The police precinct of Harborview North, that same dull concrete structure where Vince Maston and Maya Hart had once been processed and tossed into holding cells, had never experienced a night like this.
Precinct Chief Kiriya Blue stood behind his desk, his hands pressing down on the wood so hard that his knuckles turned white. The phones had been ringing nonstop for over an hour. Every line was blinking. Every call seemed to be worse than the last.
"Dammit!" Blue shouted, slamming his palm onto the desk. "Those IRW ultras—"
The officers in front of him flinched, even the seasoned ones. Kiriya Blue wasn't the type to lose his cool. He was methodical and cold, the kind of chief who preferred to apply quiet pressure rather than yell. Seeing him this angry meant things had spiraled far beyond the usual chaos.
Another phone rang. Blue grabbed it.
"Yes, sir," he barked into the receiver.
The voice from city headquarters was sharp and impatient. Orders. Demands. Keep the chaos under control. Restore order. No excuses.
Blue clenched his jaw, muttering reassurances he didn't quite believe, and slammed the phone down when the call ended. He looked up at his team, his eyes blazing.
"Status," he demanded.
The deputy chief stood up straight. "Fire trucks are on the scene at the NPJW warehouse, sir. They're battling the flames. The fire spread quicker than we thought—it's an older building with a lot of untreated wood. Right now, the crews are focused on stopping it from reaching the nearby structures."
Blue nodded once. "Any arrests?"
The deputy chief hesitated.
That pause was all the cue Blue needed.
He leaned in slowly, lowering his voice. "So, you're telling me," he said, each word deliberate, "that IRW ultras, led by Harry Khan, went on a rampage in my territory, set a wrestling arena on fire, attacked civilians—and you don't have anyone in custody?"
The deputy chief's eyes fell to the ground.
Before he could respond, another officer chimed in, his voice tense. "We did arrest one guy, sir. He was involved in a scuffle with some locals. He's in holding."
Blue's gaze snapped to him. "Was it near the warehouse?"
The officer swallowed hard. "No, sir."
Blue straightened up, a chilling calm washing over him. "Then we pin it on him."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
The deputy chief shot a sharp glance upward, his face a canvas of conflict. "Chief—"
Before he could finish, another officer blurted out, "Sir, we've got a situation. A guy just showed up claiming to be that suspect's lawyer. He's stirring up trouble, threatening lawsuits. We can't just—"
"OUT!" Blue erupted.
He flung a phone across the room, shattering it against the wall. "All of you, out! Incompetent fools! Get out before I throw you in jail!"
The officers scrambled, their boots thundering down the hallway as they rushed from his office.
Outside, the deputy chief leaned against the wall, trembling slightly as he fished out a cigarette. One of the younger officers lit it for him, hands shaking.
"Damn Blue," the deputy muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I knew it. Ever since we arrested those IRW folks… I had a feeling it would come back to bite us."
The officer nodded, silent. They shouldn't have gotten mixed up in this. Wrestling promotions, fan factions, territorial squabbles—it was all toxic.
Suddenly, a ruckus erupted near the precinct entrance. Shouting. Tires screeching.
The deputy chief flicked his cigarette away. "Go check it out."
The officer took off at a jog. Seconds felt like hours. Then a minute passed.
When the officer returned, his face was ashen, eyes wide as if he'd just seen a ghost.
"What?" the deputy demanded.
"A van," the officer said, voice barely steady. "Came out of nowhere. Stopped right in front of the precinct. Threw out five men. Bound. Beaten. They're… they're NPJW wrestlers."
The deputy chief's heart dropped.
He turned and ran toward Blue's office.
He barely made it inside before a telephone whizzed past his head and shattered against the doorframe.
------
In a bustling corner of the city, Vince Maston sat in IRW's makeshift operations room, his eyebrow arched as he absorbed the news footage on the screen.
The camera panned over the Harborview North precinct, where emergency lights were flashing. Five disheveled men were seated on the pavement, their hands tied, receiving medical care under the watchful eyes of the police.
Standing in front of a group of reporters was the precinct chief, Kiriya Blue, his jaw set in a firm line.
"This was a coordinated attack," Blue stated with a serious tone. "We have suspects, and we're actively following leads. Arrests have already been made. We will make sure those responsible are brought to justice."
Vince let out a soft chuckle.
Next to him, Lance Dawson joined in with a low laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.
Mark Rivera, perched stiffly on the edge of the couch with his hands tightly clasped, looked as if he was bracing for disaster.
"You're actually laughing?" Mark finally exclaimed. "Are you both out of your minds? This is the police we're talking about. This is arson. Assault. Kidnapping—"
Lance waved him off with a casual gesture. "They can't pin the fire on us. No evidence. No witnesses willing to talk."
"And what about the one arrest they made?" Mark pressed, his concern evident.
Vince leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed. "Already taken care of. The lawyer's on it. He'll be out on bail by morning."
Mark's eyes widened in disbelief. "You… you sent the lawyer?"
Vince shot him a smirk. "Of course I did."
Mark raked his fingers through his hair. "And that stunt with the van? Just dumping five guys right in front of the precinct?"
That finally got Vince to laugh out loud.
Lance joined in too, a dry chuckle that felt almost nostalgic.
Mark looked shocked. "How can you find this funny?! Zen and the others—aren't they going to blame us? What about NPJW? They'll come after us!"
Vince shook his head. "Zen won't say a thing."
"Why's that?"
"Pride," Vince said, keeping his tone steady. "And self-preservation. He threw the first punch. On live TV. If he files a complaint, it opens up a whole can of worms. His attack. Their invasion. Yoichi won't let that happen."
Lance nodded in agreement. "And what about kidnapping charges? Zen admitting he got ambushed after leading an illegal raid? He'd rather choke on glass."
Mark slumped back into the couch, still feeling uneasy. "This is insane."
Vince reached over and gave his arm a reassuring pat. "Embrace the chaos tonight. We just dealt a blow that could cripple NPJW."
He paused, his gaze drifting back to the screen, where footage of smoke billowing from the warehouse replayed.
"I didn't see the ultras setting the place on fire coming," Vince confessed. "But I won't pretend I'm upset about it."
Lance got up and headed to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of wine and two glasses.
He handed one to Vince.
Vince declined with a shake of his head. "Not tonight."
Lance shrugged and handed the glass to Mark instead. "Loosen up."
Mark hesitated, then took a cautious sip.
Lance poured one for himself and leaned back. "We're the dominant force now. Tomorrow, the city wakes up knowing it."
Mark swallowed hard, staring into his glass.