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Big E grinned, still catching his breath. Drew just gave a nod. Ryback paced a bit, still half charged from the fight, like he hadn't fully powered down. And Stu? He just smirked. Then, at this time, Kurt Angle emerged from the hallway leading to medical. A slight limp in his gait. Behind him were Sting, bruised but upright, and Kofi with his lower lip split and a towel around his neck.
Kurt walked right up to the four of them and stopped. Looked each one in the eye. Then he extended a hand toward Drew first.
"That was one hell of a performance," he said. "All of you."
Drew blinked, surprised for half a second, but he shook Kurt's hand.
Sting smiled next. "You boys brought the storm out there," he said, clapping Big E on the back. "Hell of a job."
Big E beamed like a kid being praised by a coach he grew up idolizing.
"You made us look like we earn every bit of that," Kofi added, stepping forward and nodding at Stu. "Real talk… you guys had us on our heels. And you, man—" he pointed at Ryback—"you're a goddamn train."
The four men looked stunned. They were used to praise, but not like this. Especially not from legends like Kurt and Sting, who had just been thrown into the fire with them.
Big E scratched the back of his head, shy. Drew tried to look cool but couldn't hide the grin breaking through. Ryback mumbled something like "appreciate it" and then went back to pacing. Stu, for all his stoicism, dipped his head respectfully.
Then came Taylor.
Helped along by two medics, he limped forward, one arm slung around a crew member, the other holding an ice pack to his neck. He was still wearing half his ring gear and looked like he'd been thrown through a hurricane.
Big E and Drew were the first to move. They rushed forward, gently helping him stand straighter, easing the burden from the medics.
"You good, man?" Big E asked, voice soft with concern.
"Yeah, yeah," Taylor wheezed. "Just feel like I've been powerbombed off a goddamn skyscraper. E, you and Ryback are god damn strength freak I tell you."
Everyone laughed.
Then Taylor winced and pointed at the group. "Let me guess, I was the youngest so you figured I'd bounce better, that's why you don't choose Kurt, Sting, or Kofi right?"
That got even louder laughs. Even the medics cracked a smile.
"You got the best bump in the business," Drew said with a grin, gently slapping Taylor on the shoulder causing him to wince and bump his butt onto Drew's waist.
"Next time we do a spot like that," Taylor said, groaning, "somebody else better volunteer. Or I'm demanding hazard pay from Dusty and Steve."
Sandro stepped in then, smirking. "I already ordered food," he said casually. "Had a bunch of stuff delivered, burgers, wings, pasta, whatever you guys are into. Figured we'd break bread after breaking bodies."
Kurt raised a brow. "Didn't take you for the community dinner type."
Sandro shrugged. "Even generals eat with the troops."
There was a pause.
Sting leaned toward Kurt. "We should go we have something to do."
Kurt folded his arms. "Yeah like Sting said, you guys go ahead."
Sandro tilted his head with a smile. "C'mon, Kurt. We just tore the house down. You gonna pass out good food and a good laugh?"
Kofi nodded. "It'd be weird if y'all didn't come."
After a moment, Kurt relented. "Fine. But if I find out you ordered pineapple on the pizza, we're fighting again."
That night, for a few hours, they shared food, traded stories, iced bruises, and laughed over the madness of the industry. There were toasts, impromptu debates about finishing moves, and memories swapped from road stories long buried in hotel bars.
Three days later, it was Thursday.
The Tennessee sky was bright with spring light, early rays streaking across the Nashville tarmac as five figures stood outside the airport, organizing their gear. Sandro wore dark shades and a long coat over a black t shirt, hair slicked back.
Stu, as always, was calm and collected, dressed like a businessman who could throw a punch. Ryback lugged two heavy bags with no problem, while Big E joked about stuffing protein powder into all his luggage. Drew, dressed in casual jeans and a henley, was already tossing bags into the back of the rented SUV.
"You sure you can drive this thing, Drew?" Ryback asked, eyeing the size of the SUV.
"I'm Scottish," Drew replied. "We drive on the other side of the road. This is basically a challenge."
Sandro chuckled and climbed into the front passenger seat.
With everyone packed in, the SUV pulled out of the airport and rolled into the heart of Nashville.
The first stop was their hotel. They checked into their rooms with smooth efficiency, most of them already familiar with the routine. Sandro coordinated the rooms, making sure everyone had what they needed before regrouping in the lobby ten minutes later.
Then they piled back into the SUV, bringing their gym bag filled with the gear they gonna wear tonight. Their next stop was TNA Headquarters which was their goal why they came to Nashville.
When they reached TNA Headquarters, the SUV rolled into the parking lot under the midday Tennessee sun. The building loomed ahead, modern glass panels, the TNA logo gleaming at the entrance.
Sandro led the way through the glass doors and into the polished halls of TNA Headquarters. Inside, they were greeted by Jeff Jarrett and Dixie Carter, already waiting.
"Welcome, gentlemen," Jeff said with a wide smile, shaking Sandro's hand firmly. "Glad you made it in one piece."
"Smooth flight," Sandro replied. "Thanks for welcoming us."
Dixie nodded at the rest of the crew. "It's gonna be a big night. Everyone's talking."
With pleasantries exchanged, Jeff motioned them to follow. "Come on, I'll take you to your locker room. Got a nice one reserved just for you boys."
They trailed behind Jeff down a hallway lined with posters of past legends, pay per view banners, and framed titles.
Jeff finally stopped in front of a room marked with a sleek black and gold plaque bearing the Undisputed System logo.
"Here you go," Jeff said, patting Sandro on the shoulder. ".Your space for tonight."
"Appreciate it," Sandro said with a nod, opening the door.
Before Jeff left, he turned back. ", Oh, one more thing. The contract signing? It's gonna be the main event segment. Keep the fans tuned in all the way. You guys are the hook."
Sandro smiled faintly. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
Jeff gave them a two finger salute and walked off, leaving the group to settle in.
Inside, the locker room was pristine, modern, spacious, and tailored with their branding. Black leather benches, lockers bearing their names, and a mini fridge already stocked with water and energy drinks. A monitor in the corner showed the live TNA feed, muted for now.
They each set their bags down and got to work changing. Stu slid into his sharp, fitted black suit, minimalist yet authoritative. Big E and Ryback did the same, their suits hugging their bulk in a way that screamed controlled power. Drew slipped into his sleek black suit, adjusting his cuffs with the ease of a man used to looking dangerous and classy at the same time.
Sandro emerged last from the bathroom, a tailored black suit with gold thread accents clinging to his frame like it had been poured on. Gold aviator glasses completed the look, his TNA World Heavyweight Championship glinting under the locker room lights as it hung from his shoulder.
"Damn, man," Big E whistled. "Can't stop to be impressed by that. You dressing to conquer a nation or just Lashley?"
"Why not both?" Sandro replied coolly.
Hours passed. They stayed mostly quiet, conserving energy. A few light jokes here and there, Ryback doing lifting some small dumbbells in the corner, Drew scrolling through fan reactions on his phone, and Stu checking over talking points one last time. The mood was serious but not tense, like a team of mercenaries waiting for the green light.
Then it happened.
The show began.
TNA Impact Zone roared to life. Fans packed the arena, signs waving, chants echoing. Mike Tenay and Don West hyped up the night's card, teasing the highly anticipated contract signing for the main event of Against All Odds.
Match after match flew by, an X Division showcase, a brutal tag match, and a fiery backstage brawl that blurred into the arena. The energy never dipped, but everyone knew what the final act was.
Then, the lights dimmed.
In the center of the ring sat a table with two chairs, one on the left, and one on the right. On the left side of the ring stood Mick Foley, dressed in a black sports coat over his signature flannel shirt. The TNA crowd buzzed, phones raised, the sense of anticipation electric.
Mick raised the microphone to his mouth, his voice warm and familiar through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final segment of tonight's show, the official contract signing for the Against All Odds main event!". The crowd popped. "I have been chosen to oversee tonight's contract signing. Without further ado, let's bring out the number one contender for the TNA World Heavyweight Championship… Bobby Lashley!"
The opening chords of Lashley's theme hit, and the fans erupted. Lashley strode out in a sharp light blue suit, all presence and purpose. He slapped hands with fans along the ramp, pausing to flex for a few cheers before climbing the steps and entering the ring.
He shook Mick's hand firmly and took his place on the right side of the table, folding his arms across his chest. Cool. Ready.
Mick turned back to the crowd. "And now… please welcome the reigning, defending TNA World Heavyweight Champion… Sandro Zhang!"
The arena lights flickered, a rhythmic pulse building.
SHOCK. THE. SYSTEM.
The titantron lit up with the Undisputed System logo. A roar of boos cascaded from the crowd as the entrance music hit. Out walked Sandro, the championship glinting on his shoulder, gold glasses catching the light. Behind him, Stu, Big E, Drew, and Ryback marched like a unit of precision killers.
They didn't acknowledge the crowd. They didn't need to. They owned the moment.
The five men entered the ring like they were claiming territory. Sandro stepped forward, raised the title high for all to see, including Lashley, then placed it gently on the table. He took his seat, legs crossed, arms resting casually on the table, ignoring Mick's outstretched hand for a shake.
The crowd booed even louder.
Mick, his hand hanging in the air, clenched it into a fist and lowered it. "Well… with both the champion and challenger present, let's begin the contract signing."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a leather folder, opened it, and placed a clean contract and a pen in the center of the table.
"As the challenger, Bobby, you sign first," Mick said, sliding the folder toward him.
Lashley nodded and reached forward to take the pen but just as his fingers touched it, a hand landed on the contract.
Sandro.
The room tensed.
Sandro's hand was firm, unmoving. He leaned forward slightly, voice low and steady as he looked Lashley dead in the eye.
"Before you put your name on that dotted line, Bobby," Sandro said, "I want you to understand exactly what you're walking into."
Lashley didn't flinch. He met Sandro's gaze, unblinking.
"You're stepping into the lion's den," Sandro continued. "You're not just facing me. You're facing the Undisputed System. You're facing a movement that doesn't just want to win, we redefine dominance. We're not here to play fair. We're here to make history. So think wisely before you sign your death warrant."
The crowd erupted into a mix of boos and gasps.
Sandro leaned back slowly, lifting his hand off the contract. "Now you can sign."
Lashley didn't hesitate. He grabbed the pen, eyes still locked on Sandro, and scrawled his signature with defiant precision. Then, he capped the pen and slid the folder toward Sandro.
"Your turn, champ," Lashley said.
Sandro smiled, a sharp, knowing grin. He took the pen, signed with a flourish, and then flipped the folder closed with a satisfying snap. The crowd roared again, the tension mounting. Mick stepped forward, holding up the folder. "It's official. At Against All Odds, it's Bobby Lashley versus Sandro Zhang for the TNA World Heavyweight Championship!"
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion