally arrived. The methodical, gritty rock theme of the Nexus hit the sound system, drawing a massive chorus of boos.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 21 (2011)
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 (1st - 376 days), 1x WWE Champion, & 1x World Heavyweight Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, PWI Top 500 (No.1) - 2010, & 1x KOTR (2010)
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0