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The referee, realizing he had absolutely zero control over the situation, and remembering that the bout was officially a Falls Count Anywhere match with no disqualifications, frantically waved his hand toward the timekeeper's area. DING! DING! DING! The bell rang, officially starting the match, but it was merely a formality. The war had already begun, and the God King was unleashing a level of violence that the WWE Universe had never seen before.
The closed fist punches rained down with sickening, rhythmic thuds. Sandro straddled Minoru Suzuki's chest, his fists flying in a blur of pure, unadulterated aggression. He wasn't targeting the body, he was repeatedly smashing his taped knuckles directly into the bridge of the Japanese legend's nose and jaw.
"Look at the sheer brutality from Sandro right off the bat!" Cole shouted, his voice fighting through the deafening roar of the New Orleans crowd. "He is trying to cave Suzuki's face in before this match even gets out of the first minute!"
"This is exactly what he needed to do!" JBL roared in absolute triumph. "You don't wrestle Minoru Suzuki! You don't try to trade holds with a sadist! You overwhelm him! The God King is sending a message to the locker room right now!"
"He's gonna punch himself out, man!" Booker T argued, leaning over the desk. "You can't expend that kind of energy right out of the gate! Suzuki is a sponge for punishment!"
Booker was right. Despite the heavy blows landing flush on his face, Suzuki's hands suddenly shot up. He didn't try to block the punches. Instead, he caught Sandro's right wrist mid swing, using the billionaire's own downward momentum to twist his hips and lock in a lightning fast triangle choke from his back.
Sandro gasped, his eyes going wide as Suzuki's thick legs wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulder. The Japanese veteran smiled, a wide and bloody terrifying grin, as he pulled down on Sandro's head, cutting off the blood flow.
"Suzuki with the triangle!" Lawler yelled. "He trapped him! Sandro got too aggressive and walked right into the spider's web!"
Sandro refused to panic. Drawing on his elite core strength, he planted his boots flat on the canvas. With a guttural shout, Sandro deadlifted the one hundred and ninety pound veteran right off the mat, carrying Suzuki into the air while still trapped in the submission. Sandro took three rapid steps forward and drove Suzuki violently into the top turnbuckle pad with a running powerbomb!
The impact broke the hold. Suzuki crumpled into the corner, clutching his neck, while Sandro stumbled backward, clutching his throat and gasping for air.
"What power from Sandro Zhang!" Cole praised.
Sandro didn't give the veteran a second to breathe. He charged into the corner, delivering a blistering running knee strike that crushed Suzuki's face against the turnbuckle. Sandro dragged him out of the corner and quickly hooked the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Suzuki powered his shoulder off the mat, laughing a dry, raspy laugh.
"It's going to take a lot more than that to keep the King of Pro Wrestling down," Booker T noted. "Suzuki loves this! He is feeding off the hostility!"
Sandro hauled Suzuki to his feet, grabbing him by the hair, and forcefully threw him through the middle ropes. Suzuki tumbled out to the ringside floor, crashing onto the thin blue mats. Sandro quickly rolled out under the bottom rope in pursuit.
The brawl on the outside escalated immediately. Sandro grabbed Suzuki and whipped him with maximum velocity toward the steel ring steps. Suzuki managed to put his boots up, stopping his momentum just inches from the steel. He turned around, only to be met with a devastating flying forearm smash from Sandro that sent both men crashing over the steel steps and into the barricade.
"They are destroying the ringside area!" Lawler shrieked as Sandro grabbed a steel chair from the timekeeper's area.
Sandro turned, raising the chair high above his head, aiming for Suzuki's skull. But Suzuki moved with serpentine speed. He delivered a sharp, stiff kick directly into Sandro's heavily taped ribs.
The sound of the impact was dull but sickening. Sandro dropped the chair instantly, falling to his knees and clutching his midsection. The cracked ribs from their previous encounter flared with blinding pain.
"Suzuki goes right back to the ribs!" Cole analyzed. "He knows exactly where the God King is vulnerable!"
"That's a cheap shot!" JBL complained bitterly. "He is targeting an existing injury!"
"It's Falls Count Anywhere, John! There are no cheap shots!" Booker T fired back.
Suzuki picked up the discarded steel chair. He didn't swing it wildly. He measured his target, stepping forward and driving the heavy steel edge directly into Sandro's spine.
Sandro cried out in agony, collapsing flat onto the concrete floor. Suzuki dropped the chair, casually placing a boot on Sandro's chest, and looked down at the referee.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Sandro kicked out, rolling away in desperate pain.
Suzuki dragged him up by the hair, dragging the billionaire toward the front row. He shoved the security guards aside, forcefully throwing Sandro over the ringside barricade and into the sea of fans!
The New Orleans crowd erupted in a mix of panic and sheer excitement as the two competitors brawled directly into their section.
"They are in the WWE Universe!" Cole yelled. "Security is trying to clear a path, but it is absolute chaos out there!"
Suzuki climbed over the barricade, stalking Sandro through the aisles. Sandro stumbled up the concrete stairs, leaning heavily against the railing. Suzuki caught up to him, grabbing him by the back of his intricate ring gear, and delivered a stiff, echoing European uppercut that snapped Sandro's head back.
Sandro fell against a row of empty folding chairs, scattering them across the concrete.
"Suzuki is treating him like a punching bag in the crowd!" Lawler noted.
Sandro shook the cobwebs from his head. As Suzuki stepped in for another strike, Sandro threw a handful of spilled soda directly into the veteran's eyes. Suzuki blinked, temporarily blinded, and Sandro capitalized. He grabbed a heavy plastic trash can from the concourse aisle and smashed it brutally over Suzuki's head!
The crowd cheered wildly at the resourceful counter.
Sandro grabbed Suzuki in a front facelock, hooking his arm. Using the momentum of the concrete stairs, Sandro executed a devastating snap suplex, driving Suzuki's spine directly onto the unforgiving stadium steps!
"Good lord!" Booker T yelled. "He just suplexed him on the concrete! That will break a man's back!"
Sandro draped a heavy, exhausted arm over Suzuki's chest, the referee sliding down the stairs to make the count.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Suzuki kicked out, his face contorted in pain but his manic energy refusing to fade.
"The resilience of both men is absolutely terrifying," Cole said, his voice raw. "Neither man is willing to yield an inch!"
"The God King is in his element!" JBL praised enthusiastically. "He is a brawler! He grew up fighting for everything he has! This Japanese import is finding out exactly why Sandro Zhang ruled this company!"
They slowly fought their way up the stadium stairs, trading heavy, exhausting blows. The sweat poured down their faces, mixing with the blood beginning to trickle from Sandro's broken nose, which had reopened from the physical trauma. The crimson mask only added to the terrifying aura of the match.
They reached the middle concourse, a wide, open area normally reserved for merchandise stands and concession booths. Fans scrambled out of the way, forming a wide, chaotic circle around the two bleeding warriors.
Suzuki wiped the soda and sweat from his eyes. He let out a loud, guttural yell, charging forward like a raging bull. He delivered a blistering sequence of open handed chops to Sandro's chest, the loud SMACKS echoing through the concourse.
Sandro backed away, his chest turning bright red. He hit the wall of a merchandise stand. Suzuki grabbed him, looking for a devastating belly to belly suplex through the wooden tables.
But Sandro fought out with frantic elbows to the side of Suzuki's head. Sandro spun around, delivering a sharp knee to Suzuki's gut. He grabbed the veteran by the back of the neck and forcefully drove him face first into the heavy steel shutters of a closed concession stand!
The metallic crash was deafening.
Suzuki stumbled backward, dazed. Sandro leaped up onto a sturdy equipment box resting nearby. He waited for Suzuki to turn around, measuring his target perfectly. As the Japanese legend staggered forward, Sandro launched himself through the air, delivering a flying clothesline that wiped them both out on the hard concourse floor!
"What a clothesline!" Cole yelled. "Sandro Zhang throwing his body around with reckless abandon!"
Sandro scrambled into the cover, hooking the leg tightly.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NOOO!"
Suzuki's shoulder shot off the concrete just in time.
The two men lay on the floor, their chests heaving, gasping for air. The match had crossed the fifteen minute mark, and it was a grueling, grueling war of attrition.
"They need to get back to the ring," Lawler suggested, wincing at the brutality. "They are going to permanently injure each other out here on the concrete!"
"There are no rules, King!" JBL reminded him loudly. "Sandro is going to end this wherever he has to!"
Sandro slowly pushed himself up to his feet, grabbing Suzuki by the arm. He dragged the veteran back down the stadium stairs, forcing him through the crowd, heading back toward the ringside area. They traded punches every few steps, a slow, agonizing descent back to the arena floor.
Sandro threw Suzuki over the barricade, the veteran crashing onto the blue mats. Sandro hopped the rail, grabbing Suzuki and Irish whipping him aggressively toward the long steel entrance ramp.
Suzuki hit the steel hard, sliding up the ramp. Sandro followed him, stalking him like a predator.
"They are moving up the ramp now," Cole noted as the camera tracked them. "The stage is incredibly unforgiving."
Sandro grabbed Suzuki, hooking his arms, looking to execute a devastating DDT right on the steel grating.
But Suzuki dropped his weight, blocking the maneuver. He spun out of the grip, delivering a sharp, echoing headbutt directly to Sandro's already broken nose!
Sandro cried out, his hands flying to his face as a fresh wave of dark blood poured down his chin and chest. He stumbled backward blindly.
Suzuki didn't hesitate. He grabbed Sandro by the neck and the waistband of his trunks, hauling him forcibly through the heavy black curtain and directly into the Gorilla position!
The broadcast camera scrambled to follow them through the curtain, revealing the chaotic, behind the scenes area. Producers holding clipboards scattered in sheer panic. Monitors and cables were strewn everywhere. Vince McMahon himself could be seen in the background, yelling at security to clear the area and let them fight.
"They are backstage!" Cole shouted, watching his monitor closely. "They are fighting in the Gorilla position! It is absolute bedlam back there!"
Suzuki slammed Sandro back first into a heavy metal production crate. The impact rattled the equipment. Suzuki delivered a stiff, rapid fire sequence of forearms to Sandro's bloody face, showing absolutely no mercy.
"Suzuki is relentless!" Booker T yelled. "He is trying to break the God King's spirit!"
Sandro was fading. The pain in his ribs and his face was blinding. Suzuki grabbed him by the throat, looking to lock in the suffocating Sleeper Hold right there in the tight, confined space of the backstage area.
But Sandro realized the danger immediately. Drawing on pure survival instinct, Sandro grabbed a heavy, metal cased production monitor resting on a nearby table. He swung it blindly backward with all of his remaining strength.
The heavy metal casing connected flush with the side of Suzuki's head!
The monitor shattered, glass and plastic flying everywhere. Suzuki let out a sharp cry, stumbling sideways and dropping Sandro to the floor.
"Sandro with the monitor!" Lawler shrieked. "He just blasted Suzuki in the skull!"
"That is exactly what he needed to do!" JBL cheered. "Use the environment! The God King's situational awareness is unmatched!"
Sandro didn't wait. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the blood pouring into his mouth. He grabbed Suzuki around the waist, hoisted him into the air, and executed a massive, devastating spinebuster directly through a wooden catering table set up against the wall!
The table exploded into splinters, food and drinks flying in every direction as both men crashed to the concrete floor.
The backstage crew gasped, completely horrified by the violence playing out in their workspace.
Sandro draped an exhausted arm over Suzuki's chest, pinning him amongst the wreckage. The referee dropped to the floor, counting the fall.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NOOOO!"
Suzuki kicked out, his shoulder pushing Sandro's arm away.
"I cannot believe it!" Cole yelled, his voice cracking. "Minoru Suzuki survived a spinebuster through a table on the concrete floor!"
"This man is not human!" Booker T agreed, wiping sweat from his own brow. "He is a terminator!"
Sandro lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling of the arena, his chest heaving with exhaustion. He didn't know what else he could possibly do to keep the veteran down. The match was approaching the twenty five minute mark, and his body was shutting down.
Slowly, agonizingly, they fought their way back to a vertical base. They leaned against the concrete walls of the backstage hallway, staring at each other. They were both covered in sweat, blood, and the debris of the broken table.
Suzuki wiped a streak of blood from his forehead. He looked at Sandro, and the sadistic, wide smile slowly returned to his face. He let out a harsh, echoing laugh.
Sandro didn't smile. He gritted his teeth, a look of pure, unyielding determination settling over his bruised features.
They lunged at each other simultaneously.
They brawled down the long, narrow backstage hallway, slamming each other into lockers, doors, and equipment cases. The camera crew struggled to keep up, the chaotic lighting of the corridor casting long, dramatic shadows over the brutal fight.
Suzuki grabbed Sandro by the hair, whipping him violently into a heavy steel rolling door. Sandro bounced off the metal, gasping as his ribs absorbed the impact. Suzuki charged in, delivering a devastating, running knee strike directly to Sandro's midsection!
Sandro collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing up saliva and blood.
"The ribs!" Cole yelled. "Suzuki is isolating the injury!"
Suzuki didn't go for a pin. He grabbed Sandro by the neck, dragging him down the hallway, heading toward the loading dock area. The large, open bay doors were open, revealing the dark, humid New Orleans night outside. Parked just inside the bay was a massive, eighteen wheel WWE production truck.
Suzuki dragged Sandro toward the back of the truck. He slammed Sandro's face into the heavy steel bumper, dazing the billionaire completely.
"Where is he taking him?!" Lawler asked frantically. "They are at the loading docks!"
Suzuki climbed onto the back bumper of the truck, dragging Sandro up with him. He forced Sandro up the small metal ladder attached to the back of the trailer, pushing him all the way up to the flat, solid steel roof of the production truck!
"Oh my god, they are on top of the truck!" Cole shrieked in absolute terror. "That is fifteen feet in the air! If one of them falls, it's over!"
"This is getting out of hand!" Booker T yelled. "Somebody needs to stop this!"
"Nobody can stop it!" JBL argued fiercely. "It's Falls Count Anywhere! They are fighting for their lives!"
Sandro staggered on the roof of the truck, struggling to find his balance. The camera zoomed in from a nearby scissor lift, capturing the terrifying scene high above the concrete floor.
Suzuki didn't waste a second. He charged Sandro, delivering a blistering European uppercut that nearly knocked Sandro off the edge. Sandro caught himself on the small safety railing, his eyes wide with panic as he looked down at the concrete fifteen feet below.
Suzuki grabbed Sandro from behind, locking his arms in a tight double underhook.
"He's got the arms locked!" Cole yelled in pure panic. "He is looking for the Gotch Style Piledriver on the roof of the truck!"
"If he hits that up there, Sandro's neck will snap!" Lawler shrieked.
Suzuki tried to lift Sandro into the air, but Sandro fought the momentum with everything he had left. Relying on pure, desperate survival instinct, Sandro threw his weight forward, executing a massive back body drop that sent Suzuki crashing heavily onto the steel roof of the trailer!
The loud, metallic boom echoed through the loading dock.
Suzuki rolled over, clutching his lower back.
Sandro pushed himself up, his breathing ragged. He knew this was his only chance. He grabbed Suzuki, hauling the veteran to his feet, and hooked his arms, trying to set up the Falls From Grace.
But Suzuki broke the grip with a sharp elbow to Sandro's jaw.
Suzuki spun around, incredibly fast, and locked his arms tightly around Sandro's neck. He secured the grip, locked his hands, and dropped his weight backward, applying the suffocating, legendary Sleeper Hold right on the edge of the truck's roof!
"THE SLEEPER!" Cole screamed. "SUZUKI HAS THE SLEEPER HOLD APPLIED FIFTEEN FEET IN THE AIR!"
Sandro thrashed wildly, his hands clawing desperately at Suzuki's thick arms. He was trapped. The air supply was cut off instantly. Suzuki leaned backward, pulling Sandro perilously close to the edge of the trailer.
"He's going to pass out, and he's going to fall!" Lawler yelled, absolute horror in his voice.
Sandro's movements slowed. His eyes rolled back in his head. The crimson mask on his face stood out starkly against his pale skin. He was fading. The God King was going to sleep again, and this time, a fall from this height would end his career permanently.
Sandro's arm went limp, dropping to his side.
"He's out!" Booker T yelled. "It's over! Ring the damn bell!"
Suzuki felt the resistance fade. He smiled, a dark, victorious grin. He began to loosen his grip, preparing to let Sandro's unconscious body plummet to the concrete floor below.
But as Suzuki's grip shifted slightly, Sandro's eyes snapped open.
It wasn't a look of panic. It was a look of pure venom.
Sandro hadn't passed out. He was playing possum.
In a blinding flash of movement, Sandro twisted his body violently. He grabbed Suzuki's arm, stepping forward and using his own momentum to flip Suzuki entirely over his shoulder!
Suzuki soared through the air, crashing spine first onto the solid steel roof of the truck with a sickening thud!
"HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM!" JBL roared at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing with absolute ecstasy. "THE GOD KING TRICKED HIM!"
"What a counter!" Cole shrieked.
Sandro didn't wait for Suzuki to recover. He scrambled to his feet, a wild, unhinged fire burning in his eyes. He grabbed Suzuki, hauling him up to a kneeling position near the edge of the truck.
Sandro stepped back, dialing up his arm. He swung with the force of a wrecking ball, aiming directly for the back of Suzuki's neck.
CRACK!
The Last Note elbow strike connected perfectly!
Suzuki went completely limp, his body slumping forward.
Sandro quickly hooked Suzuki's arms, hauling the unconscious veteran up, and hoisted him into the electric chair position.
Sandro looked directly into the camera lens, his face a bloody, terrifying mask of absolute dominance. He dropped to his knees, executing a full force Falls From Grace directly onto the steel roof of the production truck! The impact was horrifying. The entire roof of the trailer bowed under the force. Sandro collapsed backward, completely exhausted, draping a heavy arm over Suzuki's chest.
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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 US Champion, 1x WWE Champion (364 Days -1st), & 1x World Heavyweight Champion (281 Days - 1st)
Other Achievements: 1x Inaugural 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), Youngest World Heavyweight Champion, Youngest Triple Crown Champion, & Longest US Title reign In WWE History (376 Days - 1st reign)
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0