Becoming A Wrestler

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The crowd was on their feet, the match reaching a fever pitch. And then, Nemeth got desperate. While the referee was busy checking on Sandro, Nemeth yanked off the top turnbuckle pad! The official turned just in time to see the exposed steel, but before he could do anything, A LOW BLOW!

Nemeth kicked Sandro right between the legs!

The crowd ERUPTED in boos!

The referee hadn't seen it.

Sandro collapsed to his knees, his face contorted in pain. Nemeth took full advantage, backing up into the corner, and measuring his shot.

The moment Sandro weakly got to his feet—

ZIG ZAG!

Nemeth DROVE Sandro into the mat with his finisher!

The arena went silent as Nemeth hooked the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE—NO!!

SANDRO KICKED OUT AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND!

The place EXPLODED!

Nemeth's eyes went wide in pure disbelief. He turned to the referee, slapping his hands together, demanding a faster count.

But the ref stood firm.

Nemeth lost it.

He grabbed his hair, slamming his fists against the mat, yelling at the top of his lungs. "No! NO! That was THREE!"

But it wasn't.

And now, Sandro was stirring.

Nemeth, breathing heavily, turned his head and saw Sandro pushing himself up, pain written all over his face… but his eyes burning with defiance.

Nick's expression shifted. He saw the fight still in Sandro's eyes. And he hated it.

Snarling, Nemeth charged in for another superkick, and as Nemeth's boot sliced through the air, Sandro ducked at the last second, narrowly avoiding disaster. Before Nemeth could react, Sandro popped up and FIRED A SUPERKICK OF HIS OWN!

SMACK!

The shot caught Nemeth flush on the chin, snapping his head back violently. The crowd roared as Nemeth staggered, his legs wobbly but somehow keeping him upright. His body twisted slightly, but before he could fully turn around—

ANOTHER SUPERKICK!

This one struck the back of Nemeth's head, sending him crashing forward like a felled tree. He collapsed onto the mat, dazed and motionless. The energy in the arena was unreal as Sandro, his body battered and beaten, also collapsed, gasping for air.

He had nothing left.

But he had to finish it.

With every ounce of strength left in his body, Sandro gritted his teeth and began crawling toward Nemeth. The crowd clapped rhythmically, chanting his name, willing him forward. Inch by inch, he dragged himself over and draped his arm across Nemeth's chest.

The referee dropped to the mat and started the count.

ONE!

The fans joined in.

TWO!

This was it!

THRE—NO!

Nemeth's shoulder shot up at the last possible second!

A collective gasp filled the arena.

The referee held up two fingers, confirming that it wasn't over. The commentators were in complete disbelief. The crowd was losing their minds. And Sandro? He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"What… what does it take?"

He sat up slowly, his face a mixture of exhaustion and shock. His hands ran through his sweat drenched hair as he turned to the referee, desperate for answers. But the ref simply shook his head.

It wasn't over yet.

Sandro inhaled sharply, forcing himself to move. He rolled to the ropes and used them to pull himself up, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. Nemeth, meanwhile, barely stirred, still dazed from the double superkicks.

The fans could sense it.

This was the moment.

Sandro backed into the corner, gripping the ropes, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes locked onto Nemeth, who groggily pushed himself onto all fours, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.

Sandro clenched his fists.

Time to end this.

Nemeth, unaware of the danger looming behind him, fought to his knees. The second he was upright—

Sandro STRUCK!

He lashed out with a stiff kick to Nemeth's knee, sending him dropping back to the mat. Nemeth groaned, clutching his leg, but before he could react, Sandro took off running.

He rebounded off the ropes, gaining speed—

DRAGON'S SHOT!

His knee SPEARED into Nemeth's jaw like a battering ram!

The impact was BRUTAL. Nemeth's head snapped back violently, and his body slumped to the mat, completely lifeless.

Sandro didn't hesitate. He dove onto him, hooking the leg with all his strength.

The referee dropped down—

ONE!

The crowd screamed along.

TWO!

This was it.

THREE!!!

THE BELL RANG.

IT WAS OVER.

The roof nearly came off the arena as the crowd ERUPTED into cheers. Sandro had done it.

He had survived.

He had endured FOUR challengers in one night.

The referee knelt beside him, checking his condition, but Sandro barely had the strength to acknowledge him. He simply lay there, eyes closed, chest rising and falling rapidly as the weight of the moment settled over him.

Nick Nemeth rolled onto his side, his fingers twitching, but he was out. Completely spent.

The ring announcer's voice boomed over the sound system.

"HERE IS YOUR WINNER… AND STILL THE FCW FLORIDA HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION… SANDRO ZHANG!"

The official draped the championship belt across Sandro's chest, and the moment he felt the gold, his fingers instinctively clutched it.

Tears stung his eyes.

This wasn't just another title defense.

This was a WAR.

And he had survived.

The camera zoomed in on his face, his exhaustion, his pain, but most importantly, his triumph.

Sandro Zhang was still the champion.

The commentators praised his resilience, calling it one of the greatest performances in FCW history. The crowd gave him a standing ovation, chanting his name over and over again.

Slowly, painfully, Sandro rolled onto his side and used the ropes to pull himself up. He leaned against the turnbuckle, his body barely holding together, and raised the title high in the air.

This was his night.

This was his legacy.

And nothing could take it away from him.

The moment belonged to Sandro.

The crowd's deafening cheers filled the arena as he stood there, barely able to hold himself up, his championship raised high. His chest heaved with exhaustion, his body battered from the war he had just survived, but his spirit? Unbreakable.

And then, familiar faces emerged from the back. Taylor Rotunda and Kofi Kingston.

The two rushed down the ramp, their excitement evident as they slid into the ring. Kofi, his longtime kayfabe tag partner, grinned wide as he clapped Sandro on the back. Taylor, Sandro's mentee, shook his head in awe before pulling him into a quick embrace.

The crowd responded with a fresh wave of cheers.

Kofi pointed at Sandro and shouted, "That's the champ right there!" while Taylor gestured to the crowd, encouraging them to get even louder.

Sandro, still struggling to catch his breath, managed a tired but genuine smile.

This wasn't just his moment. This was their moment.

While the celebration continued in the ring, the FCW Official Forum and Twitter were in absolute chaos. Fans flooded the platforms, their posts overflowing with excitement and admiration for Sandro.

"Holy crap, that was one of the best FCW matches I've ever seen!"

"Sandro just went from promising rookie to LEGIT main eventer in one night!"

"I don't wanna hear anyone calling Sandro a rookie anymore. That man is a WARRIOR."

"That match was PPV-level good, and it was on FCW TV. We are eating GOOD tonight!"

The sentiment was unanimous, this match had elevated Sandro Zhang's career to a whole new level. He was no longer just a rookie champion. He was a full fledged champion, no more 'rookie' label attached.

Back in the arena, Inside the ring, Taylor and Kofi helped Sandro to his feet. His legs were like jelly, barely able to support him, but he refused to fall again. He leaned on his friends as they guided him toward the ropes, waving at the fans who were still on their feet, clapping and cheering.

As they made their way up the ramp, Sandro turned one last time, raising the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship high above his head.

The response? A final thunderous ovation.

The young champion had proven himself beyond all doubt.

As he passed through the entrance area, the energy of the match still buzzed in his veins. His body screamed in pain, but his heart swelled with pride.

And then, he stepped through the gorilla position. Dusty Rhodes and Steve Keirn stood there, waiting for him. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to.

Both men simply held up two thumbs, a silent but powerful acknowledgment of what Sandro had just accomplished. Sandro, barely holding himself together, gave them a tired nod in return. Because he knew. They were proud.

As soon as Sandro stepped through the gorilla position, the weight of the night hit him all at once. Every muscle in his body screamed, every ounce of energy had been left in the ring, and the adrenaline that had carried him through was finally starting to wear off.

But the sight of Dusty Rhodes and Steve Keirn, both standing there with approving nods and two thumbs up, made it all worth it.

He didn't need words from them, he understood. This match had been special. He had arrived. Kofi and Taylor, still at his side, patted him on the back.

"Come on, champ," Kofi said, voice full of pride. "Let's get you to the locker room before you collapse right here."

Taylor grinned. "I think he's already halfway there."

Kofi and Taylor carefully guided him down the hall, and every step was a reminder of what he had just endured. FCW personnel and other wrestlers passed by, offering nods and murmurs of respect. Some clapped him on the back, others simply gave him a knowing look. He could hear whispers.

"Hell of a match."

"He's the guy now."

"That was legendary."

Each comment was a reminder that tonight wasn't just about a title defense. It was about proving that he was no longer the up and coming rookie champion. He was the guy.

When they finally reached the locker room, Kofi pushed the door open, and the sight that greeted Sandro made his exhaustion momentarily fade into something warmer.

Inside, waiting for him, were Drew McIntyre, Sheamus, Bray Wyatt, Stu Sanders, April, and Nicole. The moment they saw him, a round of applause broke out.

"There he is!" Sheamus grinned. "The Iron Man himself!"

Drew shook his head in admiration. "Mate, I don't know how the hell you survived that, but damn, you earned my respect tonight."

Bray gave him one of his slow, knowing nods. "Told ya," he said in that eerie, prophetic tone of his. "Told ya you were made for this."

Stu crossed his arms, smirking. "That was a war, man. Hell of a match. You didn't just defend that belt, you made history."

Brianna clapped excitedly. "You were amazing out there, Sandro!"

Sandro wanted to respond, to thank them all, but his body had other plans. His legs finally gave out. If it weren't for April and Nicole, who immediately rushed to his side, he would've hit the floor.

His two girlfriends seamlessly took over from Kofi and Taylor, each draping one of Sandro's arms over their shoulders, helping him toward a bench in the middle of the locker room.

"Okay, okay, that's enough standing for you," Nicole scolded, her voice firm but full of affection.

April nodded, her eyes filled with concern. "You're done moving for the night."

They carefully sat him down, and Nicole immediately grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap before pressing it into his hands. "Drink."

Sandro didn't argue. He took a few deep gulps, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.

April knelt down in front of him, her hands gently rubbing his calves, working out the tension in his overworked muscles. "You need to take it easy," she murmured.

Nicole sat beside him, rubbing his arm, helping him relax. "Seriously. I don't care if you're the champion, you're not invincible."

Sandro chuckled weakly, leaning his head back against the wall. "Did I at least look good doing it?"

Nicole rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Typical."

April smirked. "Annoyingly hot while nearly dying? Yeah, you nailed it."

The group around him laughed, the tension in the room easing.

Sheamus sat on the bench across from Sandro, his arms resting on his knees. "Man, I gotta be honest, when you kicked out of that Zig Zag, I thought you were out of your damn mind."

Drew nodded. "You could've just stayed down, you know."

Sandro grinned tiredly. "And let Nemeth walk around bragging that he beat me? Nah."

Bray chuckled. "That's the spirit."

Kofi leaned against the lockers. "Dude, the internet is losing its mind right now. You should see the FCW forums, people are saying this was the best match in FCW history. No one's calling you a rookie anymore."

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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 & 1 FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion