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The Buffalo crowd buzzed with a unique, nervous energy. This wasn't a standard WWE main event. They knew they were about to witness a level of violence that rarely occurred on Monday Night RAW. Suzuki didn't circle the ring. He didn't look for a collar and elbow tie up. He casually walked toward the center of the canvas, lowering his hands, leaving his chin completely exposed, and offered a wide, taunting smile. He wanted Sandro to hit him.
Sandro obliged.
Moving with explosive, calculated speed, Sandro lunged forward and delivered a blistering, stiff forearm smash directly to Suzuki's jaw.
The impact echoed through the arena.
Suzuki's head snapped back. He took half a step backward. Then, he slowly turned his head back to Sandro. The sadistic smile hadn't vanished, it had grown wider.
Suzuki stepped forward and returned fire. He delivered a European uppercut so stiff it sounded like a baseball bat hitting a heavy bag.
Sandro stumbled backward, genuinely shocked by the sheer concussive force of the blow.
"Good god!" Lawler gasped. "The sound of those strikes! This isn't a wrestling match, it's a mugging!"
"Suzuki loves this!" Cole yelled. "He thrives on the physical punishment!"
Sandro quickly regained his composure. He realized immediately that trying to out strike Minoru Suzuki was a flawed strategy. He needed to utilize his speed and technical precision.
As Suzuki stepped forward for another strike, Sandro ducked underneath the heavy arm. He transitioned smoothly behind Suzuki, grabbed the veteran around the waist, and executed a flawless, high angle German suplex.
But Suzuki didn't stay down. The moment his shoulders hit the mat, Suzuki rolled backward, utilizing the momentum to pop right back up to his feet.
Sandro's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Before Sandro could react, Suzuki lunged forward. He didn't go for a strike. He grabbed Sandro's right arm, twisting the wrist violently, and instantly transitioned into a devastating, standing Kimura lock!
"Suzuki has the arm trapped!" Cole shrieked. "He can snap Sandro's limb in a matter of seconds!"
Sandro gritted his teeth, the pain flaring immediately. He couldn't out wrestle Suzuki on the mat, and he couldn't let the hold get fully secured. Relying on his elite athleticism, Sandro used his free hand to grab the top rope. He launched himself into the air, executing a beautiful, desperate backflip off the ropes, using the momentum to twist Suzuki's arm and break the grip.
As Suzuki stumbled backward from the broken hold, Sandro charged forward, delivering a devastating, running thrust kick directly to Suzuki's chest.
Suzuki crashed to the canvas, and Sandro quickly hooked the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Suzuki powered his shoulder off the mat, offering a dark chuckle as he sat up.
"Look at the ring awareness of Sandro Zhang!" JBL praised loudly, his confidence returning. "He escaped that Kimura lock with absolute brilliance! This Japanese thug is out of his depth!"
"Don't count your chickens yet, John," Lawler warned. "Suzuki is just getting warmed up."
The match crossed the ten minute mark, settling into a grueling, physical chess match. Sandro utilized his speed, targeting Suzuki's legs with sharp, precise kicks, trying to chop down the veteran's base. Suzuki, however, absorbed the punishment with terrifying ease, constantly moving forward, forcing Sandro into tight, uncomfortable grappling exchanges.
Sandro backed Suzuki into the corner, delivering a rapid fire sequence of sharp elbows to the jaw. He stepped back, measuring his target, and charged in, looking for a running knee strike.
Suzuki casually stepped to the side. Sandro crashed chest first into the turnbuckle pads.
Before Sandro could recover, Suzuki grabbed him from behind. Suzuki locked his arms around Sandro's waist and executed a brutal, high angle half and half suplex that dropped Sandro directly on the back of his neck!
The Buffalo crowd gasped at the sickening impact.
"Sandro dropped right on his head!" Cole yelled in panic.
Suzuki didn't go for a pin. He dragged Sandro up by the hair, throwing him aggressively through the middle ropes. Sandro tumbled out to the ringside floor, clutching his neck.
Suzuki quickly followed him out, stalking the God King on the outside.
"The action spills to the floor!" Lawler noted. "This is exactly where Suzuki wants it! He loves the unforgiving environment!"
Sandro staggered to his feet near the barricade. Suzuki charged forward, delivering a devastating, open handed chop to Sandro's taped ribs.
SMACK!
Sandro gasped, dropping to one knee, the air completely driven from his lungs. The lingering damage from the match in two weeks ago flared instantly.
"Suzuki targeting the ribs!" Cole analyzed. "He knows Sandro isn't one hundred percent!"
Suzuki grabbed Sandro by the hair and whipped him violently toward the steel ring steps. But Sandro's elite survival instincts kicked in. He stopped his momentum just inches from the steel, reversing the Irish whip and sending Suzuki crashing shoulder first into the unforgiving metal stairs.
The heavy steel blocks separated with a loud, ringing clang.
"What a counter by Sandro!" JBL cheered. "That's the intelligence of the God King!"
The referee's count reached six. Sandro, breathing heavily, grabbed Suzuki and rolled the veteran back under the bottom rope. Sandro slid in right behind him, quickly floating over into a cover.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Suzuki kicked out, his manic energy refusing to fade.
Both men slowly fought their way back to a vertical base. The physical toll of the match was beginning to show. Sandro's chest was bright red from the chops, and Suzuki had a small trickle of blood running from his bottom lip.
They stood in the center of the ring, separated by a few feet.
Suzuki wiped the blood from his lip, looked at it, and laughed. He lowered his hands again, inviting the strike.
Sandro didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and delivered a stiff, echoing European uppercut.
Suzuki smiled and fired back with a massive forearm smash.
The Buffalo crowd erupted into a massive, rhythmic chant, reacting to every single blow.
Smack. "YAY!"
Smack. "BOO!"
Smack. "YAY!"
Smack. "BOO!"
Smack. "YAY!"
They abandoned all technical strategy, standing toe to toe in the center of the ring, trading blistering, heavy strikes. It was a test of sheer willpower and pain tolerance.
Suzuki gained the upper hand, his strikes carrying decades of accumulated malice. He delivered a rapid fire sequence of slaps that backed Sandro against the ropes. Suzuki whipped Sandro across the ring.
As Sandro rebounded, Suzuki lowered his head for a back body drop.
But Sandro stopped his momentum. He delivered a sharp, stiff kick to Suzuki's chest, standing the veteran up. Sandro bounced off the ropes, building blinding speed, and launched himself into the air, executing a flawless, high impact springboard spinning heel kick!
Suzuki collapsed to the canvas like a felled tree.
"What a beautiful maneuver!" Cole yelled. "Sandro Zhang pulling out all the stops!"
Sandro didn't drop for the pin. He pushed himself up, his chest heaving, his dark eyes locked on the fallen veteran. He backed into the corner, dialing it up, waiting for Suzuki to stagger to his feet.
Sandro was preparing for the Last Note elbow strike.
Suzuki slowly pushed himself up to a kneeling position, wiping the sweat from his eyes.
Sandro charged forward, swinging his arm with the force of a wrecking ball, looking to decapitate the veteran.
But Suzuki was ready.
Moving with terrifying, serpentine speed, Suzuki ducked underneath the elbow strike. He popped up behind Sandro, instantly wrapping his arms tightly around the billionaire's neck.
Suzuki secured the grip, locking his hands together, and dropped his weight backward, applying the legendary, suffocating Sleeper Hold!
The arena absolutely exploded!
"HE'S GOT THE SLEEPER!" Cole screamed at the top of his lungs. "MINORU SUZUKI HAS THE SLEEPER HOLD LOCKED IN DEAD CENTER OF THE RING!"
"Sandro is trapped!" Lawler yelled, jumping out of his chair. "He is going to pass out!"
"Break it, Sandro! Break the grip!" JBL panicked, completely terrified for his favorite superstar.
Sandro's eyes went wide in sheer shock. The oxygen supply to his brain was immediately restricted. He thrashed wildly, trying to pry Suzuki's thick arms away from his throat, but the grip was like a steel vice. Suzuki leaned back, wrapping his legs around Sandro's waist to secure the body scissors, dragging the former champion down to the mat.
Sandro was trapped in the exact same position that had cost him the World Heavyweight Championship just three weeks prior. The agonizing, suffocating panic began to set in.
Suzuki tightened the grip, a look of pure, sadistic ecstasy on his face as he felt the life draining from his opponent.
Sandro's struggles began to slow. His vision blurred. The dark, calculated machine he had tried to become was failing him. He was a human being, and he needed oxygen. His hand fluttered weakly, inching toward the canvas to tap out.
"He's fading!" Cole yelled. "The God King is going to sleep again!"
Sandro's hand trembled, his fingers inches from the blue canvas. The suffocating grip of Minoru Suzuki's Sleeper Hold was squeezing the life out of him, mirroring the exact trauma he had endured at Night of Champions. The darkness was closing in, and the circuits of his newly recalibrated emotionless persona were completely failing. He was drowning, and he knew it.
"Tap, Sandro! Tap!" JBL screamed from the commentary desk, his voice cracking with genuine panic. "Live to fight another day! Don't let him end your career!"
"He is fading fast!" Lawler yelled. "The King of Pro Wrestling has the God King trapped!"
Sandro's vision narrowed to a tiny, pinpoint tunnel. But in that final, desperate second before unconsciousness took him, pure, unadulterated human survival instinct overrode the cold calculations.
With a muffled, guttural roar, Sandro planted his boots flat on the mat. Relying on an adrenaline reserve he didn't know he had, he pushed his body backward with explosive force, throwing his entire weight toward the corner.
He didn't break the grip, but the violent momentum drove Suzuki's spine brutally into the turnbuckle pads!
Crash!
Suzuki gasped, the impact forcing him to loosen his grip just a fraction of an inch.
It was all Sandro needed. He ripped Suzuki's thick arms away from his throat, stumbling out of the corner, gasping frantically for air. He collapsed to one knee, coughing heavily, his chest heaving as the oxygen rushed back into his lungs.
"He broke it!" Cole shrieked in disbelief. "Sandro Zhang survived the Sleeper Hold!"
"That is pure instinct!" JBL cheered, a massive, relieved smile returning to his face. "The God King refuses to die!"
Suzuki staggered out of the corner, holding his lower back. The sadistic smile was gone, replaced by a look of fierce frustration. He charged forward, looking to decapitate the kneeling Sandro with a heavy right hand.
But Sandro was waiting.
He ducked the strike, grabbed Suzuki's waist, and lifted the veteran effortlessly. Sandro drove Suzuki face first into the canvas with a devastating, high angle jumping DDT!
Both men lay flat on the mat as the referee began his count. The match had crossed the twenty minute mark, and it was officially an instant classic. The Buffalo crowd was absolutely electric, standing on their feet and recognizing the incredible war playing out in front of them.
"What a counter by Sandro!" Lawler praised. "He knew he couldn't trade blows anymore, so he went back to the technical wrestling!"
Sandro crawled over, draping an exhausted arm across Suzuki's chest.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Suzuki kicked out, his shoulder flying off the mat.
The match escalated into deep waters. The physical toll was undeniable. Sandro's torso was covered in dark red welts from the chops, and Suzuki was bleeding freely from a cut above his eye, the crimson mask only making him look more terrifying.
Sandro slowly pulled himself up using the ropes. He looked at the veteran, knowing he had to end the match before Suzuki could utilize his deadly submission holds again. Sandro stepped out onto the ring apron, climbing the turnbuckles with grueling effort. He balanced precariously on the top rope, looking down at Suzuki, who was slowly staggering to his feet in the center of the ring.
With a fierce shout, Sandro launched himself into the air, executing a breathtaking diving double foot stomp!
But Suzuki rolled out of the way at the last millisecond!
Sandro crashed hard onto the canvas, the impact jarring his knees. As Sandro rolled over, wincing in pain, Suzuki was already moving.
Suzuki grabbed Sandro's right leg, twisting it violently, and instantly locked in a brutal kneebar right in the center of the ring!
"Suzuki targeting the legs!" Cole yelled over the noise. "He knows Sandro relies on his speed!"
Sandro screamed, clawing at the mat. He dragged his heavy, broken body forward, inching toward the bottom rope. He extended his arm, his fingertips brushing the red rope.
But Suzuki wasn't going to let him go. He released the kneebar, dragging Sandro away from the ropes, and immediately transitioned into a devastating ankle lock!
"The ankle lock is applied!" Lawler shrieked. "Sandro is trapped again!"
Sandro gritted his teeth, his face twisting in agony. He refused to tap. He used his free leg to kick Suzuki repeatedly in the chest, forcing the veteran to break the hold.
Sandro scrambled to the corner, pulling himself up. Suzuki charged in, but Sandro caught him with a sharp back elbow to the jaw. Sandro hopped up onto the second rope, wrapping his legs around Suzuki's neck, looking for a desperation hurricanrana.
But Suzuki caught him.
Showing incredible raw strength, Suzuki halted the momentum, hoisted Sandro onto his shoulders, and executed a huge running sit out powerbomb!
The impact shook the entire ring.
Suzuki quickly hooked the leg, exhaustion written all over his bloody face.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NOOOOO!"
Sandro's shoulder shot off the canvas at the absolute last possible millisecond!
"I don't believe it!" Cole screamed. "Sandro Zhang kicked out of the powerbomb!"
"This is an absolute war!" JBL yelled, his voice raw. "Neither man refuses to stay down!"
Suzuki sat up, a look of pure, unadulterated frustration washing over his face. He pushed himself up to his feet, grabbing Sandro by the hair. He dragged the billionaire up to a kneeling position and began slapping him disrespectfully across the face.
Smack! "You are weak!" Suzuki yelled in English.
Smack! "You are nothing!"
The slaps didn't break Sandro's spirit, they ignited a dark, buried fury.
Sandro's eyes snapped open, a fierce, burning determination flashing in his dark gaze. He blocked the next slap, grabbed Suzuki's wrist, and pushed himself up to his feet. Sandro threw a massive right hand. Suzuki staggered. Sandro hit the ropes, ducked a clothesline, and delivered two rapid fire thrust kicks to Suzuki's chest.
As Suzuki stumbled backward, Sandro launched himself into the air, connecting with a beautiful springboard spinning heel kick that finally knocked the massive veteran off his feet!
The Buffalo crowd erupted as Sandro went on the offensive.
Sandro waited in the corner, dialing it up, pointing a finger at the fallen veteran. He waited for Suzuki to push himself up to a kneeling position. Sandro charged forward, swinging his arm with maximum velocity, looking to finally connect with the Last Note elbow strike.
He didn't miss this time.
CRACK!
The Last Note connected squarely with the side of Suzuki's head. The sickening, bone jarring impact echoed through the entire arena.
Suzuki went completely limp. He collapsed face first into the canvas, entirely unconscious.
The KeyBank Center fell into a shocked stunned silence.
"He hit it!" Cole yelled, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Sandro Zhang hit the Last Note! This could be it!"
Sandro didn't drop for the pin. His chest heaved as he stood over the fallen veteran. He knew a simple pinfall might not be enough to keep the King of Pro Wrestling down. He needed to make sure Suzuki didn't get back up.
Sandro grabbed Suzuki by the back of his dark trunks, hauling the heavy, dead weight of the veteran up from the mat. Sandro ducked under Suzuki's arm, ignoring the burning pain in his own ribs.
With horrifying, effortless strength, Sandro lifted the veteran onto his shoulders, locking him securely in the electric chair position.
"Oh my god," Lawler whispered in awe. "He is going for the kill."
Sandro looked directly at the hard camera, his eyes cold and devoid of any mercy. He dropped to his knees, driving Suzuki's head and neck directly into the canvas with the sickening Falls From Grace!
The impact was devastating. Suzuki's body folded awkwardly before collapsing completely flat on the mat.
Sandro hooked the massive leg tightly, staring up at the arena lights.
The referee dropped into position.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"NOOOO!"
The referee's hand froze a fraction of an inch above the blue canvas. Minoru Suzuki's right shoulder shot upward, breaking the pinfall at the absolute last possible millisecond.
The KeyBank Center erupted into a deafening, unified roar of sheer disbelief. The sound was a physical wave that washed over the ring, rattling the barricades and shaking the broadcast table.
"He kicked out!" Cole screamed, practically jumping out of his chair. "I don't believe what I just saw! Minoru Suzuki kicked out of the Falls From Grace!"
"That's impossible!" JBL shrieked, ripping his headset half off his ears, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. "Nobody kicks out of that! The referee was out of position! That was a slow count! Sandro Zhang had him beat!"
"It was a perfect count, John, and you know it!" Jerry Lawler argued, clapping his hands together in absolute awe. "Suzuki just absorbed the God King's best shot and he is still breathing! This man refuses to die!"
Inside the ring, Sandro Zhang sat back on his heels. The cold, calculating facade completely shattered. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, staring down at Suzuki with wide, desperate eyes. The formula had failed again. Plan B had failed. Sandro pushed himself up to his feet, abandoning all technical strategy. He grabbed Suzuki by the hair, hauling the bloody veteran up to a vertical base, screaming in frustration. He hooked Suzuki for a suplex, trying to lift him for a brainbuster.
_______________________________
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