Becoming A Wrestler

What surprised Sandro was that training Taylor suddenly became a group effort. Nick, Kofi, Drew, Sheamus, and Stu all joined in, eager to help Taylor develop his skills and integrate him into their circle of friends. Taylor's progress was remarkable—he improved by leaps and bounds, quickly absorbing everything they taught him. Sandro watched with pride as Taylor grew more confident with each passing day, knowing that he was well on his way to becoming a force to be reckoned with in the ring.

As the passing week came to an end, Sandro's focus began to shift towards the upcoming FCW televised match. It was the start of the FCW 8-man tag team tournament, and the stakes were high for both him and Kofi.

Sandro and Kofi were set to face Ryback and Byron Saxton in the first round, a matchup that promised to be both physically demanding and strategically challenging. Sandro knew they had to bring their A-game if they wanted to advance in the tournament.

The night of the match arrived, and the atmosphere at the FCW Arena was electric. The fans were buzzing with excitement, eager to see their favorite wrestlers in action. Sandro could feel the energy in the air as he and Kofi made their way backstage to prepare. The arena was packed, and the anticipation was palpable.

"Ready for this?" Kofi asked, flashing Sandro a confident grin as they laced up their boots.

Sandro nodded, his mind focused and clear. "Definitely. Let's give them a match they won't forget."

Kofi chuckled, bumping fists with Sandro. "That's what I like to hear."

As they headed towards the entrance, Sandro felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins. This was what he lived for—the thrill of competition, the roar of the crowd, and the chance to prove himself in the ring.

He glanced over at Kofi, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to explode with energy. They had prepared meticulously for this moment, and now it was time to execute.

Their opponents, Ryback and Byron Saxton were already in the ring, their imposing figures casting a shadow over the canvas. The crowd's cheers intensified as Sandro and Kofi's entrance music hit, and they made their way down the ramp. Sandro could see the determination in Ryback's eyes, the intensity in Byron's stance. This wasn't going to be an easy fight, but that was exactly how Sandro liked it.

The bell rang, and the match was underway. Kofi started things off, his speed and agility on full display as he dodged Ryback's powerful strikes. He bounced off the ropes, delivering a series of energetic and agile moves that had the crowd on their feet.

But Ryback was relentless and was like a brick wall as none I Kofi's strikes managed to bring him down and used his strength to counter Kofi's offense and bring him crashing down to the mat with a devastating standing suplex.

Sandro watched from the corner, his muscles tense as he waited for the right moment to tag in. When Kofi finally broke free from Ryback's grip and reached out, Sandro slapped his hand, entering the ring with a burst of energy.

He charged at Ryback, ducking under a clothesline and delivering a hard kick to the back of his knee, forcing the big man to stagger then he went to the rope and hit Ryback with a bulldog slamming his face hard into the mat.

The match was a back-and-forth battle, both teams exchanging blows and counters with precision. Byron Saxton tagged in, using his technical prowess to try and outmaneuver Sandro.

But Sandro was ready, his instincts honed from years of training. He countered Byron's grapples with a series of swift strikes, eventually catching him with a snap suplex that sent him crashing to the mat.

Kofi cheered him on from the corner, urging Sandro to keep the pressure on. Sandro nodded, pulling Byron to his feet and setting him up for a move they had practiced countless times.

He lifted Byron into the air, holding him in place as Kofi tagged in and climbed to the top rope. With perfect timing, Kofi launched himself off the turnbuckle, delivering a high-flying crossbody that sent both him and Byron crashing to the mat.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Kofi went for the pin, but Ryback wasn't about to let his partner go down that easily. He stormed into the ring, breaking up the pin at the last second. The referee tried to restore order as Sandro charged back in, tackling Ryback with a powerful spear that took both men out of the ring.

On the outside, Sandro and Ryback exchanged heavy blows, each trying to gain the upper hand. Meanwhile, in the ring, Kofi and Byron were both struggling to their feet, exhausted but determined. Byron tried to catch Kofi with a surprise roll-up, but Kofi kicked out just in time, countering with a Trouble in Paradise that connected perfectly.

Sandro, seeing his partner's move from the corner of his eye, knew this was their chance. He delivered a final, devastating clothesline to Ryback, sending him crashing into the steel steps before sliding back into the ring. Kofi went for the pin again, and this time, the referee's hand hit the mat three times.

The bell rang, signaling their victory. The crowd erupted in cheers as Sandro and Kofi stood victorious in the ring, their arms raised in triumph. They had done it—they had advanced to the next round of the tournament.

As the crowd continued to cheer, Sandro stood in the middle of the ring, feeling the energy of the fans pulsing through him. Kofi was by his side, both of them soaking in the moment of their hard-fought victory.

The FCW Arena was alive with excitement, the atmosphere electric as the fans chanted their names. But Sandro knew that this moment was about more than just a win—it was about establishing themselves as a team, a force to be reckoned with in the FCW tag team division.

Sandro raised the microphone he had taken from the referee to his lips, and the crowd immediately began to quiet down, eager to hear what he had to say. The intensity of the match still hung in the air, and the anticipation for what was to come next was palpable.

"Tonight," Sandro began, his voice steady and confident, "Kofi and I proved that we're one of the best tag teams in FCW. We came into this tournament with one goal in mind—to dominate—and that's exactly what we did. We qualified, and now we've advanced to the next round."

The crowd erupted in cheers once more, their approval and agreement resonating throughout the arena. Sandro paused, allowing the noise to wash over him before continuing.

"But," Sandro said, a hint of curiosity in his tone, "it feels like something's missing."

The crowd's cheers died down slightly, replaced by a murmur of curiosity as they pondered what Sandro could be referring to. Sandro turned to Kofi, who was now holding his own microphone, ready to engage with the crowd.

"You feel it too, right, Kofi?" Sandro asked, his voice carrying a sense of genuine inquiry.

Kofi nodded thoughtfully, his expression mirroring Sandro's. "Yeah, man, I do feel it. There's something missing, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

The crowd was hooked, their collective attention focused intently on the ring. They were just as curious as Sandro and Kofi, trying to figure out what could be missing from their equation. Sandro could sense that the crowd was in the palm of his hand, and a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Isn't it true," Sandro began, his voice taking on a playful yet calculated tone, "that the best tag teams in wrestling usually have a team name?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kofi's eyes widened in mock realization. He turned to Sandro with an exaggerated expression of excitement. "That's it! That's what we've been missing!" Kofi exclaimed, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "We don't have a team name yet!"

The crowd erupted into loud murmurs of agreement, the realization hitting them just as it had hit Kofi. Sandro could feel the energy in the arena shifting, the fans becoming even more invested in their journey.

"So," Sandro continued, capitalizing on the momentum, "we thought we'd ask all of you—the FCW Universe—to help us out. We want you to decide what our team name should be!"

The crowd's response was immediate and overwhelmingly positive. They cheered loudly, excited by the opportunity to be part of the decision-making process. The idea that they could have a hand in shaping the identity of Sandro and Kofi's team was thrilling, and the fans were eager to participate.

"You heard that right," Kofi chimed in, his voice brimming with excitement. "You guys get to pick our team name! We'll be checking out the FCW forum website, and the name with the most votes—the one that gets all the love—that's the name we'll go with!"

The crowd's cheers grew even louder, a chant of "Thank you, Sandro! Thank you, Kofi!" echoing through the arena. It was clear that the fans appreciated the gesture, feeling more connected to Sandro and Kofi than ever before.

Sandro and Kofi exchanged a knowing glance, both of them satisfied with how the promo had played out. They had not only secured their place in the tournament but had also successfully engaged the audience, making them feel like they were an integral part of the team's journey.

With the crowd still chanting, Sandro raised his microphone one last time. "We can't wait to see what you guys come up with," he said, his voice filled with genuine anticipation. "Let's make this something special."

Kofi nodded in agreement, adding, "And remember, no matter what name you choose, we're going to keep bringing it in this tournament. We're going all the way, baby!"

The crowd roared in approval, the energy in the arena reaching a fever pitch. Sandro and Kofi soaked it all in for a moment longer before lowering their microphones and heading backstage, high-fiving and acknowledging fans as they made their way up the ramp.

As soon as they stepped through the curtain, they were met with applause from Dusty and Steve, both of whom were beaming with pride. Dusty, always the mentor, gave Sandro a pat on the back, his approval clear in his eyes.

"That was a smart move out there," Dusty said, his voice filled with admiration. "You got the crowd involved, made them feel like they're part of the show. That's how you build a connection with the fans."

Steve nodded in agreement, adding, "And it doesn't hurt that you guys put on one hell of a match. You've got everyone talking, and that's exactly what we want."

Sandro and Kofi exchanged a glance, both of them feeling a sense of accomplishment. It wasn't just about winning matches—it was about building something lasting, something that would resonate with the fans long after the tournament was over.

As they stood there, basking in the afterglow of their victory and the success of their promo, the next match on the card was announced. It was time for the second round of the FCW Divas Championship tournament, with Nicole Bella facing off against Alicia Fox.

Sandro and Kofi, still riding the high of their win, decided to stick around and watch the match from backstage. They knew how much was riding on the tournament, not just for the women involved but for the entire FCW women's division. Sandro, in particular, felt a strong sense of responsibility, knowing that he had played a part in making the championship a reality.

The match between Nicole and Alicia was intense, both women giving it their all in the ring. Nicole, with her athleticism and strength, pushed Alicia to her limits. The crowd was fully invested, their cheers and gasps punctuating every high spot and near fall.

After a grueling ten minutes, Nicole managed to secure the win with a well-executed Bella Buster after countering Alicia's finisher Watch Yo Face, pinning Alicia for the three-count.

The crowd erupted in applause, recognizing the effort and skill that both women had displayed. Nicole stood victorious, her eyes shining with pride as she advanced to the next round.

Backstage, Sandro couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. The women's division was stepping up, proving that they were every bit as deserving of the spotlight as the men. And with each match, the momentum for the FCW Divas Championship continued to build.

Next up was the match between Maryse and Natalya, a clash of contrasting styles that promised to be just as exciting. Natalya, known for her technical prowess and submission skills, was a force to be reckoned with. Maryse, on the other hand, brought a blend of agility and cunning to the ring, making her a formidable opponent.

The match started with Natalya taking control, using her superior grappling ability to ground Maryse. The crowd watched in awe as Natalya transitioned seamlessly from one hold to another, each move designed to wear down her opponent.

But Maryse wasn't about to go down without a fight. She used her speed and agility to escape Natalya's clutches, delivering a series of strikes and high-flying moves that shifted the momentum in her favor. The match became a back-and-forth battle, each woman trying to gain the upper hand.

As the match neared the ten-minute mark, Natalya managed to lock Maryse in the Sharpshooter, her signature submission hold. The crowd erupted, knowing that this could be the end for Maryse. But to everyone's surprise, Maryse fought valiantly, refusing to tap out. She clawed her way to the ropes, forcing a break.

The resilience Maryse showed only fired up the crowd more, who were now on the edge of their seats, unsure of who would come out on top. Both women were exhausted, but their determination to advance in the tournament kept them going.

In the end, it was Natalya's technical skill that prevailed. After countering Maryse's finished French Kiss, Natalya locked in the Sharpshooter once more, this time in the center of the ring. With nowhere to go, Maryse had no choice but to tap out, giving Natalya the victory.

The crowd erupted in applause, recognizing the effort and skill of both competitors. Natalya stood tall in the ring, her eyes focused on the prize that was now within reach—the FCW Divas Championship.

As the night continued, Sandro and Kofi found themselves the center of attention. Wrestlers and staff alike congratulated them on their win and the clever promo that had followed. Later that night, as Sandro sat in the locker room, reflecting on the evening's events, Kofi joined him, a grin still plastered on his face. "Man, what a night," Kofi said, sitting down beside Sandro.

_______________________

Name: Alessandro Zhang

Age: 18 (2008)

Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA

Brand: FCW

Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style

Faction: None

Championship History: 0