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The arena EXPLODED in disbelief. Heyman screamed, half hysterical, half euphoric. Sandro rolled to his feet, eyes wild now, sweat pouring, chest heaving, but he was grinning. Two man left, Kane and Jericho. One man standing between them and immortality. And Sandro wasn't done yet.
Sandro stayed on one knee for a moment, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his hairline onto the canvas. He slowly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, glanced at it, then laughed softly.
He rose to his feet.
Across the ring stood Kane and Jericho, both staring at him with disbelief, frustration, and a growing edge of anger. The crowd was a wall of noise, boos crashing down like thunder, mixed with scattered cheers from those who couldn't help but respect what they were witnessing.
Sandro looked at them both.
And smiled.
Then he raised one finger… and waved it toward himself.
"COME ON."
The gesture was unmistakable.
Both of you.
At the same time.
The arena detonated with noise.
Cole exploded on commentary. "Oh, come on! This guy is either fearless or completely unhinged!"
Lawler shook his head. "This is arrogance, pure and simple. You don't do this to Kane and Jericho and live to tell about it."
Striker cut in sharply. "You don't have to like him, but you have to admit, Sandro refuses to back down."
The referee, still rattled from the chaos, hesitated, looking between Kane and Jericho. After a brief exchange, both men stepped through the ropes.
Two on one.
The crowd roared.
Jericho and Kane circled Sandro from opposite sides, slowly closing the space. Sandro stayed loose, hands up, eyes darting between them, calculating every step.
Jericho lunged first.
Sandro ducked the clothesline, cracked Jericho with a sharp elbow to the jaw, then immediately rolled forward to avoid Kane's boot. He sprang back up, drilled Kane with a low kick to the knee, then turned—
JERICHO CAUGHT HIM WITH A RUNNING BULLDOG!
Sandro smashed face-first into the mat.
Jericho wasted no time, pulling him up—
KANE WITH A SIDEWALK SLAM!
The ring shook.
The crowd roared in approval.
Kane covered.
1! 2!—
SANDRO KICKED OUT.
The boos grew louder, angrier.
Lawler barked, "You've got to be kidding me!"
Striker snapped back, "That was power and timing, Sandro barely escaped!"
Kane dragged Sandro up by the hair and backed him into the corner. Jericho stepped in, unloading with chops that echoed through the arena. Kane followed with a crushing body shot, then another.
The referee tried to intervene, but Kane brushed him aside.
Jericho tagged himself in with a sharp slap to Kane's shoulder.
TAG TO JERICHO.
Jericho whipped Sandro across the ring. Sandro rebounded—
CODEBREAKER!
The crowd surged.
Jericho hooked the leg.
1! 2!—
SANDRO KICKED OUT AGAIN.
The building shook with boos.
Cole shouted, "This is unreal! He's surviving everything!"
Jericho slammed his hands against the mat, frustration etched across his face. He dragged Sandro up and backed him into the corner, unloading with punches. Kane leaned in, barking instructions, his eyes locked on Sandro's throat.
Jericho tagged Kane.
TAG TO KANE.
Kane stepped in, towering over Sandro. He grabbed Sandro by the throat—
The crowd rose to its feet—
Sandro broke the grip with a sharp knee to the ribs, then another. Kane staggered back a step.
Sandro surged forward—
KANE CAUGHT HIM—
CHOKESLAM!
The ring shook violently.
Kane covered.
1! 2!—
SANDRO KICKED OUT.
The reaction was nuclear.
Boos poured down, louder than ever, shaking the rafters.
Striker shouted, "I don't care who you are, no one should be kicking out of this!"
Sandro lay there, chest heaving, eyes glassy but still burning. Kane stood up slowly, staring down at him, disbelief creeping into his expression.
Kane dragged him up again, backing him into the corner opposite Jericho.
TAG TO JERICHO.
Jericho climbed the ropes, raining down punches as the crowd counted along.
"ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!"
Sandro shoved Jericho off at five, stumbling forward.
Jericho charged—
Sandro dropped him with a sudden snap powerslam!
The crowd gasped.
Sandro crawled toward the ropes, pulling himself up, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. Kane stepped in—
Sandro rolled under his legs and shoved him into the corner.
For the first time, Sandro had space.
He sprinted—
LOW DROPKICK TO KANE'S KNEE.
Kane staggered.
Sandro followed with a running knee to the ribs, then another, backing Kane into the opposite corner, away from Jericho.
Cole shouted, "He's trying to cut the ring off!"
Jericho yelled for the tag, arm outstretched.
Kane reached—
Sandro cracked him with a forearm, then shoved him deeper into the corner, physically blocking the tag lane. Sandro hammered Kane with strikes, then snapped off a quick backstabber that dropped the Big Red Machine to one knee.
The crowd buzzed, shocked.
Sandro backed up, lining Kane up.
SUPERKICK—
KANE DODGED.
The kick flew past Kane—
AND SMASHED INTO THE REFEREE.
The referee crumpled instantly.
The arena erupted in boos.
Cole groaned. "Oh no. Not like this."
Lawler sighed. "This just went from bad to worse."
Sandro froze.
He looked down at the fallen referee, then slowly turned—
KANE WAS SMILING.
That slow, menacing grin spread across Kane's face as he wrapped his massive hand around Sandro's throat.
The crowd erupted.
Kane lifted him—
CHOKESLAM COMING—
But suddenly—
A commotion exploded near the barricade.
A figure vaulted over the barricade from the crowd.
Short blond hair.
Fast.
Sudden.
The man slid into the ring—
JUMPING REVERSE BULLDOG TO KANE!
The Big Red Machine crashed back first to the mat.
The arena lost its mind.
"What the hell?!" Cole screamed. "WHO IS THAT?!"
Lawler jumped up from his seat. "WHERE IS SECURITY?!"
Striker shouted over the chaos, "Someone just took out Kane! This is insane!"
The blond haired man popped to his feet, breathing hard, eyes locked on Kane. Sandro stood up slowly behind him, straightening himself, that same calm smile returning to his face.
The crowd booed furiously as realization set in.
This wasn't random.
This was planned.
Sandro extended his hand.
The blond man turned—
Smirked.
And shook it.
The boos turned venomous.
Cole shouted, "THIS WAS THE SURPRISE! THIS WAS THE DAMN SURPRISE!"
Lawler yelled, "SANDRO PLANNED THIS! HE PLANNED ALL OF IT!"
Heyman was screaming at ringside now, face flushed, pounding the apron like he'd just witnessed salvation.
Jericho slid into the ring, rage blazing in his eyes.
"You sons of—!" he shouted, charging forward.
Sandro stepped aside.
The blond man ducked Jericho's clothesline.
Jericho didn't stop.
That was the part nobody expected.
Everyone, everyone, thought Jericho would spin back around, throw a punch, kick the blond man square in the chest, maybe even drop him with a codebreaker out of pure instinct. The crowd rose expecting it. Commentary braced for it. Kane was already starting to push up on his hands, shaking his head, trying to reorient himself after the shock of the bulldog.
But Jericho kept running.
He blew past the blond man like he wasn't even there.
Cole's voice cracked. "Wait, what is Jericho doing?!"
Jericho hit the ropes hard, planted a foot on the middle rope, twisted his body in midair—
LIONSAULT.
Not at Sandro.
Not at the blond man.
Straight onto Kane.
The impact echoed.
Kane's body snapped under the weight, arms flopping to the sides as Jericho landed clean, perfect, veteran precision.
For half a second, the arena didn't make a sound.
Then disbelief hit like a shockwave.
The fans exploded, not in cheers, but in stunned, furious noise. Boos collided with screams of confusion. Hands flew to faces. People stood frozen, mouths open.
Cole was shouting now. "WHAT?! WHAT DID WE JUST SEE?!"
Lawler's voice was raw. "No… no way. No way."
Striker stood up from his chair. "Jericho just hit Kane. Jericho just hit his own partner!"
At ringside, Teddy Long looked like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open as if his mind simply refused to process what was happening.
In the ring, Sandro threw his head back and laughed.
Not mockingly.
Not quietly.
He laughed like a man watching a final piece snap perfectly into place.
The blond man joined him, clapping his hands once, twice, shaking his head with an impressed grin.
At ringside, Paul Heyman was doubled over, laughter spilling out of him as he slapped the apron, clutching the briefcase like he was witnessing prophecy fulfilled.
Jericho rolled off Kane and rose to his feet slowly.
He brushed his hands together, palms slapping softly, like he was dusting flour off after finishing a job. His expression was calm. Almost satisfied.
Then he turned.
He looked straight at Sandro.
The noise in the arena dropped again, anticipation thick enough to choke on.
Jericho took a step forward.
Then another.
And then without hesitation he extended his hand.
The arena erupted into pure, venomous hatred.
"No!" someone screamed from the crowd.
Cole was losing his mind. "You've got to be kidding me! You've got to be kidding me!"
Lawler shouted, "This is a betrayal! This is a knife in the back of SmackDown!"
Striker's voice cut through, stunned and sharp. "This isn't one surprise… this is two. Sandro didn't just plan ahead, he orchestrated this!"
Sandro looked at the hand.
Looked up at Jericho's face.
And smiled.
He reached out and shook it.
The boos reached a level that felt physical, pounding against the ring, the cameras, the commentators, like a living thing.
Cole yelled, "THIS IS DISGUSTING!"
Lawler followed, "This is worse than the Fingerpoke of Doom! This is a disgrace!"
Striker snapped, "Chris Jericho just sold out SmackDown in front of the entire world!"
At ringside, Teddy Long's knees buckled.
He dropped straight down onto his backside, hands slack at his sides, staring into the ring like a man watching everything he believed in collapse at once.
Inside the ropes, Sandro released Jericho's hand and pointed toward the blond man.
"Out," he said calmly.
The blond man nodded once, hopped through the ropes, and took his place beside Heyman at ringside. Heyman immediately threw an arm around his shoulders, shouting into his ear, laughing, praising him like a proud conspirator.
Jericho turned and stepped back onto the SmackDown apron.
Right into his old corner.
As if nothing had changed.
As if everything had changed.
Sandro turned toward Kane.
Kane was still out, and the referee at this time stirred, pushing up on his elbows, shaking his head, still trying to piece together the last thirty seconds of his life.
Sandro seeing that dropped down and hooked the leg.
The referee, finally coming to sense, blinked, saw the cover, and hesitated. His eyes flicked to Jericho. To the blond man at ringside. To Heyman. To the wreckage of the match.
Then training kicked in.
He dropped to the mat.
Slow.
Painfully slow.
"One…"
The crowd screamed.
"Two…"
Kane twitched, arm lifting—
"THREE!"
DING DING DING!
The bell rang.
Kane was eliminated.
The arena exploded again, this time in fury.
Cole shouted, "I cannot believe what we are witnessing!"
Lawler was furious. "SmackDown has been robbed blind!"
Striker shook his head. "This is a travesty. An absolute travesty."
Jericho stepped through the ropes.
He walked into the ring.
And then, without a word, he lay down flat on his back in the center of the canvas.
The referee froze.
"What… what are you—" he stammered.
Sandro looked down at Jericho, then up at the referee.
"COUNT," Sandro barked.
The referee hesitated, hands shaking.
The fans were apoplectic now. People were screaming obscenities. Some threw cups. Others just stood there, stunned, furious, betrayed.
Cole shouted, "No! Don't do this!"
Lawler yelled, "This is a mockery of this business!"
Striker snapped, "This is worse than anything we've ever seen!"
The referee swallowed hard.
He dropped.
"One…"
Boos thundered.
"Two…"
People were losing their minds.
"THREE!"
DING DING DING!
The bell rang again.
It felt final.
It felt wrong.
Justin Roberts' voice trembled as he announced, "Here is your winner… and the SOLE SURVIVOR… SANDRO ZHANG... THE UNDISPUTED SYSTEM!"
The boos drowned out the rest.
Teddy Long collapsed backward, fainting on the spot. Ringside officials rushed to him, kneeling, shouting for help as medical staff moved in.
Heyman slid into the ring, ecstatic, tears in his eyes as he wrapped Sandro in a hug, shouting, "You did it! My beautiful Maestro, you did it!"
Sandro raised his arms.
Then he grabbed Jericho's wrist.
Then the blond man's.
He lifted them both high.
Three men.
United.
Drenched in hatred.
The fans booed louder than they had all night.
Cole's voice cracked as he delivered the final words of the broadcast. "SmackDown has been dismantled from the inside."
Striker followed quietly. "The Undisputed System just changed the landscape of WWE."
Lawler sighed. "And I don't know how anyone stops them now."
The camera pulled back. Wide shot. Golden pyro exploded above the ring, raining down sparks as Sandro lifted his arms, soaking in the hatred like fuel. Jericho leaned against the ropes, smiling like a man reborn. The blond man stood tall, chin raised, soaking in his moment back on the main stage.
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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