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"I will admit, he is tougher than he looks," JBL grumbled defensively. "But surviving isn't the same as winning, Cole! Orton is just getting warmed up!" Ziggler pushed himself to his feet, his chest heaving, sweat and a thin trail of blood trickling from beneath his white bandage. He backed into the corner, watching Orton slowly rise. Ziggler began stomping his boot rhythmically against the canvas, tuning up the band, waiting for the perfect moment to deliver his finishing Superkick.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Orton slowly pushed himself up to his hands and knees. He staggered to his feet, turning around blindly.
Ziggler sprinted forward, swinging his leg up with maximum velocity, aiming directly for Orton's jaw.
But Orton ducked cleanly underneath the kick!
Ziggler's leg sliced through empty air, his momentum carrying him forward. Orton spun around, wrapping his arms around Ziggler's waist, looking for an explosive back suplex.
Ziggler flipped backward, landing miraculously on his feet. As Orton turned back around, Ziggler leaped onto the Viper's back, wrapping his arms tightly around Orton's neck and locking his legs around Orton's waist in a deep, suffocating Sleeper Hold!
"Sleeper hold!" Lawler shouted. "He has it locked in perfectly in the center of the ring! Ziggler might put the Viper to sleep!"
Orton's eyes went wide. He stumbled wildly around the ring, clawing desperately at Ziggler's arms, trying to break the grip. He backed himself into the corner, violently crushing Ziggler against the turnbuckles to force a break.
Ziggler gasped, but he refused to let go. He tightened his grip, wrapping his legs even tighter, bearing down with everything he had left.
Orton began to fade. The Viper dropped to one knee, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as the oxygen supply to his brain was cut off. The referee leaned in closely, checking Orton's arm. He raised it once, it dropped. He raised it twice, it dropped.
The crowd was screaming, completely bought into the drama.
The referee raised Orton's arm for a third time.
Just before it hit the mat, Orton's hand stopped. The Viper's survival instincts flared. With a sudden, explosive surge of strength, Orton pushed himself up to his feet, grabbed Ziggler's head, and violently dropped to a seated position, delivering a crushing jawbreaker that finally broke the hold!
Ziggler stumbled backward, clutching his jaw.
Orton turned around, gasping for air, leaning heavily against the ropes.
Ziggler didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbed Orton from behind, leaped into the air, and brought the Apex Predator crashing backward into the canvas with a devastating Zig Zag!
The Allstate Arena practically exploded!
"ZIG ZAG!" Cole shrieked, jumping out of his chair. "He hit it! Ziggler hit the Zig Zag! It's over!"
Ziggler flipped Orton over, hooking both legs, burying his face into the mat.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THRE—NOOOOOOOOOO!"
Randy Orton thrust his shoulder an inch off the canvas at the absolute last possible millisecond.
The collective gasp from the Chicago audience sucked all the air out of the building. Fans grabbed their heads in sheer disbelief, staring at the ring as if they had just witnessed magic.
"I don't believe it!" Lawler yelled, utterly stunned. "How did he kick out?! Orton was completely out cold!"
"That is why he is a multi time World Champion, King!" JBL roared, his confidence completely restored. "He is genetically built to survive! Ziggler gave him his best shot, and it wasn't enough!"
Ziggler sat up, staring at the referee with wide, bloodshot eyes, holding up three fingers. The official shook his head firmly, confirming it was only a two count. Ziggler ran his hands over his face, a look of pure, unfiltered frustration washing over him. He didn't know what else he could throw at the monster.
Ziggler pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the ropes. He looked out at the crowd, drawing one final breath of energy. He backed into the corner again. He was going to try for the Superkick one more time.
Orton lay flat on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Slowly, agonizingly, the Viper rolled onto his stomach. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees.
Ziggler began stomping again, the crowd clapping along in perfect rhythm.
Orton staggered to his feet.
Ziggler charged forward, launching himself into the air, extending his boot for the knockout blow.
In a fraction of a second, the atmosphere in the ring completely changed.
Orton didn't duck. He didn't block. He simply dropped his center of gravity, spinning with blinding, impossible speed. He caught Ziggler out of thin air, wrapping his arm securely around the Showoff's neck, and violently drove him face first into the canvas with a catastrophic RKO OUT OF NOWHERE!
The impact was sickening. Ziggler's body bounced off the mat, folding awkwardly before going completely, terrifyingly limp.
The crowd shrieked, a mixture of shock and awe ripping through the stadium.
"RKO! RKO!" Cole screamed, his voice breaking. "He caught him in mid air! The Viper struck when Ziggler least expected it!"
"That was beautiful!" JBL laughed, clapping his hands. "I told you! It only takes one mistake against Randy Orton, and it is lights out!"
Orton lay on his back, his chest heaving, staring at the bright lights. The match was won. All he had to do was drape an arm over Ziggler's chest, and the nightmare would be over.
But Orton didn't go for the pin.
The Viper slowly sat up. His eyes were wide, twitching slightly as he looked at the unconscious body of Dolph Ziggler. The cold, mechanical focus had vanished, replaced by something much darker, something deeply sadistic. He hadn't just wanted to beat Ziggler, he wanted to destroy him.
Orton pushed himself up to his feet. He walked to the opposite corner of the ring, dropping down into a low, predatory crouch. He stared unblinkingly at Ziggler's exposed, bandaged skull.
"No," Lawler whispered, shaking his head. "No, Randy, don't do this. You've won the match. He's already unconscious."
"He isn't going for the pin," Cole realized, panic rising in his voice. "He's backing up for the Punt! We saw this last week! This is completely unnecessary!"
"It is entirely necessary!" JBL argued, though even his voice lacked its usual bravado. "He told Ziggler he was going to send him back to the bottom of the food chain, and the Viper keeps his promises!"
The referee realized what was happening and stepped in front of Orton, waving his arms, warning him to stop.
Orton didn't even acknowledge the official. He simply stared right through him, his breathing heavy and rhythmic.
Ziggler hadn't moved an inch. He lay completely defenseless on his side, his head resting heavily against the canvas.
Orton's eyes narrowed into slits.
He exploded out of the corner, sprinting across the ring with terrifying speed. He bypassed the referee completely, swinging his heavy wrestling boot forward with maximum, bone crushing velocity.
CRACK.
The sickening sound of Orton's boot connecting flush with Ziggler's bandaged skull echoed through the silent arena like a gunshot.
Ziggler's body contorted violently from the sheer force of the impact before collapsing into a crumpled, unresponsive heap.
A collective shriek of genuine horror rose from the Chicago crowd. The boos that followed were deafening, laced with absolute venom and disgust.
Orton didn't smile. He didn't celebrate. He slowly backed away from the wreckage, standing over Ziggler with a look of cold, emotionless satisfaction.
The referee, looking visibly shaken, immediately dropped to the mat and signaled for medical personnel before reluctantly sliding into position to make the count. Orton casually placed a single boot over Ziggler's chest.
"ONE."
"TWO."
"THREE."
DING! DING! DING!
The slow, haunting theme of the Viper filled the arena, but it was nearly drowned out by the intense, hostile reaction from the fans.
"He did it," Cole said quietly, his voice tight with anger and concern. "Randy Orton has won the match, but at what cost? He may have just permanently ended Dolph Ziggler's career with that Punt Kick."
"It was an execution, Michael," Lawler added, running a hand over his face. "Ziggler gave him the fight of his life. He proved he belonged. And Orton couldn't handle it, so he decided to take him out for good."
"That is why he is the Apex Predator!" JBL stated firmly, watching Orton stand tall in the center of the ring. "You don't poke a snake and expect not to get bitten! Orton just sent a message to the entire locker room! If you think you belong at the top, you have to go through the Viper!"
Several WWE medical personnel rushed down the ramp, sliding into the ring with a stretcher and a neck brace, immediately surrounding Ziggler. Orton didn't step aside to give them room. He simply stood there, a cold, unfeeling monster, staring down at the medics as they frantically worked on his opponent.
Randy Orton slowly raised his arms in his signature pose, bathing in the absolute hatred of the Chicago crowd. The message was crystal clear. The Viper was back to his most dangerous, ruthless form, and anyone who dared to stand in his path would suffer the exact same, brutal fate.
The broadcast faded to black on the terrifying image of the emotionless predator standing tall amidst the chaos, leaving the audience believing they had just witnessed a legendary, unforgettable war that had crossed the line into absolute savagery.
The moment Monday Night RAW officially went off the air, the digital wrestling world was set ablaze.
Across Twitter, Reddit, and countless independent wrestling forums, the WWE Universe spent the late hours of the night fiercely debating the two massive stories that closed the flagship show. The sheer volume of traffic briefly crashed a handful of popular wrestling podcasts, as fans and analysts alike scrambled to process the rapidly shifting landscape of the company.
The first major topic dominating the timelines was the shocking main roster debut of the Wyatt Family.
For the dedicated fans who followed NXT, the arrival of Bray Wyatt, Luke Harper, and Erick Rowan felt like a long overdue inevitability. They flooded the forums with context for the casual viewers, detailing exactly how dominant the trio had been down in developmental.
"People who only watch RAW have no idea what is coming," a top rated post on a wrestling subreddit read. "Bray was the NXT Champion. He ran that brand like a cult leader. And Harper and Rowan aren't just big guys, they are the inaugural NXT Tag Team Champions, and the only two time tag champs in the brand's history so far. These guys are an absolute force of nature."
The discussions quickly evolved into a debate about what the Wyatt Family could become on Monday nights. Some fans immediately drew comparisons to the Nexus, wondering if Bray would try to forcefully take over the roster through sheer numbers. But others argued that the Wyatt Family was fundamentally different. They weren't disgruntled rookies looking for contracts, they were psychological manipulators. Their chemistry was built on a deeply unsettling, familial bond rather than corporate rebellion.
The biggest talking point surrounding their debut, however, was Bray's immediate decision to target Sandro Zhang.
Fans excitedly pulled up old video clips and statistics from Florida Championship Wrestling, highlighting the deep, personal history between the Eater of Worlds and the God King.
"Bray Wyatt is one of the very few men on the planet who has actually pinned Sandro,"* a prominent wrestling journalist noted on his latenight podcast. "Bray ended Sandro's reign as the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion. He knows how to beat him. Sandro has looked absolutely invincible lately, but Bray is his ghost from the past. The psychological warfare we are about to get between these two is going to be must see television."
Other fans, however, were skeptical that history would matter. They argued that the Sandro Zhang of today, the man who just pinned Brock Lesnar with a dislocated shoulder, was simply too powerful, and that Bray was stepping into deep water way too soon.
The second massive wave of online discussion centered entirely around the brutal main event between Randy Orton and Dolph Ziggler.
While Ziggler had suffered a horrifying defeat, ending the night unconscious on a stretcher, the overwhelming consensus was that the Showoff had delivered a star making performance.
"Ziggler lost, but he proved he belongs," a viral tweet summarized perfectly. "He took the Apex Predator to his absolute limit after being punted in the head just a week ago. That Zig Zag near fall had me out of my seat."
Wrestling analysts immediately connected the performance back to Ziggler's showing at Capitol Punishment. They pointed out that Ziggler was no longer just flashing potential, he was showing the consistency needed to be treated as a serious, main event singles star, completely shedding the stigma of being Sandro's former associate.
The online community was varied in its reaction to the finish. A vocal segment of the fanbase heavily criticized WWE for booking Ziggler to lose so brutally, worrying about his physical condition after absorbing another Punt Kick. But a slightly larger contingent praised the match design, arguing that it successfully re established Randy Orton as a terrifying, top tier threat while simultaneously elevating Ziggler's stock in defeat. The overwhelming hope was that WWE would give Ziggler the proper time to recover, setting the stage for a massive return down the line.
While the internet debated their television personas, a very different scene was playing out deep in the backstage area of the Allstate Arena.
The cameras were off. The chaotic noise of the crowd was gone, replaced by the quiet hum of the arena's ventilation system.
Sandro Zhang walked down a secluded concrete hallway, his white suit jacket unbuttoned to accommodate the black medical sling resting against his chest. He turned a corner and spotted the three massive figures of the Wyatt Family standing near a loading bay door, their bags packed for the next town.
Sandro didn't look annoyed. A wide, genuine smile broke across his face.
"Look at this," Sandro called out, shaking his head in amusement. "The swamp finally made it to the big city."
Bray Wyatt turned around, dropping the eerie, manic television persona instantly. He let out a loud, booming laugh, stepping forward with his arms wide open.
"God King!" Bray cheered warmly.
Sandro carefully accepted a one armed hug from his old friend, clapping Bray firmly on the back.
"You guys did great," Sandro said earnestly, stepping back to look at the trio. "That was a hell of an entrance. You definitely made an impression out there."
Behind Bray, Luke Harper and Erick Rowan offered polite, quiet nods of acknowledgment. They didn't need to say much, their sheer size and imposing presence did all the talking, but the hostility they displayed in the ring was completely absent.
"Appreciate that, man," Bray smiled, pushing his fedora back on his head. "It feels good to finally be up here. But I have to give credit where credit is due. What you have been doing on this roster... it's been nothing short of spectacular. Watching you handle Lesnar last night was something else."
"It definitely took a few years off my life," Sandro chuckled, gesturing down to his immobilized arm. "But it was worth it."
Bray nodded, his smile softening into a look of genuine, competitive respect.
"We had a good time out there tonight, shaking things up," Bray said, his tone casual but carrying a hint of sincerity. "But I have to admit, Sandro... I am really looking forward to the day we finally get to do that for real. Just you and me, one on one, on this stage."
Sandro didn't take the comment as a threat. He knew the nature of the business they were in. He smiled, offering a firm nod of agreement.
"Keep carving your path, Bray," Sandro replied smoothly. "When you make it to the top of the mountain, you know exactly where to find me."
The two men shared a look of mutual understanding, perfectly balancing their deep real life friendship with the inevitable, highly lucrative rivalry that awaited them on television. They spent a few more minutes catching up, seamlessly separating the men they were behind the curtain from the larger than life characters they portrayed in the ring.
Several days passed, allowing the dust to settle before the WWE machine rolled into the US Airways Center in Phoenix, Arizona, for Friday Night SmackDown.
The arena was packed to the rafters. The Phoenix crowd was buzzing with a restless, eager energy, desperate to see the live fallout from the chaotic Money in the Bank pay per view.
The opening pyrotechnics exploded around the massive SmackDown fist on the stage, the bright blue and white lights sweeping over the cheering fans.
"Welcome, everyone, to Friday Night SmackDown!" Josh Mathews welcomed the global audience, shouting over the noise. "We are live in Phoenix, Arizona, and the landscape of this brand has changed dramatically!"
"You can say that again, Josh!" Booker T agreed, adjusting his headset. "The Nexus walked out of Chicago with the Intercontinental and Tag Team Championships! Teddy Long is losing his grip on this show!"
"And what about the betrayal we witnessed, gentlemen?" Cole added, sitting in on the blue brand. "Edge speared his best friend, Christian, right after Christian secured the Money in the Bank briefcase! We have been told Edge is here tonight, and he has demanded time to speak!"
The broadcast didn't waste any time. Following a pair of strong, competitive opening matches and a backstage interview regarding the upcoming SummerSlam event, the arena lights shifted.
The heavy, gritty vocals of Metalingus hit the stadium sound system.
The Phoenix crowd erupted into a relentless, deafening wave of boos.
Edge stepped out onto the stage. He wore a leather jacket and dark sunglasses, carrying a microphone loosely in his hand. He didn't look remorseful. He didn't look conflicted. He looked remarkably confident, strutting down the ramp with a smug, self satisfied grin.
He slid into the ring, casually pacing back and forth as the audience showered him with absolute hatred. Edge raised the microphone to his lips, holding his free hand up to mockingly encourage the boos to get louder.
He waited nearly two full minutes for the noise to die down to a manageable level.
"All week long," Edge finally spoke, his voice dripping with condescension. "In the airports, at the hotels, on the internet... all I have heard is the exact same, stupid question. 'Why, Edge? Why did you do it?'"
Edge let out a dry, dismissive laugh.
"You people ask that question like I owe you an apology," Edge said, shaking his head. "You look at me like I committed some horrible crime against my own brother. But the truth is... I attacked Christian because I was thinking about his future. I was protecting him."
The crowd vehemently rejected the excuse, the boos swelling again. "Oh, you don't believe me?" Edge mocked, taking his sunglasses off to stare directly into the hard camera. "Let's be brutally honest for a second. Christian never deserved to climb that ladder. He never deserved to unhook that briefcase. Because Christian is fundamentally incapable of carrying the pressure that comes with holding that contract."
_______________________________
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