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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
The room was a sanctuary of global power. Massive floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, a massive antique globe sat in the corner, and a colossal, polished oak desk dominated the center of the room, covered in financial reports and glowing tablets. Jack walked over to a crystal decanter, pouring two glasses of incredibly rare, aged scotch, handing one carefully to his son.
They sat down in the plush leather chairs across from one another, and the conversation immediately pivoted far away from the petty, violent dramas of professional wrestling.
Here, Sandro wasn't just a sports entertainer, he was the primary visionary and heir to the Nexum Core conglomerate.
"I wanted to update you on the entertainment division," Jack began, sliding a thick, glossy dossier across the desk toward Sandro. "Specifically, the Marvel franchise."
Sandro picked up the dossier, his eyes scanning the incredibly dense spreadsheets and box office projections.
"When you came to the board several years ago and demanded we aggressively finance the acquisition and restructuring of Marvel Studios, a lot of the old guard thought you were completely out of your mind," Jack said, taking a slow sip of his scotch. "They didn't understand the vision. But the couple of movies we have released recently... the Avengers crossover initiatives... they have brought in a profoundly large amount of income. It is completely unprecedented."
Jack leaned forward, tapping the paperwork. "The global box office returns are entirely following the exact direction and phased timeline that you wanted for the MCU. You saw a multi billion dollar cinematic universe where everyone else just saw men in colorful spandex."
Sandro nodded his head at that, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over him. The WWE was his playground, a place to test his psychological dominance, but Nexum Core was his true legacy.
"And the upcoming slate?" Sandro asked, his business acumen immediately firing on all cylinders.
"We are currently in pre production and active shooting for the next phase of movies, entirely according to your established timeline," Jack confirmed, a rare look of absolute, unadulterated professional respect passing between the father and son. "The studio heads are completely locked in. The merchandise sales alone are actively funding our R&D departments in the tech sector. It's a complete financial triumph."
Sandro closed the dossier, setting it back on the desk. He took a sip of his scotch, letting the burn soothe his throat. "Good. Keep Feige on a long leash creatively, but keep a tight grip on the budgets. The moment we start overspending on CGI without a solid script is the moment the bubble bursts."
"Agreed," Jack noted, making a quick memo on his tablet.
"What about the physical assets?" Sandro asked, smoothly transitioning the conversation to the next pillar of their empire. "The malls project. Has it been continued?"
Jack looked up, a massive, predatory smile spreading across his face. He nodded his head enthusiastically.
"Of course," Jack replied, his voice brimming with pride. "The mega mall project has officially become Nexum Core's absolute biggest real estate endeavor. We are completely redefining the concept of physical retail and entertainment spaces."
Jack swiped a hand across his digital desk monitor, bringing up a massive, high definition map of the United States, dotted with dozens of glowing golden markers.
"Construction has continued aggressively across major cities across the entire country," Jack explained, pointing to the clusters in the Midwest and the East Coast. "We are building complexes that combine high end retail, indoor theme parks, luxury condominiums, and Nexum Core proprietary technology hubs. We aren't just building malls, we are building localized, self sustaining micro cities."
Sandro leaned forward, analyzing the map with a hyper critical eye. He noticed several markers on the West Coast that were grayed out, indicating planned sites that had not yet broken ground.
"I see we haven't initiated the California or Pacific Northwest phases yet," Sandro observed astutely.
"Exactly," Jack nodded, confirming his son's sharp financial eye. "Of course, not all construction projects were started simultaneously. I instituted a highly staggered, phased development plan. If we broke ground on fifty mega complexes at the exact same time, the sheer capital expenditure would completely cannibalize our liquid reserves."
Jack took another sip of his drink, leaning back. "By staggering the starts, we ensure that the revenue generated from the completed Phase One malls actively finances the construction of the Phase Two sites. It guarantees that this massive expansion will absolutely not hit the primary financial line of Nexum Core. We are insulated from any potential real estate market crashes."
Sandro slowly nodded his head in absolute agreement with that strategy. It was ruthless, conservative, yet incredibly aggressive all at the same time. It was the exact kind of brilliant corporate maneuvering that had made his father a legend in the business world.
"It's perfect," Sandro validated. "We control the cultural zeitgeist with Marvel and the WWE, and we control the physical commerce space with the real estate. The ecosystem is completely closed."
Sandro and Jack continued to talk about business for hours. They dissected profit margins, analyzed international expansion opportunities, and debated the hostile takeover of a rival tech firm. The afternoon slowly faded into a vibrant, orange Florida sunset, and eventually, the massive windows of the office revealed nothing but pitch black night.
They were so entirely absorbed in the billion dollar machinations of their empire that they would have easily continued strategizing until the early hours of the morning.
But the heavy mahogany doors of the office suddenly swung open, bringing the high level corporate summit to a screeching halt.
Taylor Zhang stood in the doorway, her hands planted firmly on her hips. She had changed into a more comfortable, yet still incredibly elegant, evening outfit. She looked at her husband and her son, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"I knew it," Taylor scolded playfully, stepping into the room. "I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you immediately lock yourselves in a cave to conquer the world."
Jack immediately smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "Taylor, my love, we were just going over the quarterly projections..."
"The projections can wait until tomorrow, Jack Zhang," Taylor interrupted, her tone brokering absolutely no argument. She walked over to the desk, physically closing the files and turning the monitors face down. She then turned her loving but authoritative gaze to Sandro. "And you. You have three incredibly beautiful, charming women sitting in my living room, waiting for you. It is entirely unacceptable for you to ignore them."
Sandro chuckled, wincing slightly as his ribs reminded him of their presence, and slowly pushed himself up from the leather chair.
"You're right, Mom. My apologies," Sandro conceded gracefully.
"I force the two of you to leave this room right now," Taylor ordered, pointing toward the hallway. "You are going to come to the formal dining room, and you are going to have a proper, civilized dinner with me and your girlfriends. And there will be absolutely no talk of stock prices, real estate, or professional wrestling at my table. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear, dear," Jack laughed, standing up and offering his arm to his wife.
Sandro followed them out of the office, the heavy weight of the WWE and the massive responsibilities of Nexum Core entirely slipping off his shoulders. As they walked down the hall toward the sound of AJ, Nikki, and Alexa's laughter, Sandro finally allowed himself to completely relax.
Next Monday, he would return to the chaos. He would unleash absolute kayfabe hell upon Brock Lesnar, Drew McIntyre, and the remnants of his shattered faction. But tonight, the God King was simply a man having dinner with his family.
The formal dining room of the Zhang mansion was a masterclass in understated, generational elegance. A massive, polished mahogany table stretched across the center of the room, illuminated by the warm, cascading light of three breathtaking crystal chandeliers.
Floor to ceiling windows looked out over the sprawling, manicured gardens, where the Florida night was entirely peaceful, offering a stark, silent contrast to the deafening chaos that constantly surrounded the God King's professional life.
Sandro Zhang took his seat near the head of the table. To his immediate right sat AJ Lee, and to his left sat Alexa Bliss. Nikki Bella took the seat directly across from him, sitting next to Jack Zhang.
A team of impeccably dressed servants moved silently and efficiently through the room, carrying massive, steaming silver platters of food. But this was not a meal catered by a team of private, five star executive chefs.
Taylor Zhang, the elegant matriarch of the family, took her seat at the absolute head of the table. She possessed a warm, radiant smile as the servants began to set the dishes down. Over the past hours, Taylor had essentially taken over the massive estate kitchen, and she had not done it alone.
AJ, Nikki, and Alexa, entirely determined to win the ultimate approval and capture the heart of their formidable future mother in law, had rolled up the sleeves of their designer blouses and spent the entire afternoon learning how to cook Taylor's signature family recipes.
The spread was absolutely magnificent. There were perfectly seared cuts of prime wagyu beef, rich and savory reductions, delicately roasted vegetables glazed in honey and balsamic, and a massive, aromatic dish of traditional braised pork belly that had been simmering for hours.
Sandro picked up his fork, taking his first bite of the pork belly. He closed his eyes, letting out a genuine, incredibly satisfied hum of approval.
"Mom, this is absolutely incredible," Sandro praised warmly, looking down the table. "You've completely outdone yourself. This is the best meal I've had in months."
Taylor beamed, her eyes crinkling with pure maternal joy. "Don't just thank me, Sandro. Your girls were an absolute godsend in the kitchen today. AJ has a surprisingly wonderful touch with the marinades, Nikki was a perfectionist with the vegetables, and Alexa baked the pastries for dessert entirely from scratch. They are incredibly fast learners."
AJ, Nikki, and Alexa practically glowed, exchanging triumphant, delighted smiles with one another. The pressure of being the God King's Queens was immense, but hearing the genuine praise from the woman who had raised the billionaire prodigy was the ultimate validation.
"Well, then, thank you," Sandro said, turning to look at AJ and Alexa beside him, and then Nikki across the table. His bruised face softened into a look of genuine affection. "You three are amazing. I'm a very lucky man."
The girls blushed, their smiles widening, entirely basking in the rare, quiet domesticity of the moment.
But Taylor's maternal instincts were entirely in overdrive. Every single time Sandro managed to clear a space on his incredibly expensive china plate, Taylor would immediately gesture to one of the servants, or stand up herself, to continuously pile more food onto his dish.
"Mom, please, I'm absolutely stuffed," Sandro protested gently, letting out a light laugh as another massive cut of wagyu beef was unceremoniously dropped onto his plate. "I have to maintain a weight class, you know. I can't waddle to the ring next week."
"You are a growing man who just got thrown around by a giant blonde gorilla," Taylor scolded playfully, pointing her fork at him. "You need protein to heal those ribs, Sandro. Eat. You look entirely too thin to me."
Jack chuckled from across the table, taking a sip of his wine. "Don't fight it, son. It's a battle you have absolutely no statistical probability of winning. Just eat the beef."
Sandro surrendered with a smile, continuing to eat as the conversation flowed effortlessly around the table. There was no talk of Brock Lesnar.
There was no mention of the mutiny of Drew McIntyre or the terrifying threat looming from the Big Show. For this one, singular evening, the ruthless, sociopathic God King of the WWE was completely dead and buried. He was just a son, sitting with his parents and the women he loved, enjoying a quiet, beautiful life.
After the massive dinner was finally concluded, the family migrated to the sprawling, incredibly cozy living room. A large marble fireplace crackled warmly in the background. Jack poured glasses of aged port wine, and they spent hours engaged in genuine, lighthearted family time.
They talked about the girls' upcoming side projects, Jack's vintage car collection, and shared embarrassing childhood stories about Sandro that caused the Triple Crown Champion to bury his face in his hands while AJ, Nikki, and Alexa laughed hysterically.
It was an evening of perfect, insulated peace.
But in the professional wrestling industry, peace is nothing more than a fleeting illusion. The clock was constantly ticking, and the unrelenting machine of the WWE simply never stopped.
Time passed by rapidly. The weekend dissolved, and the sun rose on a brand new week.
It was Monday.
The setting had violently shifted from the lush, tropical tranquility of Orlando, Florida, to the dry, arid, incredibly intense desert heat of Albuquerque, New Mexico. The Tingley Coliseum was absolutely packed to the rafters.
The fans had flocked to the arena in massive, unprecedented numbers. The attendance was completely sold out, with thousands of fans standing outside the venue holding signs, desperately hoping to buy a scalped ticket.
The anticipation in the building was absolutely electric. The entire wrestling world had spent the last week dissecting the monumental collapse of the Undisputed System, but the primary driving force behind the sold out crowd was the cryptic, terrifying threat that Sandro had posted on his Twitter account. The fans wanted to see exactly what the unhinged, deeply bruised God King was going to do to exact his promised revenge.
The arena went completely pitch black.
"WE ARE OUT HERE!"
The signature, high octane opening theme of Monday Night RAW blasted through the colossal stadium sound system!
The darkness was instantly, violently shattered by a massive, breathtaking volley of pyrotechnics!
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Pillars of fire and sparks cascaded from the ceiling and erupted from the entrance stage, sending a wave of heat washing over the front rows! The Albuquerque crowd let out a huge, deafening, sustained cheer, holding up thousands of handmade signs that read "CLAYMORE COUNTRY," "SUPLEX CITY," and "THE EMPIRE HAS FALLEN!"
The cameras swept wildly across the sea of screaming humanity before finally zooming in on the ringside commentary desk, where Michael Cole, Jerry 'The King' Lawler, and John Bradshaw Layfield were already standing, practically shouting to be heard over the noise of the live audience.
"Welcome everyone to Monday Night RAW, broadcast live and in living color around the entire globe from the sold out Tingley Coliseum in Albuquerque, New Mexico!" Cole screamed, his voice already strained with pure excitement. "I am Michael Cole, alongside Jerry 'The King' Lawler and JBL, and gentlemen, we are standing in the direct aftermath of the most chaotic week in the history of sports entertainment!"
"You can feel the tension in the air, Michael!" Lawler yelled, adjusting his headset and pointing at the massive crowd. "This entire arena is on pins and needles! Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop!"
"Last Monday night, we witnessed an absolute paradigm shift!" Cole continued, entirely setting the stage for the viewers at home. "We watched Brock Lesnar, the Beast Incarnate, step into a seven on one handicap match against the entire Undisputed System... and he conquered them! But the real story, the moment that completely broke the internet, was the absolute mutiny of the Scottish Psychopath! Drew McIntyre turned his back on the God King, delivering a catastrophic Claymore Kick that knocked Sandro Zhang completely unconscious and effectively cost the Undisputed System the match!"
"Hold on a minute, Cole!" JBL barked, his face immediately flushing with angry, splotchy red. He aggressively pointed his pen at his broadcast partner. "You need to watch your mouth, and you need to state the facts! Drew McIntyre committed high treason! He is a Benedict Arnold! But let's not pretend that his little temper tantrum is the reason Lesnar survived! The Undisputed System boys had that match completely won until McIntyre betrayed them!"
"Are you completely delusional, John?!" Lawler laughed, entirely mocking the former champion. "Did you watch the same match we did?! Brock Lesnar was tossing world class heavyweights around like they were stuffed animals! He took Ziggler, Woods, Barrett, and Kofi to Suplex City before McIntyre even stepped off the ring apron! The Undisputed System was definitely going to lose that match, regardless of what Drew did!"
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 21 (2011)
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, & 1x World Heavyweight 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) - 2010, & 1x KOTR (2010)
Wrestlemania Record: 2 - 0 Main Event: 1 - 0