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Taylor slid into the ring, pumping his fists in the air before climbing the turnbuckle to strike a pose for the fans. His passion and excitement were clear, and the crowd responded in kind. This was his moment to shine, and he was going to make the most of it.
However, the atmosphere quickly shifted when the entrance music of his opponent, Nick Nemeth, hit. The crowd's cheers turned into an immediate chorus of boos.
Nick strutted out onto the stage, his trademark arrogance on full display. Dressed in his signature gear, his bleach blond hair slicked back, he smirked as he looked out at the fans, completely unfazed by their reaction.
He took his time making his way down the ramp, jawing at the fans, mocking their cheers for Taylor, and exuding the confidence of a man who already believed he had this match won and will advance to the second round.
"And his opponent," the announcer continued, "from Cleveland, Ohio… weighing in at 218 pounds… NICK NEMETH!"
Nick reached the ring and climbed the steel steps, turning to the audience with a smug grin before stepping between the ropes. Once inside, he sauntered to the nearest corner, flexing and striking poses as if he were already the champion.
The referee stepped in, signaling to Nick that he needed to head to his corner. With a dramatic sigh, Nick complied, until, without warning, he lunged forward and blindsided Taylor with a vicious forearm to the jaw of Taylor's face!
The crowd erupted in boos as Taylor staggered backward and fall down, caught completely off guard by the cheap shot. The referee immediately called for the bell, officially starting the match.
The Match Begins
Nick wasted no time, raining down clubbing blows on Taylor's body and head before grabbing him by the head, picking and dragging him, then slamming him face first into the turnbuckle.
"Come on, Taylor! This is a tournament, not a playground!" Nick taunted, shoving him back against the corner and delivering a brutal knife edge chop that echoed throughout the arena.
Taylor winced but refused to go down. The fans rallied behind him, chanting his name in an effort to will him back into the fight. Nick, however, had no intention of letting up. He grabbed Taylor's wrist and whipped him across the ring with force, sending him crashing into the opposite turnbuckle.
Wasting no time, Nick charged forward, looking for a corner splash, but at the last second, Taylor dodged! Nick collided chest first into the turnbuckle, his momentum throwing him off balance.
Seizing the opening, Taylor spun Nick around and fired off a series of rapid punches, igniting the crowd. With each blow, the cheers grew louder, and Taylor, feeding off the energy, whipped Nick into the ropes.
As Nick rebounded, Taylor leaped into the air, delivering a beautiful dropkick that sent Nick crashing to the mat. The impact sent a jolt through Nick's body, and he rolled to the outside, trying to regain his composure.
The fans were on their feet, chanting for Taylor as he stood tall in the ring.
Nick, however, was a veteran at playing dirty. As the referee began the count, he feigned frustration before suddenly reaching up, grabbing Taylor who was on the ropes to taunt him, by the ankle, and yanking him down onto the ring apron!
Taylor's head bounced off the edge of the ring, and Nick wasted no time capitalizing. He dragged Taylor to his feet and whipped him hard into the barricade, causing Taylor's back to slam against the unforgiving steel.
"Boo all you want!" Nick sneered at the crowd, before rolling Taylor back into the ring.
Inside the ring, Nick continued his assault, applying a tight headlock and grinding down Taylor's momentum. The fans clapped, trying to rally him, and slowly but surely, Taylor fought his way back up to his feet.
Elbow!
Another elbow!
A third elbow to the gut finally forced Nick to loosen his grip, and Taylor took the opportunity to bounce off the ropes. He ducked under a clothesline, rebounded, and nailed Nick with a running shoulder tackle!
The momentum had shifted again! Taylor was back on his feet, feeling the adrenaline surge through his body. He grabbed Nick and lifted him up for a suplex, holding him in the air for an impressive few seconds before slamming him down.
He went for the cover!
One… Two… Kickout!
Nick just barely got the shoulder up, but Taylor wasn't deterred. He knew he had to stay on the attack.
He pulled Nick up and signaled for a big move, but Nick, ever the opportunist, raked his fingers across Taylor's eyes!
The referee admonished him, but the damage was done. Taylor staggered back, temporarily blinded, giving Nick the perfect opening. He grabbed Taylor and drilled him with a picture perfect jumping DDT!
Cover!
One… Two… No! Taylor kicked out!
Nick pounded the mat in frustration. "Stay down, you idiot!" he shouted before dragging Taylor up again.
Nick signaled for the Zig Zag, preparing to finish the match. He stalked Taylor, waiting for him to rise.
He leaped—
But Taylor held onto the ropes! Nick crashed hard onto the mat, and before he could react, Taylor kicked him on the guts and put Nick's head between his armpit!
Taylor tightened his grip around Nick's head, ready to deliver the Double Underhook DDT and put an end to the match. The crowd roared in anticipation, feeling that Taylor had the match won. He hooked both of Nick's arms, preparing to drive him face first into the mat.
But at the last second, Nick shoved Taylor backward! Taylor stumbled, unable to control his momentum, and crashed directly into the referee!
The official, caught completely off guard, went tumbling to the mat, clutching his head. The crowd gasped as the referee lay sprawled out, momentarily dazed from the impact.
Before Taylor could even process what happened, Nick, now down on one knee, saw his opening. He smirked, his devious mind working quickly. With one swift motion, he brought his arm up between Taylor's legs, delivering a brutal low blow!
"OH, COME ON! That was blatant!" one of the commentators shouted, outraged.
The entire arena erupted in boos as Taylor doubled over in pain, his face contorted in agony. He fell to his knees, clutching himself, while Nick stood over him with a cocky grin. The commentary team expressed their frustration, calling out the blatant cheating, but the referee, who was now stirring, seemed conveniently oblivious to what had just transpired.
And then, something subtle, something only those paying close attention would notice, happened.
The referee gave a small nod indicating for the final of the match, well the 'false' finish of the match that Nick and Taylor think how it should have ended.
It was barely noticeable, but it was there. A quick, fleeting gesture toward Nick. A signal. One that the fans couldn't see. One that Taylor, struggling on his knees, registers and returns the signal subtly.
Nick understood it perfectly.
"It's time."
Nick grabbed Taylor and quickly positioned him. With a swift motion, he leaped into the air and snapped Taylor down with the Zig Zag!
Taylor's body crashed hard against the mat. The crowd watched in stunned silence.
Nick immediately hooked the leg, pulling Taylor into a deep cover. The referee, who just moments ago seemed hurt from the collision, suddenly sprung to life and began the count.
One!
Two!
THREE!
The bell rang, and in an instant, the reality set in, the match was over, and that Nick Nemeth had won.
The fans erupted, not in cheers, but in anger, disbelief, and frustration. Boos rained down from all corners of the arena, and the commentary team voiced their outrage.
"I don't believe this! Nick Nemeth just stole that match! That was highway robbery!"
Nick rolled off Taylor, a smug grin plastered across his face as the referee raised his arm in victory. The ring announcer's voice rang out over the chaos of the booing crowd.
"Here is your winner… and advancing to the second round of the FCW North American Championship tournament… NICK NEMETH!"
Nick stood tall, absorbing the heat from the fans as it fueled him. He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow before mockingly bowing toward the audience, reveling in their frustration.
Taylor, meanwhile, was still on the mat, slowly coming to terms with what had just happened. His hand clutched his stomach, his face put on a trained act like he twisted in pain and disappointment, where he had given everything in that match, only for it to be taken away by a low blow and a complicit referee.
But just when everyone thought the night was moving on…
The Titantron suddenly changed.
The FCW logo that had been displayed faded out.
And then, on the screen, Sandro appeared.
The camera focused on Sandro Zhang, standing backstage. The FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship was draped over his shoulder, its golden plate gleaming under the lights. He was dressed in his white suit, exuding confidence and authority, but his expression was unreadable.
He was watching.
Watching everything.
The entire arena fell silent for a split second. The commentary team, the fans, and even Nick and Taylor were momentarily stunned.
Why was Sandro on the screen?
Nick's celebration slowed, his cocky demeanor faltering as he turned toward the screen, clearly confused. Taylor, still on his knees, looked up at the Titantron, his expression shifting from pain to surprise also.
The only person who didn't look surprised?
The referee.
Nick turned to him. "What the hell is this?" he mouthed. The referee, still in character, quickly muttered something under his breath.
"Stay in your character."
Nick blinked, then quickly snapped back into his arrogant act. If Sandro was watching, he wasn't going to back down. He waved dismissively at the screen, mocking Sandro's presence.
"Oh, please!" Nick scoffed. He gestured to the title on Sandro's shoulder. "You watching this, Sandro? I bet you're impressed! You should be, because THIS is the guy you were rooting for? THIS loser? Face it, buddy, your boy couldn't get it done!"
Taylor, still recovering, shook his head. He slowly grabbed the ropes and pulled himself up, his face filled with frustration, not just at the loss, but at the blatant letdown he had shown to Sandro. He turned his eyes toward the screen.
And then, in a low but firm voice, he muttered,
"I'm sorry I disappointed you, Sandro."
The fans reacted with loud murmurs of surprise. Nick turned his head, raising an eyebrow at Taylor's words. Sandro, on the screen, didn't flinch.
Instead, he let out a slow breath, shaking his head, not at Taylor, but at everything he had just witnessed. His expression hardened, his disappointment not directed at Taylor…
But at what had just taken place.
Then, without a word, Sandro turned.
The camera followed him as he walked through the backstage area, his pace deliberate. FCW staff and personnel turned their heads as he passed, sensing that something was happening.
As Sandro approached Gorilla Position, Dusty Rhodes and Steve Keirn stepped in his path.
"Now hold on, Sandro, let's talk about this—" Dusty began, raising his hands in an attempt to stop him.
But Sandro didn't stop walking.
He barely even acknowledged them, stepping past the two legends with a single, determined statement.
"Let my music hit."
And then—
The loud sound of radial static sound goes out!
The arena exploded with cheers as 'Cult of Personality' blared through the speakers. The crowd ERUPTED.
Sandro Zhang was here.
Nick's smirk disappeared in an instant. His whole demeanor changed. His bravado vanished, replaced with visible unease. He had spent the last few minutes gloating, but now?
Now he realized that Sandro was walking down that ramp. The fans knew this wasn't just a surprise appearance. This wasn't a casual visit. Sandro was coming for something to do, and Nick Nemeth was on the receiving end it looks like.
Sandro stood at the top of the ramp, the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship resting on his left shoulder, a microphone clutched in his right hand. His face was a mask of conflict, torn between restraint and the urge to act. The fans roared at his presence, their cheers reverberating through the arena, but Sandro remained still for a few moments, breathing deeply, clearly wrestling with himself.
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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