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A big part of why Sandro's bank account looked the way it did was because of Hugo's skill at sniffing out the right opportunities. Sandro answered right away. "Hugo. What's up? We've been texting and emailing, but I figured you'd call if you had something big."
On the other end, Hugo's voice came through smooth and businesslike, but with a trace of excitement. "I do. You remember those two apps you told me to research and try to invest in? The ones you said were probably still early in development?"
Sandro's interest sharpened instantly. "Yeah. Instagram and ByteDance."
There was a pause on Hugo's end, almost like he was double checking that Sandro had just named them outright. "That's right. And, uh… I have to ask… how the hell did you even hear about them? Instagram I could understand, it's starting to make noise in some small technology and internet circles, but ByteDance? That's in China. They haven't even gone public with funding announcements yet as it was in development."
Sandro couldn't exactly tell him the truth, that he knew from his past life exactly how massive these two platforms would become. So he played it cool. "Let's just say I've got contacts who keep their ears to the ground. Doesn't matter how I heard, what matters is, did you get in touch with them?"
Hugo chuckled softly, but then his tone became more serious. "I did. And I've got some good news on one front. I met with Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger, Instagram's co founders. We talked numbers. After some back and forth, they agreed to a deal, fifteen million dollars from you in exchange for forty percent of the company."
Sandro's eyes lit up. "Forty percent? That's huge news, Hugo."
"Exactly," Hugo agreed. "And you'd be the only shareholder besides the two of them. I did just like you said, promised them not to take more shares down the line, but you'd still be a major player in the company's future. They're happy because I also told them as you instructed that you'd be willing to put in more funding later without asking for more equity. That gave them a lot of confidence."
Sandro leaned back against the wall, a smile creeping across his face. "You did good, Hugo. Real good."
"What about ByteDance?" he asked after a beat.
Here, Hugo's voice grew a little more cautious. "That's trickier. I've been in contact with Zhang Yiming and Liang Rubo, two college students working on the project. They were… surprised, to put it mildly, that someone from the U.S. even knew what they were developing. Because of that, they're suspicious. Guarded. And given their national pride, they're not eager to take foreign investment without a lot of convincing."
Sandro let out a thoughtful "Hmm." He knew this would be a tougher nut to crack. "All right. Keep at it. I know it's harder since they're on foreign soil, especially with the political tension between our countries, but I want you to keep me updated on every step."
"You got it," Hugo said. "I'll keep pushing."
The call ended, and Sandro stood there for a moment in the quiet hallway, the phone still in his hand. His mind was already racing.
He hadn't expected Instagram and ByteDance to be developing at the same time in this alternate version of Earth. In his past life, the timelines had been different, but here? It was almost like the universe had fast tracked his opportunities.
Not that he was complaining. If anything, it meant he could stake his claim in multiple future tech giants even earlier than before. Instagram was already in his pocket, forty percent, a massive stake that would pay off exponentially when the platform exploded worldwide.
As for ByteDance, he could afford to take the long view. He'd already done his homework and knew that Musical.ly, the app that would one day merge with ByteDance to create TikTok, hadn't even begun development yet. That meant the real breakout moment for ByteDance was still a ways off.
If Hugo could eventually win over Yiming and Rubo, Sandro would step in personally, charm them, and position himself as an ally rather than just a money man. He'd let them stay as founders and key figures, CEO, Head of R&D, whatever titles they wanted, but he'd make sure the majority shares were in his hands.
Because in the future he saw for himself, owning that kind of influence over global social media wasn't just a business move. It was power, something he had seen firsthand in his past life.
After thinking so, Sandro pushed off from the wall, still mulling over his conversation with Hugo, and began making his way toward the locker room. The adrenaline from earlier in the day had worn off, leaving behind the kind of tired satisfaction that came from knowing he'd made serious moves both in and out of the ring.
The faint echo of footsteps bounced along the hallway as he neared the heavy metal door leading into the locker room. When he pushed it open, the familiar mix of smells hit him, sweat, soap, and that faint tinge of muscle rub ointment that seemed to permanently cling to wrestling gear.
A few of the guys were still around, packing up their things or sitting on benches swapping stories about tonight's card.
"Yo, Sandro," one of them called out with a nod.
He gave a casual wave and a quick grin, returning greetings as he made his way to his locker. He wasn't the most talkative in these moments, partly because he liked to stay focused, and partly because he had something on his mind about things outside of this business.
Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, he zipped it shut and turned toward the exit. He was ready for a quiet ride back to his hotel, maybe grab something light to eat, and crash. But as he stepped out into the dim corridor that led toward the parking lot, a voice called out behind him.
"Sandro!"
He stopped mid stride and turned, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise.
It was Kelly Kelly.
He hadn't really spoken to her outside of that brief conversation they'd had at the bar after the party last week. Nothing more than a couple of polite exchanges, so seeing her now, calling his name like they were in the middle of an ongoing dialogue, was unexpected.
Still, Sandro wasn't rude by nature. He gave her a small, polite smile. "Hey. What's up?"
She walked toward him with that easy confidence she carried in front of a camera, but now without the glare of the spotlight. Her voice was casual, but there was something deliberate underneath. "I was wondering… do you need some kind of manager for your persona? You know, someone to add an extra element to your presentation? I'd really like to work with you. Maybe we could even exchange ideas, about in ring work, promos, and the business side of things."
Sandro blinked once, then shook his head slowly. "I appreciate the offer, but nah… I don't think I need a female manager or partner for my current run."
He paused, then added with a small smirk, "Besides, I heard you're close to getting into a storyline that could put the Divas Championship around your waist. If that's the case, you should focus on that. Working as my manager? That'd be a downgrade from chasing the top title in your division."
She opened her mouth like she wanted to counter, but he didn't give her the chance.
"And about trading our experiences, sure, maybe one day. But not right now. I've got a lot going on, so let's just see how things look in the future."
And with that, he turned away and started walking again, cutting off any possible reply.
Kelly watched his back retreat down the corridor, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line. There was something about the way he had shut down her suggestion, not rudely, but firmly, that sparked her interest even more. He wasn't like some of the guys who might've jumped at the chance to have her by their side on camera.
It almost felt like he was… loyal. Loyal to Alexa. That's the impression she got, at least.
But then there was that one thing she couldn't quite let go of.
She had seen him last week, she was certain of it, picking up Nikki a couple of blocks away from the bar after the party in Orlando.
Her memory and eye which was clouded by alcohol at the time wasn't playing tricks on her, she was a hundred percent sure it was him. And the way they'd disappeared together? Well, it didn't take much imagination to figure out what might have happened.
So why was he turning her down now? She wasn't implying they'd jump into bed or anything, she was more intrigued than anything else.
The guy was three years younger than her, carried himself with a calm confidence, had the kind of insane financial backing most people in this industry could only dream of… and yet he chose to spend his life in a business of constant injuries and violent spectacle.
Shaking her head, Kelly finally turned and made her way toward the women's locker room, still turning the puzzle over in her mind.
A week passed, and Monday Night RAW rolled around again.
Boston, Massachusetts.
The city was buzzing hours before showtime. Outside the TD Garden, fans in wrestling shirts lined up, chanting and holding homemade signs, waiting for the doors to open. Inside, the production crew was running through final checks, camera operators pacing through their marks, and the commentary team going over the night's rundown.
By the time the red light blinked on for the opening broadcast, millions were tuning in from around the world. The arena itself was jam packed, fans waving their arms, chanting, and feeding off the electric hum that only live wrestling could create.
The opening bout on the card was a big one, Shawn Michaels versus Carlito.
When the bell rang, the match started hot. Shawn played to the crowd, using his agility to dodge Carlito's early offense. Carlito countered with his trademark cocky swagger, mixing in hard strikes and that sneaky underhanded style he was known for. The pace quickened, each man trading momentum, the audience hanging on every move.
Halfway through, Shawn nailed his patented flying forearm, kipping up in one smooth motion that brought the Boston crowd to their feet. He set up for the Sweet Chin Music at the corner, stomping the mat in rhythm as the fans clapped along.
Then—
Darkness.
The lights in the entire arena cut out.
Gasps, cheers, and shouts erupted from the crowd.
The ominous sound of a single, echoing bell rang through the darkness.
Cole's voice shot through the commentary headset, sharp with excitement. "Oh my God… is it…?"
Another bell.
Lawler was practically bouncing in his seat. "It's gotta be! The Deadman is here!"
Then came the unmistakable sound of flames erupting on the stage as red fire pyros shot into the air. The third bell tolled, and the opening notes of The Undertaker's music rolled through the arena, deep and foreboding. Purple lights bathed the crowd, and the titantron lit up with images of the Phenom's storied career.
Every eye in the building, Shawn's included, was locked on the stage.
But instead of The Undertaker walking through the smoke, something else happened.
From under the ring, a shadow emerged.
It was a man, crawling out with deliberate, predatory movements. In his hands was a kendo stick.
The cameras caught the reveal, and Cole's voice went up an octave. "Wait a minute... what the hell?! That's Sandro!"
Lawler's tone flipped to outrage. "What is he doing here?!"
The crowd's reaction was a chaotic mix of boos, shocked gasps, and furious shouts.
Sliding into the ring, Sandro rose to his full height, and without hesitation, CRACK! The kendo stick smashed across Shawn's back. The sound of impact echoed through the building, sharp and brutal. Shawn dropped to one knee, grimacing in pain.
The referee spun around, immediately signaling for the bell. The match was over, Shawn would win by DQ, but Sandro wasn't done.
CRACK! Another strike. And another.
Cole was shouting in support, playing up Sandro's dominance. "That's how you make an impact! That's how you send a message!"
Lawler countered with pure disgust. "This is uncalled for! He's assaulting Shawn Michaels!"
The referee tried to intervene, stepping between them, but Sandro whipped around and cracked the kendo stick across the official's ribs, sending him crumpling to the mat. The boos from the crowd intensified. Carlito, still standing in the corner, finally decided he'd had enough. He stepped forward, shoving Sandro hard and yelling at him.
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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
Championship History: 1x FCW Tag Team Champions, 1x FCW Florida Heavyweight Champion, 1x TNA World Heavyweight Champion, & 1x TNA X Division Champion