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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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The physical toll was becoming increasingly obvious. The thick strips of medical tape holding Sandro's ribs together were beginning to peel and tear under the sheer friction of the canvas. Bright red welts were forming across the champion's torso. Lesnar didn't go for a pin. He wanted to inflict pain. He dragged Sandro to the center of the ring, wrapping his massive, tree trunk arms securely around Sandro's injured midsection, and locked in a devastating, suffocating bear hug. Lesnar squeezed with terrifying pressure, shaking Sandro side to side like a ragdoll.
Sandro's face turned a deep shade of crimson. He gasped desperately for air, his arms flailing weakly against Lesnar's back. The Chicago crowd rallied behind the champion, starting a loud, rhythmic clapping chant to try and give the God King life.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Fight out of it, Sandro!" JBL yelled, his voice laced with genuine panic. "Do not let him crush your ribs! You have to break the grip!"
"It's like being caught in a vice grip, JBL!" Booker T explained. "Lesnar is literally squeezing the oxygen out of his lungs! The champion is fading fast!"
Sandro's eyes began to glaze over, the pain threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. But as the roar of the crowd swelled, Sandro found a miraculous, hidden reserve of willpower.
Sandro raised his hands, bringing them down hard against Lesnar's ears with a sharp, dual palm strike. The sudden concussive force disoriented the Beast. Lesnar's grip loosened. Sandro followed up instantly, driving two stiff elbows into the side of Lesnar's head, finally breaking the bear hug completely.
Sandro staggered backward, clutching his ribs, gasping for oxygen.
Lesnar shook his head, looking more annoyed than hurt. He charged forward, looking to take Sandro's head off with a brutal running clothesline.
Sandro ducked underneath the massive arm, hit the ropes, and bounded back with breathtaking speed. He launched himself into the air, connecting with a beautiful, picture perfect step up enzuigiri that caught Lesnar flush on the temple!
Lesnar dropped to one knee.
The crowd erupted!
Sandro didn't stop. He pushed through the agonizing pain shooting through his core, hit the opposite ropes, and delivered a vicious running knee lift straight to Lesnar's jaw!
The Beast collapsed to the mat, staring up at the bright arena lights.
Sandro scrambled over, throwing his exhausted body over Lesnar's chest, hooking the massive leg with everything he had.
Charles Robinson dropped to the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Lesnar violently thrust his heavy shoulder into the air, throwing Sandro completely off of him with terrifying force.
"He kicked out!" Cole shouted. "A massive kickout by Brock Lesnar, but Sandro Zhang is showing signs of life! The God King is fighting back!"
"That was a great sequence, but he needs to do more damage!" Lawler noted. "Lesnar is too fresh!"
Sandro pushed himself to his feet, his chest heaving. He stalked Lesnar, waiting for the massive challenger to rise. As Lesnar pushed himself up to a vertical base, swaying slightly, Sandro stepped in, looking to execute a high angle suplex of his own.
But the sheer weight difference was an insurmountable wall.
Lesnar blocked the attempt, dropping his center of gravity. With a sudden burst of explosive power, Lesnar reversed the hold, lifting Sandro straight up into the air, and planted him with a devastating, spinning spinebuster!
The thud shook the ring. Lesnar stood up, letting out a primal roar, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Lesnar backed into the corner, crouching down, his eyes locked on Sandro's broken body. He began shifting his weight from side to side.
"Oh no," Cole whispered in horror. "Lesnar is sizing him up. He is loading up the F-5."
Sandro slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees, completely unaware of the incoming danger. As Sandro staggered to his feet, Lesnar lunged forward.
The Beast caught Sandro, effortlessly hoisting the 230 pound champion onto his broad shoulders. Lesnar spun with terrifying velocity, looking to drive Sandro face first into the canvas to end the match.
But Sandro's martial arts instincts saved him.
In mid air, Sandro shifted his body weight as he used the momentum to do a small flip, wrapping his arm tightly around Lesnar's neck on the descent. With breathtaking, split second precision, Sandro converted the momentum of the F-5 into a flawless, devastating Heavensfall Cutter!
Sandro drove Lesnar's face straight into the canvas!
The Allstate Arena practically exploded, the noise reaching a fever pitch that vibrated the broadcast monitors.
"HEAVENSFALL CUTTER!" Cole screamed, jumping completely out of his chair. "He countered the F-5 into the cutter! It's over! The God King did it!"
"Pin him! Pin him right now!" JBL roared frantically.
Sandro crawled over, completely drained, and draped his arm over Lesnar's chest, unable to even hook the leg.
Robinson slapped the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NO!"
Brock Lesnar kicked out at two and nine tenths, his shoulder rocketing off the canvas at the absolute last microsecond!
The collective gasp from the Chicago crowd sucked all the oxygen out of the building. Fans grabbed their heads in sheer disbelief, staring at the ring as if they had just witnessed the impossible.
"I don't believe it!" Lawler yelled, thoroughly stunned. "Lesnar survived the Heavensfall Cutter! How much punishment can this man take?!"
"He is a freak of nature, King!" Booker T added, shaking his head. "Sandro hit him with everything he had, and the Beast is still breathing!"
Sandro rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, a look of pure, unadulterated frustration crossing his face. He didn't know what else he could throw at the monster.
Sandro slowly pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the ropes. He looked out at his family. AJ, Nikki, and Alexa were screaming words of encouragement, their eyes pleading with him to find a way to finish it.
Sandro nodded. He backed into the corner, slapping his thigh, tuning up the band for his ultimate striking finisher.
He waited for Lesnar to stagger up. The Beast was swaying, his eyes glazed over, the cutter clearly having done significant damage.
Sandro sprinted forward, launching his body with maximum velocity, aiming the Last Note running elbow strike directly at the back of Lesnar's skull.
But Lesnar's combat instincts flared.
At the very last second, Lesnar ducked cleanly underneath the lethal elbow strike. Sandro's arm sliced through empty air, his momentum carrying him forward and leaving him completely off balance.
Lesnar spun around, caught Sandro by the waist, and forcefully hoisted the champion onto his shoulders once again.
This time, there was no escape.
With a terrifying, guttural shout of absolute victory, Lesnar spun Sandro through the air and delivered a catastrophic F-5 directly in the dead center of the ring!
Sandro hit the canvas with bone jarring force, his body going completely limp.
The crowd shrieked in terror.
"F-5! F-5!" Cole screamed in panic. "It's over! The reign of the God King is over!"
Lesnar threw his massive body over Sandro, hooking both of the champion's legs tightly, pressing his face into the mat as Robinson dropped to count.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NOOOOOO!"
Sandro Zhang violently thrust his right shoulder into the air, breaking the pinfall just a fraction of a millimeter before the referee's hand hit the mat for the third time!
The Allstate Arena shook on its foundations! A massive, ground shaking wave of sheer disbelief and ecstatic cheers erupted from the tens of thousands of fans in attendance.
"HE KICKED OUT!" JBL roared at the absolute top of his lungs, his voice completely raw. "THE GOD KING KICKED OUT OF THE F-5! HE REFUSES TO DIE! HE REFUSES TO SURRENDER THE THRONE!"
"I am in absolute awe!" Lawler yelled, holding his hands to his head. "How in the world did Sandro Zhang survive that?! The man is running on pure willpower!"
Brock Lesnar sat up, his face twisting into a mask of pure, homicidal fury. He couldn't believe it. He slammed his massive fists into the canvas, his eyes wide and manic. He looked down at Sandro, realizing that pinning the champion wasn't going to be enough. He needed to break him.
Lesnar surged to his feet, a dark, wicked idea forming in his mind.
He didn't pick Sandro up. Instead, Lesnar dropped back down to the mat, violently grabbing Sandro's heavily taped right arm, the exact same shoulder that had absorbed the brunt of the F-5 off the stage two weeks prior.
Lesnar wrapped his thick, muscular legs securely around Sandro's torso, trapping the champion on the mat. With a terrifying, vicious wrench, Lesnar locked Sandro's arm into a devastating, bone snapping Kimura Lock!
Sandro let out a blood curdling scream of absolute agony.
"Oh my god, no!" Cole yelled in sheer terror. "Lesnar has the Kimura Lock applied directly on that injured shoulder! He is going to snap Sandro's arm in half!"
"Tap out, Sandro! Just tap out!" Booker T pleaded urgently. "Save your career! Do not let him break your arm!"
The pressure was immense. Lesnar leaned backward, applying maximum, catastrophic torque to the shoulder joint. The thick medical tape began to tear under the strain.
Sandro's face contorted in unimaginable pain. He kicked his legs frantically, his free hand reaching out, desperately clawing at the canvas, trying to drag the massive weight of Brock Lesnar toward the bottom rope.
But they were dead center in the ring. The ropes were miles away.
On the outside, Paul Heyman jumped up and down, a sadistic, gleeful smile stretching across his face.
"BREAK IT, BROCK!" Heyman screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing over the terrified crowd. "SNAP HIS ARM! SNAP IT RIGHT NOW!"
AJ Lee, Nikki Bella, and Alexa Bliss were practically climbing over the barricade, tears streaming down their faces, screaming in absolute horror as they watched the man they loved being systematically destroyed.
Charles Robinson dropped to his knees, his face inches from Sandro's, asking the champion if he wanted to submit.
Sandro's eyes were squeezed shut. His teeth ground together so hard they threatened to crack. His free hand hovered above the canvas, trembling violently, inches away from tapping the mat and ending his historic reign.
The Allstate Arena was suspended in a heavy, agonizing, suffocating silence, leaving the entire world hanging by a thread, completely uncertain if the God King was about to lose his titles, or lose his arm.
The fingers of Sandro's left hand hovered a mere inch above the canvas, trembling violently as the tendons in his right shoulder screamed under the unbearable torque of the Kimura Lock. Brock Lesnar leaned back, his face a terrifying portrait of sadistic joy, wrenching the joint further than human anatomy was ever designed to tolerate.
Charles Robinson leaned in closer, his voice urgent. "Sandro, do you quit? Do you submit?"
Sandro Zhang's eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw locked tight enough to crack his own teeth. The initial shock of the hold had ripped a scream from his throat, but as the seconds ticked by in agonizing slow motion, a strange, terrifying calm washed over the God King.
The searing, blinding agony in his shoulder was still there, but his mind forcibly detached from it. He felt the joint shift. He knew, with cold, clinical certainty, that the shoulder was dislocated. The mechanical structure of his arm had been compromised.
But he was still breathing. And as long as he was breathing, he was not surrendering his crown.
Sandro's eyes snapped open. The pain was gone, replaced by a dark, frozen void of absolute resolve.
"He's not tapping!" JBL screamed on the broadcast, practically leaping over the commentary desk. "The God King refuses to yield!"
Sandro didn't try to pull his arm free. Instead, he planted his left boot flat on the mat and pushed backward with every ounce of leg strength he possessed. He rolled his hips forcefully to the side, using Lesnar's own leverage against him. The sudden shift in momentum flipped Lesnar awkwardly onto his back, trapping the Beast's wide shoulders flat against the canvas while Sandro's body weight pressed down on top of him.
Charles Robinson immediately dropped into position and slapped the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Realizing he was about to be pinned in his own submission hold, Lesnar cursed loudly and violently let go of the arm, kicking Sandro away to break the count.
A deafening, ground shaking roar of sheer relief erupted from the Chicago crowd.
"He escaped!" Michael Cole yelled, his voice ragged. "Sandro Zhang used a brilliant pinning combination to force the Beast to break the hold! The match continues!"
"That is ring awareness, Michael!" Booker T praised, nodding his head rapidly. "But look at the champion! Look at his right arm!"
Sandro rolled into the corner, using his left hand to pull himself to a seated position. His right arm hung completely useless at his side, dangling at a sickening, unnatural angle. He didn't clutch it. He didn't cradle it. He simply looked at it, mentally calculating how to fight the most dangerous man on the planet with only one functional limb.
Lesnar scrambled to his feet, rolling his massive shoulders. He looked at Sandro's dead arm, and a cruel, jagged smile spread across his face.
The Beast charged into the corner, launching a heavy right knee directly into Sandro's injured ribs. The champion slumped forward, gasping for air. Lesnar grabbed Sandro by the hair with his left hand and delivered a stiff, punishing European uppercut with his right. Sandro collapsed to the mat.
"This is hard to watch," Jerry Lawler winced, turning away from the monitor. "Lesnar is just playing with his food now. He knows Sandro is compromised."
Lesnar dragged the champion to the center of the ring, grabbed him by the waist, and effortlessly threw him backward with another brutal German suplex. Sandro landed hard on his bad shoulder, bouncing off the canvas.
Lesnar didn't even bother going for a cover. He grabbed Sandro by the ankles, dragging him near the ropes, and forcefully kicked the champion under the bottom rope, sending Sandro tumbling to the ringside floor.
"Lesnar is taking it back to the outside," Cole warned as the Beast stepped over the top rope, his boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud. "He wants to inflict maximum punishment away from the rules of the ring."
Heyman clapped his hands, backing away to give his client room to work. "Finish him, Brock! Make an example out of him!"
Lesnar grabbed Sandro by the back of the neck, hauling the one armed champion to his feet. He whipped Sandro violently toward the heavy steel ring steps.
But Sandro's survival instincts were razor sharp.
He managed to slow his momentum just enough, putting his left foot out to catch himself against the metal stairs. Lesnar charged in like a raging bull, looking to crush Sandro against the steel. At the absolute last fraction of a second, Sandro dropped into a low crouch.
Lesnar flew over him, crashing knee first into the unforgiving steel steps!
The loud, metallic clang resonated through the arena. Lesnar let out a rare shout of pain, hopping backward and clutching his kneecap.
"A brilliant dodge by the God King!" JBL cheered. "Let the monster destroy himself!"
Sandro pushed himself off the steps. He knew he couldn't grapple, so he turned his body into a weapon. He leaped onto the ring apron, waiting for Lesnar to turn around. As the Beast stumbled forward, favoring his injured knee, Sandro launched himself off the apron, driving his left knee squarely into Lesnar's jaw with a spectacular flying knee strike!
Both men went down in a heap on the thin ringside mats.
The Chicago crowd started a deafening chant. "THIS IS AWESOME! THIS IS AWESOME!"
Charles Robinson had reached a count of six.
"Both men need to get back inside, or this match is going to end in a double count out!" Cole yelled.
Sandro used the barricade to pull himself up, his right arm still hanging limp. He slid under the bottom rope at the count of eight. Lesnar, snarling in anger, rolled into the ring right behind him at nine.
They met in the dead center of the squared circle, both men exhausted, battered, and running purely on adrenaline.
Lesnar threw a heavy right hand. Sandro ducked it, returning fire with a blistering combination of Muay Thai kicks. He snapped a low kick into Lesnar's injured knee, followed by a sharp roundhouse to the ribs, and a spinning back kick that caught the Beast flush in the gut.
Lesnar doubled over, backing toward the ropes.
Sandro hit the opposite ropes, building speed, and launched himself forward for a running clothesline with his good left arm.
But Lesnar caught him.
The Beast absorbed the impact, wrapped his thick arms around Sandro's waist, and spun him around, delivering a devastating belly to belly suplex that sent the champion flying across the ring.
"The raw power of Brock Lesnar is just too much!" Lawler shouted. "You can't out strike a man who can throw you across the room like a baseball!"
Lesnar slowly pushed himself to his feet, breathing heavily. He stalked Sandro, waiting for the champion to rise. Lesnar grabbed Sandro by the waist, hoisting him onto his massive shoulders for a second F-5.
The crowd shrieked, knowing a second F-5 would undoubtedly end the match.
Sandro fought back desperately. He threw a flurry of stiff left elbows to the side of Lesnar's head. The strikes landed cleanly, disorienting the Beast. Lesnar stumbled, his grip loosening. Sandro shifted his weight, sliding down Lesnar's back, and landed on his feet.
Lesnar spun around, swinging a wild clothesline.
Sandro ducked underneath it, sprang onto the middle rope with his left hand, executed a flawless backflip over Lesnar, and caught the Beast around the neck on the descent.
With breathtaking precision, Sandro spiked Lesnar's face into the canvas with a jumping, springboard DDT!
The Allstate Arena lost its collective mind!
"What a counter!" Booker T screamed. "The agility of the God King is unmatched!"
Sandro scrambled over, throwing his exhausted body onto Lesnar's chest, using his left arm to hook the massive leg.
Robinson slapped the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NO!"
Lesnar powered his shoulder up, the force of the kickout throwing Sandro two feet away.
The fans grabbed their heads in sheer disbelief, the tension in the building thick enough to slice with a knife.
"He kicked out again!" Cole yelled, his voice hoarse. "Neither man refuses to stay down! This is a legendary war!"
"They are leaving pieces of their souls on that canvas!" JBL preached, banging his hand on the desk. "This is exactly what the WWE Championship is all about! The irresistible force meeting the immovable object!"
Both men lay flat on their backs, staring up at the bright arena lights. Slowly, agonizingly, they pushed themselves up to their knees. They met in the center of the ring, staring into each other's eyes with a mixture of hatred and grudging respect.
Lesnar threw a heavy, bare knuckle punch to Sandro's jaw.
Boo! the crowd yelled.
Sandro absorbed the blow, his head snapping back, before answering with a stiff left jab to Lesnar's nose.
Yay! the fans cheered.
They traded blows on their knees, refusing to back down.
Boo!
Yay!
Boo!
Yay!
Lesnar finally gained the upper hand, delivering a massive right hook that knocked Sandro down to the mat. Lesnar pushed himself up to a vertical base, letting out a loud, terrifying roar that echoed through the stadium. He backed into the corner, crouching down, sizing up his prey. "Wait... What?! Lesnar's loading up a Spear!" Lawler warned. "He wants to cut the champion in half!"
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 21 (2011)
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 (1st - 376 days), 1x WWE Champion, & 1x World Heavyweight 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) - 2010, & 1x KOTR (2010)
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0