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(A/N: I just found out one of my earliest readers and supporters by the name DeathGun24 made his own novel based on Dragon Age: Inquisition! The name of the novel was DAI: Becoming The Inquisitor! Just wanted to give him a shout out and also support since I know he needs all the support in making a novel, based on my own experience, of course lol!)
April stepped forward, arms folded across her chest. Her tone was composed, but Sandro could see the storm behind her eyes. "Someone left that for her. It was sitting right outside of our locker room. She brought it with her and opened for her and us to see and well—" she gestured at the grotesque mess.
Rebecca stepped in too. "It's not the first time, either. She's been getting weird stuff all week. Nasty text messages. Calls. Just… creepy stuff."
Sandro turned to Alexa. She looked up at him like a deer in headlights, her voice barely a whisper. "I didn't want to bother anyone. I thought maybe it was just trolls… fans being weird. But it's been getting worse. I got texts on Tuesday, awful stuff. Saying I'm fake, that I don't deserve to be here. That I'm gonna get what's coming."
Her voice cracked at the last sentence.
"They've been spam calling me, too," she added, trembling. "I had to turn my phone off. It wouldn't stop. Every time I blocked a number, another one would show up."
Sandro's jaw clenched.
Not here. Not in his place.
He reached out and gently put a hand on her shoulder. "You're okay now," he said softly, but firmly. "You're not alone. Whoever's doing this, they're the ones who need to be afraid. Not you."
Alexa blinked rapidly, her voice a thread. "You believe me?"
"I do," he said without hesitation. "And so does everyone else here, we have your back."
Behind him, the rest of the guys and girls were already murmuring amongst themselves, glancing at the box, the blades, the fear in Alexa's eyes. No one was taking it lightly.
"Who the hell would do something like this, fella?" Sheamus muttered.
"Some sicko," Taylor said, his brow furrowed. "Or someone here with a serious grudge."
"She's the youngest one here," Kofi pointed out, crossing his arms. "We all look out for her like she's our little sister, man."
Big E nodded. "That means this is personal. Whoever did this, they ain't just messing with Alexa. They're messing with us."
Nick exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. "This isn't just hazing or a prank. This is harassment. Straight up. I will teach them a lesson when I know who did this."
Charlotte stepped forward, face filled with concern and also a bit if fright. "We need to go to Steve and Dusty. Now. Tell them about what happened here."
Sandro gave a single, sharp nod. "We will. But first…"
He turned back to Alexa, his voice lowering. "You said this started Tuesday?"
She nodded.
"Was there anything… any moment, anyone who said or did something odd around then that was directed toward you, accidentally or not?"
Her lips pressed together. She thought for a moment. Then her eyes widened slightly.
"Barry," she said, almost like the name burned her tongue. "Last Tuesday, after that thing in the hallway on monday… after you stepped in, he glared at me. Real nasty like. I thought he'd just leave me alone, but on the noon after he glared at me, the first message came."
Sandro's expression didn't change, but inside, a storm had begun to rage.
He knew Barry had walked off too easily. He had thought that the guy had a big ego, but doesn't expect it would be too fragile to handle being called out in public. Especially by someone like Sandro. Maybe uys because he wasn't just some regular developmental talent. He had pull, and Barry ego took a hit even more.
Sandro stood up slowly, turning to his friends.
"You all know what to do," he said quietly. "But don't go to him. Not yet. Let me handle this first. Let me look it up."
Drew frowned. 'You sure, mate?"
Sandro nodded once. "Yeah. If it is him, I'll know soon enough. But we don't jump the gun. We make sure."
April stepped closer to Alexa, brushing some of her hair behind her ear in a gentle, sisterly motion. "Come on, let's get you out of here for now. You don't need to be around this."
Sandro crouched down again before Alexa could walk away. "Hey,"" he said, catching her eyes. "You're brave for speaking up. We're going to handle this. And if anything else happens, you tell me right away. Promise?"
She nodded, her lip trembling. "Promise."
"Good." He offered a small smile. "Now go get some rest. We've got your back. All of us."
She allowed herself to be led away by April and Charlotte, while Davina and Rebecca stayed behind to help clean up the mess.
Sandro remained standing, his eyes locked on the broken box and its grotesque contents.
He was quiet, but the look on his face said everything.
Someone had crossed a line. And lines like that don't go uncrossed without consequence.
Nick stepped up beside him. "So… what now?"
Sandro exhaled, slow and steady.
"Now?" he said. "We keep our eyes open. Real close. Whoever this is, Barry or not, they're still around . And I'm going to make sure they learn exactly what it means to make an enemy out of me."
"Let us know if you need any help, fella," Sheamus said. "We got your back."
Sandro gave a faint nod. "You all always do."
Later that night, back in his apartment, Sandro sat on his couch, the television muted as he stared at his phone. He was scrolling through screenshots of the anonymous number's messages Alexa had send to him.
Each one was filled with vile insults, some threats. The same pattern. Different numbers. No clear origin.
For him who had seen more vile words and actions in his past life on the Internet, these messages meant little. Sandro had grown up seeing the worst the online world had to offer, deep forums, comment sections under political videos, chat rooms filled with anonymous vitriol.
He'd seen people torn apart, doxxed, threatened, humiliated for nothing more than a difference of opinion or, sometimes, simply existing.
But for Alexa, who had just turned eighteen, fresh into this chaotic, ruthless world of wrestling, this must have been a gut punch to the soul. She wasn't just dealing with the physical strain of training or the mental pressure of living up to expectations.
She was being haunted by something cruel and invisible. Someone, somewhere, had fixated on her in the worst possible way.
And that was unforgivable.
Sandro's thumb hovered over the last screenshot she'd sent. It was short. Four words.
"You're dead. Fake slut."
His jaw flexed. A beat passed, then another.
He tapped his call log and scrolled down to the most familiar number on his list. His father, Jack.
It rang twice before the line clicked.
"Sandro?" Jack's voice came through, clear and confident as always. "This is a surprise. You never call me at this time unless you need something."
Sandro huffed out a soft chuckle, rubbing his temple. "Can't I just call for no reason, Dad?"
There was a pause on the other end, then Jack let out a hearty laugh. "Sure you can. But we both know that's not your style. You're all business these days. Wrestling career in full swing. You're in Tampa. I'm in Orlando. I've got Nexum Core. You've got arm drags and promos."
Sandro smiled despite the weight in his chest. "Yeah, yeah. We've both been busy."
Jack's laughter faded into something lighter. "Still, I appreciate the call. Now, what's going on? I was just going over some quarterly projections, so if this is about that sponsorship idea you had last month for FCW…"
Sandro leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the phone pressed to his ear.
"It's not about business. Not exactly."
Jack's tone sharpened just a little. "Okay. I'm listening."
"I need to ask you something. Kind of personal. And kind of serious.*
"Go ahead."
"Do you… have people?" Sandro said carefully. "I mean, people who can keep an eye on someone. Not just private security. I'm talking… someone who can trace phones. Hack messages. Dig deep if needed."
There was a long pause.
Jack sat upright in his office chair, setting his reading glasses aside.
"Why are you asking me this?" he said, his voice low now. Serious. "Is someone messing with you?"
Sandro could hear the concern laced underneath the calm tone, and it hit him unexpectedly hard. His father wasn't the most expressive man in the world, but when he cared, it was solid and unshakable.
"No," Sandro replied quickly. "It's not for me. I'm fine."
Jack waited.
"It's for someone else. One of the girls at FCW. Alexa Bliss."
"The new one that have just debuted right?" Jack asked, recognition clicking. "Blonde. Cheerful. Short. Does the twisted flip thing off the top rope?"
"Yeah. That's her."
Jack exhaled slowly. "What's going on?"
Sandro told him everything. From the box outside the locker room to the razor blades inside it. The anonymous messages. The threatening calls. The way Alexa had tried to handle it on her own, thinking it was just overzealous fans, until it became impossible to ignore. Her fear. Her voice breaking. The way the entire locker room felt it, the protectiveness, the rage.
And Barry. The way his name had left Alexa's lips with dread. How he'd glared after being embarrassed. How the first message came right after.
Jack didn't interrupt. He just listened. When Sandro finished, the silence on the line lingered for a moment longer before Jack spoke.
"Jesus," he muttered. "Poor kid."
"Yeah," Sandro said softly.
"You're right to take this seriously," Jack added. "This isn't just creepy. It's dangerous. If someone's escalating like this, it's only a matter of time before something worse happens."
"That's why I need your help," Sandro said. "I want to find out who it is. For sure. I don't want to confront the wrong person or cause more drama backstage. I need someone who can dig without being noticed."
"I might know a few people," Jack replied, voice steady. "Not exactly law enforcement. But… useful in these kinds of situations. Guys who've done private contract work for me before. A couple of experts doing some intel types work who know how to keep things quiet."
"You trust them?"
Jack didn't hesitate. "I wouldn't recommend them if I didn't. But it'll take a day or two to get in touch. Most of them are on call or between gigs."
"That's fine," Sandro said. "As long as they're good. I don't want to spook this guy. I just want to catch him."
Jack grunted approvingly. "Good. That's smart. You keep this quiet for now. No public accusations, no confrontations. If it is this Barry guy, he might already be paranoid. If he thinks someone's watching, he'll cover his tracks."
"I know," Sandro replied.
There was a quiet beat. Then Jack added, more gently, "You did good, son. Stepping in for that girl. Protecting her. I'm proud of that."
Sandro blinked. It wasn't often his father said things like that. He felt it, sure. But saying it aloud? Rare.
"Thanks, Dad."
Jack cleared his throat. "Let me work on this. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Alright."
"And Sandro?"
"Yeah?"
"If this gets worse… if anything happens to that girl or to you, you let me know immediately. Don't try to play hero alone."
Sandro smiled faintly. "I won't."
"Take care."
"You too."
The call ended, and Sandro stared at the phone in his hand for a long while.
Outside his apartment, the Tampa night buzzed softly, distant traffic, the occasional bark of a dog, and humming of cars in the streets.
Inside, everything was quiet. Still. But inside him? A fire was building.
The next morning, Sandro arrived at the FCW arena early. Earlier than usual. The place still smelled like fresh mop water and coffee from the staff lounge. A few trainees were stretching in the ring, but the locker rooms were mostly empty.
He walked straight to the security office.
"Morning, Sandro," said Max, the guy who usually manned the monitors.
"You got the hallway cams from last Monday and Friday?"
Max blinked. "Yeah. Want to take a look?"
"Just for a few minutes."
They sat in silence, scrubbing through footage. Monday, there it was. The hallway. Barry was harssasing Alexa just like how she remembered. Her looking annoyed and rejecting. Sandro stepping in. Words exchanged. Barry storming off.
Then Friday.
Around early morning, when no one was around. A figure in a hoodie approached the locker room. A box in hand. Set it down. Watch it for a while. Then bolted. It was too blurry to make out the face. The person had kept their head down. Hood low. But the walk. The build. Sandro leaned forward, eyes narrowing. He recognized that walk. It was Barry.
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Name: Alessandro Zhang
Age: 19 (2009)
Birthplace: Orlando, Florida USA
Brand: FCW
Wrestling Style: Mixed Of All Style
Faction: Dragon Boom (Tag Team)
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion