In the backstage area, the energy was buzzing. Vince Maston, Lance Dawson, and Mark Rivera were huddled together in the gorilla position, still riding the wave of adrenaline from their ladder match. There was chatter from production on their headsets, but for now, all three of them were laughing and smiling from ear to ear.
Vince was practically bouncing with excitement. "That's how you make history, fellas. First ladder match in this company and we didn't even burn the place down."
Lance took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought we were crazy for going for it. But the crowd... they didn't just dig it. They were way into it."
Mark chuckled, still holding his clipboard tightly. "Way into it? They lost their minds out there. Did you hear them when Jett came off that post? I thought the damn roof was gonna fall off."
At that moment the wrestlers began to file in through the curtain one by one. Axel Flashpoint was first in, holding the new tag belts tightly close to his chest. Vince right away was raising his hand for a high five, and Axel gave him a tired one. Jett was slowly limping in behind him with tape around his midsection, still leaning slightly over in discomfort. Vince high-fived Jett, too, and then pulled Jett in for a quick embrace.
"That was one hell of a show," Vince said, catching him. "But go see Nick before you do anything else. You took a warhead to those ribs."
Mark strode forward and hugged both of his brothers hard, mumbling something about their guts. Lance followed his lead, thumping them solidly on the back. Hunter Locke and Brock Steele slumped in, and both men received congratulatory nods, although they both looked like they had just been through the wringer and were both glassy-eyed.
"All of you," Vince said, turning to the group, "just changed the industry. But first, go see Dr. Nick. Jett, Brock - especially you two."
They both nodded, and Jett's fatigue was showing, before they lifted slowly to the medical area.
Back inside the arena, the referees and ring crew scrambled to clear the carnage. Ladders were folded and carted outside, and the broken pieces of one ladder were whisked away by frantic hands. The buzz of the crowd inside the venue rang through, with many fans standing in small clusters, retelling their favorite moment of the matches.
At the commentator's desk, Noah and Irvin leaned forward with their still felt excitement as they talked to the viewers watching on television.
Noah: "Listeners, if you just joined us, you just missed a historic event unfold. The Flashpoint Brothers have stomped into the record books winning the very first ladder match in IRW history earning the title of inaugural Tag Team Champions!"
Irvin: "That is correct Noah. People said it couldn't happen, that it was too dangerous, that it was too risky. But tonight, IRW demonstrated that it can deliver visual entertainment like no other promotion anywhere in the world. If this is just the beginning, I can only imagine what we'll see next."
In the crowd Michael Myers sunk back in his seat. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead as he remained still and seated. It finally happened; he took a long breath. The adrenaline was just now fading, slowly leaving him shaky yet glorified.
"That was insane," he mumbled to himself with a wide smile and a full grin. "Pure insanity. I've never seen anything like it."
Around him, the fans were restless too, half the arena buzzing about Jett's fearless leap, while the other half raged about Marcus Vane's fall from the ladder. Michael knew one thing for certain—he wasn't going to be leaving this promotion any time soon.
When the broadcast came back from commercial breaks, Noah's voice became steady and serious.
Noah: "Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you back to All In. What a night it has been, and it's not over yet. We have one final match for you, the main event of the evening. And, it is for the IRW Men's Championship."
The crowd cheered when Noah said the word championship. Noah leaned into the microphone as if he had bad news to report.
Noah: "Unfortunately, we are going to have to inform you that Mason Brooks, the champion, is unable to compete tonight. Mason suffered a serious injury last show at the hands of Eddie Prince and has forfeit the IRW Championship."
The crowd went from cheers, to gasps, and mumbling. A few fans even started groaning.
In the first row, Luke Hart shook his head with disappointment. "Damn. I wanted Mason to drag Eddie down this time."
Tony nudged him with his elbow and smirked slightly. "You know what happened with Mason last time. Mason didn't take that fall the right way. His arm didn't break right. There were signs."
Luke sighed and crossed his arms. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. Mason was our guy."
Tony leaned back and narrowed his eyes at the murmuring crowd in the arena. "Well then the question is—what's next for IRW?"
The answer came quickly.
The curtain opened and one by one, the men of the roster started walking down the ramp. First, Diego Cortez, still bruised from his match. Then Victor Cross, Diego's rival. Then the midcarders and other newcomers, all with determination plastered on their faces.
The crowd began murmurings of curiosity, the confusion spreading like wildfire.
"What the hell is going on?" somebody yelled from the crowd.
Backstage, Lance had his headset pressed tight against his ear, murmuring into his mouthpiece. "Alright, keep it tight. Cameras to the entrance, wide shot when they hit the apron. Mark, pace this thing. Make sure the order's right."
Mark adjusted his glasses, his nerves barely concealed. "God help us, Vince. That ladder match was lightning in a bottle. If this doesn't hit the same way, we're cooked."
Vince, standing with arms folded, gave only the faintest smirk. "Relax, Mark. This is what we do. Mason's out, the crowd's restless. So we give them something better than they imagined."
He leaned closer to the monitor, his eyes sharp. "Tonight, we crown a new champion. And they'll remember it."
The wrestlers continued to file into the ring as the crowd buzzed louder, trying to piece together what was about to happen.