The Harborview night was alive with energy. Outside the arena, vendors were already busy selling fresh batches of IRW merchandise—caps, foam fingers, and the latest hot item: the "Why Maya Why?" shirts.
This whole idea was Vince's brainchild, hatched during the drive back from Maya's apartment a few nights ago. He knew it would sting her a bit, but in his mind, it was pure business brilliance. Stir up the drama, cash in on it, and raise the stakes for her showdown with Tracey at All In. It was a two-for-one deal: money and a compelling story.
Backstage, he had instructed Lance to discreetly distribute the shirts to different sections of the audience, making sure the cameras would catch the action. By the time the bell rang, those black tees with bold white letters—Why Maya Why?—were already scattered throughout the sea of fans.
In the crowd, Luke sat a few rows back from the commentary team, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Tony glanced over at him mid-conversation.
"You look like you just bit into a lemon," Tony remarked, lowering his headset for a moment.
Luke let out a frustrated breath through his nose. "Did you see those shirts?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah. Hard to miss. Smart marketing, if you ask me."
Luke's expression hardened. "It's not smart. It's just people piling on. You don't see what she's been going through. Every look, every whisper since last week… it's tearing her apart."
Tony leaned back, studying him closely. "I understand. She's your sister. But this—" he gestured toward the shirts—"this is wrestling, Luke. Heat like this? It creates stars. Maston knows what he's doing."
Luke shook his head, frustration bubbling over. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just cruelty disguised as business."
Before Tony could reply, the pyro went off, signaling the start of the show. The crowd erupted as the commentators snapped back into action.
"Welcome, everyone, to IRW!" Noah's voice rang out with infectious enthusiasm. "We're just three days away from All In, and tonight is gearing up to be a pivotal moment in this company's history!"
The crowd was electric as Lance—the former head of IRW and still a highly regarded figure—made his entrance. Dressed to impress, he held a sleek black suitcase in one hand and a microphone in the other.
"Whoa, what's going on here?" Noah wondered aloud as the camera tracked Lance's path to the ring.
"Lance doesn't just stroll out here for a casual chat," Tony chimed in. "That guy always has something important to say."
Once inside the ring, Lance set the suitcase down on a table that had been prepared. He clicked the mic on as the crowd's chants enveloped him.
"Harborview!" Lance shouted, his voice resonating throughout the arena. The audience erupted in cheers.
"Are you ready for All In?"
The response was deafening, the kind of buzz Vince always dreamed of for his events. Lance paused for a moment, letting the excitement build before continuing.
"In just three days, we'll witness the triple threat tag team battle. The Flashpoint Brothers. The Apex Predators. The Steel Titans. Three teams—one opportunity to prove who truly reigns supreme."
The camera panned to the crowd, where signs supporting each team were waving, the atmosphere charged with anticipation.
"And to sweeten the deal—" Lance opened the suitcase, turning it toward the hard camera. Inside sparkled the brand-new IRW Tag Team Championship belts. Sleek gold plates, adorned with sharp edges and black trim.
"OHHH!" Noah shouted, his eyes wide. "Check those out! The brand-new Tag Team titles!"
"They're stunning," Tony said, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "This company has really needed something like this—finally, those teams have something to fight for."
Meanwhile, in a small apartment across town, Michael Myers was parked in front of his TV, munching on a plate of cold fries. He wasn't really supposed to be watching IRW—his remote had gone rogue the other week, flipping the channel away from the big-city rival wrestling show during a commercial. But what he stumbled upon instead had him hooked: wild crowds, intense storylines, and that unique blend of grit and spectacle that IRW was known for. Now, he was glued to the screen.
"Damn," Michael muttered, leaning in as the belts glimmered under the arena lights. "Those look legit."
Back in the arena, the crowd's energy shifted dramatically as music blared through the speakers.
"Oh, here we go!" Noah yelled.
The Apex Predators burst onto the stage, cocky grins plastered on their faces. They swaggered down to the ring, each exuding their usual confidence.
One of them grabbed a mic. "Cut the music! Lance, you don't need to hype this up. You don't need to wait until All In. Just hand us those belts right now. Everyone here knows we're the only team that deserves to hold them."
Boos echoed through the arena, though some fans cheered enthusiastically.
Lance tilted his head, a smirk creeping onto his face as he raised his mic. "You think it's that easy?"
Before he could finish, another theme hit, sending the crowd into a frenzy of cheers.
"The Flashpoint Brothers!" Noah exclaimed.
The brothers stepped out, arms raised high, soaking in the electric atmosphere. They faced off against the Predators in the ring, and one of them grabbed a mic.
"You two don't deserve a thing," he shot back. "We've been busting our butts for years while you've just been flapping your gums. Those belts? They're coming home with us."
The crowd erupted, but the excitement doubled when another theme blared through the arena.
"Oh no," Tony groaned. "Here come the Steel Titans."
The colossal duo made their way down the ramp, their eyes fixed on both teams in the ring. The energy shifted—fans jumped to their feet, sensing that chaos was on the horizon.
Inside the ring, the three teams squared off, hurling insults at each other. Voices clashed, fists were clenched, and the noise level soared.
"Are we about to see this explode right now?" Noah wondered aloud.
Lance raised his hands to calm the storm. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second!" His voice cut through the chaos. "You all want to prove yourselves? You all think you're the best? Then let's give these fans a little taste tonight!"
The crowd went wild.
"I'm not suggesting a full-blown match," Lance continued. "But since you're all so eager—let's see one member from each team… right here, right now, in a triple threat match!"
The building shook with the crowd's reaction.
"Oh, YES!" Tony shouted. "Make it happen, Lance!"
The teams exchanged glances, then looked back at the crowd, who were chanting for a fight. Slowly, one by one, the leaders nodded in agreement.
"You want it?" one of the Predators yelled to the fans.
"YES!" the crowd roared back.
"Alright. Let's do this."
The tension was so thick you could feel it through the screen.
"Unbelievable!" Noah shouted. "A triple threat singles match between the three teams fighting for tag team gold in just three days! And it's happening NEXT!"
As the teams squared off, the broadcast cut sharply to commercial, the last image a wide shot of all six men glaring across the ring.
At home, Michael Myers shook his head, grinning at his TV. "Man… forget the other guys. This is the real deal."