Becoming A Wrestler

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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.

"This isn't just a statement, it's payback for Sandro!" one commentator shouted. "Joe's about to get what's coming to him for what he has done to Sandro last week!"

Sandro crept up behind Joe, who still hadn't noticed his arrival. The referee was equally distracted, his head swiveling between the stage and Joe. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. With a quick motion, Sandro grabbed Joe's shoulder, spinning him around.

Joe's face flashed with shock, but he had no time to react. Sandro delivered a vicious low blow, his forearm driving directly into Joe's knee, buckling his opponent and sending him crumpling down to the mat. The crowd erupted, the thunderous cheers echoing throughout the arena.

"He got him! Sandro just took Joe to his knees!"

"And look at that smirk! Sandro's not done yet!"

With Joe on his knees, Sandro backed up, his eyes blazing with determination. He pointed to the ropes and charged toward them, rebounding with frightening speed. He launched forward, driving his exposed knee, free of the protection of a kneepad, straight into Joe's face.

The impact was devastating. Joe's head snapped back violently, and he slumped to the mat, completely motionless.

"Oh my God! That's the Dragon's Shot! And with the kneepad off, Joe's out cold!"

"This crowd is unglued! Sandro just sent a message loud and clear to the champion!"

The fans roared as Sandro wasted no time. He grabbed Taylor, who was still dazed and clutching his ribs on the mat, and dragged him over to Joe's prone body. Sandro placed Taylor's arm across Joe's chest and rolled out of the ring just as swiftly as he had entered, disappearing into the crowd again.

The referee, finally turning around after realizing something had changed in the ring, spotted Taylor covering Joe. He dropped to the mat and began the count.

"One!"

The fans counted along, their voices booming.

"Two!"

Joe didn't move, his body was completely lifeless from the brutal Dragon Shot that Sandro gave without his knee pad.

"Three!"

The bell rang, and the crowd exploded in cheers as Taylor's music hit. The announcer's voice boomed over the chaos.

"Here is your winner… Taylor Rotunda!"

Taylor, barely conscious, blinked in confusion as the referee raised his hand in victory. The fans continued to cheer wildly, but it wasn't just for Taylor. They were celebrating the sheer audacity of Sandro's move, the perfect execution of a plan that left the dominant Joe humiliated in the middle of the ring.

Joe began to stir, his hand instinctively going to his face as he realized what had happened. His eyes blazed with fury as he glared at the crowd, searching for Sandro, who was nowhere to be seen.

"This was more than just a loss for Joe," one commentator said. "This was a message from Sandro. He's showing Joe that he's not afraid and that he'll do whatever it takes to take him down this Saturday at the pay per view."

Backstage, Sandro had already returned to the gorilla position, where April and Nicole were waiting with knowing smiles.

"That was a great performance, the crowd went wild for it," April said, crossing her arms.

"Yeah," Nicole added, smirking. "But I think Joe doesn't know about the knee pad off. Did you see the look on Joe's face?"

Sandro grinned, his adrenaline still pumping. "Oh, I saw it. I already told him that there would be a surprise, and Joe said that he would be ready for whatever surprise I have, well it turns out he was still caught off guard, but don't worry he at least expected the surprise."

Meanwhile, back in the ring, Joe was acting as he was very livid, shouting at the referee and shoving Taylor aside as he demanded answers. The crowd's jeers only fueled his rage, but it was clear to everyone watching that tonight, Sandro had won the psychological war.

"This rivalry has reached a boiling point," the commentator said. "If tonight was any indication, we're in for one of the most explosive title matches we've ever seen this Saturday."

Joe's face twisted with pure rage as the referee stood his ground, shaking his head and trying to explain himself. "I didn't see anything! All I saw was Taylor covering you! There was no one else in the ring!" the referee said, his voice quivering under Joe's intense glare.

Joe's breathing was heavy, his fists clenched at his sides as the crowd's boos rained down on him. Taylor, seizing the opportunity to make his exit, slid out of the ring with the subtle agility of a man who knew he'd narrowly escaped an explosion. He walked up the ramp with his arm raised high in mock celebration, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. Taylor acted as he knew the victory was hollow, a gift from his mentor Sandro, but he also knew better than to linger when Joe was in such a volatile state.

"Taylor Rotunda is smart to get out of there!" one of the commentators exclaimed. "He may have a win tonight, but he knows who really lit the fuse that's about to blow in the ring!"

Back in the ring, Joe's anger boiled over. Without warning, he lunged at the referee, delivering a brutal punch to the man's gut. The referee doubled over, clutching his stomach, as the fans erupted in a mixture of shock and disdain.

"Come on, Joe! What are you doing?!" the commentator shouted. "This is uncalled for!"

But Joe wasn't done. The referee, gasping for air, tried to back away, but Joe grabbed him by the shoulders, spinning him around before locking in the Coquina Clutch. The arena descended into chaos as the referee flailed helplessly in Joe's grasp.

"This is disgusting behavior!" the second commentator added. "Joe is completely unhinged!"

The fans' boos reached a deafening level, with some even throwing trash toward the ring. The tension in the arena was palpable as security guards and FCW officials poured out from the backstage area. At the forefront was Dusty, flanked by Steve, led the charge, shouting orders toward Joe as they approached the ring.

"Joe, let him go! Now!" Dusty bellowed, his voice cutting through the noise.

But Joe ignored him, tightening his grip on the referee, whose movements were growing weaker by the second. It wasn't until several security guards and officials swarmed Joe that he finally released the hold, shoving the unconscious referee to the mat. The officials scrambled to check on the downed referee, while Dusty climbed into the ring, getting right in Joe's face.

The fans at ringside, as well as the commentators, caught snatches of their heated exchange.

"You're outta line, Joe!" Dusty growled, his face mere inches from Joe's. "What the hell are you thinkin'? Do you want to hurt someone just because you lost a match? That's not how we do business!"

Joe, his chest heaving, pointed a finger at Dusty. "I want answers! I know it was Sandro! You know it was Sandro! And you're just gonna stand there and let this slide?"

Dusty didn't flinch, his legendary presence commanding the moment. "What the referee saw is final, Joe. You lost, and that's the end of it. Do you want answers? You'll get them this Saturday when you face Sandro in that ring while defending your title! But if you lay another hand on anyone tonight, I swear to God, I'll fine you so hard you'll wish you never stepped foot in this company!"

The crowd erupted in cheers for Dusty's authority, but Joe wasn't backing down. He took a step closer, his towering frame looming over the veteran.

"Fine me? Do it," Joe snarled. "But this isn't over. Sandro thinks he can embarrass me? He's gonna regret it."

The two men stared each other down, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Joe turned and stormed out of the ring after taking his title with him, shoving aside the officials who tried to follow him. The fans jeered as he made his way up the ramp, his anger still evident in every step.

"Joe is a man on a mission," one commentator said. "And I don't think anyone, Dusty included, can stop him from achieving his mission."

Meanwhile, in the ring, Dusty and the officials were helping the referee to his feet. The man was clearly shaken but managed to give a weak nod to indicate he was okay. The crowd applauded as he was helped out of the ring, but their attention soon shifted back to Dusty, who grabbed a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dusty began, his voice firm but resonating with authority. "What you saw tonight was a man who let his anger get the best of him. That's not what we're about here in FCW. We're about respect, passion, and giving you the best damn show every single week."

The crowd cheered, their faith in Dusty's leadership unwavering.

"But let me make one thing clear," Dusty continued, his tone hardening. "This Saturday, at the pay per view, Samoa Joe and Sandro will settle this once and for all. No distractions. No excuses. Just two men stepping into that ring to prove who's the best in FCW!"

The fans erupted in loud cheers, the anticipation for the upcoming match reaching a fever pitch.

"And Joe," Dusty added, looking directly at the camera, "if you pull another stunt like that, I'll make sure you never get another shot at this company's title again if you lose your title to Sandro or I will strip you of that title if you win this Saturday. Mark my words."

 The fans erupted into an uproar as Dusty's stern words echoed throughout the arena. The commentators couldn't contain their excitement either, marveling at Dusty's ability to assert control amidst the chaos.

"What a statement from Dusty Rhodes!" one commentator exclaimed. "He's not just putting his foot down, he's laying the groundwork for an explosive showdown this Saturday!"

"That's right," the other added. "Dusty's making it clear that no one, not even Joe as the FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, is above the rules here in FCW. This is the kind of leadership that reminds us why Dusty is the backbone of this company!"

The crowd's energy buzzed in the air as Dusty left the ring, his firm stance resonating with fans. Meanwhile, backstage in the Gorilla position, Sandro stood with April and Nicole, their eyes glued to the monitor. The moment Dusty finished speaking, their attention shifted to the entrance curtain, waiting for Joe to make his way back.

Sandro leaned back casually, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Let's see if he's still seething or if he's cooled off," he muttered.

The curtain parted, and Joe emerged, his trademark swagger already returning. His furious scowl from moments ago was gone, replaced by a smirk that betrayed his satisfaction with the chaos they'd just created. As soon as he locked eyes with Sandro, the two burst out laughing, their shared understanding of the theatrics they'd just performed evident in their camaraderie.

"You sneaky little devil!" Joe said, shaking his head as he walked up to Sandro. They clasped hands in a firm shake before pulling each other in for a quick shoulder pat. "I told you to surprise me, but a bare knee to the face? Man, that was next level."

Sandro couldn't hold back his laughter. "Hey, you said you were ready for anything, didn't you? I just made sure to test that theory. And judging by your reaction out there, I think we nailed it. The crowd bought every second of it."

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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