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(A/N: Also everyone I have a new novel a Dragon Age Inquisition novel named "From Couch To The Inquisitor", be sure to check it out and give some power stone)
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The crowd exploded at the massive title match announcement. "But I am laying down a condition," Cena added quickly, holding up a single finger. "If you lose on Sunday... when you tap out in the middle of this ring... you are done. You can never challenge for the United States Championship again as long as I hold this title. Even if I issue an open challenge, your name is permanently crossed off the list."
The French crowd buzzed, realizing the immense stakes Cena had just attached to the upcoming pay per view match.
"Cena is putting it all on the line!" Cole yelled from the commentary desk. "He is backing Drew McIntyre into a corner! If Drew loses on Sunday, he is completely out of the US title picture!"
"It's a smart business move!" Lawler agreed. "Cena wants to rid himself of this constant threat so he can focus on defending the title against new challengers!"
"It is a coward's move I tell you!" JBL barked loudly, aggressively adjusting his cowboy hat. "John Cena knows he got lucky at SummerSlam and at RAW! He knows Drew is in his head! He is trying to manipulate the contract because he is terrified of the Scottish Psychopath!"
As Cena lowered his microphone, waiting for a response, a sudden, violent commotion erupted in the front row on the hard camera side. Security guards scrambled out of the way as a massive, towering figure wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket vaulted over the barricade.
"Look out! He's in the crowd again!" Cole yelled in panic.
Drew McIntyre slid under the bottom rope, striking like a viper. Cena turned around just in time to catch a devastating, heavy right hand to the side of the head. The champion stumbled backward, completely caught off guard.
Drew didn't hesitate. He grabbed Cena by the back of the neck and delivered a brutal, sickening Glasgow Kiss headbutt. The sickening crack echoed through the arena. Cena's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the mat, completely unconscious.
The crowd booed heavily as Drew stood over the fallen champion. The Scottish Psychopath didn't look angry, he looked calm, focused, and incredibly dangerous. He bent down, picking up the United States Championship from the canvas. He raised the heavy gold belt high in his right hand, soaking in the absolute hatred raining down from the stands.
Drew reached down with his left hand, picking up the microphone Cena had dropped.
"I accept your condition, John," Drew growled, his thick Scottish accent cutting through the boos. "You hold onto this title for me until Sunday. Because at Night of Champions, I am going to take it right back. And you are going to realize that you are nothing but a speed bump on my road back to the top."
Drew dropped the microphone directly onto Cena's chest. He turned on his heel and walked slowly up the steel ramp, holding the stolen championship over his shoulder, a sadistic, confident smile spreading across his face.
"Drew McIntyre has completely snapped!" Cole yelled over the heavy boos. "He is operating on a different level of aggression! John Cena has his work cut out for him this Sunday!"
The broadcast pushed forward, keeping the momentum rolling with a fast-paced cruiserweight match, followed by a backstage interview highlighting the tag team division. The Zénith de Toulouse remained incredibly vocal, heavily invested in every segment of the show.
The focus quickly shifted back to the highly volatile women's division.
Asuka made her entrance to a massive pop from the French crowd. The Empress of Tomorrow walked to the ring with a terrifying intensity, her brightly colored kimono contrasting sharply with the chaotic, unhinged smile painted on her face. Her opponent was the physically imposing Beth Phoenix, the Glamazon.
The bell rang, and the match was a brutal, hard hitting affair. Beth utilized her massive strength advantage, throwing Asuka around the ring with heavy power slams and stiff clotheslines. But Asuka absorbed the punishment, utilizing her elite striking speed to chop down the larger woman.
Asuka ducked a massive clothesline, spinning around and delivering a sharp, echoing backhand that staggered the Glamazon. Asuka hit the ropes, building maximum momentum, and delivered a devastating hip attack that folded Beth in half. With fluid, terrifying speed, Asuka grabbed Beth's arm, transitioning smoothly onto the canvas, and locked in the inescapable Asuka Lock.
Beth fought the hold valiantly, but the sheer torque applied by the Empress was too much. The Glamazon tapped out within seven minutes.
Asuka had her hand raised, a wild smile on her face. But before she could even request a microphone to cut a promo, the regal, commanding horns of Recognition hit the stadium speakers.
Charlotte Flair charged down the steel ramp, wearing her glittering silver robe, her eyes burning with fierce determination. The Queen slid under the bottom rope, immediately ducking a wild spin kick from Asuka, and delivered a brutal, high impact spear that nearly cut the Empress in half!
The crowd buzzed as Charlotte stood over the fallen Japanese superstar.
"I am the future Queen of this division!" Charlotte yelled, pointing a firm finger down at Asuka. "You don't jump the line! I am the one who deserves the title shot!"
But Charlotte's declaration was cut short.
The heavy, rhythmic hip hop beat of Nikki Bella's theme song hit the speakers, drawing an immediate, overwhelming wave of boos from the audience.
Nikki sprinted down the ramp, wearing her wrestling gear, the brand new, stunningly beautiful WWE Women's Championship clasped securely around her waist. Flanking her closely were AJ Lee and Alexa Bliss, both looking ready for a fight.
The Three Terrors hit the ring like a pack of wolves. Nikki speared Charlotte to the mat, unleashing a relentless flurry of heavy right hands. AJ and Alexa immediately swarmed Asuka, who was trying to push herself up, delivering stiff kicks to her ribs and back.
The ring was absolute chaos.
"The Three Terrors are asserting their dominance!" JBL cheered loudly. "This is exactly what Nikki Bella should do! Wipe out the competition before they even get a chance to challenge for the gold!"
Nikki grabbed Charlotte by the hair, dragging the Queen up to her feet, and executed a flawless Rack Attack 2.0, driving Charlotte brutally into the canvas. AJ and Alexa simultaneously grabbed Asuka, throwing her out of the ring, sending the Empress crashing hard onto the ringside floor.
Nikki, AJ, and Alexa stood tall in the center of the ring, raising their arms in unified superiority.
SCREEECH... CRASH!
The unmistakable sound of a car wreck echoed through the soumd system, immediately followed by the heavy, grinding guitar riff of Mick Foley's theme music.
The French crowd erupted into a massive, affectionate cheer as the General Manager walked out onto the entrance stage. Foley was wearing his trademark red and black flannel shirt, and wrapped thickly around his throat was the stiff, white medical neck brace. He held a microphone tightly in his right hand.
Foley didn't look amused. He glared down at the three women in the ring.
"You three think you run this division?" Foley growled, his voice gravelly and devoid of any humor. "You think you can just ambush the top contenders and avoid defending that championship?"
Nikki glared back, crossing her arms over the white leather title.
"I have been watching this division tear itself apart for a month," Foley continued, pacing slowly across the stage. "Charlotte Flair wants a title match. Asuka wants a title match. And Nikki Bella wants to hide behind her friends."
Foley stopped, pointing a finger directly at the Women's Champion.
"Well, that ends this Sunday at Night of Champions," Foley declared firmly. "Nikki, you are going to defend that WWE Women's Championship against both Charlotte Flair and Asuka in a Triple Threat match!"
The crowd exploded in approval.
"But I know exactly how you operate," Foley added, holding up a hand to silence the cheers. "I know that the second you get in trouble, you are going to rely on the numbers game. So, to ensure that we have a fair, definitive winner... AJ Lee, Alexa Bliss, and Sandro Zhang are officially banned from ringside for the duration of the match!"
Nikki's arrogant composure instantly vanished, replaced by a look of sheer panic and outrage. AJ and Alexa shrieked in protest, pointing angrily at the General Manager.
"Foley just leveled the playing field!" Lawler cheered happily. "Nikki Bella is going to have to defend that title all by herself against the Queen and the Empress of Tomorrow!"
"This is a gross abuse of power!" JBL complained bitterly. "Foley is still holding a grudge against Sandro, and he is taking it out on Nikki! She is at a massive disadvantage!"
Foley lowered his microphone, offering a cold, satisfied smile before turning and walking back through the curtain, leaving the Three Terrors throwing a complete temper tantrum in the middle of the ring.
The broadcast seamlessly transitioned through several more backstage segments and promotional packages, building the anticipation steadily as the massive threevhour show moved into its final thirty minutes.
The lights in the Zénith de Toulouse swept wildly across the crowd as the graphic for the main event flashed on the massive TitanTron.
"We have reached the main event of the evening, ladies and gentlemen!" Cole shouted, his energy renewed for the highly anticipated final bout. "And what a historic match we have signed for you tonight! Two icons, two legends, two men who have defined their respective brands for decades, colliding for the very first time on international soil!"
"This is a dream match!" Booker T, joining the desk for the main event, added enthusiastically. "You are looking at two of the greatest minds in the history of this business! The Cerebral Assassin against the Franchise of WCW!"
"Both of these men despise Sandro Zhang," JBL noted, shaking his head. "They are relics of the past trying to prove they still belong in the main event. Let's see which dinosaur breaks first!"
The arena lights faded to a dramatic, pulsating green.
The heavy, iconic motorhead riff of The Game blasted through the PA system, and the French crowd erupted into a massive, unified cheer.
Triple H stepped out from the curtain, wearing his signature black wrestling trunks, heavy black boots, and taped wrists. He looked in phenomenal physical condition, carrying the intense, calculating aura of a veteran who had won thirteen World Championships. He held a bottle of water in his hand, his eyes locked intensely on the ring.
Triple H marched down the long steel ramp, his focus absolute. He climbed the steel steps, stepping onto the ring apron. He took a long drink from the water bottle, looked out at the roaring crowd, and executed his signature, dramatic water spit, the mist catching the arena lights beautifully.
"Look at the intensity in the eyes of the Game," Cole noted quietly. "He hasn't wrestled a match since WrestleMania, but Triple H is a man who stays perpetually ready for war."
Triple H ducked under the ropes, walking to the center of the ring. He bounced on his toes, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders out, completely comfortable in his domain.
The heavy guitar riff faded, plunging the arena into a brief, suspenseful silence.
CROW CAW.
The piercing, haunting cry of a crow echoed through the PA system, immediately followed by the slow, dramatic orchestral intro of Sting's theme music.
The Zénith de Toulouse completely lost its mind. The pop was absolutely nuclear, a wave of sheer, unadulterated respect for the wrestling icon.
Sting emerged from the shadows of the entrance stage, wearing his classic black and white face paint, a long black trench coat, and carrying his signature black baseball bat. He stood perfectly still at the top of the ramp, letting the massive ovation wash over him.
"The Icon has arrived!" Lawler cheered, throwing his hands in the air. "Listen to this ovation for Sting! The French fans appreciate greatness!"
Sting slowly raised his baseball bat, pointing it directly down the ramp at Triple H. He let out his iconic, echoing *"WOO!"* before beginning the slow, deliberate walk to the ring.
Triple H didn't blink. He stood his ground in the center of the canvas, staring a hole right through the WCW legend.
Sting climbed the steel steps, stepping through the ropes. He carefully removed his trench coat, handing it and the baseball bat to a ringside technician. He turned around, stepping directly up to Triple H.
The two veterans stood face to face, inches apart. The historical significance of the moment, the franchise player of WWE staring down the franchise player of WCW, was not lost on the crowd, who showered them with a deafening "THIS IS AWESOME!" chant.
The referee, clearly respecting the magnitude of the moment, stepped between them, gently pushing them back to their respective corners. He checked their boots and wrists, ensuring everything was clean, before raising his hand to the timekeeper.
DING! DING! DING!
The main event was officially underway.
Triple H and Sting slowly circled each other, the electricity in the arena providing a crackling atmosphere. They locked up in the center of the ring, a classic, heavy collar and elbow tie up. The physical strength of both men was evident as they struggled for leverage. Triple H utilized his technical prowess, transitioning the tie up into a tight side headlock, grinding Sting down to a knee.
"Look at the fundamental grappling by the Game," Cole praised. "He is trying to control the pace early. He knows Sting has elite cardio for a man his age, but if you keep him grounded, you take away his explosive offense."
Sting fought up to his feet, powering his way to a vertical base. He whipped Triple H into the ropes. Triple H rebounded, ducking a clothesline, and delivered a sharp, running knee directly to Sting's midsection, doubling the Icon over.
Triple H quickly hooked Sting's arms, looking for the Pedigree within the first sixty seconds of the match.
The crowd gasped.
But Sting read the maneuver perfectly. He back dropped Triple H high into the air. The Game crashed heavily onto the canvas, scrambling quickly back to his feet. Sting charged forward, delivering a stiff knife edge chop to Triple H's chest. Smack!
Triple H absorbed the blow, firing back with a heavy right hand that nearly spun Sting around. Smack!
The two legends abandoned the technical grappling, standing squarely in the center of the ring and trading vicious, heavy handed strikes. The French crowd roared with every impact, completely invested in the heavyweight slugfest.
Sting gained the upper hand, backing the Game into the corner with a rapid fire sequence of punches. He Irish whipped Triple H hard into the opposite turnbuckles. Triple H hit the corner with immense force, tumbling up and over the top rope, crashing awkwardly onto the ringside floor.
"Sting is taking control!" Lawler cheered. "He is showing exactly why he took Sandro Zhang to the absolute limit at SummerSlam!"
Sting didn't wait. He rolled out of the ring, stalking Triple H like a predator. He grabbed the Game by the back of the neck and slammed his face brutally into the hard, unforgiving surface of the steel ring steps.
Triple H stumbled backward, clutching his nose. Sting grabbed him by the arm, Irish whipping him with maximum velocity directly into the ringside barricade. The impact nearly bent the safety railing backward, sending Triple H crumbling to the thin black mats covering the concrete floor.
The referee leaned over the top rope, beginning his ten count.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
Sting grabbed Triple H by the hair, dragging the groggy veteran up, and rolled him back under the bottom rope. Sting slid in right behind him, dropping a heavy elbow across Triple H's chest and hooking the leg.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"NO!"
Triple H kicked out forcefully.
The match escalated into a grueling, physical chess match, crossing the fifteen minute mark. Every time one man gained an advantage, the other found a miraculous counter.
Triple H caught Sting with a devastating spinebuster that shook the foundation of the ring, earning a very close two count. Sting retaliated with a picture perfect Scorpion Death Drop, but Triple H managed to drape his foot over the bottom rope right before the referee's hand hit three.
The physicality was taking a massive toll on both men. They lay flat on the mat, their chests heaving with sheer exhaustion, as the crowd showered them with respect.
Triple H slowly pushed himself up to a kneeling position. He looked at Sting, a fierce, competitive fire burning in his eyes. He slowly pushed himself up to a vertical base, waiting for the Icon to stagger to his feet.
As Sting turned around, Triple H launched a massive, desperate clothesline.
But Sting ducked it smoothly. He caught Triple H by the waist, spun him around, and violently kicked the back of the Game's knee, dropping him to the mat. In one fluid motion, Sting stepped over Triple H's legs and locked in the agonizing Scorpion Deathlock right in the center of the ring!
"He's got it locked in!" Cole yelled at the top of his lungs. "The Scorpion Deathlock is locked in tight! Triple H has nowhere to go!"
Triple H screamed in pure pain, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as Sting applied maximum torque to his lower back and neck. The Game clawed frantically at the canvas, his eyes wide with panic.
"Tap out, Hunter!" Booker T yelled from the desk. "Save your career! You have nothing left to prove!"
Triple H refused to quit. Operating purely on heart and desperation, he used his hands to claw his way forward. Inch by agonizing inch, he dragged Sting's heavy frame toward the edge of the ring. With a final, explosive lunge, Triple H grabbed the bottom rope.
The referee stepped in, forcefully counting to five, demanding Sting break the hold.
Sting let go at the count of four, collapsing backward onto the canvas, his chest heaving with sheer exhaustion.
Both men slowly fought their way up to their knees. They locked eyes, the mutual respect masked by fierce competitive drive.
Smack. Triple H threw a weak right hand.
Smack. Sting fired back.
They fought their way to their feet, trading heavy blows in the center of the ring. Sting threw a wild hook, but Triple H blocked it. Triple H delivered a sharp knee to the midsection, doubling Sting over. Triple H quickly hooked Sting's arms, locking them in a double underhook. "He's got the arms locked!" Cole screamed, his voice cracking with sheer disbelief. "The Pedigree is coming!"
_______________________________
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), & Youngest World Heavyweight Champion
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0