Monday Night Raw - March 3, 2003, Nassau Coliseum
The Nassau Coliseum was buzzing with energy as The Rock, in his Hollywood heel persona, stood on the entrance stage, microphone in hand. The crowd's reaction was mixed, with a significant portion booing him while others chanted his name. But it was the unexpected chant of "Ibra! Ibra! Ibra!" that began to echo through the arena, catching The Rock's attention.
The Rock, ever the showman, raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, listening to the chants. With a smug grin, he brought the microphone to his lips, ready to address the crowd. "Let The Rock get this straight… You people are chanting for Zlatan… Ibrahimawhatever?"
The crowd booed as The Rock deliberately mispronounced Zlatan's name, his disdain for the WWE Champion clear. "Is that who you're chanting for? The so-called 'Lion of Rosengård'? The Rock has heard all about his little remarks on SmackDown—calling The Rock a 'cowardly bull, ass-kissing, slower than a buck.' But let The Rock tell you this—if Zlatan ever steps into The Rock's spotlight, The Rock will make sure that the 'Lion' ends up in the toilet like the rest of the jabronis!"
The Rock's jab drew a chorus of boos from the crowd, but he continued, undeterred. Spotting a sign in the audience that read, "Rock: Toilet King," The Rock smirked. "Oh, and speaking of the toilet, The Rock sees your little sign there… 'Toilet King'? Really? You think The Rock—THE most electrifying man in sports entertainment—would waste his time with some jabroni like Zlatan, or even worse, with some idiot in the crowd holding that sign?"
As the crowd continued to boo, the camera cut to Stone Cold Steve Austin, who was standing in the ring, arms crossed, listening to The Rock's tirade with a bemused expression. Austin, ever the master of mind games, raised his microphone, ready to add his two cents.
"Well, well, well," Austin drawled, a smirk on his face. "It seems to me, Rock, that you're a little jealous. Jealous that ol' Zlatan is taking over your spotlight. I mean, look at you, standing up there, all Hollywood and shiny, but the crowd… they're chanting for Zlatan."
The Rock, clearly taken aback, scowled at Austin's words. "Jealous? The Rock jealous of Zlatan? Let The Rock make something perfectly clear—The Rock has done it all in this business. The Rock is the People's Champion, the most electrifying man in all of entertainment! But there's one thing The Rock hasn't done…"
The Rock's expression turned serious, his voice lowering as he addressed Austin directly. "And that's whoop that bald candy ass of yours at WrestleMania."
The crowd erupted in a mixture of cheers and boos, the tension between The Rock and Austin palpable. Austin, unperturbed, scratched his chin thoughtfully, playing up the moment. "Third time's the charm, huh, Rock? You think you've got what it takes this time?"
Austin took a step forward, his tone shifting to a more serious one. "But let me remind you of something, Rock. It only took Zlatan one try to beat Stone Cold Steve Austin at King of the Ring last year. something that you have struggled In our Two Wrestlemania matches. I whipped your ass not once but Twice!"
The crowd, sensing the tension, began to chant, "Rocky Sucks! Rocky Sucks!" The chants grew louder, and The Rock's face darkened with anger.
Jerry "The King" Lawler, ever the staunch supporter of The Rock, protested from the commentary desk. "He does not suck! Do these people have any respect for the Great One, JR?!"
But Jim Ross, always the voice of reason, pointed out, "King, the fans have a legitimate reason for their hostile reception because the Rock hasn't given them any respect at all since his return to the WWE."
The Rock, now visibly seething, clenched his fists, but he maintained his composure, if only barely. "You think you're clever, Austin? You think bringing up Zlatan's name is gonna rattle The Rock? The Rock isn't rattled by anyone, especially not some European soccer player who thinks he's a wrestler!"
Austin, sensing the tension, grinned. "You might want to reconsider that, Rock. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Zlatan's living rent-free in that big Hollywood head of yours."
The crowd roared in approval as The Rock glared at Austin, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and determination. The challenge had been laid down, and both men knew that WrestleMania was going to be a battleground where only one could emerge victorious.
As The Rock stood on the entrance stage, the chants of "Rocky Sucks!" and "Ibra! Ibra!" echoed through the Nassau Coliseum. The tension between The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin was palpable, and the added element of Zlatan Ibrahimović's rising star only fueled the fire.
Jim Ross, summing up the moment, said, "Folks, we're witnessing something special here. The Rock and Stone Cold, two of the biggest names in WWE history, on a collision course for WrestleMania. But there's no denying that Zlatan Ibrahimović has thrown a wrench into The Rock's plans, and it's clear that The Rock doesn't like it one bit."
King, ever loyal to The Rock, muttered, "Zlatan better watch his back, JR. The Rock isn't someone you want to mess with, especially when he's this fired up."
The stage was set for WrestleMania, with the rivalry between The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin reaching new heights. But the specter of Zlatan Ibrahimović loomed large, his presence felt even in his absence, as the WWE Universe eagerly anticipated the battles to come.
XXXX
March 6, 2003 - SmackDown Live from Bridgeport, Connecticut
The energy inside the arena was electric as the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović, stood in the center of the ring, the WWE Championship draped over his shoulder. The crowd in Bridgeport was buzzing with anticipation, eager to hear what the outspoken champion had to say. The camera panned over to the commentary desk, where Michael Cole and Tazz sat, ready to call the action.
Michael Cole, in his usual enthusiastic tone, introduced the segment. "Ladies and gentlemen, SmackDown is coming to you live from Bridgeport, Connecticut, and right now, we've got the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović, in the ring!"
Tazz, equally excited, added, "That's right, Cole. The Lion of Rosengård is here, and you know he's got plenty to say, especially with WrestleMania just around the corner!"
Zlatan, with his usual swagger, raised the microphone to his lips, a confident smirk playing on his face. He was dressed in a sharp, custom suit—black with gold accents—his athletic background apparent in the way he carried himself. The crowd quieted down, eager to hear what their champion had to say.
"Bridgeport!" Zlatan began, his voice booming through the arena. "The Lion of Rosengård is here, and he's got something to say about WrestleMania!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, and Zlatan soaked it in for a moment before continuing, his tone taking on a more serious edge. "You see, in just a few short weeks, Zlatan Ibrahimović will step into the ring at Safeco Field, in front of 50,000-plus screaming fans, to defend this WWE Championship against Brock Lesnar. Now, Brock and I… we've got a bit of history. Both of us made our debuts last year in Montreal, right after WrestleMania. And just like me, Brock has had a quick ascension to the top."
The crowd listened intently as Zlatan acknowledged his rival's accomplishments. "King of the Ring, WWE Champion, and now, after winning the Royal Rumble, he's got a first-class ticket to face Zlatan Ibrahimović at WrestleMania."
Zlatan's expression turned to one of pride as he began to list his own accolades. "But let's not forget what Zlatan Ibrahimović has accomplished in his rookie year. I've beaten some of the best this business has to offer. Former WWE Tag Team Champion, Intercontinental Champion, and now, the WWE Champion."
The crowd cheered as Zlatan paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "At WrestleMania, Brock and I will find out who is the real king of the jungle. But if Brock expects Zlatan Ibrahimović to just lay down and hand this title over, he's got another thing coming. Zlatan Ibrahimović is going to roar the loudest in front of 50,000-plus fans and show the world that he is no fluke!"
The crowd began to chant, "Ibra! Ibra! Ibra!" on cue, their support for the champion evident. Zlatan grinned, soaking in the chants before addressing another matter.
"Now," Zlatan continued, his tone shifting to one of playful sarcasm, "let's talk about what The Rock had to say about Zlatan Ibrahimović this past Monday on Raw."
The crowd booed at the mention of The Rock, his recent heel turn not forgotten. Zlatan's grin widened as he playfully corrected The Rock's mispronunciation. "First off, Rock… it's Zlatan Ibrahimović. Get it right. And second… about that jab you took at Zlatan? Something about a 'cowardly bull, ass-kissing, slower than a buck'? Yeah, Zlatan heard that."
The crowd chuckled as Zlatan continued, his tone light but with a sharp edge. "But you know, Rock, Zlatan couldn't help but notice something… that receding hairline of yours. It looks like The Great One is going bald! But hey, that's okay. There have been plenty of bald people who've been successful. Like Stone Cold Steve Austin, Hulk Hogan, King Kong Bundy… and of course, the Olympic Bald Eagle himself, Kurt Angle."
The crowd erupted in laughter, appreciating Zlatan's playful jabs at The Rock. Michael Cole, from ringside, couldn't help but comment, "Zlatan's not holding back tonight, Tazz! He's taking shots at The Rock's expense!"
Tazz, laughing along, added, "He's got a point, Cole! That hairline's seen better days!"
Zlatan, enjoying the crowd's reaction, continued, "And Rock, let me tell you something—I don't have a problem going one-on-one with the 'Fake One.' Whether it's after WrestleMania, or next year's WrestleMania, Zlatan Ibrahimović will take you on a ride through Know Your Role Boulevard, past Jabroni Drive, and into my old neighborhood, Rosengård. And then… then I'm gonna grab a stick, turn it sideways, and stick it up your balding candy ass!"
The crowd exploded in cheers, fully behind Zlatan's fiery declaration. Zlatan paused, letting the noise of the crowd wash over him before continuing.
"Let's be real, Rock," Zlatan said, his tone turning more serious. "You're a bit jealous of Zlatan Ibrahimović. Why? Because Zlatan is quite talented. He's good-looking…" The crowd erupted in catcalls and whistles, particularly from the female fans in the audience. "…and he's got a full head of hair."
Zlatan grinned as the crowd's reaction grew louder. "But more than that, Rock, Zlatan has done more in one year than you ever could. It took you a few years, but Zlatan? He's born and bred for success from the start. And at WrestleMania, Zlatan is going to show why he's the best damn WWE Champion there ever was."
The crowd roared their approval, the energy in the arena reaching a fever pitch as Zlatan prepared to close his promo.
"The Lion will roar, and when the dust settles and the smoke clears, Brock Lesnar, The Rock, and everyone else will hear one name echoing through that stadium… Zlatan Ibrahimović!"
The crowd erupted into chants of "Ibra! Ibra! Ibra!" as Zlatan stood tall in the ring, the WWE Championship shining brightly on his shoulder.
Michael Cole, summing up the moment, said, "Zlatan Ibrahimović is ready for WrestleMania, Tazz! The Lion of Rosengård is fired up and ready to defend his title against Brock Lesnar. But he's also sent a clear message to The Rock—Zlatan isn't backing down from anyone!"
Tazz, equally hyped, added, "This guy is on top of the world, Cole! He's confident, he's charismatic, and he's the WWE Champion for a reason. WrestleMania is going to be one for the ages!"
XXXX
The camera cut to a backstage scene where Paul Heyman, the ever-calculating manager of Team Angle, paced nervously in a corridor. Tonight, he was set to face his former client, Brock Lesnar, in a steel cage match—a situation that had Heyman visibly sweating. His mind raced as he replayed the events that led him here. Lesnar's victory in last week's handicap match had earned him the right to choose anyone from Team Angle to face in the ring, and to Heyman's horror, Lesnar had picked him.
Heyman knew exactly why Lesnar had chosen him. The betrayal at Survivor Series, where Heyman had cost Lesnar the WWE Championship, was still fresh in everyone's minds. Now, the time for payback had come, and Heyman was desperate to find a way out.
Earlier in the evening, Heyman had made his way to SmackDown General Manager Stephanie McMahon's office, hoping to persuade her to cancel the match. But despite his best efforts, his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Stephanie had shown no sympathy, leaving Heyman with no choice but to face the beast he had once controlled.
Now, as the show progressed, Heyman found himself alone, his nerves fraying as he contemplated the impending doom that awaited him. As he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to think of any last-minute plan to escape his fate, a shadow fell over him. Heyman looked up to see Zlatan Ibrahimović standing before him, the WWE Championship gleaming on his shoulder.
Zlatan observed Heyman with a mix of amusement and pity, the corners of his mouth curving into a slight smirk. He shook his head, making a soft tsk sound before speaking in Swedish. "Som man bäddar får man ligga," he said, his tone almost playful.
Heyman, not understanding Swedish, but clearly sensing the meaning behind Zlatan's words, tried to muster some of his trademark bravado. "Listen, Zlatan," Heyman began, his voice trembling slightly as he attempted to regain his composure. "You might find this all very amusing, but let me remind you, I'm Paul Heyman. I've managed champions, built careers, and I've always had a plan. Brock… Brock won't lay a hand on me, not after everything I've done for him. I'm the reason he even got to the top!"
Zlatan raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by Heyman's attempt to regain control of the situation. He leaned in slightly, his expression one of mock concern. "Oh, is that so? Well, Paul, I guess tonight you'll find out if your plan is as good as you think it is."
Heyman swallowed hard, his bravado faltering as he saw the amusement in Zlatan's eyes. The WWE Champion's confidence was unnerving, and Heyman knew that if Zlatan was here to taunt him, things were truly dire.
Zlatan, still smirking, patted Heyman on the shoulder, the gesture more condescending than comforting. "Good luck out there, Paul," Zlatan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're going to need it."
With that, Zlatan walked away, leaving Heyman standing alone, the weight of his impending match pressing down on him even harder. Heyman watched Zlatan go, the reality of his situation sinking in. The words "you reap what you sow" echoed in his mind, a chilling reminder that tonight, all of his past actions were about to catch up with him.
As the camera panned back to Heyman, his face was a mask of dread. The bravado was gone, replaced by the stark fear of what was to come. The steel cage match with Brock Lesnar loomed large, and Heyman knew that there was no escaping the reckoning that awaited him.
XXXX
After the commercial break, The latest episode of Smackdown continued as the camera cut back to the ring spotting the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović standing confidently in his ring gear, ready for action. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, knowing that this was a non-title match, but any match featuring Zlatan so close to WrestleMania was bound to be a spectacle. Across the ring stood Bill DeMott, a seasoned veteran and a powerhouse in his own right, clearly relishing the opportunity to face the WWE Champion.
Michael Cole, calling the action from ringside, set the scene for the viewers. "We're back on SmackDown from Bridgeport, where Zlatan Ibrahimović is set to face Bill DeMott in a non-title match just three weeks away from WrestleMania, where Zlatan will defend his WWE Championship against Brock Lesnar."
Tazz chimed in, his tone energetic. "That's right, Cole. But tonight, it's a big opportunity for a guy like Bill DeMott. If he can get a win over the WWE Champion, that's a huge statement. And you know DeMott isn't going to back down from a fight."
The bell rang, and the match was underway. Zlatan and DeMott circled each other in the center of the ring, the tension between them palpable. The crowd cheered, eager to see how this clash would unfold. As they moved in closer, both men began to exchange words, their faces inches apart.
DeMott, known for his no-nonsense style, sneered at Zlatan, "You think you're hot stuff, huh? Champ or not, I'm gonna teach you a lesson tonight."
Zlatan, never one to back down, smirked confidently. "You can try, Bill. But you're looking at the Lion of Rosengård. I'm not just the champion—I'm the best in this business."
DeMott, unfazed, chuckled and fired back, "We'll see about that, pretty boy."
The trash talk escalated as the two continued to circle each other, their words only fueling the anticipation of the crowd.
Michael Cole commented, "There's a lot of trash talk going on in that ring right now, Tazz. Both these men are trying to get inside each other's heads."
Tazz added, "It's all part of the game, Cole. Zlatan's got a lot to prove with WrestleMania just around the corner, but Bill DeMott is a tough customer. This isn't going to be a walk in the park for the champ."
Finally, Zlatan and DeMott locked up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, each man jockeying for position. The crowd roared as the two powerhouses struggled for control, their muscles straining as they pushed against each other.
Zlatan, using his agility and speed, managed to slip behind DeMott and apply a waist lock. DeMott, however, quickly countered, breaking free and whipping Zlatan into the ropes. Zlatan rebounded off the ropes, ducking under a clothesline attempt from DeMott, and then catching DeMott with a swift kick to the midsection.
Michael Cole called the action, "Zlatan with a quick counter! And now he's got DeMott reeling!"
Tazz added, "That's the thing about Zlatan—he's got that athletic background, and he knows how to use it to his advantage!"
DeMott, momentarily stunned, shook off the kick and charged at Zlatan with a powerful shoulder block, knocking the champion down to the mat. The crowd gasped as DeMott stood over Zlatan, taunting him with a grin.
Michael Cole continued, "Bill DeMott showing he's not afraid to bring the fight to the WWE Champion!"
Zlatan quickly got back to his feet, his expression one of determination. The match was just beginning, and both men were ready to prove a point. The crowd could sense that this battle was far from over, and with WrestleMania just three weeks away, every move mattered. The champion was in for a fight, and the road to the grandest stage of them all was only getting tougher.
The crowd was on its feet as the tension between Zlatan Ibrahimović and Bill DeMott continued to build in the ring. DeMott, having knocked the WWE Champion down moments earlier, stood tall, taunting Zlatan with a grin of confidence. But Zlatan, ever the competitor, wasn't about to let DeMott have the upper hand for long.
As DeMott took a step forward, Zlatan retaliated with a lightning-quick jab to DeMott's face. The blow landed clean, and DeMott stumbled back, his expression shifting from surprise to a scowl. The grin on Zlatan's face only widened, his eyes gleaming with the confidence of a man who knew he was in control.
Michael Cole, calling the action from ringside, excitedly shouted, "Zlatan with a quick jab! DeMott didn't see that one coming!"
Tazz added, "That's the Lion of Rosengård for you, Cole! You can't underestimate Zlatan's striking ability—he knows how to land those shots when they count!"
DeMott, clearly irritated by the surprise blow, snarled at Zlatan. "Big mistake, punk!" he barked, his frustration evident.
But in his anger, DeMott made a crucial mistake—he charged at Zlatan, looking to overpower the champion with brute force. Zlatan, always quick on his feet, sidestepped the charge, allowing DeMott to miss completely. With DeMott off-balance, Zlatan pounced, unleashing a flurry of rights and lefts that hammered DeMott back into the corner.
The crowd roared in approval as Zlatan laid into DeMott with rapid-fire punches, each shot landing with precision. DeMott, now trapped against the turnbuckle, had nowhere to go.
Michael Cole called the action, "Zlatan is unloading on DeMott! He's got him in the corner, and he's not letting up!"
Tazz, nodding in agreement, added, "Zlatan's showing why he's the WWE Champion, Cole! He's got that killer instinct—you don't charge a lion and expect to walk away unscathed!"
Zlatan, feeling the momentum shift in his favor, rounded off the assault with a massive uppercut that snapped DeMott's head back. The crowd erupted in cheers as DeMott slumped against the turnbuckle, clearly dazed by the impact.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "A huge uppercut by Zlatan! DeMott is rocked!"
Tazz added, "The Lion is roaring tonight, Cole! DeMott's in a world of trouble!"
Zlatan took a step back, giving the crowd a moment to cheer, before setting his sights back on DeMott, who was still reeling in the corner. The WWE Champion was in control, and he wasn't about to let up. With WrestleMania just weeks away, Zlatan knew every match was a chance to prove why he was the best in the business, and tonight, he was ready to make another statement.
As Zlatan Ibrahimović continued to press his advantage in the corner, the crowd was fully behind the WWE Champion, their cheers filling the arena. Zlatan delivered a series of quick strikes, each blow connecting with DeMott, who was still dazed from the uppercut. The Lion of Rosengård was in full control, and he had no intention of letting up.
Michael Cole, calling the action from ringside, reminded the viewers of the night's main event. "And don't forget, folks, later on tonight, Brock Lesnar will step inside a steel cage with Paul Heyman! That's a confrontation that's been a long time coming. Heyman's got nowhere to run this time!"
Tazz chuckled, clearly enjoying the thought. "Yeah, Cole, I never thought I'd see the day Paul Heyman gets what's coming to him. Being locked inside a cage with an animal like Brock Lesnar? That's karma right there, my friend!"
Back in the ring, Zlatan maintained his focus on DeMott, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him hard into the opposite corner. DeMott hit the turnbuckles with a loud thud, the impact echoing through the arena. Sensing an opportunity to put DeMott away, Zlatan charged forward, looking to deliver a high-impact move.
But DeMott, relying on his instincts, managed to get a boot up, connecting with Zlatan's face. The crowd gasped as the unexpected counter caught Zlatan off guard, causing him to stumble back, momentarily disoriented.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "DeMott with a boot to the face! Zlatan's in trouble here!"
Tazz added, "Bill DeMott showing he's still got some fight in him, Cole. You can't count this guy out just yet!"
Seizing the moment, DeMott looked to capitalize on his counter, charging out of the corner with a powerful clothesline attempt. But Zlatan, ever quick on his feet, ducked under the clothesline and responded with a perfectly timed spin kick that caught DeMott square in the jaw. The impact sent DeMott crashing to the mat, and the crowd erupted with cheers.
Michael Cole shouted, "What a spin kick by Zlatan! He caught DeMott right on the button!"
Tazz, impressed by Zlatan's agility, added, "That's why he's the WWE Champion, Cole! He can turn things around in an instant!"
Wasting no time, Zlatan quickly dropped down and hooked DeMott's leg, going for the cover. The referee slid into position and began the count.
"One… Two…"
But DeMott, showing his resilience, managed to get his shoulder up just before the count of three. The crowd let out a collective gasp, recognizing DeMott's determination to stay in the fight.
Michael Cole called the near fall, "DeMott kicks out at two! He's not done yet!"
Tazz chimed in, "Give DeMott credit, Cole. He's hanging in there with the WWE Champion, but Zlatan's got to keep up the pressure if he wants to put him away!"
Zlatan, not frustrated but focused, got back to his feet, his expression serious. He knew he had to keep the momentum on his side, especially with WrestleMania looming just three weeks away. The Lion of Rosengård was ready to show why he was the champion, and Bill DeMott was standing between him and another statement victory.
With DeMott still on the mat, Zlatan Ibrahimović maintained his composure, knowing that he needed to keep the pressure on his opponent. He reached down, dragging DeMott back to his feet, and quickly locked in a front facelock. The crowd watched in anticipation as Zlatan hoisted DeMott up with a display of strength, holding him vertically for a moment before bringing him crashing down to the mat with a textbook suplex.
Michael Cole, from ringside, called the move with enthusiasm. "Zlatan with a beautiful vertical suplex! The champion is in full control here!"
Tazz, nodding in agreement, added, "Yeah, Cole, but notice how calm Zlatan is. He's not rushing. He's methodical, and he's picking DeMott apart piece by piece."
Zlatan wasted no time, rolling over and quickly hooking DeMott's leg for another pin attempt. The referee slid into position and started the count.
"One… Two…"
But once again, DeMott showed his resilience, kicking out just before the three-count. The crowd reacted with a mix of cheers and gasps, surprised at DeMott's determination to stay in the match.
Michael Cole remarked, "DeMott kicks out again at two! You've got to hand it to him; he's showing a lot of heart tonight!"
Tazz replied, "No doubt, Cole. DeMott's tough, but Zlatan's staying focused. He knows what's at stake, especially with WrestleMania right around the corner."
Remaining calm and composed, Zlatan dragged DeMott back to his feet once more, guiding him into the corner. With a quick step back, Zlatan delivered a stinging knife-edge chop across DeMott's chest. The crowd responded with a collective "Woo!" in homage to the legendary Ric Flair. Zlatan, his confidence growing, followed up with another chop, lighting up DeMott's chest again, the sound echoing throughout the arena.
Michael Cole, sensing the significance of the moment, posed a question to the viewers. "You have to ask the question, what's the mindset of the Lion of Rosengård as he prepares to defend the WWE Championship against Brock Lesnar at WrestleMania in just three weeks?"
Tazz considered the question carefully before responding. "Cole, Zlatan's mindset is all about preparation. He knows Brock Lesnar is a beast, a powerhouse who's coming for his title. But Zlatan is out here tonight, staying sharp, testing himself against a tough opponent. Every move, every chop, every suplex—he's sending a message to Brock Lesnar. He's saying, 'I'm ready for you. I'm ready for WrestleMania.'"
Zlatan, hearing the crowd's reaction and feeling the momentum, took a step back, his eyes locked on DeMott as he measured his next move. He knew he had to maintain his focus and keep proving why he was the WWE Champion, not just to the crowd but also to himself. WrestleMania was only three weeks away, and every match was a chance to sharpen his skills and show the world that the Lion of Rosengård was ready to roar.
Zlatan Ibrahimović, fully in control, whipped Bill DeMott toward the opposite corner, looking to maintain his dominance. But DeMott, relying on his veteran instincts, managed to reverse the whip, sending the WWE Champion crashing into the turnbuckles instead. The crowd reacted with a gasp as DeMott quickly followed up, charging across the ring and connecting with a heavy corner splash that crushed Zlatan against the turnbuckles.
Michael Cole called the action with urgency, "DeMott with a big reversal and a corner splash! The veteran showing he's still got plenty of fight left in him!"
Tazz added, "That's the experience of Bill DeMott, Cole. He knows how to capitalize on an opening, and he's not afraid to go right after the champ!"
As Zlatan staggered out of the corner, clearly winded from the impact, DeMott seized the opportunity to follow up with a powerful clothesline. The blow connected hard, taking the Lion of Rosengård down to the mat. The crowd, sensing the momentum shift, began to murmur, their excitement building as DeMott started to mount some offense.
DeMott, breathing heavily, took a moment to recuperate, his eyes never leaving Zlatan. He knew that this was his chance to make a statement, to show that he could hang with the WWE Champion. After catching his breath, DeMott moved in, laying a series of clubbing blows across Zlatan's back and shoulders, each strike landing with a thud.
Michael Cole narrated the moment, "DeMott with those heavy clubbing blows, trying to wear down the WWE Champion!"
Tazz, impressed by DeMott's tenacity, added, "This is what DeMott does best, Cole. He's a brawler, plain and simple, and right now, he's taking it to Zlatan. You can't count this guy out!"
Zlatan grimaced with each blow, the pain evident on his face as DeMott continued to press the attack. The Lion of Rosengård, despite his earlier dominance, now found himself on the receiving end of a punishing assault from the experienced veteran. The crowd was fully engaged, watching intently to see if Zlatan could weather the storm and find a way to turn the tide back in his favor.
Bill DeMott, sensing an opportunity to wear down the WWE Champion even further, grabbed a handful of Zlatan Ibrahimović's hair, pulling him back to his feet. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, watching as DeMott prepared to continue his assault. With a determined look on his face, DeMott whipped Zlatan across the ring with all his strength.
Michael Cole, at ringside, called the action. "DeMott's got something in mind here! He's not letting Zlatan catch a break!"
Tazz, nodding, added, "Yeah, Cole. DeMott's got the champion on the ropes, and he's looking to make the most of it!"
As Zlatan rebounded off the ropes, DeMott swiftly stepped forward, hooking his arm around Zlatan's and trapping him in an abdominal stretch. The crowd reacted with a mix of gasps and cheers, recognizing the classic maneuver that DeMott had expertly applied to the champion.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "DeMott's got the abdominal stretch locked in! He's targeting the ribs and midsection of Zlatan, trying to wear him down!"
Tazz chimed in, "This is a smart move by DeMott! He knows Zlatan is quick and agile, so he's trying to slow him down, grind him out, and make him suffer!"
DeMott tightened his grip, pulling back on Zlatan's arm and leaning into the hold, increasing the pressure on Zlatan's ribs and lower back. Zlatan grimaced, the pain evident on his face as DeMott dug his elbow into Zlatan's side, trying to maximize the effectiveness of the hold.
The crowd began to rally behind Zlatan, chanting, "Ibra! Ibra!" as they willed the WWE Champion to fight through the pain and break free. DeMott, aware of the crowd's support, gritted his teeth and cranked back even harder, determined to make Zlatan suffer.
Michael Cole noted, "Listen to this crowd, Tazz! They're trying to will Zlatan back into this match, but DeMott has that abdominal stretch locked in tight!"
Tazz added, "You can see the pain on Zlatan's face, Cole. This is a move that can wear down even the toughest competitors. If DeMott keeps this up, he might just have a shot at putting the champ away!"
Zlatan, his face contorted with pain, fought to regain his footing, trying to shift his weight and find a way out of the hold. He reached out with his free arm, trying to grab the ropes for leverage, but DeMott pulled him back into the center of the ring, refusing to let go.
The crowd's chants grew louder, urging Zlatan on as he struggled against DeMott's grip. The WWE Champion knew he needed to find a way out, but the veteran had the hold locked in tight, squeezing the life out of the Lion of Rosengård.
The tension in the arena was palpable, the fans on the edge of their seats, waiting to see if Zlatan could muster the strength to break free and turn the tide of the match.
Bill DeMott, firmly in control, kept the abdominal stretch locked in tight, determined to wear down the WWE Champion. Zlatan Ibrahimović grimaced in pain, but he wasn't out of it yet. With the crowd firmly behind him, chanting "Ibra! Ibra!" Zlatan began to use his free arm to fight back, landing some hard right hands to DeMott's side and ribs.
Michael Cole, sensing the tide beginning to turn, called the action with excitement, "Zlatan is fighting out of the abdominal stretch! He's not giving up!"
Tazz added, "That's the heart of a champion, Cole! Zlatan's digging deep, trying to find a way out of this hold!"
As Zlatan continued to land rights and lefts, the crowd's cheers grew louder, rallying behind the WWE Champion. DeMott's grip began to weaken, but just as it seemed Zlatan might break free, DeMott delivered a sudden and vicious headbutt. The impact was so hard, it felt like two coconuts colliding, and both men stumbled from the force of it.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "Oh! A massive headbutt from DeMott! Both men felt that one!"
Tazz, chuckling, added, "That's like getting hit with a brick, Cole! DeMott's got a hard head, and he just used it to shut Zlatan down!"
DeMott, shaking off the effects of the headbutt, quickly scooped Zlatan up, lifting him high before slamming him down to the mat with a powerful body slam. The ring shook from the impact, and DeMott wasted no time, dropping down to make the cover.
Michael Cole shouted, "Body slam by DeMott! He's going for the pin!"
The referee dropped down to make the count.
"One… Two…"
But Zlatan, showing his resilience, kicked out just before the count of three. The crowd erupted with cheers, relieved to see their champion still in the fight.
Tazz nodded, impressed by Zlatan's determination. "Zlatan kicks out at two! The champ's still in it, Cole, but he's got to find a way to turn this around!"
Michael Cole added, "DeMott is giving Zlatan everything he's got, but the Lion of Rosengård is still in this match! He's not going down without a fight!"
Zlatan, still feeling the effects of the headbutt and the body slam, rolled onto his side, trying to catch his breath. DeMott, frustrated but determined, got back to his feet, knowing he had to keep up the pressure if he wanted to pull off a major upset tonight. The match was far from over, and both men were digging deep, giving everything they had in the battle to prove themselves in the middle of the ring.
Bill DeMott, sensing that he had the WWE Champion right where he wanted him, stood over Zlatan Ibrahimović, a sneer forming on his lips. He leaned down, talking trash, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Come on, champ! Is this all you got? You're nothing!"
The crowd booed DeMott's taunts, but he paid them no mind. Feeling confident, he began stomping viciously on Zlatan, each stomp landing with a thud on the champion's body. The crowd gasped as DeMott ruthlessly targeted Zlatan's ribs, midsection, and shoulders, trying to wear him down even further.
Michael Cole called the action, his voice filled with concern. "DeMott is just stomping the life out of Zlatan! He's not giving the champion any breathing room!"
Tazz chimed in, "DeMott's trying to keep the pressure on, Cole! He knows this is his chance to make a statement!"
Emboldened by his momentum, DeMott leaned down and began choking Zlatan with both hands. The referee immediately stepped in, beginning the five-count for the illegal choke.
"One… Two… Three…"
At the count of four, DeMott finally released his grip, raising his hands to feign innocence. The referee issued a stern reprimand, warning DeMott about the illegal choke. But DeMott, showing no concern, simply smirked and turned his attention back to Zlatan, ready to press his advantage.
Michael Cole noted, "DeMott's walking a fine line here, Tazz. He doesn't seem to care about the rules!"
Tazz replied, "Nope, and that's exactly why he's dangerous, Cole. DeMott's here to win by any means necessary!"
With Zlatan still down, DeMott quickly pulled the champion back to his feet, grabbing him by the arm and whipping him hard across the ring. DeMott then charged forward, looking to take Zlatan's head off with a clothesline. But Zlatan, showing his agility and awareness, ducked under the clothesline and rebounded off the ropes with speed.
As DeMott turned around, Zlatan launched himself forward, catching DeMott by surprise with a perfectly executed running DDT. The impact drove DeMott's head into the mat with a sickening thud, and the crowd exploded in cheers.
Michael Cole shouted, "A DDT by Zlatan! He's turned the tables on DeMott!"
Tazz added, "What a counter by the champ! DeMott got a little too cocky, and Zlatan made him pay for it!"
Zlatan, still feeling the effects of DeMott's earlier assault, took a moment to catch his breath, his expression determined. The Lion of Rosengård had weathered the storm, and now he had an opening to regain control of the match. The crowd roared in support, rallying behind their champion as he fought to get back to his feet.
The momentum had shifted once again, and Zlatan knew this was his chance to prove why he was the WWE Champion.
The tension in the arena was palpable as both Zlatan Ibrahimović and Bill DeMott slowly got back to their feet, each man feeling the effects of the intense battle. DeMott, still dazed from the running DDT, shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Zlatan, ever resilient, clenched his fists, his eyes locked on his opponent.
Sensing an opportunity to regain control, DeMott stepped forward, throwing a heavy right hand aimed at Zlatan's jaw. Zlatan absorbed the blow, but quickly fired back with a right hand of his own. The crowd reacted with a burst of cheers as the two began to slug it out in the middle of the ring, trading punches with everything they had.
Michael Cole, at ringside, called the action. "These two are going toe-to-toe, slugging it out! Neither man is backing down!"
Tazz, watching intently, shook his head slightly. "That's not a good idea, Cole. DeMott's tough, but you don't want to exchange hands with Zlatan. He's got that martial arts background… he knows how to throw those strikes!"
True to Tazz's prediction, Zlatan began to find his rhythm, using his quickness and striking ability to his advantage. He ducked under a wild right hand from DeMott and countered with a swift left jab, followed by a powerful right hook. DeMott staggered back, visibly shaken by the impact of the blows.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "Here comes the Lion! Zlatan's building momentum with those strikes!"
The crowd roared as Zlatan continued to press forward, unleashing a flurry of rights and lefts that hammered DeMott, each strike more precise and powerful than the last. DeMott, overwhelmed by the speed and accuracy of Zlatan's punches, began to falter, his defenses weakening.
Tazz, impressed, added, "Zlatan's picking him apart, Cole! Those martial arts skills are coming into play—he's like a lion on the hunt!"
With the crowd fully behind him, chanting "Ibra! Ibra!" Zlatan capitalized on the moment, delivering a vicious roundhouse kick to DeMott's midsection, doubling the veteran over. The impact sent shockwaves through the arena, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Michael Cole shouted, "What a kick! Zlatan's got DeMott reeling!"
DeMott, clutching his ribs in pain, struggled to stay upright. Zlatan, sensing that the end might be near, took a step back, his eyes locked on DeMott. The WWE Champion was in full control, ready to finish the fight and prove why he was the top man in the business.
The momentum was now fully with Zlatan, and the crowd could feel that the Lion of Rosengård was ready to roar once more.
Zlatan Ibrahimović, now fully in control and with the crowd behind him, pressed his advantage. As Bill DeMott struggled to steady himself, Zlatan charged forward, leveling DeMott with a powerful clothesline. The impact sent DeMott crashing to the mat, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Michael Cole called the action with excitement, "Zlatan with a clothesline! And he's not done yet!"
DeMott tried to get back to his feet, but Zlatan was already moving, hitting another clothesline with just as much force, sending DeMott back down to the canvas. The WWE Champion was building momentum, feeding off the energy of the crowd.
Tazz shouted, "Zlatan's feeling it, Cole! He's got the momentum, and he's rolling now!"
Zlatan whipped DeMott across the ring with authority, and as DeMott rebounded off the ropes, Zlatan bent down and launched him high into the air with a massive back body drop. The crowd cheered as DeMott landed hard, reeling from the impact and stumbling back into the corner.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "Back body drop by Zlatan! DeMott's in trouble!"
Sensing his chance, Zlatan charged at DeMott, looking to deliver a high-impact move in the corner. But DeMott, using his veteran instincts, managed to get a back elbow up just in time, catching Zlatan square in the face and making the champion stagger back.
Tazz quickly pointed out, "Smart move by DeMott! He's still got some fight left in him!"
DeMott, seeing an opening, gathered his strength and charged out of the corner, looking to turn the tide with a powerful move of his own. But Zlatan, ever the agile competitor, reacted quickly. As DeMott closed in, Zlatan caught him, hoisting him up and executing a perfect Samoan drop. The ring shook with the impact, and the crowd roared in approval.
Michael Cole shouted, "Samoan drop by Zlatan! What a move!"
Zlatan, sensing victory, quickly hooked DeMott's leg, going for the pinfall. The referee slid into position and began the count.
"One… Two…"
But DeMott, showing his resilience, managed to get his shoulder up just before the count of three. The crowd let out a collective gasp, impressed by DeMott's determination to stay in the fight.
Tazz added, "DeMott kicks out at two! This guy's tough, Cole, but Zlatan's got to keep pushing if he wants to put him away!"
Zlatan, calm but focused, nodded in acknowledgment of DeMott's toughness. He knew the match was far from over, but he also knew he had the momentum on his side. The Lion of Rosengård was ready to keep the pressure on, determined to prove once again why he was the reigning WWE Champion.
Zlatan Ibrahimović stood poised, waiting for Bill DeMott to rise, his eyes never leaving his opponent. The crowd was buzzing, sensing that Zlatan was about to unleash another wave of offense. As DeMott, still feeling the effects of the Samoan drop, staggered back to his feet, Zlatan moved in for the kill. He aimed a thrust kick directly at DeMott's midsection, but DeMott, showing his veteran instincts, managed to catch Zlatan's leg in mid-air.
DeMott shook his head, a defiant look in his eyes, as if to say, "Uh-uh, not today." But in his attempt to spin Zlatan around, he made a critical mistake. As DeMott twisted Zlatan's leg, Zlatan used the momentum to execute a flawless dragon whip kick, the spinning heel catching DeMott square on the jaw. The impact sent DeMott reeling, his balance lost, his head snapping back.
Michael Cole called the action, voice filled with excitement, "Dragon whip kick from Zlatan! What a move!"
Tazz added, "That was a big mistake from DeMott, Cole! You don't give Zlatan an opening like that—he'll make you pay for it every time!"
With DeMott stumbling, Zlatan sensed his moment. He quickly scooped DeMott up onto his shoulder and carried him toward the turnbuckle, slamming him face-first into the top of the steel post with a vicious Snake Eyes. The crowd gasped at the impact, watching as DeMott's body slumped backward, dazed from the blow.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "Snake Eyes from Zlatan! DeMott is in serious trouble here!"
Without wasting a second, Zlatan exploded off the ropes, using the full momentum of his 255-pound frame to deliver a devastating spear. The impact was like a freight train colliding with its target, driving DeMott hard into the mat. The crowd erupted in cheers, fully behind Zlatan as he showed off his athleticism and raw power.
Tazz shouted, "Oh man! That's like being hit with a freight train! A 255-pound freight train! DeMott might be done after that!"
Zlatan smirked, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins, clearly enjoying his dominance in the match. He took a moment to soak in the crowd's reaction, feeling the energy in the arena as the fans chanted his name.
Michael Cole added, "Zlatan is in complete control right now, and you can see the confidence on his face. He's proving why he's the WWE Champion!"
Zlatan stood over DeMott, his expression filled with intensity and focus. The Lion of Rosengård was ready to deliver the finishing blow, eager to show the world once again why he was at the top of WWE. The crowd sensed it, the anticipation building for what Zlatan would do next as he prepared to put DeMott away for good.
With Bill DeMott still reeling from the punishing spear, Zlatan Ibrahimović carefully measured his next move. He waited patiently, his eyes locked on DeMott, like a lion stalking his prey, ready to strike at any moment. DeMott, clutching his midsection in pain from the spear, slowly stumbled back to his feet, completely unaware of the danger lurking behind him.
Michael Cole, at ringside, narrated the moment, "Zlatan is just waiting… waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. DeMott doesn't see it coming."
Tazz chimed in, "DeMott's tough, but right now, he's like wounded prey in front of a lion ready to feast!"
Hurting but refusing to go down, DeMott charged at Zlatan with everything he had left. But Zlatan, with the precision of a master, saw it coming and quickly caught DeMott mid-charge, executing a perfectly timed spinning spinebuster. The move was reminiscent of the legendary Arn Anderson, and the crowd erupted with admiration at the execution.
Michael Cole shouted, "What a spinebuster! Shades of the great Arn Anderson with that one!"
Tazz added, "Zlatan just planted DeMott! That spinebuster was picture-perfect, Cole!"
Standing tall over his fallen opponent, Zlatan could feel the end was near. He looked out into the crowd, his face a mix of focus and determination, and then made his signature cut-throat taunt. The crowd cheered loudly, knowing what was coming next.
Tazz exclaimed, "Good night, Irene! The Lion is ready to roar!"
Zlatan moved to the corner, his eyes never leaving DeMott as he began to stomp his foot on the mat, signaling for his finishing move—The Lion's Roar, his devastating superkick. The crowd clapped in rhythm with his stomps, fully behind their champion.
Michael Cole added, "Zlatan is calling for it! He's setting up for the Lion's Roar!"
DeMott, still hurting, slowly pushed himself back up to his feet, completely unaware of the danger behind him. Zlatan felt the moment, his body coiling like a spring, ready to unleash his finishing move. As soon as DeMott turned around, Zlatan exploded out of the corner with a burst of speed and delivered a thunderous Lion's Roar—a superkick that connected perfectly with DeMott's jaw.
Michael Cole shouted, "The Lion's Roar connects! What a kick!"
Tazz added with a chuckle, "That kick sent DeMott on a one-way ticket to Valhalla! It's over, Cole!"
Zlatan immediately dropped down and hooked DeMott's leg, going for the cover. The referee slid into position and began the count.
"One… Two… Three!"
The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. The crowd erupted into cheers as Zlatan stood up, victorious once again. The announcer, Tony Chimel, confirmed the result.
"At ringside, Tony Chimel says, "Here is your winner, Zlatan Ibrahimović!"
Michael Cole summarized the moment, "A strong showing by the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović! He just took DeMott apart and showed everyone why he's heading to WrestleMania as the reigning champion!"
Tazz added, "Zlatan sent a clear message to Brock Lesnar tonight—he's ready for WrestleMania, and he's not going down without a fight!"
Zlatan raised his arms in victory, soaking in the adulation of the fans. The WWE title gleaming over his shoulder. The Lion of Rosengård had roared once again, and with WrestleMania just weeks away, the WWE Universe knew that Zlatan was more than ready for the challenge ahead.
XXXX
The tension in the arena was electric as the steel cage lowered around the ring, trapping Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman inside. The crowd was on its feet, eager to witness the long-awaited moment of justice. Lesnar, his eyes burning with intensity, glared across the ring at Heyman, the man who had betrayed him at Survivor Series and cost him the WWE Championship. Heyman, looking nervous and out of his element, tried to keep his distance, knowing full well that he was in serious trouble.
The bell rang, and Lesnar wasted no time. He charged across the ring like a freight train, immediately cornering Heyman, who frantically tried to beg for mercy, his hands up in a desperate plea. But Lesnar wasn't having any of it. He grabbed Heyman by the collar, lifting him effortlessly into the air, before slamming him down hard against the mat.
Michael Cole, at ringside, narrated the unfolding carnage. "Brock Lesnar is wasting no time! He's here to make Paul Heyman pay for what happened at Survivor Series!"
Tazz added with a grin, "Oh yeah, Cole, this is a one-sided beatdown! Heyman's getting exactly what he deserves!"
Lesnar pulled Heyman back up, his face showing nothing but pure determination, and tossed him across the ring like a ragdoll. Heyman crashed hard into the steel cage wall, his body slumping down to the mat in a heap. Lesnar stalked over, lifting Heyman again and pressing him against the cold, unforgiving steel of the cage, grinding his face into the metal to the delight of the crowd.
Michael Cole shouted, "Lesnar is absolutely dominating! This is a one-man wrecking crew!"
Tazz laughed, "Heyman's face is getting a close-up introduction to that steel cage, Cole! And you can bet Lesnar's enjoying every second of this!"
Lesnar, unrelenting, continued the onslaught, hitting Heyman with a series of powerful German suplexes, each one driving Heyman harder into the mat. The crowd counted along with every suplex, reaching three, four, five, as Lesnar released Heyman, who was now barely conscious and writhing in pain on the mat.
But, of course, Heyman, ever the master strategist, had come with a backup plan. Just as Lesnar was about to deliver another suplex, the steel cage door flung open, and the WWE Tag Team Champions, Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin, stormed into the ring. There were no disqualifications in a steel cage match, and Heyman's hired muscle was ready to do whatever it took to save their manager.
Michael Cole shouted, "Here comes Team Angle! Charlie Haas and Shelton Benjamin are in the cage, and this is all legal!"
Tazz added, "Of course Heyman would have a plan, Cole! He's the master puppeteer! But can Team Angle stop Lesnar?"
Haas and Benjamin immediately pounced on Lesnar, double-teaming the beast with punches, kicks, and tandem moves designed to take him down. But Lesnar, showing his freakish strength and determination, fought back, fending them off with massive right hands and powerful strikes. He grabbed Haas and slammed him against the cage wall before turning his attention to Benjamin, catching him mid-air as he attempted a flying crossbody and slamming him to the mat with a thunderous spinebuster.
Michael Cole screamed, "Lesnar's taking out the tag team champions! This is unbelievable!"
Tazz, now standing, added, "He's like a man possessed, Cole! He's making quick work of Haas and Benjamin!"
With Team Angle momentarily neutralized, Lesnar turned his attention back to Heyman, who had managed to start climbing the cage wall, desperate to escape. But before he could get far, Kurt Angle, the mastermind of Team Angle, sprinted down the ramp and quickly scaled the side of the cage, entering to rescue Heyman. Angle delivered a chop block from behind, sending Lesnar crashing to the mat and giving Heyman a few precious moments to continue his climb.
Michael Cole exclaimed, "And now Kurt Angle is involved! He's doing everything he can to keep Lesnar away from Heyman!"
Tazz noted, "Angle's a little more successful than his teammates, but Lesnar's got only one thing on his mind—making Heyman pay!"
Angle, seizing the advantage, laid into Lesnar with a series of stomps and punches, doing everything in his power to keep the beast at bay. He applied a choke hold, trying to wear Lesnar down, but Lesnar's strength was too much. Despite the numbers game, Lesnar fought to his feet, shaking off Angle's attacks and bellowing in anger.
With a burst of power, Lesnar broke free from Angle's grasp, grabbing one of Heyman's legs just before he could escape over the top of the cage. Lesnar yanked Heyman back down, dragging him back into the ring like a hunter with his prey.
Michael Cole yelled, "Lesnar's got Heyman! He's not letting him escape!"
Tazz, laughing, added, "Heyman thought he could get away, but Lesnar's not letting him go anywhere!"
Lesnar delivered a massive clubbing blow to Heyman's back, sending him down to his knees, and then scooped him up onto his shoulders. Seeing Angle rushing in to intervene, Lesnar delivered a powerful boot to Angle's midsection, sending him sprawling back into the cage.
With Heyman still on his shoulders, Lesnar roared to the crowd, signaling the end. He spun around and hit a devastating F5, sending Heyman crashing down to the mat with earth-shattering force. The crowd exploded with cheers as Lesnar made the cover, hooking Heyman's leg.
The referee slid into position and counted.
"One… Two… Three!"
The bell rang, and the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer, thrilled to see Heyman finally get his comeuppance.
Michael Cole shouted, "Lesnar wins! Lesnar has made Paul Heyman pay for his sins at Survivor Series!"
Tazz, laughing loudly, added, "That's right, Cole! Brock Lesnar just put an exclamation point on this night! Heyman's going to be feeling that for weeks!"
Lesnar stood tall in the ring, his chest heaving, a look of satisfaction on his face. The beast had been unleashed, and with WrestleMania just around the corner, Brock Lesnar had sent a clear message to the WWE Universe: nothing would stand in his way—not Heyman, not Team Angle, and certainly not the WWE Champion, Zlatan Ibrahimović.
XXXX
The show had come to an end, and the energy of the night still buzzed through the walls of the arena. The roar of the crowd, the clash of bodies, the shouts of commentary—everything was starting to quiet down now. Inside the WWE bus, Zlatan Ibrahimović sat alone, staring out of the window at the dimly lit streets of Bridgeport as the vehicle slowly pulled away from the arena.
Zlatan, still feeling the adrenaline of his match against Bill DeMott and the aftermath of the chaotic steel cage showdown between Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman, leaned back against the leather seat. He had come out victorious tonight, showing once again why he was the WWE Champion, but his mind wasn't on his win. It was on the road ahead—WrestleMania.
WrestleMania… Just three weeks away, and he was set to defend his title against one of the most formidable challengers in WWE history: Brock Lesnar. Zlatan couldn't help but replay the scenes in his mind—the way Lesnar had torn through Team Angle and Paul Heyman inside the steel cage. The Beast Incarnate looked more focused and more dangerous than ever, and Zlatan knew that he would be walking into a war at WrestleMania.
He thought about the journey that had led him to this point. Just a year ago, he had been a newcomer, making his debut in Montreal, and now he was the WWE Champion, the Lion of Rosengård. He had faced every challenge thrown his way—Kurt Angle, Chris Benoit, The Rock—and had come out on top every time. But Brock Lesnar was different. Lesnar was a beast, a man who seemed almost unstoppable.
Zlatan smirked slightly, feeling a mixture of excitement and determination welling up inside him. He had always thrived on challenges, on proving people wrong. Every step of his career, both in soccer and now in WWE, had been about defying expectations, breaking through limits, and carving his own path.
As the bus moved further away from the Bridgeport arena, Zlatan's gaze shifted from the window to the WWE Championship belt lying on the seat next to him. The gold gleamed faintly in the dim light, a symbol of everything he had fought for. He knew that holding onto that title wouldn't be easy. It never was. But that's what made it worth fighting for.
He leaned forward, his hands brushing the cold, smooth surface of the belt. "WrestleMania," he murmured to himself. "The biggest stage of them all… The Lion vs. The Beast… Let's see who truly rules this jungle."
He thought about Lesnar's intensity, the fury in his eyes as he had decimated Heyman. Zlatan knew that Lesnar would come at him with everything he had. But he also knew that he wasn't the kind of man to back down. He was the Lion of Rosengård, and he had fought for everything he had ever achieved.
The road to WrestleMania was a daunting one, filled with uncertainty and danger. But that was what made it exciting. Zlatan could feel the fire in his belly—the thrill of competition, the hunger to prove himself once more.
As the bus rolled on, Zlatan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet hum of the engine soothe his thoughts. He knew that the next few weeks would be intense, full of preparation, anticipation, and maybe even doubt. But he welcomed it all. Because, at WrestleMania, he would have the chance to show the world that he wasn't just a champion. He was the champion—the best in the business.
The bus continued down the darkened highway, heading towards the next destination, and with it, towards the destiny that awaited Zlatan Ibrahimović at WrestleMania. The road was long, but Zlatan was ready to walk every step of it, with his head held high, like the lion he knew he was.