The Arena IRW lights pulsed as the crowd fell back in after a hot midcard matchup. The ring was reset, and the energy in the air was electric. Suddenly, a beat-heavy theme song came on the speakers, and the crowd responded with a mix of cheers and jeers.
The Flashpoint Brothers—Jett and Axel Flashpoint—burst through the curtain, as flamboyant as ever. Jett flipped forward into a kneel while Axel posed on the stage with his signature laser shades. They hammed it up for the crowd, feeding off their reaction, before climbing into the ring with microphones.
Jett spun once, and held up his mic. "Next week, All In goes live, and for the first time ever... IRW is going to crown its first tag team champions."
Axel added. "Now, we respect the work all of you are putting in—sorta. Do we need to say it though? There is only one team in this division with style, speed, and daring synchronization—and you are looking at them."
Jett smirked and nodded. "Steel Titans? You're certainly big. Apex Predators? Scary, I'll admit that. But we—" he pointed to himself and Axel, "—are evolution in action. And next week, the tag titles are coming back to the Flashpoint Brothers."
The crowd cheered and booed, they could feel the arrogance in the air.
Then they heard the "Steel Titans" theme blast through the speakers.
The arena lit up like a Christmas tree when Brock Steele and Hunter Locke walked down the ramp. Their eyes were focused, and they were not smiling. They entered the ring without hesitation.
Brock raised up a mic. "You boys done dancing yet?"
Hunter stepped forward speaking firmly. "You want the titles? We want them too. But talk is cheap, Flashpoints. You don't need lasers and poses to prove you're the best. You prove it in this ring."
Jett rolled his eyes. "Oh wow. Big guys that don't like fun. How original."
Axel added, "Come on, Titans. You think just because you're big you're champions? You're both just two big walking walls of meat."
Brock stepped forward and stood right in front of Jett. "Say more. You might just get knocked out before All In."
Tension was high, as was the anticipation from the crowd. Everything felt ready to burst. And then, with no warning, the lights went slightly dim.
Apex Predators' music hit.
Marcus Vane and Cal Bishop walked out, slow and stark, dressed in black and frowning. No flash. Just rage.
Marcus picked up a mic on the way. "You both sound like children," he laughed as they reached the ring. "One team dresses up, and the other is dressed like my living room, puling, 'I'm a good guy.' But when it comes to brutality, there is no level playing field... Only the Apex Predators' level."
Cal climbed onto the apron, and cracked his neck.
Marcus was pointing his finger. "At All In, we will not be fighting to win. We will be fighting to injure whoever is standing across from us."
Noah: "Oh boy, here we go..."
In the ring, all six men were staring each other down. Everything was still, and tension snapped.
Jett threw the first punch.
A chaotic three-way fight broke out in the ring, fists flying and the crowd roaring. Axel came flying off the ropes, hitting a springboard kick to Marcus. Cal smashed Jett down with a spinebuster. Brock tackled Cal and slammed him into the corner before Hunter nailed Axel with a suplex.
The ring was a madhouse.
Then, the Flashpoint Brothers hit their finisher, Flashpoint Overdrive, which is a combo superkick into a neckbreaker on Hunter Locke.
But seconds later, Marcus Vane had found his wits and leveled Jett with his finisher, Predator's End, an unbelievable full-nelson facebuster.
Noah: "They're destroying each other!"
The Steel Titans retaliated in kind, with Titan Slam, a vicious tandem powerbomb to Marcus with authority. The crowd erupted as the ring began to clear out.
The Steel Titans stood over the fallen combatants as the other four men lay motionless around them. They took the tag belts from ringside and held them up to a deafening cheer.
Dylan: "Steel Titans make their statement loud and clear! They want those belts—and after this? They just might take them!"
------
Later that night, the lights went dim, and the audience buzzed. A spotlight hit the ring where Eddie Prince was standing with a microphone.
"Mason Brooks!" he shouted, reverberating through the arena like a knife. "You beat me last time, but I am not going anywhere. You think you're the champion? Prove it again. Here. Right now."
The arena exploded as Mason Brooks' music played.
The IRW Champion walked out in his title, locked eyes with the ring, and didn't say anything. He dropped the belt at ringside and ran to the ring.
Noah: "Here comes Mason! He's not waiting!"
Eddie tossed the mic aside, and they brawled mid-ring, no bell, no ref—just fists. Mason smashed Eddie with a thunderous clothesline. Eddie retaliated with a running knee. The crowd screamed as they crashed over the ropes and brawled on the floor.
Security quickly came running in to intercept.
Noah: "This isn't a match, this is a war! Eddie won't stop until he's champion again!"
Mason broke free, spearing Eddie against the barricade before being dragged off by officials. He broke away one last time, grabbed his title, and climbed the steps, standing on the second rope and holding the championship high.
The arena thundered in approval.
Noah: "Mason Brooks stands tall again."
POST SHOW - BACKSTAGE, Vince Maston had busted the crew as he walked over to one of the production truck's broadcast technicians.
"Dude, you got the numbers?"
The tech looked up and smiled. "Preliminary's in. You are not going to believe this....We broke last week. Again. It's a 1.1."
Vince blinked. "You're kidding?"
"Nope."
Lance was walking up from behind them just then and overheard. "Wait. We went up again?"
The tech nodded. "Top rated wrestling show in the area this week."
Lance sighed as if punched in the gut. "I...I don't even know what to say."
Vince started to smile, but just a little. "Don't say anything. Just take in the climb."
He looked back up at the screen still showing Mason's freeze frame holding his title in the now roaring arena.