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(A/N: I hope everyone give my new novel Skyrim a chance and added it to their library, also give the power stones on Skyrim!)
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The office was exactly as one would expect, chaotic yet controlled, filled with the scent of stale coffee and high pressure decision making. Vince McMahon sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, a half eaten steak wrap pushed to the side. The Chairman looked tired, the lines on his face etched a little deeper than usual, but his eyes were sharp, predatory blue orbs that tracked Sandro's every movement.
The atmosphere was tense. It wasn't the tension of a wrestler meeting his boss; it was the tension of two superpowers colliding in a small room.
"Sit down, Sandro," Vince grunted, not looking up from a stack of papers.
Sandro took the seat opposite the desk, leaning back comfortably, crossing one leg over the other. He didn't speak. He waited.
Finally, Vince pushed the papers aside and looked up. "Let's cut the crap, pal. What is the meaning of the deal between Nexum Core and TNA?"
Sandro raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "The meaning of the deal between my family's company and TNA? I'm not sure I follow, Vince. Business is business."
Vince sighed, a long, ragged exhalation through his nose. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "Don't play dumb with me. It's not announced to the public and keep hidden. The dirt sheets haven't even caught wind of the specifics. But I know. I have sources everywhere. TNA has changed hands. 72% of the company is no longer owned by Panda Energy International. It's owned by Nexum Core. It's owned by your father."
The air in the room seemed to vibrate. This was the elephant in the room that had been growing for weeks.
Sandro smiled, a genuine, disarming smile that didn't reach his eyes. "My father told me you would ask. He respects your network, Vince. Nothing stays hidden from you for long in this industry."
"So it's true," Vince muttered, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his own hands. "You and your father are buying the domestic competition."
"We acquired a distressed asset," Sandro corrected smoothly. "Now, before you start hyperventilating or planning a counter invasion, you need to understand something. Our acquisition of TNA is not and I repeat, not, designed to make it better than WWE."
Vince's eyes narrowed into slits. "You expect me to believe that? Your family has more money than God. You could pour tens of millions even hundreds into that sinkhole. You could buy my talent. You could buy my timeslots."
"We could," Sandro admitted, his voice calm, factual. "Technically, we have much more liquid capital than this entire promotion combined. If we wanted to crush you, Vince, we wouldn't do it with TNA. We'd just buy more of your shares."
Vince flinched. His hands clenched into fists on the mahogany desk, a vein pulsing dangerously in his temple. The glint in his eyes shifted from suspicion to defensive fury.
To hear it said out loud, that he was smaller, that he was buyable, was an insult to his very existence, especially since he was the one doing so in the past, buying out WCW and ECW.
Sandro continued, ignoring the rising temperature of the Chairman. "But we aren't going to do that. You don't have anything to worry about. The plan for TNA is stability. We are going to ensure TNA stays exactly where it is, a strong, healthy number two. It will be a place for talent to grow, a place for veterans to land, and a place that offers an alternative. We aren't going to try and compete for the number one spot. We aren't going to try to put you out of business. You keep the throne, Vince. TNA will just be the kingdom next door."
Vince stared at him for a long, uncomfortable silence. He was calculating, weighing the truth of the words against the potential threat. Slowly, painfully, he unclenched his hands.
"Fine," Vince rasped. "The Zhang family and Nexum Core better keep their words. Because if I smell a raid... if I see TNA trying to move to Monday or Friday nights..."
"You won't," Sandro interrupted. He leaned forward now, mirroring Vince's posture. The relaxed demeanor vanished. "Of course we will keep our word. That is... if you keep yours."
Vince blinked. "Excuse me?"
"We will keep TNA in its lane," Sandro said, his voice dropping an octave. "If you can make sure WWE stays on this strong momentum. If you can stabilize the product. And, more importantly, if you stop doing things the way you want to do them when it hurts the product."
"What are you talking about?" Vince growled.
"I'm talking about the working environment, Vince. I'm talking about the erratic rewrites. The screaming. The culture of fear backstage.The toxic environment that makes people dread coming to work. If you want us to play nice with your competition, you need to stop putting a bad working environment on your own people."
Vince slammed his hand on the table. BANG.
"You watch your mouth kid!" Vince roared, spit flying. "I built this empire God damnit! I decide the environment! Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that? I run this ship the way I see fit! You don't get to dictate my management style just because your daddy wrote a check!"
Sandro didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He simply narrowed his eyes, matching Vince's intensity with a cold, corporate resolve.
"Boss," Sandro said, the word dripping with irony. "I'm not speaking as your wrestler right now. I am not Sandro Zhang, the WWE and United States Champion. I am speaking as a representative of Nexum Core. I am speaking as the son of your second largest shareholder, my father."
The silence that followed was deafening. Vince's chest heaved as he took several deep breaths, forcing himself to de escalate. He realized, perhaps for the first time truly, that the dynamic had shifted. He wasn't yelling at an employee. He was yelling at a shareholder of the world.
"So what now?" Vince asked, his voice strained but quieter. "Does Nexum Core and Jack Zhang want to put their hands in WWE's operations? Is that it? After promising not to interfere, you want to book the show?"
Sandro shook his head slowly. "No. We adhere to promises. We don't want to book matches. We don't want to pick champions. You are the genius, Vince. Everyone knows that."
He paused, letting the compliment land before delivering the caveat.
"But we also want a functional investment. We want a good working and creative environment for all WWE personnel and wrestlers. Burnout is bad for business. Fear is bad for creativity. So, we will let you be in charge. We will let you do everything. As long as you hold yourself back."
"Hold myself back," Vince repeated, tasting the bitterness of the words.
"From now on," Sandro clarified his tone softening just a fraction. "While you can still be an iron fist over WWE... remember that there is a stove behind you. A very hot, very expensive stove. Stop the aggressive, over controlling micromanagement. Trust your writers. Trust your talent. If you do that... we will back off. We will ensure TNA remains a harmless number two. We won't raid your roster. We won't counter program. But... If you continue with the aggressive, over controlling, fear based management... we might decide that TNA should be number one. We might decide to turn up the heat."
It was a checkmate disguised as a handshake. Sandro was offering peace, but the cost was Vince's worst vice, his own ego.
Vince looked deep into Sandro's eyes, searching for a bluff. He found none. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. He hated being cornered. He hated being managed. He was a man who had fought the government, the territories, and the billionaires of the 90s.
But he had never fought a power that was already inside his own house and in the end he was a businessman first. And a war with Nexum Core was a war he would lose.
"Fine," Vince said, the word coming out like a growl. "I will... try."
"Good," Sandro said, leaning back and buttoning his jacket. "Trying is all we ask. We want this place to thrive, Vince. We want you to thrive. Just remember the stove."
"Get out of here," Vince muttered, waving a hand dismissively toward the door, though there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion.
Sandro stood up, "See you next week, Boss," he said, nodded respectfully, and walked out. As the door clicked shut behind him, he heard the sound of glass shattering, likely a pitcher of water meeting the wall. He smiled. Message delivered.
Sandro left the arena in a black SUV, the city lights of Minneapolis blurring past the tinted windows. He arrived at the five star hotel where the top talent was staying, bypassing the lobby and heading straight for the presidential suite.
He swiped his key card, the lock chirping, and pushed the door open.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and relaxed, a stark contrast to the cold fury of the ring or the icy tension of Vince's office. The suite was spacious, dimly lit, with soft jazz playing from a speaker in the corner.
AJ Lee was curled up on the sofa with a book, wearing one of Sandro's oversized t shirts. Nikki Bella was at the kitchenette, pouring wine. Alexa Bliss was sitting on the floor, stretching, her Divas title resting on the coffee table.
They looked up as he entered.
"The conquering hero returns," AJ drawled, marking her page and setting the book down. "Or should I say, the corporate raider?"
Sandro chuckled, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket onto a chair. "A little bit of both tonight."
He sat down on the sofa next to AJ, accepting a glass of red wine from Nikki as she walked over. Alexa crawled up onto the other side of the couch, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"So?" Nikki asked, handing him the glass. "How did it go with the Boss? Did he explode?"
"He wanted to," Sandro said, taking a sip. "We talked about the TNA deal. He asked me what's the deal and well I confirmed to him that Nexum Core owns the majority share now."
Alexa's eyes widened. "You actually confirms him just like that? I thought we were keeping that a secret for a bit longer."
"He knew," Sandro shrugged. "Vince always knows. But I laid down the law. told him we aren't trying to kill WWE. We're keeping TNA as the number two promotion. Safe. Stable."
"And he bought that?" AJ asked skeptically.
"He had to," Sandro replied. "Because I gave him the condition. We won't use TNA to hurt him... as long as he stops hurting his own product. I told him to back off on the micromanagement. To stop the fear mongering backstage."
Nikki whistled low. "You told Vince McMahon to stop being Vince McMahon? You have a death wish, baby."
"I told him there's a stove behind him," Sandro smiled, recounting the metaphor. "And that if he keeps backing up into it, he's going to get burned. He was furious. He threw something as I left. But he agreed to try."
"He agreed?" Alexa gasped. "Vince agreed to change?"
"He agreed to 'try'," Sandro corrected. "Which, for Vince, is a monumental concession."
AJ laughed, resting her head on his chest. "You're crazy. You know that? You walk into the lion's den, slap the lion, and tell it to be a vegetarian."
"Someone had to do it," Sandro murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. "The industry needs balance. If Vince burns out the talent, we have nowhere to play. And if we crush WWE with TNA, we just become the new monopoly. We need both."
Alexa crawled over, resting her chin on his shoulder. "So, you basically just unionized the locker room without actually forming a union. You used TNA as a shield for everyone here."
"That was the plan," Sandro admitted. "If he knows he can't bully people because they have a viable, wealthy alternative waiting for them, he has to treat them better. It's checkmate."
"Well," Nikki said, clinking her glass against his. "To the stove. May it keep Vince warm, but not too hot."
"To the stove," Sandro agreed.
"And to Jericho," Alexa added mischievously and jokingly. "Do you think he's sleeping tonight?"
Sandro opened one eye, responding with his own joke. "I doubt it. He has a date with destiny at Survivor Series. And if he's smart... he's already training."
They laughed, the tension of the day finally dissolving into the comfort of the night. Sandro finished his wine, surrounded by the women he trusted. He closed his eyes again, letting the fatigue wash over him. Tomorrow, the work would continue. But tonight... tonight he was just Sandro. And that was enough.
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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, & 1x WWE Champion
Other Achievements: 1x Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royale Winner, 1x Mr. Money In The Bank, Youngest WWE Champion, & PWI Top 500 (No.1)
Wrestlemania Record: 1 - 0