Becoming A Wrestler

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Joe laughed heartily, slapping his knee. "Oh, don't worry about me. Whatever you've got planned, I'll roll with it." With the plan locked in, the three men stood, their camaraderie evident as they exchanged nods of understanding. It was moments like this, behind the scenes, in the locker room, that reminded Sandro why he loved the wrestling business.

The energy backstage was electric as the show got underway. Wrestlers, producers, and crew members bustled around, ensuring every segment went off without a hitch. Sandro lingered near the gorilla position, watching the monitors as the matches before Joe and Taylor's unfolded.

April and Nicole joined him, both dressed casually but still managing to exude the kind of charisma that turned heads wherever they went.

"You nervous?" April asked, leaning against the wall beside him.

Sandro shook his head, his gaze fixed on the screen. "Not nervous. Just focused. This isn't just about Joe and Taylor's match, it's also about keeping my rivalry between Joe and me alive, making sure the fans stay hooked for the pay per view."

Nicole nudged him playfully. "You're always thinking about the bigger picture. That's why you're one of the best."

Sandro smiled, appreciating their support. "Thanks. I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly tonight."

The energy in the gorilla position was palpable as Sandro, April, and Nicole watched the show unfold through the monitor. Match after match, promo after promo, the crowd's energy remained electric, a testament to the passion of the FCW fans. This was what Sandro lived for, those moments when the crowd was fully invested, hanging on every move, every word.

As the current match ended, Joe and Taylor joined Sandro in the gorilla position. The air shifted slightly, not with tension, but with anticipation. Their match was up next as the main event of the evening. Taylor, always the upbeat one, adjusted his gear with a grin. Joe, calm and composed, cracked his knuckles, his championship belt slung over his shoulder.

Sandro stood quietly, his hands in his pockets, watching the interaction between the two men. He could sense their focus, their commitment to delivering a stellar performance, and he couldn't help but respect that. Wrestling wasn't just about physical prowess; it was storytelling, a dance of emotion and athleticism that required precision and heart.

Taylor's music hit first, and the crowd erupted into cheers. The upbeat tune matched his charisma perfectly, and he stepped out onto the entrance ramp with a wide grin, soaking in the adoration of the fans. He slapped hands with the audience along the ramp, his energy infectious as he headed toward the ring. The ring announcer's voice boomed through the arena.

"Making his way to the ring, weighing in at 215 pounds… Taylor Rotunda!"

Inside the ring, Taylor climbed the turnbuckle, raising his arms as the fans cheered louder. He played to the crowd, pointing to different sections of the arena, his smile never fading.

Then, the atmosphere changed as Samoa Joe's music hit. The crowd's reaction was immediate, a chorus of boos mixed with chants of "Joe! Joe! Joe!" It was a visceral response, the kind of heat that only a top-tier heel could generate.

Joe emerged from the gorilla position, his championship belt shining under the lights. His expression was stoic, with just the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He thrived on the audience's disdain, letting their boos fuel him as he strode confidently down the ramp to the boos and chants of his name.

"And his opponent," the ring announcer declared, "Weighing in at 282 pounds, he is the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion… Samoa Joe!"

Joe climbed into the ring, casually handing his belt to the referee without taking his eyes off Taylor. Meanwhile, the commentators began recounting the events of last week, where Joe had cost Sandro his match against Eric Young.

The footage played on the screen, showing Joe's interference, his smug slap across Sandro's face, and the distraction that allowed Eric Young to pick up the win.

The animosity between Joe and Sandro was palpable, and tonight's main event was another chapter in their unfolding saga as they discussed whether Sandro would come out, and repay Joe for what he had done last week.

Inside the ring, the referee went over the rules with Joe and Taylor before signaling for the bell. The two competitors circled each other, the crowd buzzing with anticipation.

Sandro watched intently from the monitor backstage, his hands clenched into fists. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement knowing that he was about to play a pivotal role in the match's conclusion.

The bell rang, and the energy in the arena shifted immediately. Samoa Joe and Taylor Rotunda began circling each other in the ring, their movements deliberate and calculated. The crowd was fully invested, some chanting for Taylor while others continued their rhythmic "Joe! Joe! Joe!" chant, though the boos outweighed the support.

The two men are locked up in the center of the ring. Joe, with his significant weight and strength advantage, wasted no time asserting his dominance. He muscled Taylor back toward the ropes, forcing the referee to step in and separate them. Joe smirked, patting Taylor on the chest mockingly before stepping back to the center of the ring.

Taylor wasn't intimidated. He circled again, his eyes locked on Joe, before diving in for another lockup. This time, Joe didn't bother with theatrics. He overpowered Taylor with ease, pushing him into the corner and landing a stiff knee to the midsection. The impact echoed through the arena, and the crowd groaned in sympathy.

"Joe's not wasting any time here," one of the commentators said. "He's sending a message, not just to Taylor, but to Sandro as well. This is the kind of punishment he plans to dish out this Saturday."

Joe transitioned from the knee strike into a series of brutal punches, each one landing squarely on Taylor's ribs and midsection. He grabbed Taylor by the wrist and whipped him across the ring with such force that Taylor rebounded off the ropes at a staggering speed. Joe caught him with a massive powerslam, the ring shaking from the impact.

"Joe just planted Taylor like a tree!" the commentator exclaimed. "If this is what he's doing to Taylor, what chance does Sandro have at the pay-per-view?"

Joe didn't go for the pin. Instead, he picked Taylor up and threw him into the corner again, following up with a thunderous running knee strike that left Taylor gasping for air. Joe backed up a step, giving Taylor just enough space to stumble forward, only for Joe to lift him and drop him with a devastating German suplex. Taylor hit the mat hard, clutching his back as Joe stood over him, his expression cold and unfeeling.

"Look at Joe," the second commentator said. "He's toying with Taylor. He's not just trying to win; he's trying to send a message."

Taylor, to his credit, refused to stay down. He rolled to the ropes and used them to pull himself up, his face etched with pain but also determination. Joe charged at him, but Taylor ducked and countered with a quick dropkick to Joe's knee. The crowd erupted, cheering for Taylor's resilience as Joe staggered.

"Taylor's still in this!" the commentator shouted. "He's showing that he's got fight left in him!"

Taylor capitalized on the moment, delivering a series of forearms to Joe's jaw. He backed Joe into the ropes and attempted to whip him across the ring, but Joe reversed it, sending Taylor into the ropes instead. On the rebound, Taylor surprised Joe with a spinning heel kick that took the big man off his feet for the first time in the match.

The crowd roared as Taylor tried to build momentum. He climbed to the second rope and leaped off, connecting with a flying forearm that knocked Joe back down as he tried to get up. Taylor then ran to the ropes and hit a low dropkick to Joe's head, going for a quick cover.

"One! Two—"

Joe powered out with authority, throwing Taylor halfway across the ring.

"Not even close!" one of the commentators said. "Joe's just too strong."

Joe got to his feet, his face twisted in irritation. He charged at Taylor, who attempted a superkick, but Joe caught his foot and yanked him forward into a brutal uranage slam. The impact was sickening, and Taylor lay sprawled on the mat as Joe stood over him, shaking his head.

"He's making an example of Taylor tonight," the commentator said grimly. "And Sandro's got to be watching this, knowing this could be his fate."

Joe wasn't done. He picked Taylor up and delivered a series of stiff knee strikes to his midsection before transitioning into a snap suplex. He held on, rolling through and lifting Taylor for a second suplex. He repeated the process again, completing a trio of suplexes that left Taylor writhing on the mat.

Instead of going for the pin, Joe locked in a painful armbar, wrenching back on Taylor's arm as the crowd rallied behind the young star. Taylor screamed in pain, clawing at the mat as he tried to reach the ropes.

"Joe's systematically taking Taylor apart," the commentator observed. "This is a masterclass in brutality."

Taylor managed to get to the ropes, forcing the break. But Joe didn't let up. He dragged Taylor back to the center of the ring and hoisted him onto his shoulders, signaling for a Muscle Buster. The crowd erupted, knowing how devastating the move was.

Taylor fought back desperately, landing elbow after elbow to Joe's head until he managed to slip free. He landed on his feet behind Joe and hit a superkick, staggering the champion. Taylor followed up with a rebound from the ropes, hitting Joe with a spinning neckbreaker that brought the crowd to its feet.

"This is Taylor's chance!" the commentator shouted. "He's got to capitalize!"

Taylor climbed to the top rope, the crowd firmly behind him. He leaped off, attempting a diving crossbody, but Joe caught him mid-air and slammed him down with a thunderous spinebuster. The crowd's cheers turned to gasps as Joe stood over Taylor, motioning to the backstage area as if daring Sandro to come out.

But Sandro didn't move. He stayed in the gorilla position, watching intently as Joe picked Taylor up again. This time, Joe locked him in the Coquina Clutch, dragging him to the mat as Taylor struggled to break free.

The referee checked on Taylor, lifting his arm once. It dropped. Twice. It dropped again.

Before the third drop, the arena lights dimmed, and Sandro's music 'The Cult of Personality' hit. The crowd erupted as the spotlight hit the entrance ramp, but Sandro was nowhere to be seen.

The distraction worked, though, as Joe released the hold and stood, glaring at the entrance followed by the referee who also looked toward the entrance as well.

The arena was electric, the fans roaring in anticipation as Sandro's music continued to play, the distraction working perfectly. Joe, his face twisted in irritation, barked at the referee to keep an eye on the entrance ramp. The referee, equally fixated on the supposed arrival of Sandro, failed to notice the real action happening elsewhere.

Sandro had used the chaos to his advantage. While the arena's attention was drawn to the stage, he slipped through the crowd unnoticed, a hood pulled over his head to obscure his identity. The fans close to the barricade spotted him first, erupting into cheers and pointing excitedly as Sandro vaulted over the barrier with feline agility. The commentators caught on immediately, their voices rising in excitement.

"Wait a minute! Sandro's here! He's not coming from the stage, he's right behind Joe!"

"He's sneaking into the ring! Joe has no idea!"

Inside the ring, Joe remained oblivious, his back turned as he continued glaring at the ramp. Sandro moved swiftly, sliding into the ring with precision. The fans' cheers grew louder, a wave of energy pulsing through the arena. Sandro, ever the showman, paused for just a moment to soak it in before pulling off his kneepad and holding it high, signaling his intent to the crowd.

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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