Hunter Gunnar and Brocke Steele of the Steel Titans made their entrance onto the stage, exuding an air of confidence that seemed to brush off the crowd's jeers like water off a duck's back.
With a determined stride, they headed toward the ring, embodying a gritty, blue-collar spirit. Unlike the more flamboyant teams in IRW, the Titans had no time for theatrics—they were all about hard-hitting matches and those coveted shiny silver belts.
As they approached, the Road Warriors observed with a sense of smug satisfaction.
Animal grabbed a microphone, casually draping his title belt over one massive shoulder. "You boys looking for a shot at these?" He tapped the leather with a grin. "Then you better earn it."
Hawk pointed a finger at the advancing Titans, his voice dripping with challenge. "Take them down. Because if you can't even handle the Steel Titans, you don't stand a chance against us."
Marcus Vane exchanged a quick look with Cal Bishop before giving a firm nod.
Cal's grin widened, his eyes glinting with determination. "Alright then. We'll smash right through them."
The crowd erupted in cheers, rallying behind their defiance.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a number one contender's match!" Noah declared, excitement buzzing in the air.
"I don't know, Noah," Irvin pondered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "The Steel Titans aren't exactly the ideal warm-up when you're gunning for a title shot."
The referee signaled for the bell as the Road Warriors took their place at ringside, watching intently like hawks ready to swoop in.
Clang-clang-clang!
Marcus Vane kicked off the action against Hunter.
In those opening moments, Marcus relied on his incredible speed, darting around the larger man and landing quick leg kicks and jabs before slipping out of reach.
Eventually, Hunter managed to time Marcus perfectly, sending him flying with a bone-crushing shoulder tackle. But Marcus was quick to recover, bouncing back to his feet and delivering a sharp dropkick that sent the big man reeling into the ropes.
The crowd went wild during the high-energy sequence.
Marcus tagged in Cal Bishop, and together they quickly reminded everyone why they were in the running for the championship.
With sharp communication, quick tags, and flawless double-team moves, they trapped Hunter in their corner, effectively cutting the ring in half.
"Now that's what I call textbook tag team wrestling," Noah exclaimed. "They're breaking down the bigger guy piece by piece!"
"They're on fire right now," Irvin replied, "but remember, the Titans only need one slip-up."
Then it happened. Hunter powered through a double-wristlock, sending Cal spinning with a thunderous clothesline before making a desperate dive to tag in Brocke.
The fresh Steel Titan stormed into the ring like a freight train.
Brocke slammed Cal back into the turnbuckle, unleashing a barrage of punishing body shots and brutal knees to the midsection.
On the apron, Marcus was slapping the turnbuckle pad like crazy, urging his partner on as the crowd rallied to chant Cal back into the fight.
After enduring a relentless assault for what felt like ages, Cal managed to escape with a last-ditch jawbreaker, turning and lunging blindly toward his corner. Marcus leaned over the top rope, every muscle straining.
Tag!
The arena erupted.
Marcus sprang into the ring, ignited with energy, taking down both Steel Titans with back-to-back clotheslines. He caught a charging Brocke and slammed him into the canvas with a bone-rattling spinebuster, hooking the leg.
One! Two—Brocke kicked out with authority, but the momentum was firmly in Marcus's favor.
Outside the ring, Hawk watched the action unfold, a sly grin spreading across his face. As Marcus pulled Brocke up to finish the job, Hawk stepped onto the apron and shouted across the ring.
"Come on, Marcus! I thought you were better than this!"
Marcus instinctively turned his head toward the Road Warrior. It was just a split-second distraction—a brief lapse in concentration.
Brocke needed just that moment.
He charged in from behind, slamming a punishing forearm into Marcus's spine before quickly rolling him up, grabbing hold of his tights.
Marcus managed to kick out at two and a half, but the damage was already done. The flow of the match was disrupted.
"Hawk had no business jumping on the apron!" Noah yelled, frustration bubbling over.
"He didn't even touch him, Noah!" Irvin retorted with a chuckle. "He just ran his mouth. If Marcus can't tune out the noise from ringside, that's on him!"
Marcus, clearly frustrated, scrambled to his feet, shooting a glare at Hawk. That brief moment of misplaced anger opened the door for Hunter, who slipped into the ring while the referee was busy trying to get a frantic Cal back onto the apron.
Hunter delivered a brutal boot right to Marcus's jaw.
The Titans were ready to finish him off.
Hunter sent a dazed Marcus flying into the ropes, right into Brocke, who caught him mid-air with a spine-crushing powerslam. Brocke hooked both legs while Hunter blocked any escape.
One!
Two!
Three!
"Here are your winners... the Steel Titans!"
The Road Warriors climbed into the ring, clapping mockingly as the Titans stood triumphantly over their fallen opponent.
Outside, Marcus slumped against the bottom rope, fury radiating from him. Cal rushed in, pulling his partner to his feet as both men glared at Hawk and Animal, fully aware they had been outsmarted.
The crowd erupted into a heated debate, voices rising over the barricades:
"They cheated!"
"He didn't even lay a hand on him!"
"Hawk cost them the match!"
"It's all part of the game!"
"Call it gamesmanship or cheap interference, the Road Warriors orchestrated that whole outcome," Noah said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I call it champion's experience," Irvin snickered. "If a little trash talk from the sidelines makes you lose, you were never ready for the Road Warriors in the first place."
--
After a quick commercial break, the arena was electrified by a heavy guitar riff as Mason Brooks strutted down the ramp.
The former IRW World Champion made his way to the ring, basking in a whirlwind of cheers and boos from the crowd. He snatched a microphone from ringside, stepped through the ropes, and waited for the noise to die down.
"You know..." Mason started, locking eyes with the hard camera. "I've spent the last week watching everyone celebrate Promotion Wars like we just pulled off the greatest heist in history."
Cheers erupted around him.
Mason shrugged nonchalantly. "Congrats, IRW won." More cheers followed. "But let's not kid ourselves; it wasn't a flawless night."
The crowd hushed, tension building in the air.
"Our Men's Champion..." Mason drawled, pausing for effect, "...got pinned."
A wave of murmurs swept through the audience.
"Eddie Prince lost to Yokozuna," Mason scoffed, shaking his head. "And that's exactly why I should have been the one leading this company in the main event."
A passionate group of Brooks supporters cheered him on.
"If I had been in that ring instead of Eddie, IRW would have dominated the entire card."
Before the crowd could fully react, a thunderous theme song interrupted Mason. Hogan Hornet strode onto the stage to a roaring ovation.
"I had a feeling someone would step up to him," Noah remarked.
Irvin let out an exaggerated groan. "Of course. Here come the moral police."
Hogan slid into the ring, microphone in hand. "You really believe that nonsense you're spouting, Mason?"
Mason smirked. "I don't just believe it. I know it."
"No," Hogan replied, shaking his head firmly. "What I know is that Eddie Prince carried this company with pride. He faced a giant and went down swinging. He didn't embarrass anyone."
"What I see here is you embrassing yourself, trying to disgrace Eddie while showing yourself to be better when you are not. You are a child throwing a tantrum because his favorite toy was taken away."
In the crowd, Luke covered his mouth, trying to hide his laugh.
"See how red Mason has become!" Tony pointed out.
Mason's smug smirk vanished in an instant. "A champion?"
"A true champion doesn't kick a man when he's down," Hogan shot back, his voice booming over the crowd. "He lifts up the locker room. He stands up for the company. You've got all the talent in the world to reclaim that belt, Mason—but right now? You lack the right mindset for it."
The arena erupted.
Mason closed the gap, getting right in the veteran's face, his eyes blazing. "My mindset?" He let out a chilling, mocking laugh. "You're questioning my mindset?" Mason scanned Hogan from head to toe with disdain. "Maybe you're just getting old, Hogan."
A wave of "Ooooooh!" rippled through the crowd, with Justin being the loudest.
Hogan dropped his microphone onto the canvas with a heavy thud. "So are you."
In an instant, the two clashed in the center of the ring, trading powerful, swinging punches as the arena descended into total chaos.
Within moments, a handful of officials and referees rushed down the ramp, diving into the ring to separate the two men. Hogan and Mason thrashed against the swarm of striped shirts, hurling insults and straining to land one last punch.
Noah shook his head as the broadcast team struggled to regain control. "This night is completely spiraling out of control!"
Irvin leaned back with a huge grin. "And I'm enjoying every single second of it."