Becoming A Wrestler

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As the women's match reached its climax, the crowd erupted. Davina secured the victory with a surprise roll-up, catching Rebecca off guard. The arena was electric, the fans roaring their approval. April joined Davina in the ring, raising her arm in triumph, while Nicole and Brianna glared at them from the outside, clearly plotting their next move.

With the match concluded, it was time for Sandro and Eric to prepare for their match. They reviewed their cues one last time, ensuring every detail was accounted for. The plan was straightforward but impactful, the match would be a hard-fought battle between two competitors, only for Joe to interfere at a pivotal moment, costing Sandro the win.

The distraction would plant seeds for a future storyline, teasing tension between Sandro and Joe without fully turning them against each other to come into a full blown brawl between the two.

As the next match began to set up, Sandro and Eric moved closer to the curtain, ready to make their entrances. The energy in the Gorilla Position was palpable. Sandro could hear the rumble of the crowd, a sound that never failed to give him chills. This was what he lived for.

Eric was the first to step through the curtain, his entrance music hitting as the crowd greeted him with a mix of cheers and boos. As a veteran of the industry, Eric knew how to work the audience, playing up his heel persona with a cocky swagger. Sandro followed shortly after, his theme music 'Cult Of Personality' signaling his arrival. The fans erupted in cheers, their support for him evident.

As Sandro stepped into the ring, the crowd roared in anticipation. The referee quickly positioned himself between the two wrestlers, scanning each of them to ensure they were ready. Sandro stood tall in one corner, exuding confidence as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.

Across the ring, Eric paced like a predator, a smirk on his face as he sized up his opponent. The tension was palpable, and the fans were on the edge of their seats.

The referee signaled for the bell, and the match was officially underway.

Sandro and Eric circled each other cautiously, their eyes locked in a tense stare. They moved in for a collar-and-elbow tie-up, grappling for dominance. Eric used his experience to gain the upper hand, transitioning into a side headlock. Sandro countered by pushing Eric into the ropes and shoving him off, sending him across the ring.

On the rebound, Eric ducked a clothesline attempt from Sandro, hit the opposite ropes, and came back with a running shoulder tackle. Sandro stumbled but didn't fall, his impressive physique absorbing the impact. Eric smirked and taunted him, slapping his chest mockingly.

Sandro responded with a hard slap across Eric's chest, the sound echoing throughout the arena. The crowd erupted as Sandro followed up with a series of stiff forearm shots, driving Eric into the corner.

With Eric trapped, Sandro delivered a barrage of knife-edged chops that left Eric's chest red and raw. Each chop drew a loud "Wooo!" from the audience. Sandro whipped Eric into the opposite corner with authority, causing him to hit the turnbuckles hard and stumble forward. Sandro charged in, taking Eric down with a big clothesline.

Sandro quickly went for a pin attempt, but Eric kicked out at two, showing resilience early on.

Eric rolled to the outside to regain his composure, but Sandro wasn't about to let him catch a breather. He hit the ropes for momentum and dove through the middle rope, crashing into Eric with a suicide dive. The crowd roared as both men tumbled to the floor.

Sandro was the first to his feet, pumping up the crowd before grabbing Eric and tossing him back into the ring, and entered the ring.

Back in the ring, Sandro attempted a vertical suplex, but Eric blocked it and countered with a knee to the gut. Eric seized the opportunity to hit a snap DDT, spiking Sandro's head into the mat.

Eric immediately targeted Sandro's back, stomping on it repeatedly before applying a single leg Boston Crab. Sandro winced in pain but used his strength to crawl toward the ropes. The crowd rallied behind him, chanting his name as he finally grabbed the bottom rope.

The referee forced Eric to break the hold, but the veteran took advantage of the five-count, wrenching the submission until the last possible moment.

Eric pulled Sandro up and whipped him into the ropes, looking for a powerslam. However, Sandro countered mid-motion, planting Eric with a thunderous side slam. Both men were down, and the referee began the count.

At the count of five, both men staggered to their feet. Sandro struck first with a running forearm, followed by a backbreaker that sent Eric writhing in pain. Sandro climbed to the middle rope and leaped off, connecting with a diving elbow drop to Eric's chest. He hooked the leg, but Eric kicked out at two and a half.

Sandro signaled to the crowd, indicating he was ready to finish the match. He pulled Eric to his feet and set him up for a powerbomb. However, Eric wriggled free and dropped down, delivering a vicious low dropkick to Sandro's knee.

Eric capitalized by hitting a running neckbreaker, leaving Sandro stunned on the mat. He climbed to the top rope, raising his arms to the crowd before leaping off with a flying elbow drop. The impact was brutal, and Eric went for the cover.

One… Two…

Sandro powered out just in time, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Eric, visibly frustrated, pulled Sandro to his feet and hit a series of stiff kicks to the midsection, followed by a snap suplex. He floated over into a cover, but Sandro kicked out at two once again.

Eric attempted to whip Sandro into the corner, but Sandro reversed it and sent Eric crashing into the turnbuckles instead. Sandro charged in, delivering a massive corner splash that left Eric gasping for air.

With Eric dazed, Sandro hoisted him onto his shoulders for a Samoan drop, planting him hard in the center of the ring. He signaled for the end and climbed to the top rope.

The crowd roared in anticipation as Sandro leaped off with a picture perfect moonsault from the top. The impact shook the ring as he perfectly hit Eric, and Sandro hooked Eric's leg for the pin.

One… Two…

Eric somehow kicked out at the last second, leaving Sandro in disbelief.

Sandro, determined to end the match, pulled Eric to his feet and set him up for his finisher, the Dragon's Shot. Just as he kicked Eric on the knee causing him to fall down, Joe's entrance music hit, and the arena erupted in boos.

Joe strolled down the ramp with the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship slung over his shoulder, a smug grin on his face. The distraction was enough for Eric to wriggle free from Sandro's grasp and roll him up in a surprise pin attempt.

One… Two…

Sandro kicked out, but the momentary distraction had shifted the momentum. Joe climbed onto the apron, drawing the referee's attention. As the official argued with Joe, Sandro punched Eric square in the jaw, sending him crashing to the mat.

The crowd roared in approval, sensing that the tides might turn back in Sandro's favor. But Sandro wasn't done. His eyes immediately darted to Joe, who was still on the apron, arguing animatedly with the referee.

Joe, unfazed by Sandro's glare, smirked as if he was in complete control of the situation. Sandro marched toward him, yelling for Joe to get off the apron and leave the ring. The tension in the air was palpable as the fans booed Joe's blatant interference.

Instead of backing down, Joe leaned in closer and suddenly slapped Sandro across the face. The sound echoed throughout the arena, and the crowd gasped in shock before erupting into a cacophony of boos.

Sandro stumbled back slightly, his face a mixture of shock and fury. His hands clenched into fists as he tried to contain his anger. But the slap had ignited something in him, a fire that couldn't be extinguished. Sandro lunged at Joe, aiming to knock him off the apron, but the referee quickly stepped in, putting himself between the two men.

The official shouted at Sandro to focus on the match, while Joe took a leisurely step off the apron, his smug grin never leaving his face. He began to walk backward up the ramp, holding the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship high above his head. His eyes never left Sandro, as if to silently declare his superiority. The fans continued to boo relentlessly, their disdain for Joe fueling the energy in the arena.

Sandro, still seething, pointed at Joe, shouting, "This isn't over!" His focus remained locked on Joe, his fury blinding him to what was happening in the ring. The crowd tried to warn him, their voices rising in alarm, but it was too late.

Behind Sandro, Eric had risen to his feet. He stood silently, his eyes fixed on his opponent, like a predator stalking its prey. Sandro remained unaware, still focused on Joe, who had stopped at the top of the ramp and was now laughing mockingly.

Eric seized the moment. He crept up behind Sandro and spun him around before delivering a swift kick to the gut. Sandro doubled over, and Eric wasted no time. He hooked Sandro's arms and set him up for his devastating finishing maneuver, the Spike Piledriver.

The crowd erupted in a mixture of shock and disbelief as Eric drove Sandro's head into the mat with a sickening thud. Sandro's body crumpled to the canvas, lifeless and still. Eric immediately went for the cover, and the referee, having no choice, dropped to the mat to make the count.

One… Two… Three!

The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. The crowd's boos reached a deafening level as Eric's hand was raised in victory by the referee. He stood tall over Sandro's fallen body, a triumphant smirk on his face. Eric soaked in the hostile reaction, raising his arms as if to taunt the audience.

Meanwhile, Joe, who had been watching the entire sequence from the top of the ramp, grabbed a microphone. The fans jeered loudly, but Joe waited patiently, his smirk never wavering. He raised the mic to his lips, and his voice boomed through the arena.

"You came close, Sandro. Real close," Joe said, his tone dripping with condescension. "But tonight? Tonight was just a taste of what it means to step into my world."

The crowd booed even louder, but Joe continued, undeterred. "You see, Sandro, you can fight, you can claw, and you can even get the fans on your side. But none of that matters when you're dealing with someone like me. I'm not just a champion, I'm the champion. And this—" he raised the FCW Florida Heavyweight Championship high above his head again, "—this is staying right here."

Joe's words were like salt in the wound, a deliberate attempt to humiliate Sandro further. The camera cut to Sandro, who was beginning to stir, his hand clutching the back of his neck as he tried to push himself up. His face was a mix of pain and frustration, the realization of what had just happened sinking in.

Joe took one last look at Sandro before turning and walking backstage, his laughter echoing through the arena. Eric, still in the ring, celebrated his victory one last time before making his exit, leaving Sandro alone in the ring.

The crowd, though disappointed in the outcome, began to rally behind Sandro, chanting his name in unison. Slowly, Sandro pulled himself to his feet, using the ropes for support.

He looked out at the fans, their unwavering support giving him the strength to stand tall despite the loss. The camera lingered on Sandro as he stared up the ramp, his eyes filled with determination. This wasn't the end, it was only the beginning. The seeds of a bitter rivalry between Sandro and Joe had sprinkled with water and slowly bloomed, and the fans knew it was only a matter of time before Sandro would get his chance at redemption.

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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