The air in Harborview was heavy and thick with anticipation. Outside the arena, the streets were busier than you'd ever seen them, constant waves of fans in black "Why Maya Why?" t-shirts and brand new Steel Titans merch streaming toward the venue. Inside, fans were still ushering fans to their seats, but the energy was already electric.
In the back, the commentary duo of Noah and Irvin leaned against the catering table, paper cup in hand. While their volume was low, the importance of their ritual was high. Noah grimaced as he mixed the vodka into his coffee, stirring it slowly until the bitter scent rose up.
"God help me," he said before taking his first swig.
Irvin took his shot shortly after Noah's, and as he knocked it back, he exhaled and laughed. "We're gonna need it. Fifty thousand capacity, thirty thousand booked."
After straightening their jackets and giving each other the knowing nod, Noah and Irvin walked down the ramp to the commentary desk. A few fans, already in attendance for the event, spotted the commentators and began to cheer. The noises of the crowd washed over them; initially quiet, but only growing louder as more fans arrived to the massive arena. Noah couldn't help but smile—commentators aren't stars, generally speaking, but tonight everyone was part of the show.
Backstage, Vince Maston stood behind the monitor bank and coordinated with the production team while wearing a headset over his ears. Every camera angle, every lighting cue and every shot counted. He was checking the feed and the eyes darted between screens, hiding his nerves behind his calm demeanor.
He heard heavy footfalls when he saw Lance Dawson, panting and holding a folded slip of paper.
"Vince," Lance said and then panted some more, "I just got word- ACW wrapped up their pay per view an hour ago, and on live broadcast they called us out."
ACW- Atlantic Championship Wrestling- is the number two promotion in Harborview. Their bread and butter is gritty blue-collar brawling. ACW has touted itself as "the fighters promotion" for some time, spinning branding about blood, toughness, and tradition.
Their fans are loyal to the bone; they are convinced ACW, along with other working-class promotions, are the "true" wrestling as compared to WF's polish or the dustiness of HWP.
Earlier this evening, ACW ran their own PPV over on the other side of town, and from what I'd gathered, they used the closing moments to provocatively challenge IRW with the same act Vincent called "circus theatrics."
Vince remained motionless for the moment. Then, slowly, a grin began to materialize and he dramatically gripped the shoulder of Lance.
"Good," Vince said flatly, but still, it seemed sharp. "Let them preach. We're making headlines tonight."
A buzzing phone cut into the moment. Vince checked the phone. Gavin Lindman.
"Yeah?" Vince said, slightly annoyed.
"Vince!" Gavin said, sounding electric. "We're here, man. I brought the whole Maston Holdings office. We have premium seats, right on the camera side. They're going crazy—you should see it."
Vince allowed him to smile genuinely. "Thanks, Gavin. For everything."
"Just worry about tonight thinks for now," Gavin said. "This is your night. Good luck."
Vince hung up, huffed out a breath, and then turned back to the monitors.
Down at ringside, Luke and Tony had already taken their front-row seats. The amount they paid for those tickets was insane, but Luke's sister had gotten them—including a clause that allowed them to use her name to get access. This was a kindness neither of them could've anticipated.
"This place really looks... different," Tony said, taking in the setup. He gestured toward the barricades and the wider black matting around ringside as well as the entrance ramp that appeared to go on for miles. "It feels bigger."
Luke nodded, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Yeah. They put it all on the line. I can feel it."
Fans around them were chanting, taking pictures, and buying shirts from vendors weaving through the seats. It was already a party before the bell.
Cameras cut live to the broadcast table, where Noah straightened his tie before his voice, full of practiced energy, boomed through the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to history. Welcome... to All In!"
The venue roared with thirty thousand voices echoing off the rafters. Fireworks exploded off the stage with lights cascading over the fans.
"Noah and Irvin here with you ringside," Noah continued, "and folks, we are about to witness the biggest event in the history of Independent Regional Wrestling. The biggest stage, the biggest crowd, and the biggest stories all intersect tonight!"
Irvin leaned into his microphone, an enormous smile on his face. "We have championships, grudges, and history on the line. This is not just another day in Harborview. This is the day that IRW shows what it can be."
The cameras roamed up and down the screaming fans and then back to the stage as the first few notes of a heavy guitar came through the speakers.
Noah's voice trailed off again and moved from high to low. "And folks, we start with unfinished business. Victor Cross and Diego Cortez--two men who had one heck of a fight a few weeks back. Now we get to see the rematch."
For the television audience, the image cut to a clean montage of clips: a clip of Diego's 450 Splash victory, an image of Victor's snarl after losing the match, the clip of the brutal spinebuster from their last encounter. And finally, the words plastered up on the screen: Victor Cross vs. Diego Cortez - Rivalry Renewed.
And then the music hit. (I NEED SUGGESTIONS FOR ENTRANCES)
Victor Cross stepped through the curtain, sneering at the audience and with both arms outstretched as he paced toward the ring. The crowd booed him heavily, even flipping him the middle finger.
Irvin's loud voice spoke out over the crowd. "And here comes Victor Cross--the powerhouse, the brawler. Sore loser--he blames luck, he blames the crowd, he blames Diego--he just wants revenge tonight."
As Victor climbed into the ring, pounding his chest and barking at the audience, the hype in the building began to sharpen. The camera cut back to Noah and Irvin.
"Folks," Noah said. "This is All In. This is the start of something new. Buckle up—we are going to be here a long time, but it will be memorable."
The lights dimmed as the scene shifted once more, prepared for Diego Cortez's entrance, while the crowd chanted excitedly in anticipation of the high flyer.