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"If I'm not defending either or even both of these titles on every single pay per view against the number one contender, then the titles don't mean anything. I want to be a fighting 'God.' I want the world to know that if you want the gold, you have to go through me, and I'm always available to hand out a beating."
Vince took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. He was clearly trying to keep his cool and anger, as he knew that Sandro wasn't just a wrestler, he was the son of Jack Zhang after all, and the Zhang family represented the second largest shareholder block in the company.
In the high stakes world of WWE corporate politics, Sandro had a level of leverage that no other superstar in history of his company had ever possessed.
"Sandro, you're young," Vince said, his voice straining with a forced patience. "You don't understand the toll of a schedule like that. You do every PPV, RAW every couple of weeks, and every title defense... you'll burn out in just a year. I'm trying to give you more than that."
"And I'm telling you that a 'God' who doesn't answer prayers isn't a God, he's just an idol," Sandro replied. "I don't want to be an idol gathering dust on a shelf. If the direction for the Undisputed System is to become this unreachable entity, it's going to get stale real quick and we need to innovate faster and faster each time. The anticipation will turn into resentment. I could see it happen. I want to defend each titles, Vince. Every PPV. One for the WWE Title, one for the US Title, both at the same time or separate if need be. I want the workload."
Hayes at this time spoke up for the first time since the debate, trying to find a middle ground. "Sandro, kid, think about the storytelling. We can build stories for months without you having to touch a hair on your head. We can make people beg to see you."
"They'll beg for a while," Sandro said, looking Hayes in the eye. "And then they'll find someone else who's actually there. I'm staying on the road. I'm staying on the card. I'm not Undertaker or Kane, I'm not a special attraction. I'm the Champion. All of it. Every day."
The silence that followed was deafening. Vince looked like he wanted to scream, to flip the medical table, to exert the absolute authority he had held for decades.
But he looked at Sandro, bloody, bruised, and completely unyielding, and he saw something that even he couldn't bully. He saw a man who understood the business better than the people who had been in it for forty years. And more importantly, he saw the face of the Zhang family's investment.
Vince sighed, a long, ragged sound of defeat. He turned to Bruce. "Fine. He wants to work? We'll work him. But if he breaks, Bruce, it's on your head for not convincing him otherwise."
Vince turned back to Sandro, his face unreadable. "You get your week off. That's non negotiable. But when you come back... you better be ready for what that schedule entails. You want to defend either or even both titles every month? You've got it. But don't come crying to me when the weight of those schedules starts to crush you."
"The schedules don't feel heavy to me, Vince," Sandro said, the smirk finally returning to his face. "I'm a God, remember?"
Vince grunted, a sound that was half annoyance and half respect, before turning on his heel and storming out of the room, Bruce and Hayes trailing behind him like shadows.
The door clicked shut, and the room felt significantly lighter. Sandro let out a long breath, finally allowing his shoulders to drop.
"Well," Alexa said, breaking the silence as she walked over to the table. "That was... intense. You just out debated the most stubborn man in the history of television."
"I told you," Sandro said, winking at her. "I'm sturdy."
AJ leaned her head against his arm, her protective stance finally softening into something more affectionate. "You're an idiot. A 'fighting god' idiot. But I guess that's why we're here."
Nikki kissed the top of his head. "One week off. No wrestling. No gyms. Just us. Deal?"
Sandro looked at the three of them, the titles resting against the wall, and the medical supplies scattered around the room. The pain wasn't real, but the victory was. He had secured his place not just as a champion, but as a leader who wasn't going to let his legacy be defined by the easy path.
"Deal," Sandro said. "But the hospital visit first. I have to make sure the three of you relieved that nothin gbad happened, after all."
As the girls began to gather their things, Sandro looked at his reflection in the medical cabinet glass. The God of WWE was going to be a busy man. And that was exactly how he wanted it.
The drive away from the arena was quieter than any of them expected.
Dallas still glowed outside the tinted windows of the black SUV, neon and traffic blurring together as if the city itself hadn't yet come down from the chaos of the night before.
The Hell in a Cell main event was still being replayed on screens in bars, phones, hotel lobbies, Sandro's body crashing through steel, Undertaker rising and falling, the moment that had split the fanbase clean in two and somehow made both sides louder.
Inside the vehicle, though, there was a different energy.
AJ sat in the passenger seat, turned halfway around so she could keep her eyes on Sandro. Nikki and Alexa were pressed in close beside him in the back, not bothering with space or appearances.
There was no reason to anymore. That bridge had already burned in spectacular fashion weeks ago, and what had replaced it was something unapologetically public.
Nikki had one of his hands trapped between both of hers, thumb rubbing slow circles into his knuckles. Alexa leaned against his shoulder, arms folded but posture tense, eyes flicking up every time the car hit even the smallest bump. AJ kept glancing back, lips pursed, like she was waiting for him to suddenly wince or swear or collapse.
Sandro, meanwhile, stared out the window with a faint smile on his face, looking far too relaxed for someone who'd just gone to war inside a steel cage with a living legend.
"You're enjoying this," Nikki muttered, narrowing her eyes.
"Enjoying what?" Sandro asked innocently.
"All of this," Alexa said, not looking at him but tightening her grip on his arm anyway. "The drama. The worrying. The fact that three grown women are watching you like you're about to fall apart."
Sandro finally turned back toward them, lifting both hands in surrender. "I wouldn't say enjoying," he said. "Appreciating, maybe."
AJ snorted. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he said, glancing at each of them in turn, "here you are."
That earned him three simultaneous affectionate glares.
"Don't push it," Nikki warned.
The SUV slowed as it turned into the hospital entrance, security already clearing a path. Sandro sighed softly, rolling his shoulders like a man heading into a mildly inconvenient meeting rather than a full post Hell in a Cell medical evaluation.
"Okay," he said, clapping his hands together once. "Hospital. Tests. Reassurance. Then hotel. Presidential suite. Food. Sleep."
"Sleep?" Alexa echoed. "You? After that?"
"I'll try," he said with a grin.
They stepped out together, no attempt made to hide the closeness. AJ slipped her hand into his automatically. Nikki stayed glued to his other side. Alexa hovered half a step behind, watchful, sharp eyed, already scanning the lobby.
And just like that, the temperature in the hospital shifted.
Phones came out almost immediately. A nurse froze mid step. Someone whispered his name. Another whispered all four of their names.
It wasn't even about wrestling at first. Not fully.
It was them.
The God of WWE. Three fierce woman in their own right. One relationship that had detonated social media and talk shows alike. The sight of them walking together, casual, affectionate, unashamed, hit harder than any headline.
Sandro nodded politely to the staff, smiling when spoken to, never rushing, never acting like this was beneath him. He was led away for a private checkup, doors closing softly behind him as the girls were guided to a waiting area.
The next few hours passed slowly.
Too slowly.
Tests were run. Scans taken. Questions asked and answered. Sandro joked with the doctors, laughed when they told him to stop moving so much, played the role of a battered but cooperative patient flawlessly.
To anyone watching, he looked like exactly what he was supposed to be, a champion pushing his limits, a man whose body had been through hell and somehow kept standing.
Outside, AJ paced. Nikki scrolled through her phone. Alexa sat still, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes occasionally flicking toward the closed doors.
And the world, as it always did, filled in the blanks.
Pictures leaked within minutes.
Blurry shots of Sandro walking into the hospital. Clearer ones of AJ, Nikki, and Alexa following close behind. A nurse smiling too wide in the background. A fan's caption. "Just saw Sandro Zhang at Baylor. Is he hurt???"
Twitter ignited.
Reddit threads exploded.
Speculation turned feral.
Is he injured?
Is this a work?
Did the HIAC go too far?
Is he dropping the title?
If he's out, RAW is screwed.
No way they vacate BOTH titles.
Holding them hostage would kill the division.
The lack of response only fed the fire.
WWE said nothing.
Sandro said nothing.
The silence did its job.
By the time Sandro was cleared, bruised, battered, but officially, medically fine, and the four of them finally made it back to their five star hotel, the narrative had already taken on a life of its own.
They disappeared into the presidential suite, shutting the door on the noise, the lights, the endless opinions.
For one night, at least, it was just them.
RAW stayed in Dallas.
The same arena. The same city. The same fans, plus thousands more who'd driven in, flown in, begged for last minute tickets just in case.
Because what if he showed up?
What if the rumors were wrong?
What if the God of WWE walked out anyway?
By the time Monday night rolled around, the building was vibrating with anticipation and unease in equal measure.
Michael Cole and Jerry Lawler opened the show like professionals, but even they couldn't hide the tension.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Cole said, "welcome to Monday Night RAW, live from Dallas, Texas, less than twenty four hours removed from what many are calling one of the most brutal Hell in a Cell matches in WWE history."
"And the question on everyone's mind, Cole," Lawler added, "is where is Sandro Zhang? After that war with the Undertaker, we know he was seen entering a local hospital earlier today—"
"We have no official word on his condition," Cole cut in, "but we do know that the Undisputed System has dominated this company, and tonight could be very telling."
The opening match hit before anyone could speculate further.
The inaugural NXT Champion and Undisputed System member, Dolph Ziggler, made his way to the ring alone. The absence of the rest of the faction was the first chilling sign.
Ziggler, usually the showstealer with a flair for the dramatic, looked focused and lethal. His opponent, Santino Marella, tried to bring his usual brand of comedic relief to the ring, but Ziggler wasn't interested in jokes.
The match lasted nearly ten minutes, a showcase of Ziggler's superior athleticism and the Undisputed System's aggressive edge. Santino managed a few hope spots, even teasing the Cobra, but Ziggler shut him down with a mid air dropkick that looked like a car crash.
The finish was academic, a Zig Zag so vicious it left Santino staring at the lights. Ziggler didn't celebrate, he grabbed his NXT title, stared coldly at the camera, and walked to the back.
The rest of the night unfolded without Sandro.
As the night progressed, the murmurs in the crowd grew into a restless roar. Matches came and went, but the locker room was noticeably devoid of the Undisputed System presence. It was as if the faction had vanished along with their leader.
The murmurs grew louder with every segment.
By the time the main event hour rolled around, the crowd was restless, agitated, suspicious.
And then—
SHOCK THE SYSTEM!
The lights died.
The arena exploded into boos before the music even finished hitting its first note.
Gold light flooded the stage as the Undisputed System emerged in full force.
Paul Heyman led the way, microphone already in hand, grin sharp enough to cut glass.
Behind him came Alexa Bliss, Divas Championship gleaming at her waist, chin high, expression unreadable.
AJ Lee followed, eyes wild, smile crooked.
Nikki Bella walked with confidence, shoulders back, daring anyone to say something to her face.
Chris Jericho, World Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder.
Big E and Ryback, World Tag Team Champions, looming like walking wrecking balls.
Drew McIntyre and Wade Barrett, WWE Tag Team Champions, stoic and imposing.
Kofi Kingston, Intercontinental Champion, clapping rhythmically.
Dolph Ziggler, NXT Champion, already proven tonight.
The visual was staggering. A literal forest of championship gold filled the entrance ramp. But as they entered the ring and the lights turned back to normal, the center of the formation was empty. Sandro was not there.
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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, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0