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That slap ignites something in Taylor. He explodes with a burst of offense, catching Nick off guard with a running knee to the face, followed by a snap DDT. He scrambles for the cover, one, two, NO! Nick barely gets the shoulder up.
The tension in the arena is thick as both men struggle to their feet. Taylor, feeding off the energy of the crowd, signals for his finisher the Double Underhook DDT. He puts Nick between his shoulders, positioning him for the big move, but Nick desperately punches Taylor on the gut managing to break free, and goes behind the referee using him as a human shield.
The momentary distraction is all Nick needs. As Taylor steps back, trying to move the ref aside, Nick takes advantage. He bounces off the ropes, leaps into the air, and hits Taylor with a crossbody!
The referee manages to get out of his way in time, and Nick wastes no time standing up and pulling Taylor up as well, and positioning Taylor by hitting him with a big elbow that causes Taylor to turn around, and Nick jumps to hit his finisher, and BAM!
ZIG ZAG!
Nick plants Taylor with his finisher, the impact sending a shockwave through the ring. He scrambles for the cover, hooking both legs as the referee drops down for the count.
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
The bell rings, and Nick rolls off Taylor, grinning through his exhaustion. The crowd erupts in a mix of boos and shock, Nick Nemeth has won the match clean.
He sits up, running a hand through his blond hair, breathing heavily as he takes in the moment. The referee raises his arm in victory, and Nick basks in the reaction, standing over Taylor's fallen body with a smug grin.
At ringside, Sandro exhales softly. He had wanted to see Taylor win. He had fought for this match to restart, believing that justice needed to be served. And yet, despite everything, Taylor had lost clean against Nick.
Sandro doesn't throw a fit. He doesn't storm into the ring or argue with the referee. Instead, he simply nods once, acknowledging the result. He turns on his heel and starts walking up the ramp, his championship still resting on his shoulder.
As he reaches the top of the ramp, he glances back at the ring one last time. Nick is still celebrating, soaking in his win. Taylor is recovering on the mat, disappointed but not defeated.
And Sandro? He just keeps walking.
He shows to the fans that in wrestling, sometimes, things don't go the way you want. Sometimes, the best competitor doesn't always win. But that's what makes it real. That's what makes it worth fighting for.
As Sandro disappeared behind the curtain, the energy in the arena shifted. Fans were left stunned, murmuring among themselves. This wasn't what they expected.
The same Sandro Zhang who had bribed a referee in front of the entire world, something so out of character, so against everything he had stood for, had just… walked away? No further interference, no outburst of frustration, just silent acceptance of Taylor's clean loss.
Speculation spread like wildfire. Why had he done it? What was going on with Sandro? Was this the beginning of a new chapter for him? Was he turning his back on the very principles that made him one of FCW's most if not the most beloved figures?
Meanwhile, inside the ring, Taylor groggily sat up, still feeling the effects of the Zig Zag. The referee knelt beside him, quietly checking on his condition, but Taylor acted like he barely registered the words. Like his mind was still trying to make sense of everything that had transpired.
Nick Nemeth, still celebrating, sauntered toward the ropes, leaning against them with a smug grin as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. The fans continued to boo him relentlessly, but he soaked it all in, raising his arms in victory.
He had won. No controversy. No tricks, well, besides his usual underhanded tactics. But in the end, he had gotten the job done.
Taylor, acting in pain with clutching his ribs, began making his way out of the ring. As he acted limping up the ramp, the crowd rallied behind him, giving him a strong ovation to lift his spirits. He turned back once, looking at Nick, who mockingly waved at him. Taylor shook his head, taking a deep breath before continuing his walk.
A few seconds later, Nick followed, still playing up his arrogance. He strutted up the ramp, laughing to himself, pointing at the fans who booed him, throwing out exaggerated bows as if he had just put on the performance of the year.
Just as it seemed like FCW's show was wrapping up, the titantron suddenly flickered back to life.
The camera feed cut backstage, showing Sandro walking past the gorilla position, his pace deliberate, his expression unreadable. The live crowd, still buzzing from the match's result, suddenly perked up again, watching closely.
Then, out of nowhere—
"Sandro!"
The camera panned slightly to the side, revealing Dusty Rhodes and Steve Keirn stepping into the frame, both acted like they looked confused and, more importantly, angry.
Dusty put on a very convincing face that was filled with disappointment, his lips pressed together tightly as he stepped in front of Sandro to block his path. Steve stood beside him, arms crossed, clearly in agreement with whatever was about to be said.
"What the hell was that out there, son?" Dusty demanded, eyes locked onto Sandro's. "What did you just do? Do you realize the impact it could have on your reputation and FCW's reputation?"
Sandro stopped, tilting his head slightly, as if amused by the question.
"I stopped pretending Dusty," he replied, voice steady.
Steve narrowed his eyes. "Pretending? What do you mean by that?"
Sandro nodded, shifting the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship on his shoulder. "Yeah. I stopped pretending to be something I'm not."
Dusty exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Son, what you did tonight, that was a disgrace." His voice was low, firm. "Bribing a referee? That ain't how we do things in this business, and you know that."
Sandro's expression remained unreadable, but there was a fire in his eyes. He took a step closer to Dusty, his fingers tightening around the title on his shoulder.
"A disgrace?" he repeated, his voice calm but laced with something dangerous. "You wanna talk to me about disgrace?"
Steve put a hand up, trying to de-escalate. "Sandro, look, we just need to understand why you just—"
SLAM.
Sandro suddenly slammed his title down onto a nearby table, the sound echoing through the backstage area. Dusty and Steve both acting flinched slightly at the sudden aggression from Sandro.
"I'm done pretending that I'm not who I am," Sandro stated, his voice rising for the first time. "I'm done acting like I don't have an advantage. Like I wasn't born into wealth. Like I don't have the means to fix the problems I see in front of me."
Steve's eyes narrowed as he listened to what Sandro had just said. "And you think bribing a ref is fixing a problem?"
Sandro let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "No. I think correcting an injustice in this rigged system is."
Steve exchanged a glance with Dusty who turned back to Sandro after looking at Steve. "Listen, Sandro, I get where you're coming from. I do. But this? This ain't the way, it ain't the right solution. You keep doing this, and people aren't gonna see you as some guy fighting for justice. They're just gonna see another rich kid throwing money around to get his way."
Sandro scoffed, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. "And what if I don't care what they think?"
Dusty stepped forward again, his voice firm. "You should care. Because that's not who you are, deep down you knew that."
And that's when Sandro snapped. His fists clenched, his body tensed, and for the first time, his calm demeanor cracked.
"What do you think I am, huh?" he challenged, eyes locked onto Dusty's. "You think I'm some backstage politician? Some coward using his money to bury other talents and swindle people into doing my bidding?" He let out a bitter laugh. "That's not what this is Dusty, Steve."
Dusty and Steve were caught off guard, both visibly taken aback by the sudden outburst.
Sandro shook his head, his voice dropping just slightly. "I did what I thought was right. I used the best weapon I had to fight the rigged system. And I'll do it again if I have to."
Steve, still trying to keep things under control, raised a hand again. "Sandro, no one's saying you're—"
"Stop," Sandro cut him off, holding up a hand. "I know you're just trying to calm things down, Steve. But let's be real."
He turned his gaze back to Dusty, eyes burning with conviction.
"You, Dusty, of all people should know I'd never be that kind of person. You know I'm the one who helped and pushed for the creation of the FCW Divas Championship, for those women in the locker rooms. Because I know and you know it was the right thing to do. Because it was in the interest of FCW."
The second those words left his mouth, the entire arena watching the titantron collectively gasped. Fans at home scrambled to process what they had just heard. Sandro had helped push for the creation of the FCW Divas Championship? That had never been public knowledge to the fans.
In the blink of an eye, the perception of Sandro's actions completely shifted for many fans. The very thing they had found disgusting moments ago, his bribing of the referee, now seemed like something else entirely. Maybe it wasn't about greed. Maybe it wasn't about personal gain.
Maybe, just maybe… Sandro Zhang was using his wealth not to elevate himself, but to fight against the very system that had manipulated and controlled careers of many talents for decades.
Dusty's expression softened, realization dawning in his eyes. Steve simply exhaled, rubbing his forehead, unsure of what to even say.
Sandro, however, didn't wait for a response. He picked up his title, slinging it over his shoulder once more. "I'm done explaining myself," he said, voice steady again. "You can either get behind what I'm doing, or you can get out of my way."
With that, he turned and walked off. Dusty and Steve exchanged one last look, still processing what had just happened. And back in the arena and home? The fans were in chaos as the show finally came to an end.
As the show faded to black, the wrestling world erupted. Online forums, social media, and blogrooms were flooded with reactions, speculation, and heated debates about what had just transpired. The FCW Official Forum was a warzone, with threads popping up at lightning speed.
"Did Sandro just turn heel or is this some kind of next level anti hero move?"
"Buying the ref? That's a new one. I don't know whether to love it or hate it."
"This is the closest thing we've seen to Ted DiBiase buying the WWE title from Andre The Giant, but it's somehow… different."
Twitter was no different. The discourse spread like wildfire, with thousands of fans arguing over the implications of Sandro's actions.
Some were in full support:
"He's right. The system is rigged. The best don't always win, and if you have the power to change it, why not?"
"Sandro is playing 4D chess. Y'all are too caught up in the 'how' and not looking at the 'why.'"
Others, however, weren't convinced:
"If the ends justify the means, where does it stop? He might have meant well this time, but what about next time?"
"You can't fight injustice with more injustice. Buying the ref was the wrong move, no matter what his intentions were."
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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