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The referee took both titles, holding them up for the crowd to see, two symbols of dominance, two prizes on the line. He handed them off to the ringside crew, then signaled for the bell to officially start the main event of Forbidden Door.
It started slow. Circling. Measuring. Each man knew what was on the line, not just gold, but legacy.
They collided in the center of the ring like two freight trains, forearms smashing into each other, neither man giving an inch. Sandro fired off a stiff elbow, staggering Angle, then ducked under a retaliatory strike and took Angle down with a snap suplex.
The crowd popped as Sandro immediately transitioned into a side headlock, wrenching it in deep, trying to wear the Olympian down early.
Angle fought to his feet, using his raw power to lift Sandro and slam him into the turnbuckle to break the hold. He followed up with a hard chop to the chest that echoed through the arena, then another, and another, each one leaving a red welt on Sandro's torso.
Sandro gritted his teeth, absorbing the punishment, then exploded forward with a big kick to Angle's gut. Angle doubled over, and Sandro seized the moment, grabbing Angle's arm, twisting, and yanking him into a snap armbar right in the center of the ring!
The crowd gasped as Angle's face twisted in pain, his free hand slamming against the mat in frustration. He fought, his legs scrambling, his body twisting, until he managed to roll through, using his momentum to power out and slam Sandro's shoulder first into the mat.
Both men scrambled to their feet, breathing hard, already drenched in sweat.
They then locked up in the center of the ring, and the tension increased. Angle went for a quick takedown, but Sandro sprawled and countered with a standing switch.
Angle broke free with an elbow and went for the ankle early, Sandro rolled through and escaped, standing his ground.
The crowd buzzed.
They went again. Another lock up, this time Sandro transitioned into a side headlock. Angle powered out, pushed him to the ropes, and leapfrogged, Sandro caught him mid air with a snap arm drag and transitioned into a grounded armbar.
Angle grimaced.
He fought to his feet and reversed into a hammerlock, but Sandro twisted and drop toeholded him, floating over into a front facelock. Angle backed into the ropes to force the break.
Technical. Gritty. Real.
Kurt slapped his own face. He liked it. He wanted more.
Sandro just smirked.
Angle suddenly shot in with a double leg takedown and slammed Sandro to the mat. He began grinding him down with pure mat wrestling, chaining him into a waistlock, trying to sap his energy.
Sandro resisted, rolled, and twisted, managing to break free with a mule kick and hit a running knee to Kurt's face.
Kurt staggered.
Sandro took control. Snap suplex. Then another. He lifted Angle and threw him over with a Northern Lights suplex, transitioning immediately into a crossface.
The crowd gasped.
Angle shouted, his hand hovering. But he shifted, twisted his hips, and used brute strength to break the hold and flip Sandro onto his back.
Kurt mounted him and began raining down forearms. The ref didn't step in, it was all legal. Submissions only.
Angle locked in a deep ankle lock, wrenching Sandro's leg at a vicious angle. The crowd stood up when they saw this.
Sandro screamed, his body contorting, but he refused to tap. So he rolled forward and sent Angle crashing into the turnbuckle. He staggered up and hit a dropkick to Angle's back, then followed up with a Dragon Screw leg whip.
Sandro wasn't done. He targeted the leg.
He wrapped it around the rope and yanked. Then hit a chop block. Then locked in a modified Figure Four Leglock right in the center.
Kurt yelled in pain. He reached out, clawing at the mat. But he wouldn't tap. Instead, he sat up and punched Sandro in the face.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The hold broke.
Both men rolled to opposite corners, sweat pouring, chests heaving. The crowd thundered with chants.
"THIS IS AWESOME!"
They collided again mid ring. Angle ducked a lariat and hit a belly to belly suplex. Then another. And another.
Straps down.
The arena erupted.
Kurt stalked behind Sandro, and grabbed the leg, another Ankle Lock!
Sandro screamed.
He fought. He crawled. He almost reached the ropes… but Angle dragged him back. He grapevined it.
Sandro was trapped.
He shook his head violently, refusing to tap. His fingers clawed the canvas. The pain was blinding. He twisted his body, using his free leg to kick Kurt repeatedly in the side.
Finally, he broke the hold!
Angle was livid.
He went for it again, Sandro popped up and hit a desperation Enzuigiri. Kurt dropped to a knee.
Sandro then locked in his own submission.
He fired back with a Dragon Sleeper, his arms locking around Angle's neck, his legs hooking around Angle's waist to add pressure. Angle's face turned red, his veins bulging as he fought to stay conscious.
The crowd chanted "TAP OUT! TAP OUT!" but Angle, showing his strength and willpower, reached back blindly, grabbing Sandro's hair and yanking hard enough to force a break.
But Sandro showed his strength by wrenching him back, locking him into body scissors. Angle's eyes went wide.
The crowd thought that Kurt would finally tap out. But he didn't.
He pushed up with every ounce of strength, lifted Sandro partially off the ground and dropped backward, sandwiching him between himself and the mat.
Sandro finally let go of his submission.
Both men lay on the mat, completely spent. They used the ropes to get up. They exchanged strikes now.
Punch. Chop. Elbow. Knee.
Angle went for the Angle Slam, and Sandro reversed into a cross armbreaker!
The torque was brutal. Angle screamed.
But once again, he rolled and twisted, reversing it into an Ankle Lock!
Another counter, Sandro rolled through and hit a superkick to Angle causing him to stagger.
Sandro seeing this ran to the top rope and when Angle was in position, he hit the Top System Cutter out of nowhere!
No pinfall.
But Sandro transitioned immediately, grabbing the leg and locking in a deep heel hook. Angle clawed at his face in agony. He was trapped.
When everyone thought it was the end, they saw Angle slowly show a burst of strength, his body shaking from the effort as he began clawing toward the ropes, inch by inch.
The crowd screamed, half willing him to break free, half begging for him to tap. Sandro's face twisted with intensity as he pulled back on the heel hook, digging in his heels, his arms straining to keep the hold tight.
But it was futile.
Angle, through sheer willpower and veteran instincts, reached the bottom rope.
The referee immediately stepped in, yelling at Sandro to break the hold. Sandro looked at him, shaking his head, then at Angle, who was hanging onto the rope like it was a lifeline.
The official warned him again, and finally, Sandro released the hold, shoving away from Angle with frustration clear in his expression.
He stood up, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from every inch of his body. He looked out to the crowd who were on their feet, unsure of what was coming next.
Then, he turned back to Angle, who was still slumped by the ropes, and dragged him painfully slow back to the center of the ring.
There, Sandro stood above him.
He looked out again, then raised one arm and made a taunt, Angle's taunt.
The crowd reacted instantly.
He was signaling for it.
He was going to use Angle's own finisher, the Angle Slam, against the Olympic gold medalist.
He picked Kurt up, hooked the arm, adjusted the weight…
But Kurt wasn't done.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Angle twisted out of Sandro's grip and countered, lifting Sandro and sending him flying with a thunderous German suplex. The crowd gasped.
And then another suplex.
And another.
Suplex City, FCW Edition.
Sandro bounced off the mat with each slam, his back arching in pain. Angle's eyes were bloodshot, wild with intensity. He looked like a man possessed.
Then he roared to the crowd and motioned like he was about to go for it again, the Ankle Lock.
But then…
No.
He shifted gears.
He grabbed Sandro, dragging him by the arm and shoulder toward the corner turnbuckle.
"What's he doing?" one of the commentators shouted.
Kurt climbed the turnbuckle, dragging Sandro up with him.
And then, he hit it.
Top rope Angle Slam.
Both men crashed down in a heap, the sound of flesh and bone slamming against canvas echoing through the arena.
"Holy shit! Holy shit!" the crowd erupted in unison, a wave of disbelief and awe rippling through them.
Neither man moved.
The referee checked on both, his expression worried. He looked to the timekeeper, then began the count.
One…
Two…
Three…
Still no movement.
Four…
Five…
Sandro rolled slightly, groaning, clutching his back.
Six…
Kurt stirred, his arms shaking as he tried to push himself up.
Seven…
Eight…
They reached for the ropes, for anything, desperate.
Nine…
Ten.
The bell rang.
The referee waved his arms, signaling the end.
Double knockout.
The crowd erupted in boos, a chorus of disappointment and frustration. They didn't want this. Not now. Not like this.
Sandro sat up first, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his face a mask of disbelief and rage. Kurt was barely upright, leaning against the ropes, holding his ribs.
And then Sandro asked for a mic.
He stood, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. His voice cracked at first, then grew stronger.
"No," he said, glaring at Angle. "This isn't how it ends."
The crowd hushed, hanging onto every word.
"I don't care what the ref says. I don't care what the rules are. I'm not done with you, Kurt. Not yet. You want legacy? You want pride? Then get your ass back up. One more time. You and me. No more submissions. Normal rules. Let's finish this like men."
The crowd exploded.
"YES! YES! YES!"
Angle was still breathing hard. He didn't speak right away. His face was unreadable.
Then… he nodded.
He nodded.
The crowd went nuclear.
The referee looked confused at first, then touched his earpiece, clearly getting instructions from the back.
He turned, looked at both men, then signaled for the bell.
The match resumed.
No titles had changed hands. Not yet.
But this, this was war.
Kurt and Sandro locked eyes again, exhaustion etched into every line of their faces, but neither was backing down. They stumbled forward and immediately began trading shots hard rights, left hooks, elbows, forearms, and slaps. No finesse now. No grappling. Just fight.
Angle caught Sandro with a European uppercut that rocked him.
Sandro answered with a spinning back elbow.
Angle tried for a lariat.
Sandro ducked, rebounded off the ropes, and nailed him with a running knee.
Angle staggered but didn't go down.
Sandro lifted him, Angle Slam!
Sandro hit Kurt with his own move.
The crowd lost their minds.
But Sandro wasn't done.
He crawled to the corner turnbuckle, his whole body trembling with effort. He climbed slowly, every movement a struggle.
He stood on the top rope.
Looked down at the legend he just slammed into the mat.
And then, arms spread wide, he leaped when Angle was in position as he struggled to stand up—
Downfall DDT.
He nailed it. Angle's head spiked into the mat, his body going limp.
Sandro didn't waste a second.
He crawled over, arm draped across Angle's chest.
The referee dropped to the mat.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rang.
Ding ding ding.
The crowd exploded with a reaction so loud it felt like the building might collapse. Sandro rolled onto his back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as if he'd just survived a war and he had.
Still the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion.
Now the TNA World Heavyweight Champion.
"Here is your winner! Still the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion AND the NEW TNA World Heavyweight Champion! SANDRO ZHANG!!!"
The referee handed him both titles, one for each hand. Two symbols of what he had accomplished tonight.
The crowd chanted his name.
"SANDRO! SANDRO! SANDRO!"
He slowly got to his knees, then to his feet, raising the belts above his head. The pain was clear in his eyes, but so was the pride. And across from him, Angle lay on the mat, slowly stirring, slowly sitting up. Blood from a small cut on his eyebrow ran down his cheek, mixing with sweat.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 19 (2009)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style
Faction: Dragon Boom (Tag Team)
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion (New)