Becoming A Wrestler

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Stu kicked out immediately, furious. Mick stayed on him, though, raining down forearm after forearm onto Stu as the crowd chanted his name. The main event match wasn't going to be pretty. It wasn't about flips or finesse. This was war. A preview of the chaos to come at War Games.

Stu got to his feet and shoved Foley hard, trying to create space. Mick went for a short arm clothesline, but Stu ducked and countered with a spinning back elbow that caught Foley right in the jaw, snapping his head back.

The crowd gasped.

Stu didn't waste time. He drove his boot into Mick's gut, then hoisted him up for a vertical suplex, holding him in the air just long enough to show off before slamming him down hard in the center of the ring. He went for a quick pin.

ONE! TWO!—

Kickout by Foley!

Stu snarled, immediately rolling over to rain fists down on Mick's skull. He hit him with a few stiff European uppercuts before dragging Foley up and throwing him into the corner. There, he laid in several hard knife edge chops, each one echoing through the arena like a gunshot.

"WOOO!"

"WOOO!"

"WOOOOO!"

But Foley, dazed and grinning through the pain, suddenly surged forward and bit Stu's forehead!

The crowd lost it.

Stu yelled in shock, pushing Mick off of him, but the tide was turning again. Mick hit him with a knee to the gut, followed by a double arm DDT, one of his classic setups!

He didn't cover though. He rolled outside.

"What's Mick doing?" the commentary team questioned.

Mick pulled up the ring apron and retrieved his favorite friend, Mr. Socko.

The roof nearly came off the place.

He slid back in, sock in hand, and Stu rose to his feet just in time to eat Socko's Mandible Claw!

The crowd was screaming now.

Stu flailed, trying to break the hold, but Mick had it locked in tight. His eyes bugged. His legs buckled.

But then, BAM! Stu drove a knee right into Mick's gut, doubling him over. With one last gasp, he broke free and hit a running big boot that knocked Mick down hard.

Both men were breathing heavily now. Both are slow to get up. The ref hovered, checking on them. The arena lights pulsed with tension.

Stu got up first and started stomping on Foley's back, trying to wear him down. He dragged him toward the ropes and choked him with his boot, using every millisecond of the ref's five counts before releasing at four.

Boos rained down again. But Stu didn't care.

He signaled to the crowd that it was over, dragging Foley up for his finisher, the big ol Spinebuster. But as he hoisted Mick up into the air—

Foley managed to slip out and landed I'm behind Stu! Roll up!

ONE! TWO! NO!

Stu barely escaped!

Mick pounced, grabbing him for a Cactus Clothesline, launching both of them over the top rope and onto the floor!

CRASH!

They landed in a heap, and the crowd was loving every second of it.

As both men struggled to rise, the camera caught glimpses of movement near the entrance stage. The rest of the Undisputed System, Sandro, Big E, Drew, and Ryback, were watching. Their presence wasn't forgotten.

But they didn't interfere. Not yet.

Back at ringside, Mick slammed Stu's head off the steel steps before rolling him back into the ring. He followed slowly, clearly feeling the pain now in his lower back. The crowd chanted "Let's go Foley!" and he fed off it.

Inside, Stu was groggy, but as Mick went for another double arm DDT, Stu twisted out of it and dropped him with a neckbreaker across the knee.

Both men were down again. Sweat poured. The match was taking its toll.

The ref counted.

One...

Two...

Three...

The fans were on edge.

Four...

Five...

Then Stu began to move. He crawled toward the corner, clutching the ropes to pull himself up.

Mick followed, slower, aching, battered. But he wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

And just as both men stood, they charged at each other once again.

Both men surged toward each other like bulls in a ring, their battered bodies moving on sheer instinct and adrenaline. Stu's face was twisted in pain and rage, his jaw clenched, while Mick Foley's expression was a chaotic blend of determination and defiance.

When they collided, it wasn't with finesse, it was raw violence. Stu threw a wild haymaker, but Foley ducked and came up with a headbutt that staggered Stu backward. The crowd exploded again, riding the wave of every hit, every gasp.

Stu stumbled to the ropes, shaking the cobwebs loose, but Foley didn't give him the chance to breathe. He charged in and tackled Stu to the mat, raining down punches with both hands, the years of pain and suffering behind each fist.

Stu covered up, then slipped a knee up into Foley's ribs, halting his momentum. The two scrambled up to their feet again, and this time Stu connected with a stiff knee to Mick's midsection, folding him over, then whipped him hard into the turnbuckle.

Mick hit with a thud, but when Stu ran in, Foley got a boot up. Stu staggered, and Foley charged out of the corner, clotheslining him down with enough force to shake the ring.

Mick paused, catching his breath. His hair hung in sweaty clumps, his shirt soaked through. Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow where one of Stu's earlier elbows had opened him up. Still, he roared to the crowd, who responded in kind.

"FOLEY! FOLEY! FOLEY!"

"YOU STILL GOT IT! YOU STILL GOT IT! YOU STILL GOT IT!"

Fired up, Foley waited as Stu rose again, wobbling, confused. Mick reached into his waistband and out came the dreaded Mr. Socko. The crowd went nuclear. With theatrical flair and intensity in his eyes, Foley lunged forward and shoved the sock covered hand into Stu's mouth.

THE MANDIBLE CLAW!

Stu flailed instantly, hands clawing at Mick's arm, kicking his legs, trying anything to escape. His knees buckled as the air was sucked out of him. Foley's wild grin returned, soaked in blood, sweat, and madness. This was it. This was Foley's brand of justice. This was the moment—

But then the crowd erupted with a different kind of noise.

Down the ramp, charging like a pack of wolves, came the leader and the rest of the Undisputed System, Sandro, Drew, Big E, and Ryback. They were storming the ring with purpose, yelling and waving their arms. The distraction worked. Foley's grip faltered, his head turning toward the commotion, just for a second.

And that second was all Stu needed.

With a guttural yell, he rammed his shoulder into Foley's gut, loosening the Mandible Claw, and then started swinging wildly. His fists connected, breaking the hold entirely. Foley backed off, clearly dazed, and Stu dropped to a knee, breathing heavily, wiping sweat and spit from his face.

The referee was now shouting at the Undisputed System, trying to keep order. But it was about to get worse.

From the side of the stage, backup arrived.

Kurt Angle. Sting. Kofi Kingston. Taylor Rotunda.

The crowd lost their minds as the cavalry stormed out to even the odds. Kurt made a beeline for Sandro, tackling him mid run. Sting clashed with Drew, throwing furious fists. Kofi flew into Big E, and Taylor went after Ryback. The brawl was chaos, pure, unfiltered mayhem spilling all over the ramp and ringside area.

Chairs flew. Fists cracked jaws. Bodies slammed into barricades.

"IT'S BEDLAM OUT HERE!" one commentator yelled over the carnage. "THE WAR HAS STARTED EARLY!"

The referee was completely distracted, shouting from the ropes at the eight men outside the ring, flailing his arms and trying to restore some sort of order in the chaotic brawl.

And behind his back, something sinister unfolded unbeknownst to him.

The camera caught it perfectly.

The fans saw it immediately.

And the commentary team immediately voiced their horror at the action they saw.

"Wait a minute! WAIT A DAMN MINUTE! What the hell is that in Stu's hand?!"

Stu, down on one knee and breathing heavy, let out a slow, satisfied smirk. He reached into the side of his trunks and pulled out a shiny, cold piece of brass, it was a brass knuckle.

The arena erupted in boos.

"You've got to be kidding me! He's got brass knuckles! This is disgusting! Ref turn around!"

Foley, groggy and trying to recover, stumbled forward, unaware of what was waiting. He turned around—

CRACK!

Stu's right hook landed flush on Foley's face, the brass knuckles connecting with sickening force. Mick's head whipped to the side, his legs instantly giving out beneath him. He dropped to the mat like a sack of bricks, completely unconscious.

"KURT SAW IT! KOFI SAW IT! THEY SAW EVERYTHING!"

Inside the ring, Foley lay motionless, blood starting to get down on the mat beneath his cheek.

Kurt, Sting, Kofi, and Taylor shouted in rage, trying to get to the ring, trying to alert the referee, but Sandro and the rest of the Undisputed System surged back, attacking with renewed fury.

Sandro blasted Kurt with a steel chair. Ryback clotheslined Taylor to the floor. Drew slammed Sting into the ring post. Big E sent Kofi crashing into the timekeeper's area.

The referee remained clueless, still shouting at the outside carnage, his back to the ring.

Inside, Stu casually threw the brass knuckles under the apron, then wiped his hands clean.

He sauntered over to Foley's limp body and hoisted him up with no resistance. This wasn't about beating Mick now. It was about humiliating him. Sending a message.

Stu backed up a step, then stepped forward with a vicious thrust of his elbow, the Bull Hammer, his new finisher, a high impact elbow smash that rocked Foley's skull for a second time.

The sound echoed through the arena like a gunshot.

Foley collapsed.

Stu dropped to the mat and hooked the leg, eyes wide, smile ugly.

The referee finally turned around and went for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The bell rang.

Boos rained down like thunder.

"NO! NO DAMMIT! THIS IS A TRAVESTY!"

"This whole thing was a setup! Sandro and the Undisputed System planned this from the start! That's why they don't come running down until the last moment!"

Stu rose to his feet, hands raised in mock triumph. The ref, unaware of the brass knuckles, lifted his arm in victory. Around him, chaos still reigned. Kurt, Sting, Kofi, and Taylor tried to fight through the swarm, but they were outnumbered, overwhelmed.

Sandro grabbed Kurt and rammed him spine first into the steel steps. Drew flung Taylor against the barricade. Big E crushed Kofi with a running splash against the ring post. Ryback hoisted Sting and dropped him with a spine shattering Military Press Powerslam onto the floor.

The Undisputed System stood tall.

The carnage was complete.

Inside the ring, Stu stood over Foley's prone body, his chest heaving, the same smirk still plastered across his face. Blood stained his fists. Victory stained his soul.

The camera zoomed in on Mick's unconscious face. On Kurt's fury. On Sandro's triumphant sneer.

"This... this is what they wanted," the commentator said, voice low and heavy. "This is the message they're sending heading into War Games. No rules. No honor. Just destruction and mind games."

The Undisputed System regrouped in the center of the ring, raising their fists together as if in triumph. Stu in the middle, flanked by Sandro, Drew, Big E, and Ryback. They looked like conquerors, violent, proud, and merciless.

Around the ring, bodies lay broken. Kurt clutched his ribs. Sting barely moved. Taylor was crawling. Kofi groaned in pain. War Games hadn't started yet, but the war had already begun.

The fans booed mercilessly, a chorus of disgust and anger filling the arena. A few brave voices chanted for Foley, but he wasn't moving. Medical teams began to rush down the ramp, finally pushing past the brawl to check on him. The referees tried to restore some sense of order, but it was too late.

The damage was done. The image that closed the show was seared into everyone's mind. Sandro and the Undisputed System standing tall over the fallen team TNA & FCW, blood on their hands and fire in their eyes. "Next Saturday at War Games," one commentator muttered, "God help us all if Sandro and his goons win."

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Name: Alessandro Zhang

Age: 20 (2010)

Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA

Brand: FCW

Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles

Faction: The Undisputed System

Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion