The sound of the arena had hardly settled down since the anniversary tag team ladder match when the broadcast cut back to the commentary desk. Noah shuffled the paper in his hands to look at the lines Vince had scrawled hastily earlier in the night before his voice boomed throughout the broadcast:
Noah: "Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time ever in the IRW, tonight's main event will be a Battle Royale! Twenty wrestlers will enter the ring. The only way you can get eliminated is to be thrown over the top rope to the floor below with both feet hitting the mat.
And when it's all said and done, only one man will remain and be crowned the new IRW Men's Champion!"
Cheers and murmurs erupted from the crowd, a mix of confusion and excitement. This was different. This was unpredictable. For most wrestling fans, the thought of twenty wrestlers battling at the same time in the same match was a difficult one to visualize, yet here it was, happening before their eyes.
Irvin leaned in, excitement seeping into his voice.
Irvin: "We've got twenty guys, one ring. This is madness, Noah. I've never seen anything like it."
Noah: "That's because no one has partner. This is a first in the history of wrestling, here in IRW."
Inside the ring, more wrestlers kept entering.
The roster was stacking up, contributing to the unprecedented spectacle of persistent bodies. Diego Cortez. Victor Cross. Justin Garland. They were joined by two almost ridiculously talented youngsters, the lightning fast Tommy Blaze and the behemoth Rick Stone.
The fans were eating up Hogan Hornet, the bright blond mustache almost aglow in the lights. Roughneck Carl Jensen was the only midcarder of note, but Leo Quinn was charging along with him.
The fans leaned forward, beholden to the ring. The roar had built to an almost unbearable crescendo.
Suddenly, a distinct riff blasted through the speakers.
It was Eddie Prince's entrance music—loud, brash, and full of the same golden bravado that defined the era of pop-tinged 1980s cockiness.
The boos rang out as soon as he began making his entrance. The crowd loathed him, and they wanted him to know it.
Drinks flew from the cheap seats along with a litany of jeers from the fans there. Eddie swaggered in, wearing a full-on grinning smirk, but for just a split moment, his smirk faltered at the sheer vitriol that came from the audience before he steeled himself, clenched his jaw, and got back into his cocky persona by flinging back his hair and raising his arms in a mocking way.
He moved down the ramp like the boos were gas in the tank, circling the ring slowly, as if to dare anyone inside to step up and do something to him. The wrestlers leaned over the ropes, yelling functionally meaningless insults.
Eddie smiled, enjoyed his slow ride, climbed into the ring, and soaked up the hatred.
And then the music stopped.
Lance Dawson came from behind the curtain holding the IRW Men's Championship.
The crowd cheered in response, half in for the spectacle, and half booing the idea that Mason Brooks was not in this match.
The championship title glistened brightly in the light of the arena. This championship belt was the first ever design of a men's world title in the new era of wrestling, and it was proud to be classic and unique—but also intimidating.
The championship belt had a huge round center plate made of pure gold with the letters IRW Men's Champion, noticeably engraved in large letters. On either side of the championship plate were smaller plates, attached and engraved with laurel wreaths, which signify victory and legacy or history.
The strap of the title was thick black leather and surrounding the edge of the strap were small gold rivets, likely affixed tightly, and the belt appeared very very heavy. Very expensive. Very real.
Lance carefully sat the championship belt down on a table that was positioned right beside the commentary desk. As he did so, all of the cameras zoomed in and captured every angle as the light bounced off of its polished surface.
Noah: "And everyone at home, what you are seeing is one of a kind. That title has been completely refinished from scratch, in pure gold, and we've heard reports of hundreds of thousands of dollars being put into its production. And its not a belt—it's a trophy."
In the front row, Luke's jaw dropped open. "What. That looks like something that belongs in a museum."
Meanwhile, Tony was looking upset. "I want it on Mason's waist. It feels wrong with all the new champion stuff."
Inside the ring, the tension boiled. Wrestlers crowded the ropes, glaring at one another, jostling for position. The referee, looking small amid the giants, held up his hand. The bell rang.
The match had begun.
Victor Cross did not hesitate. He dove right after Diego Cortez, throwing punches. The two of them had a feud that had been brewing all night, and Victor was not going to wait any longer. He bashed Diego into the corner with his left and right fists.
Simultaneously, Eddie Prince was all of a sudden swarmed. Rick Stone and Leo Quinn, both of them, charged Adam into another corner. Eddie ducked and squirmed, his smirk for the first time left him as he held on to the ropes for dear life.
Noah: "Look at that! Eddie Prince is the biggest target in this match already, and he's barely hanging on."
Irvin: "They all want a piece of him, Noah. Who could blame them? He has been talking all week!"
Just when the crowd started to cheer considering Eddie's elimination, he was low enough just to duck under both men's swings, and hanging on to the middle ropes.
His boots were flailing back and forth as Stone and Quinn scooped Eddie, but Eddie held on like iron. Boo's were coming in as Eddie squirmed down back into the ring and backed into a corner of the ring.
The situation became more serious all at once. An midcard brawler, Justin Garland, who had a large frame, made the first elimination of the night by flinging Tommy Blaze over the top rope with a clothesline that sent a loud thump through the crowd as he hit the ground. The fans gasped and then erupted into cheers.
Noah: "There it is! Our first elimination—Tommy Blaze has been eliminated!"
Across the ring, Hogan Hornet was flexing his impressive arms to get the crowd cheered. Hornet then picked up Carl Jensen, carried him as if he were a sack of potatoes, and threw him over the ropes.
The fans went wild chanting "HOGAN! HOGAN!" as Hornet posed dramatically for the camera.
As candid fans hooted in celebration of the elimination, everything changed. Hornet turned in time to move Diego Cortez, who had just eliminated Victor Cross, into the next corner and then hurled Diego with one hand.
The gathered audience gasped as Hornet mercilessly yelled and punched Diego into the corner. Before Hornet moved on to continue his assault on Diego Cortez, he showed no mercy or hesitation toward the fan favorite.
Irvin: "And Hogan Hornet is now after Diego Cortez! That's what you get with a Battle Royale, Noah—friendships don't matter. It is every person's a man for himself!"
Noah: "Diego has just had a tough night already, and now he has this muscle mountain breathing down his neck."
As the camera showed the chaos of the match, it panned across wrestlers wrestling in corners, boots sailing through the air, and fists cracking jaws. Eddie Prince ducked another punch, and managed to slip back into the safety of the corner.
Victor and Diego were still ripping against each other in one corner, while Hornet remained in another corner, and Justin Garland already moved on to looking for his next victim.
The crowd's noise escalated and built louder, and louder, engulfed with excitement and disbelief. This was not something the crowd had ever witnessed before.
Noah: "Folks, nineteen men entered this ring, and one will leave triumphant as champion. Please stay with us, when we return, this historic Battle Royale continues!"
AN: I AM HAVING TROUBLE WRITING THIS. ALSO SUGGEST SOME SONGS FOR ENTRANCES.