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He tapped his chest. "And me? I resigned myself to it. I told myself the wrestling I loved was dead. That I was alone. That I had to wear a mask, say the lines, play the role, smile when they told me to smile… because what choice did I have?"
"And then," Jericho said, as he stopped pacing and turn slowly toward Sandro and the rest of the Undisputed System, "these people showed up."
He laughed once, short and sharp, while the boos of the fans shifted, angrier now.
"At first," Jericho admitted, "I laughed. I thought, 'Here we go again. Another group thinking they're special. Another group thinking they can change the system. Another rebellion that gets crushed by the machine. Another group the machine will chew up and spit out.'"
Jericho turned back to the crowd.
"But then they didn't get crushed."
The arena noise shifted again.
"They fought back," Jericho continued. "They didn't beg for approval. They didn't wait their turn. They weren't asking for permission. They weren't just resisting. They attacked. They disrupted. They took shots at everything this place told them not to touch."
He pointed toward the entrance ramp. "They didn't even care who was in their way. RAW. SmackDown. Legends. Management."
A pause.
"That's what reminded me of the past."
The crowd roared its disapproval.
Cole snapped, "This is disgusting."
Jericho continued, undeterred. "That feeling? That feeling that wrestling isn't about being liked. It's about being real. It's about taking risks. It's about daring someone to stop you. That sense that if you want something in this business, you take it."
He spread his arms wide. "For the first time in years… I felt alive again."
The building shook with boos.
Lawler meanwhile took a mic and talked into it. "So that's it? You sold your soul because you were bored?"
Jericho turned slightly toward commentary, smirked. "No, Jerry. I remembered who I was."
Jericho turned and looked directly at Sandro now.
"And this man?" Jericho said. "He reminded me of something I forgot."
Sandro met his gaze calmly.
Jericho turned back to the crowd, voice rising. "I did what I did to remind the world of something you've all forgotten."
He jabbed a finger into the mat. "That we're wrestlers. Not actors. Not mascots. Wrestlers."
The fans booed even louder.
"This isn't a fairy tale," Jericho shouted. "This is WWE. We do wrestling. Not pretend play for children."
Cole exploded. "That's insulting to every fan in this building!"
Lawler nodded. "Jericho's completely lost perspective. He's wrong, but he believes every word of it."
Jericho lowered the mic slightly, breathing hard now, eyes blazing. "You can hate me. You can chant my name with venom. But deep down, you know this place only moves forward when someone has the courage to burn it down."
He looked at Sandro again.
"And him?" Jericho said. "He didn't promise me a fairy tale. He didn't promise me applause."
Jericho smiled. "He promised me truth. And of course a shot at the World Heavyweight title."
The boos reached a fever pitch.
Cole was going nuts. "I knew it! There must be another reason, not just the nonsense he just spew out!"
Lawler agreed fully with that. "Jericho is just a lying bastard! All of this he did because he wanted that Worold Heavyweight title!"
Jericho meanwhile tossed the microphone back to Sandro, who caught it effortlessly, never breaking eye contact with the crowd.
Sandro waited.
Letting the noise peak.
Then fade.
"Chris Jericho doesn't need saving," Sandro said calmly. "He needed a platform."
He gestured behind him. "And this, this is where legends stop pretending."
The Undisputed System stood tall behind him, gold gleaming under the lights, bodies aligned, expressions cold and unified.
Cole's voice carried disbelief. "This is dangerous."
Lawler added bitterly, "This is poison."
Sandro paced slowly, eyes cold, voice controlled.
"For years," he continued, "this place told you what to cheer. What to boo. What to believe."
He gestured toward Jericho. "And when someone stops playing along, you call them a traitor."
Heyman cackled at that, clapping furiously.
"But here's the truth," Sandro said. "The Undisputed System didn't betray WWE."
He leaned toward the hard camera.
"We exposed it."
The crowd roared in disapproval.
"You don't like us?" Sandro continued. "Good. That means you feel something. That means this matters."
He raised his arms slightly.
"Because dominance doesn't ask permission."
Nic Nemeth stepped forward now, mic in hand, eyes blazing.
"You all remember me," he said. "You cheered me once when I was part of the Spirit Squad. Then you forgot me, when I was released and told to go back to a developmental brand."
The crowd booed louder.
"That's fine," Nemeth said with a grin. "Because now I didn't come back for your approval."
He gestured toward Sandro and Jericho. "I came back for opportunity, in which both of these men have given to me."
Alexa Bliss laughed softly, leaning against the ropes.
"My name now is Dolph Ziggler, and this," Nemeth now Ziggler, continued, "is the future. Whether you like it or not."
Heyman stepped forward again, voice trembling with excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he declared, "you are witnessing the consolidation of power."
He pointed at each member.
"Championships. Influence. Control."
He smiled wickedly.
"And this is only the beginning."
Cole's voice rose urgently. "This is dangerous. This is completely out of control."
Lawler nodded. "Someone needs to stop this now."
Sandro lifted the mic one last time.
"You want answers?" he said. "You got them."
He smirked.
"You want heroes?" he shrugged. "Keep dreaming."
He raised his United States championship belt high.
"Because the Undisputed System doesn't need your cheers."
Jericho leaned into the camera beside him, smiling that same reborn smile from SummerSlam.
"We already won."
The arena shook as boos didn't just continue.
They multiplied.
It rolled down from the upper decks like thunder, rhen from every corner of the Staples Center, loud, relentless, almost physical in their force. The fans were on their feet now, arms raised, voices raw with anger as the Undisputed System stood united in the ring, basking in it like kings surveying a conquered land.
Michael Cole could barely contain himself.
"This... this is unbelievable!" he shouted over the noise. "The arrogance! The sheer arrogance of the Undisputed System right now!"
Jerry Lawler was just as animated. "They're acting like they run WWE! Like they're gods walking among everyone else! I've never seen anything like this!"
Sandro lowered his championship belt slowly, resting it against his shoulder, eyes cold and chin high. Jericho leaned casually against the ropes beside him, that infuriating smile still etched across his face.
Nic Nemeth, now Dolph Ziggler, rolled his shoulders, soaking in the reaction like a man reborn. Bliss laughed softly. Drew smirked. Big E and Ryback cracked their knuckles. Wade Barrett stood like a sentry. Kofi bounced lightly on his feet, energized.
Then—
"Wait… wait just a moment!"
Paul Heyman's shrill voice cut through the chaos.
The crowd booed louder as Heyman raised a finger, his eyes wide, face flushed with excitement, microphone trembling in his hand like he was about to announce the second coming.
"Oh no," Cole groaned. "What now?"
Heyman smiled, teeth bared. "Ladies and gentlemen, forgive me, forgive me, because in all the excitement, in all the history being made tonight, I almost forgot to announce something very, very important."
The boos intensified.
Heyman turned, pointing toward the hard camera. "This Friday night… on SmackDown…"
The crowd erupted again, some cheers breaking through instinctively at the mention of SmackDown, but they were immediately drowned out.
"…whether Teddy Long likes it," Heyman sneered, "or whether Mr. Vince McMahon likes it…"
He paused for effect.
"The Undisputed System will be demanding the opportunities they EARNED last Sunday at SummerSlam."
The crowd erupted again.
Heyman raised his voice to be heard over it.
"That means," he continued, "their guaranteed shots at the Intercontinental Championship… and the WWE Tag Team Championships!"
The arena exploded.
A few cheers rang out from fans who wanted chaos, who wanted carnage, but the boos were deafening, overwhelming, hostile.
Cole nearly jumped out of his seat. "You've got to be kidding me! "They're demanding their shots already?!"
Lawler shook his head furiously. "This is insane! They just cheated their way through SmackDown and now they're calling their shot like they run the place!"
Cole shot back immediately, voice tight with frustration. "But that's the problem, King! They CAN! As much as we hate the way they won, as dirty and underhanded as it was—"
Lawler cut him off. "It was a cheat! A complete cheat!"
Cole continued anyway. "—a win is a win in WWE! It's legal! There's nothing Teddy Long or Mr. McMahon can do about it!"
The camera caught Sandro smirking as Heyman lowered the mic, satisfied.
"That's insane," Lawler said. "This is insanity!"
And just like that, the Undisputed System turned as one.
Sandro stepped through the ropes first.
Jericho followed.
Ziggler. Bliss. Drew. Barrett. Big E. Ryback. Kofi.
They began to leave the ring, moving toward the ramp, their backs turned to the raging crowd, confident, unbothered, victorious.
And then—
BOOM.
Flame pyro erupted from the entrance stage.
The arena exploded with cheers.
Red fire shot upward, bathing the stage in hellish light as a familiar, ominous chord echoed through the building.
KANE.
Cole's voice jumped an octave. "OH MY GOD!"
Lawler was on his feet. "YES! HERE HE COMES!"
The Big Red Machine stepped out onto the stage, World Heavyweight Championship strapped around his waist, his dark eyes gleaming under the firelight. The reaction was thunderous, the cheers deafening, cathartic.
But Kane wasn't alone.
Christian stepped out beside him, Intercontinental Championship strapped tightly around his waist, jaw clenched, eyes locked straight on Sandro.
Then R-Truth and John Morrison emerged, the WWE Tag Team Championships gleaming under the lights, Morrison bouncing on his heels, Truth shaking his head in disbelief.
Finally, Rey Mysterio walked out, pointing toward the ring, the crowd roaring his name.
The fans erupted.
Cole was ecstatic. "THEY'RE HERE! SMACKDOWN IS HERE!"
Lawler shouted. "Now THIS is what I'm talking about!
Business is about to pick up!"
The five men stood united at the top of the ramp, champions and veterans, the living embodiment of everything the Undisputed System claimed to despise.
At ringside, Sandro stopped.
He laughed.
Not loud. Not exaggerated.
A short, dismissive laugh.
He turned back toward the stage, motioned for a microphone, and took it from Heyman's hand.
"Cut the music," Sandro said casually.
Kane's theme died instantly.
The arena buzzed with tension.
The cheers turned to boos as Sandro raised the mic.
"What are these five loser bitches from SmackDown doing here?" Sandro said flatly.
The boos were instantaneous and violent.
"Oh come on!" Cole shouted.
Lawler was furious. "That's disgusting! That's uncalled for!"
Sandro tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Kane, as he continued, unfazed. "You already lost. Last night. Clean, legal, official. So stop disrupting my life and my family's, out here."
The boos were nuclear.
Christian stepped forward, microphone in hand, eyes narrowed.
"Oh, you can talk all you want, Sandro," Christian said, voice sharp, cutting. "But what happened last week? That was way out of line."
The fans cheered loudly.
"The win you and your boys got?" Christian continued. "That's the biggest load of bullshit that's ever happened in WWE."
The building erupted.
"And you," Christian added, turning his head toward Jericho, eyes narrowing. "None of us expected you to do that. Not from you, which probably our biggest mistake."
Jericho's smile faded.
"You stabbed all five of us in the back. You stabbed SmackDown in the back. For what?" Christian sneered. "Some delusion in your own head? And a shot at Kane's World Heavyweight Championship?"
The fans roared.
Christian leaned forward. "Looks to me like you needed help. Like you weren't confident enough to face Kane on your own. Because you're not confident in yourself anymore."
He paused, causing the crowd to leaned in.
"Because deep down," Christian finished, "you knew you're a pussy."
The arena gasped, as they then exploded.
"OHHHH!"
"HE IS PUSSY!"
Clap clap clap clap.
"HE IS PUSSY!"
Clap clap clap clap.
"HE IS PUSSY!"
Jericho snapped.
He surged forward, face red, eyes wild, but Drew and Big E grabbed him, holding him back. Sandro stepped in front of him instantly, one hand out, calm but firm.
"Easy," Sandro said quietly. "Not worth it."
Jericho seethed, chest heaving.
Sandro raised the mic again, shaking his head with mock disappointment.
"Really classy answer, Captain Charisma," Sandro said calmly. "Real classy."
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."
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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