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Then, Bray's voice. "We're here." A sudden, eerie transition to live feed showed Bray standing at the top of the ramp, lantern in hand, his ominous silhouette framed by the glow. Behind him, Rowan and Harper loomed, their hulking figures barely visible in the dim light as they wore sheep masks.
Then the lights were turned off and when it came on again, the Wyatt Family already stood in the ring. Bray raised the mic to his lips. His voice was smooth, hypnotic.
"Sandro Zhang…" he whispered, letting the name linger in the air. "They tell me you are a champion. A man of power. A man of wealth. But you see… you are lost in a world that was never meant for you."
Bray turned his head, grinning eerily. "But don't worry… I am here to save you. To save you from the unknown, and relieve you of the burden that you are carrying right now."
The fans erupted in a chorus of boos, their loyalty to Sandro unmistakable. But amidst the jeers, a small yet noticeable pocket of the audience remained silent, watching intently, almost drawn to Bray's words. His eerie charisma was undeniable, his presence unsettling yet magnetic.
In the ring, Bray swayed slightly, his eyes locked onto the crowds like he was looking at the FCW Florida Heavyweight title with Sandro's nameplate on the championship belt. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face as he continued.
"Sandro Zhang… you think you can carry that weight. You think you can be the beacon of light in a world drowning in darkness. You fight against the corrupt system, the false kings, the higher powers that hold all the strings." He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
"But tell me, oh great champion…" His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. "How long before the weight breaks you in two?"
The arena fell into a hush, a moment of eerie silence settling as Bray lifted his arms outward, tilting his head as if waiting for divine revelation. Then, just as suddenly, he let out a loud, chilling laugh that echoed through the FCW arena.
"You can't do it alone, my brother! You won't do it alone! You have no allies! No friends! No disciples are willing to follow you into the abyss you so desperately try to crawl out of! Even your tag team partner and mentee can't help you!" His expression twisted into something resembling pity.
Bray took a step forward, his voice dropping into an almost fatherly tone. "But I… I have a family, a family who could help you, a family of mine, Wyatt family."
Slowly, he gestured to his left. "To my left stands Luke Harper, the first sheep who heard my call and found peace in my flock, and become enlightened by the true ways to navigate this dark world."
He turned to his right. "And to my right stands Erick Rowan, the second lamb who broke free from the chains of this broken world and embraced the truth, truth that brings him unimaginable power."
Bray's eyes gleamed with an unsettling fervor as he looked back at Sandro, his expression one of wicked amusement.
"We can help you, Sandro. We can ease your suffering. We can share your burden. All it takes… is one simple sacrifice for you to do."
Bray took another step forward, his voice low and almost soothing.
"Relinquish your most prized possession, the FCW Florida Heavyweight title to me."
The crowd erupted into chaos, fans screaming in outrage while others watched, transfixed. Bray stretched his arms out wide, his eyes half lidded as if awaiting divine acceptance.
"And in return, I will give you salvation, help you in shouldering those heavy weights."
With that, he fell to his knees, arms still outstretched, his entire posture exuding something between worship and madness. The eerie, almost holy silence that followed was broken in an instant—
"CULT OF PERSONALITY!"
The arena exploded as Sandro's music hit, the champion stepping out onto the ramp with the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship still proudly resting on his shoulder. He held a microphone in his right hand, his expression unreadable as he stood at the top of the ramp, staring down at the man who dared demand his title as an offering.
The camera zoomed in on his face, calm, confident, utterly unimpressed. He took a step forward and finally raised the mic.
"…Bray," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had heard enough. "That was one hell of a sermon."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained sharp, unwavering. "You come out here, talking about salvation, about family, about easing my burdens? Bray, the only burden I have right now is standing in that ring with a lantern and two guys in sheep masks thinking he's some kind of messiah."
The crowd erupted in laughter, but Bray remained still, his expression unreadable.
Sandro took another step forward, eyes locked onto Bray's. "You want me to hand over my championship? The title that I've bled for, fought for, defended week after week with everything I have? You want me to give it to you?" He scoffed. "You must've taken one too many bumps on the head, my friend."
He paused at the bottom of the ramp, now face to face with Bray and his followers.
"I'll tell you exactly what's gonna happen, Bray," Sandro continued, his voice cold and cutting. "You're gonna keep spewing your cryptic nonsense. You're gonna keep playing preacher to the weak minded. And then, one day, someone's gonna shut you up for good."
Sandro took the last step forward, now standing inside the ring, toe to toe with Bray. He slowly lifted the championship off his shoulder and raised it high above his head.
"But it won't be me, because I don't need to shut you up," he said, voice low yet powerful. "I'll just do what I always do, beat you, pin you, and send you back to whatever backwoods swamp you crawled out of."
The crowd exploded at the declaration, fans rallying behind their champion.
Bray, however, remained eerily still.
Then, he smiled.
"…Such a shame," he whispered.
Sandro barely had a second to process those words before Luke Harper and Erick Rowan attacked.
The Wyatt Family swarmed him, fists flying as they overwhelmed the champion. Sandro fought back hard, his strikes landing stiff and precise, momentarily staggering both men. The crowd roared as he managed to rock Harper with a hard elbow before driving a knee into Rowan's gut.
But the numbers were too much.
Rowan caught Sandro with a huge clubbing forearm that sent him stumbling, and Harper followed up with a vicious big boot that floored him. The beatdown continued, the two monsters stomping down on Sandro as Bray watched, his arms folded, a pleased expression on his face.
The crowd booed loudly, desperate for someone, anyone, to come out and help Sandro.
Then—
Kofi Kingston's music hit.
The arena exploded as Kofi and Taylor charged down the ramp, diving into the ring to even the odds. Kofi immediately took the fight to Rowan, using his speed and agility to land rapid strikes, while Taylor went straight for Harper, delivering stiff forearm shots that forced the big man to stumble.
For a moment, it looked like the tide was turning—
But then Bray moved.
With terrifying swiftness, Bray blindsided Kofi with a running crossbody, nearly crushing him under his weight. Taylor turned just in time to be met with a devastating discus clothesline from Harper, flipping him inside out.
Sandro, groggy but still conscious, tried to get back to his feet—
Only for Bray to grab him by the head and plant him with a Sister Abigail.
The crowd deflated, their champion lying motionless in the center of the ring.
Bray slowly got to his feet, looking down at the destruction he and his family had caused. He then knelt beside Sandro's unconscious body, gently placing a hand over his championship belt.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Then, with the same eerie calmness, he whispered into the microphone—
"…Follow the buzzards."
The lights cut to black.
When they returned on, the Wyatt Family was gone.
Only the wreckage remained.
Sandro. Kofi. Taylor. All laid out in the ring. And in that moment, one thing became clear to everyone watching. The Wyatt Family had come to become a dominant force in FCW under Bray Wyatt's leadership.
The arena remained in stunned silence after the Wyatt Family had disappeared into the darkness, leaving only destruction in their wake.
Sandro, Kofi, and Taylor lay motionless in the ring, victims of Bray Wyatt's eerie gospel and his family's brute force. The energy in the arena was tense, with fans murmuring, some outraged, some unsettled, and others simply absorbing the moment.
Then, movement.
FCW officials and referees rushed down the ramp, their faces filled with urgency and concern. Leading the pack was none other than Dusty, his expression grim as he stepped into the ring. The American Dream wasn't just here as a figure of authority, he was here as a protector of the young talents under his watch.
The referees quickly checked on the three fallen men. Kofi and Taylor were still unconscious, their bodies sprawled across the canvas. Sandro, however, stirred.
A low groan escaped his lips as he blinked up at the bright overhead lights, his senses slowly returning. He then acted like his body ached all over, like his ribs felt like they had been caved in by Rowan's forearm, like his jaw throbbed from Harper's brutal big boot, and lastly, like his head was hurting from the sister Abigail given by Bray. But as soon as he registered his surroundings, his mind wasn't on himself.
It was on Kofi and Taylor.
"Shit… Kofi… Taylor…" he muttered hoarsely, acting like he was pushing against the pain as he tried to get to them.
The referees and officials, trying to keep things under control, attempted to hold him back, but Sandro fought through it. He staggered towards his fallen partners, desperation in his eyes. He dropped to one knee beside Kofi, shaking his arm.
"Kof… hey, come on, man, wake up," he urged, but Kofi didn't respond. He turned to Taylor, nudging him the same way. Still no response.
Frustration boiled inside Sandro. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had been expecting a fight, yes, but not this. Not Kofi and Taylor getting wiped out while he lay powerless to stop it.
"Let me—" Sandro started, but one of the officials, an older veteran of the business, placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Sandro, let the medics do their job," he said sternly. "We need to get them to the back."
Sandro clenched his jaw, frustration visible in his tense posture. But he didn't argue. He knew the officials were right.
Two stretchers were brought down, and the medics carefully loaded Kofi and Taylor onto them. Sandro watched, still kneeling, breathing heavily as his mind raced. He was supposed to protect them. He was supposed to be the one taking the brunt of the attack, not them.
The medics motioned for Sandro to get on a stretcher too, but he shook his head.
"I can walk," he muttered, acting like despite the pain that surged through his body he was fighting against it.
With the help of two officials, he slowly stood up. He acted like his legs felt like jelly, but forced himself to remain steady. As they guided him up the ramp, his eyes never left the stretchers carrying Kofi and Taylor. The crowd, seeing their champion in such a battered state, began chanting his name in support.
"SAN-DRO! SAN-DRO! SAN-DRO!"
Dusty stood at the top of the ramp, watching it all unfold. His arms were crossed, his lips pressed into a firm line. As the medics disappeared behind the curtain, Dusty raised a mic, sighing heavily before addressing the crowd.
"Listen up, folks," Dusty began, shaking his head. "We all saw what just happened out here. We saw the Wyatt Family come in, lay waste to three damn good men, and walk out like it was just another day in their twisted world."
The crowd responded with loud boos, their anger at Bray Wyatt and his family more than apparent.
Dusty exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face before continuing. "Now, y'all know that our champion here is a fighting man. He's defended that title week after week, proving that he's one of the best in that damn locker room. But after what we just saw, I gotta make a call that ain't gonna be popular."
He looked towards Sandro, who was still at the top of the ramp, his breathing heavy as he listened."Sandro Zhang is in no condition to defend his title tonight," Dusty stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And until we get an official statement from the medical team, his title defenses are postponed."
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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