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Sandro continued, his voice calm and assured. "The infrastructure's already in place there too, the rings, the setup, the local gyms and facilities. If the issue is space, there's a simple solution, expand. Buy up the surrounding properties, the land, maybe even a few buildings nearby. It's cheaper than starting over somewhere new."
Stephanie glanced at her husband, then back at Sandro. "That's actually… a very practical point."
Sandro continued, his tone more animated now. "And if the issue is housing or proximity, I've been thinking about an idea that could help long term. Build or purchase an apartment complex nearby, something affordable for the talents. Rent it out to them at a lower rate so they can live close to the HQ without worrying about costs. It helps morale, loyalty, and community."
Triple H exchanged a look with Stephanie, impressed. "You've been thinking this through, huh?"
"Always." Sandro smiled. "If you treat the developmental system like more than just a pipeline and actually build a home around it, you'll get better talent. Happier talent. That's how you make our talent happy and thrive in the company."
Stephanie exchanged a smile with Triple H, then looked back at Sandro. "You know, I think we'll take that into serious consideration. It's a solid perspective, business minded, but also empathetic and build loyalty."
Triple H chuckled. "You might be the first superstar to think about real estate solutions for the company, of course with your title as our special advisors for rebranding FCW to NXT that makes much more sense."
Sandro laughed softly. "Well, I learned from the best. Vince always says everything's business. I'm just taking that to heart."
The trio shared a short moment of light laughter before Triple H placed a hand on his arm. "Thanks, Sandro. We appreciate the input. Honestly, it's refreshing to talk to someone who's thinking about the bigger picture."
Sandro nodded, his usual calm confidence shining through. "Anytime. Just trying to make sure WWE's future looks as strong as its present."
Sandro shook his hand firmly. "That's the plan."
As the two executives walked off down the corridor, Sandro watched them go, his mind quietly turning over the conversation. Between Heyman's advice, the fan buzz online, and his growing influence backstage, he couldn't help but feel that things were moving exactly the way he'd envisioned.
He pulled out his phone as he walked toward the locker room, the screen lighting up with countless notifications. Fans still fuming, critics dissecting every angle of the brawl, and journalists predicting the next step in the Undisputed System's reign. Sandro skimmed through the chaos, that familiar smirk forming again.
Every insult, every accusation, every conspiracy theory, they were all proof of one thing. The world couldn't stop talking about him.
After that, the days rolled by for Sandro in a rhythm that blended routine discipline with flashes of luxury and companionship. The chaos of the contract signing had settled, at least on the surface, but for Sandro, every quiet day was just another step in his ever expanding plan.
He threw himself into training, not just the usual wrestling drills but a mix of intense boxing, kickboxing, and MMA sessions. He wanted to evolve, not just as a performer but as a fighter, someone whose style felt more real, more unpredictable. Each day began with early conditioning in the gym, sweat dripping down his arms as he perfected his combinations.
His coaches noted the precision in his jabs, the power behind his hooks, and the increasingly fluid movement of his footwork. The kickboxing classes tested his stamina and balance, he found himself learning to pivot, strike, and counter with a rhythm that felt natural, almost instinctive.
There were moments where he'd throw a perfect combination, jab, low kick, feint, spinning back elbow, and his coach would whistle, saying, "That right there? That's main event stuff, Sandro." He'd only smile, wiping the sweat off his face with the towel slung over his shoulder. These sessions were sharpening more than just his physical form, they were reshaping his entire perspective on match design and storytelling.
Each strike, each movement was another idea for how he could elevate his in ring psychology. He started planning new spots in his head, ones that incorporated that striking intensity, those sudden MMA style transitions that fans rarely saw in WWE.
The way a punch connected, the way a knee landed, he realized all of it could add something visceral, something that made his matches stand out from the rest.
But life wasn't all about the grind. Between sessions, he spent his evenings with the three women who had become both his anchors and his joys, April, Nikki, and Alexa. When training wrapped, they'd gather their things, laughter echoing as they joked about botched drills or difficult sparring partners.
Some nights, they headed back to Sandro's apartment in Tampa, cooking simple meals together or ordering takeout while watching old matches and analyzing them for ideas. Other times, they went out, dining in quiet restaurants that offered private rooms away from prying fans.
Those dinners had a rhythm of their own. April often teased Sandro about his endless strategizing. "You're always in your head, huh?" she'd say, smiling across the table, her tone affectionate. Nikki, sipping wine beside her, would smirk and add, "Yeah, it's like dating a CEO disguised as a wrestler." Alexa would just roll her eyes playfully. "At least he knows what he's doing. Not like half the guys in the locker room."
Sandro laughed softly every time, grateful for the balance they gave him. They weren't just companions, they were part of his universe, grounding him in the midst of all the chaos that came with his growing fame.
During those two weeks, Sandro also found himself taking important calls from Dusty and Steve. The two legends, deeply involved in the developmental process, reached out to him for insight. FCW was on the cusp of transformation into NXT, and they needed more talent, fresh blood that could carry the brand into the future.
Dusty's voice boomed over the phone, warm and direct as always. "Kid, that list you gave us last time worked wonders. Half of 'em already signed, the other half's on our radar. But we need more, more future stars. You got names?"
Sandro leaned back on his couch, smiling slightly. "Yeah, I've got a few in mind. Some of them might still be in smaller promotions, maybe even in other countries, but trust me, they're worth the investment."
And then he gave them names, people he remembered from his original world, those who, in that timeline, would one day be recognized and gained fame. Men and women whose talents hadn't yet been discovered but who had the potential to reshape the business entirely. He spoke with the certainty of someone who'd seen the future unfold before and wanted to rebuild it better this time.
Dusty chuckled after hearing the list. "You sure you ain't got a crystal ball or somethin', kid?"
Sandro only grinned. "Just good instincts, Dusty."
Steve's tone was more analytical. "These are solid choices, Sandro. Some of these names I haven't even heard of before, but I'll trust your eye for it. You've been on the money so far."
"Thanks," Sandro replied. "If even half of them sign, NXT's future is going to be set for years."
They thanked him sincerely before hanging up, and Sandro sat there for a long moment afterward, satisfied.
On some of the quieter days, Sandro boarded flights to Orlando to attend meetings with his father, Jack, at Nexum Core headquarters. The building was a towering symbol of power and ambition, and Sandro had grown used to the respectful glances he received from employees as he walked through the corridors.
Many of them knew who he was, not just as a wrestler but as the young visionary whose suggestions had helped catapult Nexum Core into becoming a powerhouse corporation in under a year.
The meetings were routine, department reports, financial overviews, strategic adjustments, but Sandro knew his presence mattered. It reminded everyone, from the boardroom executives to the junior analysts, that he wasn't just a face in the ring. He was part of the bloodline of a company that was rewriting the rules of modern business.
He didn't speak much during the presentations, only stepping in when he felt a department head was missing a broader opportunity. Each time he did, his insights were sharp and concise, often sparking murmurs of approval. Even his father would glance at him proudly, nodding subtly.
By the end of those meetings, Sandro always made a point to walk the lower floors, greeting employees, shaking hands, and exchanging small talk. It wasn't performative, it was genuine. He wanted them to know that the son of their CEO wasn't just a name on paper or a figure on a stage. He was someone who understood their work, their struggles, and their role in the company's success.
Other than those duties, his days passed normally, training, meetings, family, and love all balanced with methodical precision. Before he knew it, two full weeks had gone by, and the calendar marked another Monday. This one, though, wasn't just any Monday, it was the go home show before Over The Limit.
RAW was live from Detroit, Michigan, and the energy surrounding it was electric. Tickets had sold out weeks in advance, but after last week's episode, where neither Sandro nor the Undisputed System appeared, anticipation had reached a fever pitch.
Fans had been restless on social media, flooding forums and threads with speculation. Some wondered if the System was suspended after the contract signing chaos. Others theorized they were plotting something big for this very show.
Whatever the reason, the belief was unanimous: the Undisputed System would appear tonight.
The camera opened with a dazzling display of pyrotechnics, lighting up the packed arena. The fans roared as Cole's voice carried through the noise, full of energy. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Monday Night RAW! We are live from Detroit, Michigan, and we are just six days away from Over The Limit!"
Lawler chimed in beside him. "And you can feel it, Cole! The atmosphere tonight is off the charts! Everyone's waiting to see if the Undisputed System shows up, and after what they did two weeks ago, I don't think anyone's ready for what's next."
The show wasted no time. The first notes of Sheamus's theme song blasted through the speakers, and the crowd erupted in cheers. The Celtic Warrior stepped through the curtain, pale skin gleaming under the bright lights, his trademark grin wide as ever. He pounded his chest and walked down the ramp, slapping hands with fans along the barricade.
"Sheamus has been on fire lately!" Cole shouted. "He's made a name for himself in record time, and tonight he's looking to keep that momentum rolling!"
The cheers shifted into boos as "Dashing" Cody Rhodes's theme hit. Cody emerged, smug as ever, adjusting his face guard and sneering at the audience. He took his time strutting down the ramp, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders before stepping into the ring.
The bell rang, and the two clashed immediately. Power versus agility, grit versus technique, it was the kind of match that set the tone for the night. Cody worked Sheamus's legs with targeted precision, trying to slow the powerhouse down, while Sheamus countered with explosive strength and brutal strikes.
The crowd was on their feet for most of the bout, and after nearly ten minutes of intense back and forth action, Sheamus manages to dodge Cody's springboard manuver, and leveled him with a thunderous Brogue Kick.
The referee counted the pinfall, and the crowd erupted in approval.
"Sheamus picks up another huge win!" Cole announced as the victor's theme hit again.
The show rolled on with matches, promos, and backstage segments, each building toward the looming pay per view. But then, as the camera cut back to the stage, an unmistakable beat hit the speakers.
"Yo, yo, yo!"
Cryme Tyme's theme blared, and the crowd's roar was deafening. JTG and Shad Gaspard stepped out onto the stage, both men with their World Tag Team Championships gleaming around their waists. The energy in the arena shifted from curiosity to pure excitement.
Cole's voice cut through the cheers. "Cryme Tyme is here! The World Tag Team Champions are in the building!"
But before they made their way down the ramp, they turned toward the entrance curtain and gestured. The fans fell into an anticipatory hush, then exploded as Kelly Kelly's music hit.
The Divas Champion walked out, Divas Title draped elegantly over her shoulder. She smiled at the roaring crowd, confidence radiating in every step. The trio met at the top of the stage, exchanged quick nods, and began walking down the ramp together. It was a powerful image, three champions, side by side, united by the chaos they had survived two weeks prior.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 20 (2010)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida, USA
Brand: WWE - RAW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Styles
Faction: The Undisputed System
Championships History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA X Division Champion, & 1x WWE United States Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0