Becoming A Wrestler

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Kofi Kingston kicked out at the very last second, and the arena collectively gasped in disbelief. The commentators were stunned, their voices rising above the noise of the crowd. "How in the world did Kofi kick out of that?!" one commentator shouted. "Sandro hit the Dragon Shot flush, and somehow, Kofi is still in this match!"

"That's the heart of Kofi Kingston," the other commentator replied. "He's not just fighting for a title tonight, he's fighting to prove why he belongs in the main event spotlight!"

Sandro sat back on his knees, running a hand through his sweat drenched hair, his face a mixture of shock and respect. He shook his head as he looked down at Kofi, who was barely stirring but still in the match. Sandro muttered to himself, "What is it going to take to put him away?"

The crowd was unrelenting, chanting, "This is awesome!" as both competitors struggled to their feet. The battle had taken its toll on both men, and every movement was a testament to their determination and endurance.

Sandro was the first to get up. He grabbed Kofi by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Kofi, seemingly running on instinct, threw a weak forearm that connected with Sandro's jaw. Sandro retaliated with a forearm of his own, and the two began exchanging blows in the center of the ring.

"Forearm by Kofi! And another by Sandro! These two are leaving it all out there!" one commentator yelled.

The strikes grew more intense, and the crowd roared with each one. Kofi suddenly ducked one of Sandro's punches and hit a spinning kick to the side of Sandro's head. Sandro staggered but didn't fall.

Kofi used the ropes for momentum and leaped, attempting a crossbody, but Sandro caught him mid-air. In a display of power, Sandro lifted Kofi onto his shoulders and looked to deliver a Samoan drop.

But Kofi countered, slipping out the back and landing on his feet. He quickly jumped onto the second rope and hit a springboard dropkick, catching Sandro square in the chest. The champion fell back into the corner, winded.

Kofi rallied, firing up the crowd with his clap. "Kofi! Kofi! Kofi!" the fans chanted as Kofi sprinted toward Sandro, hitting a double running knee in the corner. Sandro crumpled to the mat, and Kofi immediately climbed to the top rope. He perched there for a moment, steadying himself before leaping off with a high impact splash.

Kofi hooked the leg for the pin.

One… two…

Sandro kicked out again!

The crowd erupted in cheers and groans, unable to believe the resilience of both men. Kofi sat up, clutching his head in frustration but refusing to give up. He stood, pulling Sandro to his feet and setting him up for the SOS. This time, he executed it flawlessly, driving Sandro's head into the mat.

The crowd counted with the referee as Kofi made the cover.

One… two…

No! Sandro kicked out again!

"This match is insane!" the commentator exclaimed. "Neither of these men wants to give up! They're fighting as if their lives depend on it! Both wanted to come out tonight as the champion!"

Kofi slapped the mat in frustration but didn't waste time dwelling on it. He climbed to the top rope again, signaling for a high-risk move to finish the match. The crowd was on their feet, buzzing with anticipation.

Kofi leaped, attempting a diving leg drop, but Sandro rolled out of the way at the last second. Kofi crashed hard onto the mat, clutching his lower back in pain.

Sandro, sensing an opening, willed himself to his feet. He staggered toward Kofi, lifting him onto his shoulders. This time, there was no escape as Sandro delivered a devastating fireman's carry into a gutbuster. He immediately followed it up with a quick cover.

One… two…

Kofi kicked out again, and the crowd erupted!

Sandro pounded the mat in frustration, his exhaustion evident. He signaled to the crowd, raising his arms to pump them up. He positioned himself in the corner, waiting for Kofi to get to his feet. As Kofi stumbled up, Sandro charged forward, looking for a running knee strike.

Kofi dodged at the last moment, sending Sandro crashing into the turnbuckle. Kofi capitalized, rolling him up with a schoolboy pin.

One… two…

Sandro barely escaped!

Both men were now running on fumes, their movements slower but no less precise. They stood toe to toe in the center of the ring, exchanging forearms once again. This time, Sandro ducked under Kofi's strike and spun him around, grabbing him in a headlock.

In one fluid motion, Sandro executed his signature move, the Dragon Twist Cutter. Kofi's head and neck snapped against the mat with brutal force, and the crowd erupted in shock and awe.

"That's it! That has to be it!" one commentator screamed. "Sandro hit the Dragon Twist Cutter out of nowhere!"

Sandro collapsed onto Kofi, hooking the leg for the pin.

One… two… three!

The bell rang, and the crowd exploded in a mix of cheers and admiration. The ring announcer's voice boomed over the speakers.

"Here is your winner… and STILL the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion… SANDRO ZHANG!"

Sandro rolled off Kofi, his chest heaving as he lay on the mat, staring up at the arena lights. The referee retrieved the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship and handed it to Sandro, who slowly got to his feet.

The crowd cheered wildly as Sandro held the title high above his head, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and triumph.

"What a match!" the commentator exclaimed. "Sandro and Kofi just put on a clinic here tonight. This is what professional wrestling is all about!"

"No doubt about it," the other commentator agreed. "Both of these men gave everything they had, and the fans got their money's worth and then some. What a performance by the champion and the challenger!"

Sandro extended a hand to Kofi, who was still lying on the mat. Kofi looked up at him, nodded, and accepted the hand. Sandro pulled him to his feet, and the two embraced in the center of the ring as the crowd chanted, "Thank you, Kofi!" and "This is awesome!"

Kofi raised Sandro's hand in a show of respect before exiting the ring, allowing Sandro to have his moment with the crowd. The champion climbed the turnbuckle, holding his title high and soaking in the adoration of the fans.

As the show went off the air, the commentators summed it up perfectly. "Tonight, we witnessed greatness. Sandro retains the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship, but Kofi also proved why he belongs in the main event and in the heavyweight title picture. This is a night we'll never forget."

As Sandro stood in the ring, raising his title to the roaring crowd, the atmosphere was electric. Kofi, ever the gracious competitor, stayed behind, clapping for his friend and celebrating the epic battle they'd just shared. Both men were smiling, drenched in sweat, united in their mutual respect and admiration for one another.

But suddenly, the jubilant energy in the arena shifted. The familiar, menacing chords of Samoa Joe's entrance theme boomed through the speakers. The crowd gasped, their cheers turning into a mix of boos and curious murmurs. Sandro's smile disappeared instantly, replaced by a wary determination. He turned toward the entrance ramp, where the massive figure of Samoa Joe appeared, his silhouette cutting an imposing figure under the arena lights.

Joe held a microphone in one hand, his expression cold and calculating, but it was what he carried in his other hand that made the crowd erupt in a collective gasp of shock and disbelief. Dragged alongside him, clutching at his arm and looking terrified, was Taylor. Taylor, the mentee and close friend of both Sandro and Kofi, was being used as a pawn in Joe's latest scheme.

The commentators were frantic, their voices filled with urgency.

"What in the world is Samoa Joe doing with Taylor?!" one shouted.

"This is despicable, even for Joe!" the other added. "Sandro and Kofi need to tread carefully here!"

Sandro quickly jumped down from the turnbuckle and moved toward Kofi in the center of the ring. The two friends stood side by side, their eyes locked on Joe as he slowly made his way down the ramp, dragging Taylor with him. Taylor struggled slightly, but Joe yanked him forward, tightening his grip.

Joe stopped halfway down the ramp, raising the microphone to his lips. His voice was calm, almost chillingly so, as he spoke.

"Now, now, Sandro, Kofi... I'm not here to ruin your little celebration," Joe said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "I'm here to make a statement. And unfortunately for your friend Taylor here, he's part of it."

The crowd erupted in boos, their anger palpable. In the ring, Sandro's fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. Kofi, usually the more laid-back of the two, looked equally enraged. Sandro took a step forward, but Joe immediately raised his free hand, pointing a finger at him.

"Ah-ah-ah," Joe warned. "You move another inch, and Taylor might not leave this arena the same man he came in as."

Sandro froze, his heart pounding as he exchanged a worried glance with Kofi. The two of them were stuck, helpless to act without putting Taylor in more danger.

Joe continued, his voice dripping with malice.

"You see, Sandro, I could have invoked my rematch clause at any time. But where's the fun in that? No, no... I wanted you to feel safe. I wanted you to think you'd put me behind you. But now, I'm here to remind you—and everyone in this building—that I'm not going anywhere."

The crowd's boos grew louder, but Joe ignored them, turning his gaze directly to Sandro.

"Here's how this is going to go," Joe said. "Next week, you and I are going to have our rematch for the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship. No open challenges, no distractions—just you and me, one-on-one. And if you don't agree…"

Joe yanked Taylor forward, making his point clear without needing to say another word. The camera zoomed in on Taylor's terrified face, his pleading eyes cutting through the tension in the arena.

In the ring, Sandro stepped forward again, raising his hands in a placating gesture. His voice was steady but laced with anger.

"Joe, let Taylor go. You've got your match. I'll face you next week, no questions asked. Just let him go."

Joe chuckled, clearly enjoying the power he held over the situation.

"See? That wasn't so hard, was it? But just so we're clear, Sandro… if you try to back out of this, or if I sense even the slightest bit of hesitation from you, Taylor here is going to pay the price. Do I make myself clear?"

Sandro nodded, his eyes never leaving Joe.

"Crystal," he said, his voice cold.

Satisfied, Joe shoved Taylor forward, releasing him. Taylor stumbled toward the ring, where Kofi quickly jumped out to help him. The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief as Taylor was pulled to safety, but the tension remained thick in the air.

Joe, still standing on the ramp, raised his microphone one last time. "Enjoy the next seven days as champion, Sandro. Because next week, your little fairytale comes to an end."

With that, Joe dropped the microphone and walked backstage, his music playing once again. The crowd's boos followed him all the way out of sight. In the ring, Sandro stood motionless, staring after Joe with a mix of anger and determination. Kofi and Taylor joined him, and Kofi placed a reassuring hand on Sandro's shoulder. "You've got this," Kofi said firmly as the fans could hear the exchange from Sandro's microphone. "Joe's trying to get in your head. Don't let him."

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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