The hum of the IRW office was quieter than normal that night, everybody was still buzzed from the neat show they had just put on. Vince was at the conference table with Lance Dawson, Mark Rivera and Ronald Hogan, Lance's longtime aide and the man behind most of IRW's merchandising.
Ronald couldn't hide his grin as he opened his sales report. "You are not going to believe these numbers, Vince."
Vince leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Try me."
"Shirt sales after tonight's show," Ronald said, tapping the page front of him. "Tracey Prince and Maya Hart? Number one and two on the chart. Mason Brooks right behind them. And the Steel Titans? They've doubled their sales numbers since last week."
Lance raised his eyebrows. "That's… actually huge. I don't remember the last time the Titans sold more than a handful in a week."
"It's the exposure," Vince said flatly. "People finally care about these guys. They're not just names on a card, they're characters they're invested in."
Mark chuckled. "Well, whatever it is, keep it up. The fans are literally buying in."
Lance nodded, but his tone shifted. "We've got one more show before All In. We need to keep this momentum rolling—keep the energy so the PPV hits hard."
Vince smirked faintly. "Don't worry. I've already got the bones of next week's show in my head. All we have to do is make sure the crowd leaves still talking about IRW."
_____
On the mid-morning streets of Harborview, Maya Hart pushed her cart through a small neighborhood grocery store. Wearing a hoodie and keeping her head down to be discreet, she could still feel a few sets of eyes linger on her from the aisles. At first, she thought nothing of it—maybe they just recognized her from the show.
But then, she caught a whisper from behind.
"That's her. The one who attacked Tracey."
"She stomped her ribs, right?"
"Yeah, went a little overboard. Totally unnecessary."
Maya's knuckles turned white around the handle of her cart. She tried to put her focus back on her shopping list and ignore the whispers, but the weight of the stares were starting to bear down on her.
She was almost to the checkout when she felt her heart drop. The cashier—a woman in her forties—was sporting a Tracey Prince T-shirt. The woman's face was stern, and her eyes narrowed when Maya began placing items on the checkout counter.
The air between them felt heavy, thick with silent judgment. Maya paid quickly, avoiding eye contact, and left without a word.
By the time she stepped outside, her pulse was racing. She felt like every pair of eyes in the store had been drilling into her.
Maya closed her apartment door behind her and leaned against it, breathing out heavily. She placed the groceries, which were now out of mind, on the counter and grabbed her phone.
She scrolled through her contacts until she found her brother's number, and hit call.
"Hello?" Luke's voice was groggy.
"Luke..." she said, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Something happened today."
Maya heard a pause, and Luke's tone sharpened. "What is it, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I... I went to the store, and..." She started choking up, her eyes stinging with tears. "They were all staring at me. Whispering. Like I was some sort of... monster."
Luke sat up in bed. "Is this about Tracey?"
Maya thought about that for a moment, and that was answer enough.
"They were glaring at me, Luke. Even the cashier—I can't believe it—she was in Tracey's shirt." Her voice shook. "I know that's what I get for being booed, but this... this felt different."
Luke's voice softened. "Hey, it's okay. It's just the heat from the show. They're reacting to what you did on TV, not to you as a person."
When Vince returned to the IRW offices, his phone buzzed. Seeing that it was Maya, he picked it up right away.
"Maya? What's up?"
Her voice came shaky. "I...I think I need to talk to you. Something happened today."
"Okay," Vince said calmly. "Take a deep breath and start from the beginning."
She told him about going to the store, the looks, the whispers, the cashier who gave them a look in full said. By the end of the call, her voice was cracking again.
When she was done, Vince was silent for a moment and then let out a slow, tense breath. "Okay. Find your way home. I'll come to you."
When Vince hung up, Lance walked into the room. "Everything cool?"
"No." Vince replied flatly. "Maya had a bad experience today. fans treating her like she really did hurt Tracey for reals."
Lance frowned. "That's messed up. We probably should put out a statement saying it's part of the show."
Vince shook his head. "No. It's part of the game. If she's going to be a top heel, then this won't be the last time this happens."
"You're saying she just has to live with it?" Lance asked, incredulous.
"Yes," Vince said bluntly. "She has to get used to it, control it, and use it. If we step in every time, the heat dies."
Lance stared at him, still visibly unsettled. "That's… cold, Vince."
"It's the truth," Vince replied simply. He grabbed his coat. "I'll go talk to her."