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If they win at SummerSlam, they get their shot at BOTH the Intercontinental Championship AND the Tag Team Championships. Sandro raised his mic and stared right at Teddy, Kane, Christian, Truth, Morrison, Rey, and Jericho. Then he turned his head just slightly toward Vince. "You see?" Sandro said quietly, with dangerous satisfaction. "All you had to do… was follow the Maestro's lead."
The crowd booed louder.
Alexa giggled loudly while she hold her Divas title. Heyman pointed at Teddy and mimed a violin. Big E and Ryback lifted the World Tag Titles high. Kofi tapped the imaginary Intercontinental Title on his waist. Wade and Drew meanwhile pointed at Truth and Morrison, toward their WWE Tag Team title.
The Undisputed System stood completely united, golden, arrogant, victorious.
And Teddy Long?
He stood on the stage, crushed, knowing SummerSlam went from a fight…
…to a potential funeral for SmackDown.
But Sandro lifted the mic one more time, that wicked glint still burning.
"Oh, and Teddy?" he said softly.
Teddy slowly looked up, full of dread.
Sandro smirked.
"Thank your boss for me."
The Undisputed System's theme music hit like a hammer on steel, shaking the arena while they held their titles high, owning the moment, owning RAW, owning SmackDown, owning the entire narrative.
And as the cameras captured that final, wide shot of all eight members in the ring, laughing and celebrating their victory before the match even began…
Everyone watching knew—
SummerSlam wasn't going to be a match.
It was going to be war.
And Sandro Zhang had already won the first battle.
Twitter erupted immediately, like someone had thrown gasoline across a stadium and lit a match. The second SmackDown's feed replayed Vince accidentally, no, stupidly, confirming that the Undisputed System would get a shot at both the Intercontinental Championship and the WWE Tag Team Championships if they won at SummerSlam, the site turned into a full scale digital riot.
The hashtags trended instantly:
#UndisputedSystem
#SandroZhang
#RAWvsSmackDown
#VinceGotPlayed
#SummerSlamWar
Within minutes, the entire wrestling community online was dissecting what they had just witnessed. Fans were furious, furious in the way wrestling fans loved to be. They typed with caps lock, with rage, with heartbreak, with disbelief, with admiration dripping underneath all the anger.
"How the hell did Sandro manipulate Vince AGAIN???"
"This dude is actually unstoppable."
"SmackDown is DONE. Teddy Long is finished."
"Undisputed System doesn't deserve title shots, THIS IS RIGGED!"
"Why do I hate these guys so much but can't stop watching???"
"Sandro is such a bastard. 10/10 heel."
Then came the deep fans. The analytical fans. The ones who understood the game within the game.
"Honestly… you gotta respect how this guy plays the system."
"This is getting too iconic to hate. He's becoming one of those heels you boo but secretly love."
"This is Peak Wrestling. Sandro understands heat better than anyone."
Then, of course, the die hard Sandro fans.
They came roaring into the hashtag like a proud army, drowning in energy and smugness.
"WE TOLD YOU. THE MAESTRO ALWAYS WINS."
"Undisputed System = Golden Era"
"Cry more. Sandro is carrying."
"At this point he deserves ALL the gold."
"MITB + Tag + IC? MAKE HIM TRIPLE BELT KING."
And for the first time, something shifted in the majority discourse.
A lot of fans hated Sandro.
But many, more than ever, were beginning to admit something they didn't want to.
He was exciting.
He was electric.
He made every scene unpredictable.
He made every moment feel dangerous.
He made wrestling feel alive.
They would BOO him in the arena. They would scream and chant "YOU SUCK!" and "MAESTRO SUCKS!"
But on Twitter?
The same fans typed out essays explaining how brilliant he was.
The same fans retweeted his promos. The same fans clipped his reactions. The same fans started watching RAW just to see what he would say next.
It was a strange relationship, hate in public, admiration online.
And the more they hated him at shows, the more he smiled back at them like he fed on it.
Meanwhile, wrestling journalists were foaming at the mouth. Podcasters recorded emergency episodes.
Analysts pushed long threads.
"If WWE allows Undisputed System to win at SummerSlam, every member will carry gold."
"This will make them the most decorated faction in modern WWE history."
"If Sandro also cashes in MITB, he could become a double champion."
"This faction is being groomed for an all-time legendary run."
Speculation ran wild.
Predictions flew. Arguments raged. Fans divided harshly, one half wanting Sandro to get crushed, the other half wanting him to rewrite history.
It became wrestling's biggest conversation in years.
And through it all… Sandro didn't say a word.
Not a tweet.
Not a comment.
Not a promo.
He vanished from RAW that Monday. He vanished from Twitter for the first five days. The Undisputed System didn't appear on SmackDown either.
Instead, SmackDown had their own narrative.
Every Friday, the show opened with the six man SmackDown squad training. Hard, grueling, and desperate training montages.
Christian lifting weights until his arms shook.
R-Truth running drills with a focus nobody had seen from him in months.
Morrison practicing dives and quick counters.
Rey perfecting his speed footwork.
Jericho rehearsing sequences calmly, analyzing their opponents.
Kane staring into the camera with silent, monstrous intent.
Teddy Long stood behind them, acting as a general who knew his soldiers were heading toward a war none of them were supposed to win.
"Listen, playas," he'd say in each segment, "you CAN beat them. You WILL beat them. SmackDown ain't backing down from NO faction. Not Undisputed System, not RAW, not nobody."
They nodded, sweating, bruised, but determined.
The fans loved every moment, SmackDown became an underdog story. The team felt like family. They trained, strategized, built camaraderie.
They watched tape of Sandro's matches. They discussed how to counter Drew's power, Big E's explosiveness, Wade's strikes, Ryback's raw strength, Kofi's speed, and Sandro's… unpredictability.
Jericho put it best in one segment.
"Sandro doesn't wrestle like a normal superstar. He wrestles like a man who already knows the ending."
The fans in the arena applauded. The fans at home tweeted the quote everywhere.
And then… SummerSlam week arrived.
On Wednesday, the entire internet buzzed again when Sandro finally returned to Twitter.
One tweet.
One message.
"Sunday: history begins. We win. We take the titles. And if things go the way I expect… we might have a little surprise at the end if things doesn't go our ways."
That last sentence sent shockwaves through the fanbase.
Surprise?
What surprise?
MITB cash in?
A new member?
A betrayal?
A new championship?
A stipulation?
Something bigger?
Thousands of theories flooded Twitter within twenty minutes.
Podcasters uploaded instant reaction videos. Journalists speculated on their bulletins. The fans prepared themselves.
Because when Sandro hinted at a surprise… it was never small.
And then—
Sunday.
SummerSlam.
Los Angeles, California. Staples Center. One of the biggest PPVs of the year. A sold out crowd filled the arena hours before the show began.
Outside, the lines stretched across the entire block.
Fans wore shirts for both sides.
"SMACKDOWN FOREVER"
"UNDISPUTED SYSTEM REIGN SUPEREME"
"KANE IS THE MONSTER WE NEED"
"MAESTRO OF MAYHEM"
"I BOO SANDRO AND I LOVE IT"
Inside, the merchandise booths were swarmed.
Fans desperately bought last second gear. Kids held signs with "SMACKDOWN WILL WIN!" or "SANDRO SUCKS" written in bright markers. Teens argued loudly in the hallways. Adults ordered beer and debated like analysts.
Everyone was buzzing.
Everyone was anxious.
Everyone was ready.
At exactly 5 PM…
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Fireworks exploded across the stage in a massive wall of golden sparks. The entire arena roared as SummerSlam officially began.
Cole welcomed viewers with the energy of a man who had inhaled five espressos.
"WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO THE BIGGEST PARTY OF THE SUMMER! WE ARE LIVE AT A SOLD OUT STAPLES CENTER FOR WWE SUMMERSLAM!"
Lawler added, "This place is PACKED, Michael! The energy is insane!"
Striker, calm but excited, said, "Fans across the world have been waiting for this night. Tonight, careers will change. Histories will be written."
They went over the card briefly, but immediately honed in on the match everyone anticipated the most.
Cole leaned forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, the main event. A six on six elimination tag team match. SmackDown versus the Undisputed System. If SmackDown wins, they regain respect, pride, and stability."
Lawler followed up, "But if Undisputed System wins, they get BOTH the Intercontinental Championship AND the WWE Tag Team Championships!"
Striker said softly, "This isn't just a match. This is a fight for the balance of WWE."
They let that sink in with a deliberate silence.
Then the camera swung to Justin Roberts in the ring, holding a microphone, ready to introduce the very first match of the night, the match chosen to open SummerSlam and ignite the crowd into pure adrenaline.
It was fitting.
It was poetic.
It was destined.
A rivalry older than some careers, deeper than some titles, more iconic than some eras.
The lights dimmed.
The crowd hummed with anticipation.
"THE FOLLOWING CONTEST," Justin Roberts announced, "IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL! AND IT IS FOR THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER FOR THE WWE CHAMPIONSHIP!"
"I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD… THEY COUNSEL ME… THEY UNDERSTAND…"
Randy Orton stepped out onto the ramp with cold intensity, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, the Apex Predator in full heel form. The crowd booed him loudly, but he didn't care. He walked slowly, methodically, like a man who believed destiny belonged to him alone.
Cole shouted, "THE VIPER IS READY FOR WAR!"
Lawler said, "Orton is focused tonight. He wants redemption, he wants prestige, and he wants that WWE title shot!"
Orton entered the ring, climbing the corner and spreading his arms, soaking in the heat.
The moment his music faded…
"MY TIME IS NOW!"
The arena erupted in cheers as John Cena burst onto the stage, full of energy, full of fire, full of determination. He saluted the fans, sprinted down the ramp, slid into the ring, and stared straight into Orton's cold eyes.
Striker said, "This is the end of one of the greatest rivalries in modern WWE. Tonight, one of these men becomes the number one contender."
Cena and Orton stood in the center of the ring, face to face.
The referee stepped between Cena and Orton, palms out, forcing the two men apart as they glared at each other with that familiar, boiling hatred that only years of war could forge. The crowd noise swelled like a living ocean, half roaring for Cena, half booing viciously for the Viper.
Cena backed into his corner, rolling his shoulders, breathing in deep, eyes locked on Orton like he was staring at a ghost of every match they'd ever had.
Randy leaned casually on the ropes, head tilted, that cold little smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. He looked like a man walking into a match he'd already won in his mind.
Justin Roberts raised his mic.
"Introducing first… from St. Louis, Missouri… weighing in at 245 pounds… THE VIPER… RAAAANDYYYY ORTOOOONNNN!!!"
The reaction was absolutely nuclear.
Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo—
It hit Orton like a tidal wave, but he didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He didn't even pretend to acknowledge the hate. He simply pushed off the ropes, rolled his neck, and stared across the ring at Cena, emotionless, predatory.
Roberts then pivoted to Cena's corner as the crowd swelled in anticipation.
"And his opponent… from West Newbury, Massachusetts… weighing in at 251 pounds… JOHNNNNNN CENAAAAAA!!!!"
The entire arena erupted.
YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!
Cena lifted his hand high, saluting the fans with one strong, defiant motion as his signature grin spread across his face. He fed off the energy instantly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The fans chanted "LET'S GO CENA!" loud enough to shake the rafters.
The referee checked both men one last timez hands up, touching wrists, checking boots, a final nod, and then stepped back.
He pointed to timekeeper.
DING! DING! DING!
And just like that—
Cena and Orton charged.
No hesitation. No circling. No feeling out. They met dead-center with fists flying, forearms cracking, shoulders smashing. The crowd went ballistic as the punches got faster, harder, each man fighting not for a wrestling move, not for positioning, but for raw dominance.
Cena forced Orton back first, hammering him with lefts and rights into the ropes, but Orton reversed the momentum with a stiff uppercut that snapped Cena's head backward.
Randy grabbed Cena's wrist and whipped him to the ropes, but Cena ducked the clothesline, bounced back, and tackled Orton to the mat with a huge Thesz Press, raining down punches as the crowd roared.
Orton rolled him off violently.
Both men popped up.
They hit the ropes—
DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!
Both crashed to the mat with the arena exploding in shock at the pace. Cole practically screamed, "THESE TWO ARE NOT WASTING ANY TIME TONIGHT!"
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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