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He gestured to the crowd. "And of course these hobos in Los Angeles would agree with you." The boos intensified. "As after all," Sandro continued, "people here only care about living glamorously. No brains. No backbone."
The heat was unreal.
Cole shouted, "This man just doesn't stop!"
Sandro tilted his head. "So what do you want?" He spread his arms. "You want to take on the eight of us?"
He laughed.
"Looks like your defeat last night didn't teach you anything."
The Undisputed System laughed with him, a chorus of mockery.
Christian smiled.
A slow, knowing smile.
"Just the five of us?" Christian said.
The crowd roared.
"Who said there are only five of us?"
The crowd erupted.
Cole nearly screamed. "Is Christian saying what I think he's saying?!"
Lawler was electric. "No way… no way…"
Then—
GONG!
The lights went out.
The sound echoed through the Staples Center like a death knell.
The arena detonated.
"It's The Undertaker!" Cole shouted. "IT'S THE UNDERTAKER!"
Lawler was losing his mind. "THE PHENOM IS HERE!"
The lights snapped back on.
The Undertaker stood in the ring.
Black hat. Black coat. Eyes burning.
Heyman looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Sandro's smirk vanished instantly, replaced by a hard, unreadable glare.
But the surprises weren't done. As beside him there was two people.
Triple H was to the right of The Undertaker, sledgehammer resting over his shoulder, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Sandro.
There's the Big Show to the left of the Undertaker, with the WWE Championship over his shoulder, towering, stone faced.
Cole was losing his mind. "THE UNDERTAKER! TRIPLE H! THE WWE CHAMPION BIG SHOW! THIS IS UNREAL!"
Lawler shouted, "This just became WAR!"
The camera caught Sandro's face in close up.
For the first time all night—
He didn't laugh.
He stared.
Measured.
Calculating.
The Undisputed System slowly regrouped at ringside, eyes darting between the ring and the stage, suddenly aware that the numbers game had just shifted.
Undertaker stepped forward, eyes locked on Sandro.
No words.
Just presence.
Triple H cracked his neck once.
Big Show rolled his shoulders.
The fans were on their feet, roaring.
Cole summed it up breathlessly. "This… this is the collision of eras."
Lawler nodded. "And for the first time, Sandro might have pushed too far."
Sandro slowly raised the mic again, voice steady despite the storm around him.
"…Now," he said quietly, "this just got interesting."
Sandro didn't break eye contact with Christian at first.
He let the moment breathe.
The roar of the crowd, the chants, the shock, the electricity in the air, all of it washed over him, and he absorbed it without flinching. Then, slowly, he turned his head, looking from Christian… to Kane… to R-Truth… to Morrison… to Rey.
And finally—
To the ring.
To The Undertaker.
To Triple H.
To the WWE Champion, Big Show.
Sandro smiled again.
Not the cocky grin from earlier.
This one was colder.
Measured.
Almost amused.
He adjusted the microphone in his hand, taking his time, letting the tension thicken until every breath in the building felt heavy.
"Let me get this straight," Sandro said, voice calm, almost amused. "You really think calling out The Undertaker… Triple H… and the Big Show is supposed to scare me?"
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied them one by one.
"Because what?" he continued. "You evened the odds? Because they're veterans? Legends? Former world champions?"
He scoffed, shaking his head.
"With those three," Sandro said, spreading his arms toward the ring, "you think you can just… wipe out me and my family like that?"
Then he laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't wild.
It was cold.
Calculated.
The kind of laugh that crawled under the skin.
The fans booed harder, the sound rolling down from the rafters like thunder, but Sandro didn't care. He laughed until he chose to stop, eyes burning with confidence as the Undisputed System stood tall behind him, unmoved by the legends staring them down.
Cole snapped, "Listen to this arrogance! This man has no fear!"
Lawler replied, stunned, "Or no sense! You don't laugh at The Undertaker!"
"And that's the funniest part," he said. "You actually believe that."
Before Sandro could say another word, Triple H had heard enough.
He reached down, grabbed a microphone, and stepped forward, eyes locked on Sandro like he wanted to rip him apart.
"Stop laughing," Triple H barked, his voice cutting through the noise. "You think this is funny? You think any of this is funny?"
The crowd roared, feeding off the intensity.
"You're standing there," Triple H continued, pointing at Sandro, "after everything you've done, after everything your boys have pulled, and you still think you've got the upper hand. You're delusional."
Sandro's laughter died instantly.
He turned his head slowly toward the ring, eyes settling on Triple H. His expression didn't change, no anger, no panic, just that same sharp, knowing calm.
"Delusional?" Sandro repeated softly.
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I'm honest."
The fans reacted, a strange mix of boos and murmurs rippling through the building.
"I know the truth," Sandro continued. "And the truth is… there is no way you can ever be stronger than me and my family."
He took a step closer to the ring, voice rising just enough to carry.
"Because you?" Sandro gestured toward Triple H. "You people? You can't even get on the same page. Your egos collide. Your pride gets in the way. You smile together, you pose together… but when it comes down to it, you tear each other apart."
The crowd buzzed, uncomfortable.
"And you?" Sandro said, eyes locked on Triple H now. "You're the biggest joke of all."
The fans erupted, not at Sandro, but at the truth they knew too well.
Sandro didn't stop.
"How does anyone still believe you?" he asked. "After all these years, after everything you've done?"
He pointed directly at Triple H.
"You are the ultimate betrayer," Sandro said flatly. "Not once. Not twice. But again and again."
The arena grew louder, the reaction spiraling.
"You stabbed people in the back because you wanted to be the center," Sandro continued. "Because you wanted the spotlight. Because you wanted the championship."
Triple H's jaw tightened.
"And your best friend?" Sandro added, his voice sharp now. "The man who was like a brother to you, Shawn Michaels."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"You didn't just betray him," Sandro said. "You beat him so badly he ended up in a hospital bed."
The boos rained down, not for Sandro, but for Triple H.
Cole sounded shocked. "The crowd… they're reacting to this."
Lawler admitted reluctantly, "They don't like hearing it, but they know it's true."
Triple H snorted angrily, taking a step forward, eyes blazing, ready to explode—
But a massive hand came down on his chest.
Big Show shook his head slowly, eyes locked with Triple H.
"Don't," Big Show said firmly. "Don't let him get in your head."
Triple H hesitated, fists clenched, then stopped himself.
Before he could say another word, The Undertaker reached over and took the microphone from Triple H's hand.
The crowd quieted instantly.
Undertaker stepped forward, eyes never leaving Sandro.
"You can talk however you want," Undertaker said, his voice deep, slow, deliberate. "You can mock. You can insult."
He raised his chin slightly.
"But no one ever knows when judgment stands in their way."
The lights seemed dimmer somehow.
"And that judgment," Undertaker continued, "for you… and for your little family… stands before you tonight."
He gestured toward the ring. "Not just me. Not just him. Not just the champion."
He turned slightly, indicating the stage.
"But all of us."
Eight men.
Eight threats.
Eight consequences.
The fans erupted, chanting and roaring.
Before Undertaker could say anything more—
Sandro cut him off.
"Oh, whatever you say, Deadman," Sandro said dismissively. "I've heard it all before."
The crowd exploded with boos.
Sandro turned, addressing everyone now, the ring, the stage, the fans, the cameras.
"Listen carefully," he said. "This Friday night… on SmackDown…"
He pointed toward the entrance.
"If I see any of you interfering," Sandro warned, "in any way… in those title matches…"
His voice dropped.
"…I will make sure you never rest in peace in this company."
A chill ran through the building.
Cole exclaimed, "That's a threat!"
Lawler nodded. "And I think he means every word."
Sandro smirked.
"But right now," he continued, "me and my family is tired."
He glanced behind him at the Undisputed System, all of them nodding.
"And since you all wanted to block our exit…"
He shrugged.
"…we'll just make our own."
Suddenly, Sandro vaulted the barricade.
One by one, the Undisputed System followed, Paul Heyman scrambling after them as they disappeared into the sea of fans.
The arena erupted into chaos.
Cole shouted, "They're getting out through the crowd!"
Lawler yelled, "Somebody stop them!"
In the ring, Undertaker, Triple H, and Big Show moved instantly, sliding under the ropes, while on the stage Kane, Christian, R-Truth, John Morrison, and Rey Mysterio sprinted down the ramp.
But it was too late.
Sandro and his family were already gone, swallowed by the crowd, moving fast, coordinated, untouchable. The camera caught Sandro one last time as he glanced back over his shoulder, eyes burning with satisfaction.
The SmackDown superstars could only stop at the barricade, staring in fury.
Kane clenched his fists.
Christian shook his head in fury.
R-Truth slammed the apron.
Morrison paced.
Rey stared into the distance.
Triple H seethed.
Big Show glared.
Undertaker stared forward, eyes dark, calculating.
Cole summed it up breathlessly. "They got away… but this is far from over."
RAW continued after that.
Matches happened.
Promos aired.
Backstage segments played.
But none of it mattered.
Not really.
The fans were still buzzing about Jericho's betrayal. About the Undisputed System standing toe-to-toe with legends. About the threat Sandro had just made.
Social media exploded.
Twitter lit up with arguments, speculation, outrage.
Wrestling journalists dissected every word. Analysts debated whether the Undisputed System had gone too far or whether they were exactly what WWE needed.
And hanging over all of it was one undeniable fact:
This Friday on SmackDown, the Undisputed System would get their Intercontinental and WWE Tag Team Championship matches.
They had earned it.
Legally.
No matter how ugly the win had been.
Days passed.
Anticipation grew.
By Friday afternoon, Scottsdale, Arizona was buzzing. Fans lined up hours early, arena packed to the brim with people desperate to see what would happen next.
Would Sandro show up?
Would the Undisputed System actually dare to walk into SmackDown after everything they'd done?
Fans lined up early.
Signs filled the air.
UNDISPUTED SYSTEM ERA
JERICHO IS A TRAITOR
PROTECT THE TITLES
SANDRO FEARS NO ONE
SmackDown exploded to life in a cascade of blue and white pyro, flames erupting from the stage as the sold out arena in Scottsdale, Arizona shook with noise. The camera swept across the crowd, signs held high, faces painted, people on their feet before a single word had been spoken.
"WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO FRIDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN!" Grisham's voice boomed over the chaos.
Striker followed immediately, his tone sharp and intense. "And what a night we have ahead of us! The entire wrestling world has been waiting for this since SummerSlam!"
The camera cut back to the commentators' desk, both men visibly energized.
"Tonight," Grisham continued, "the Undisputed System is here. Sandro Zhang is here. And they are looking to do exactly what they promised, walk into SmackDown and walk out with even more gold."
Striker leaned forward. "Let's be clear about something. Losing to RAW as a brand? That happens. That's competition. But losing your championships to a faction that doesn't even belong here, having them taken right out from under SmackDown's nose?"
He shook his head. "That would be humiliation."
Grisham nodded. "Christian. R-Truth. John Morrison. They're not just defending titles tonight. They're defending SmackDown's pride."
The crowd roared at that.
"And they'd better be ready," Striker added grimly, "because Sandro Zhang and the Undisputed System don't just want to win. They want to dominate."
The camera faded to black for a moment—
Then the bell rang.
SmackDown's opening contest was underway.
Matt Hardy made his way to the ring first, the crowd greeting him with a strong reaction, clapping along as he slapped hands on the ramp, eyes focused, jaw set. Alberto Del Rio followed shortly after, smug grin on his face, robe flowing behind him as he posed confidently at the top of the stage.
Grisham called the action enthusiastically as the two locked up, Hardy using his experience and grit while Del Rio relied on sharp technique and arrogance. The match was fast, physical, and competitive, Del Rio targeting the arm, Hardy firing back with clotheslines and side slams, refusing to stay down.
"This is classic SmackDown wrestling right here," Grisham said.
"And Hardy refuses to quit," Striker added. "You can never count him out." The end came after a frantic exchange, Del Rio went for the Cross Armbreaker, Hardy rolled through, powered to his feet, drove Del Rio down with a Side Effect, and the crowd rose as one.
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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