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The more they saw, the darker their expressions became. The texts were undeniable, crude, threatening, laced with jealousy and venom. The bank statements showed the money trail leading straight from Barry's account to the known harassers. The surveillance footage... well, that sealed it beyond any doubt.
Finally, Steve leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Dusty crossed his arms tightly across his chest, looking like he was restraining the urge to punch a hole through the wall.
"Goddamn," Dusty muttered under his breath. "Poor Alexa..."
Sandro nodded stiffly. "That's why I wanted to bring it straight to you two. No one else knows except a few people who saw what happened last Friday. I don't want this to blow up into a whole thing. Alexa's already been through enough."
Steve nodded grimly. "You did the right thing, Sandro. Absolutely."
Dusty stepped forward, placing a hand on Sandro's shoulder. "You did good, son. Real good."
Sandro met his eyes, his jaw set. "I just want to make sure this gets handled properly. No drama. No rumors. Alexa doesn't need more eyes on her. She needs peace."
Steve exchanged a look with Dusty, and the two veterans came to a silent agreement.
"First thing we do," Steve said, his voice like iron, "is suspend Barry immediately. Effective today. Indefinitely."
"And we keep it internal," Dusty added. "No public announcement. No leaks. We'll tell the few who need to know, but otherwise, we say Barry's on 'personal leave.'"
Sandro hearing that was silent for a while, his eyes fixed on the floor, lost in thought. The silence stretched long enough to catch Dusty and Steve's attention, both men exchanging a glance as they watched him.
There was a certain tension in Sandro's posture, shoulders slightly stiff, fingers flexing unconsciously at his sides, jaw tight.
Dusty, was the first to speak when the air grew too thick, cleared his throat. "Something wrong with how we're handling it, son?"
Steve leaned in, eyebrows drawing together in concern. "If you got reservations, Sandro, speak up. We trust your gut on this. You were the one who brought this to light."
Sandro slowly shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line before he let out a quiet breath. "No… it's not that. I'm satisfied with how you're handling it. Keeping it quiet, internal, it's the right move. Alexa doesn't need the whole world watching her like some circus act."
Steve nodded, but his eyes didn't leave Sandro's face. "Then what is it?"
Sandro looked up, locking eyes with the two veterans. There was no hesitation now, only resolve. "I have a request," he said, voice low and even.
Dusty arched a brow, his arms still crossed. "Alright, shoot."
Sandro's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "I want a shoot match with Barry. One on one. In the ring."
The room went dead silent.
Steve blinked, sitting forward in his chair. "A shoot match? You serious?"
Sandro nodded. "Dead serious. I won't make it obvious. I'll work the crowd, and keep it clean on the outside. But inside that ring, I'm gonna teach him a lesson he'll never forget."
Dusty straightened up, his expression now caught somewhere between disbelief and concern. "You know that ain't how things are done these days. We handle problems backstage, through management. This ain't the 80's to early 2000s anymore."
Sandro met his gaze with a steady calm. "I know. But this ain't some petty backstage beef over spots or politics. This is personal. That bastard messed with Alexa's safety and her dignity. I'm not letting him walk away with just a quiet suspension and a slap on the wrist. He deserves to feel what he put her through and I want to be the one to deliver it."
Steve let out a long exhale and leaned back, rubbing his temples. "And what if Smash has something to say about it? Barry's old man ain't just anybody, he's a legend. He'll raise hell if he hears his son got roughed up in a match, especially if it was intentional."
Sandro's smile returned, colder this time. "If Smash has a problem, I'll handle it. I'm not afraid of his legacy. I respect what he did in the ring but Barry? Barry's spitting on everything his old man built. If Smash wants to go to war over that, I'm ready."
Dusty and Steve turned to each other again, a long, weighty pause settling between them. They were no strangers to shoot matches, hell, both of them had seen their fair share in their prime, but the business had changed.
Things are handled more diplomatically now, especially with the rise of social media and corporate oversight. Shoot matches were relics of a bygone era… and yet, looking at Sandro, they both knew this wasn't just bluster.
The kid was serious, and he wasn't asking for permission out of courtesy, he was giving them a chance to make sure it didn't spiral into something worse.
"I'll be honest with you," Steve finally said, his voice quiet but firm, "if we say no, I know damn well you're still gonna find a way to do it. Might be backstage, might be during a promo, but you'll get your pound of flesh one way or another."
Dusty nodded slowly. "So we might as well supervise it. Contain it. You want a match? You got it. We'll schedule it for next week, after you get back from TNA this Thursday."
Sandro's shoulders eased slightly. "Thank you. And don't worry, I'll make it look like any other match. Fans won't suspect a thing."
"You better," Steve muttered, shaking his head. "The last thing we need is this turning into a PR nightmare. Keep it professional, Sandro. Handle your business, but don't bury the kid. Just make your point."
Sandro's eyes darkened. "Don't worry. I'm not looking to end his career. Just remind him that there are consequences."
Dusty stepped forward, his face still serious but laced with a hint of grudging respect. "You're walkin' a dangerous line, son. But I get it. Sometimes, the old ways are the only ways that work."
Sandro extended a hand, and both Dusty and Steve shook it in turn. "I appreciate you both for trusting me with this. It won't get out of hand."
"Make damn sure it doesn't," Steve said firmly. "We're sticking our necks out for this."
With the agreement sealed, the room fell into a quieter rhythm. Dusty pulled out a notepad to jot down some preliminary scheduling notes, while Steve typed something on his computer likely drafting the internal memo about Barry's "personal leave."
As Sandro turned to leave, Dusty called out to him. "One more thing."
Sandro paused.
"Make sure Alexa's okay," Dusty said, his tone softening. "She might not say it, but she needs someone in her corner right now. Someone she trusts."
Sandro nodded without turning back. "She's not alone. I've got her."
After saying that, Sandro left Steve's office, his footsteps heavy but purposeful as he walked through the quiet halls of FCW headquarters.
His mind was still buzzing with adrenaline and fury, but also a sense of resolution. The hardest part was over. The evidence was undeniable. Barry had crossed a line that couldn't be ignored, and now… now it was time to act.
The evening sun cast long shadows over the parking lot as Sandro stepped into his car and made his way back to his apartment.
The drive gave him a little time to breathe, to mentally shift gears. Tomorrow, he'd be flying out to Nashville with Rebecca and Beer Money Inc. for the joint taping with TNA, something exciting for him, and can't wait to wrestle on another promotion.
As he walked through the door of his apartment, he let out a low sigh and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. His travel bag sat half empty by the sofa, and with a shake of his head, he headed to the bedroom to pack the rest of his gear.
While folding a couple of his favorite shirts and rolling up a pair of jeans, he grabbed his phone and dialed April. The call rang twice before she picked up, her voice bubbling with warmth.
"Hey, you!"
"Hey," Sandro said, already feeling a bit lighter hearing her tone. "Just wanted to give you a heads up. I'm flying out to Nashville tomorrow for the TNA crossover. Rebecca and Beer Money are flying with me."
There was a pause, and then a playful whine. "What? Tomorrow? I thought we were gonna hang this week!"
Sandro chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's why I'm calling you now. You wanna come over tonight? I was thinking I could order some food, your favorite Mexican place."
April gasped dramatically. "Sold! I'll be there in twenty. You better have tacos and churros waiting.".
Sandro laughed. "Coming right up."
After hanging up, he finished zipping his suitcase and headed to the kitchen to grab the takeout menu they always kept tucked inside a drawer.
He called the restaurant, La Catrina, and placed a generous order: beef tacos, chicken enchiladas, carne asada fries, extra guac, and, of course, a few servings of their cinnamon sugar churros with chocolate sauce. He even threw in a horchata and a tamarindo soda, just because he knew April loved those.
With everything set, he sank onto the couch, tossing the remote to the side as he leaned back with a sigh. The quiet hum of the AC was the only sound in the room as he stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting his muscles finally relax.
The doorbell rang just as he was starting to drift, and he blinked back to the present, standing up and heading to the door.
April arrived first, just like she promised, stepping in with a big smile on her face. She dropped her purse on the table and wrapped her arms around him tightly, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. Her scent floral and faintly citrusy was comforting in a way he hadn't realized he'd needed until now.
"Hey," she said, pulling back to look up at him. "You look tired."
"It's been a day," he replied simply, resting a hand on her lower back.
Before they could say more, there was another knock. The delivery guy stood outside with two large bags filled with food. Sandro handed him seventy dollars, waved off the change, and gave the guy a friendly nod of thanks before closing the door.
April was already in the kitchen pulling out plates and setting the table while Sandro unpacked the bags. The rich smell of seasoned meat, melted cheese, and fresh salsa filled the apartment almost instantly.
They settled in on the couch with their plates, a crime documentary playing quietly in the background. April moaned dramatically after her first bite of enchilada.
"I swear, this place is a gift from the heavens."
Sandro smirked around a bite of his taco. "Told you. Best in the city."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, occasionally pointing out absurd plot twists in the show or joking about how they'd solve the crime faster than the detectives on screen.
When the food was finished and their plates were stacked on the coffee table, April curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
Sandro rested his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly running his fingers along her upper arm.
"I found out who it was," he said quietly.
April shifted slightly to look up at him. "What do you mean?"
"The person who's been harassing Alexa. Sending her threats, spamming calls at her, the box that was sent last Friday."
Her body tensed under his arm. "You're serious? You actually found out?"
He nodded. "Barry. It was Barry all along."
April sat up straighter, eyes wide with disbelief. "Barry?! It's really him?! I didn't expect that he would go to such length, Alexa had told me she was a bit suspicious of him."
"Yeah," Sandro said, voice like stone. "Turns out he wasn't just a nuisance. I got the evidence. Texts. Money trail. Even surveillance footage. It's all airtight."
April was quiet for a moment, taking that in. "How did Alexa take it?"
"She's shocked definitely," Sandro admitted. "Not expecting that her suspicion would be true, but I think she took it much better than I expected."
April nodded slowly. "So… what now? You report it?"
"I went straight to Dusty and Steve today," he said. "Laid it all out. They're suspending Barry effective immediately. Internally. No public announcement. Just… 'personal leave.'"
April frowned, lips pressed together. "That feels too soft. He should be banned, not just given a time out."
Sandro's gaze sharpened. "That's why I asked for a shoot match."
April stared at him, blinking. "You what?"
"I asked Dusty and Steve to let me face him in the ring. Just me and him. No show, no drama. Just a chance to remind him what consequences feel like."
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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