The show kicked off with a sweeping view of the IRW Arena, the camera gliding over a crowd of nearly 1,200 fans crammed into the cozy venue. The familiar voices of Dylan Shaw and Noah Briggs, the longtime commentators for IRW, filled the air through headsets and television screens.
"Welcome, everyone, to another exciting edition of Iron Ring Wrestling!" Dylan announced, his voice brimming with energy. "But tonight feels a bit different, doesn't it, Noah?"
Noah flashed a grin, adjusting his headset. "Absolutely, Dylan. After yesterday's big news, IRW has officially changed hands. Maston Holdings is now in charge, and there's a lot of chatter about the changes that might be on the horizon."
"Chatter is putting it mildly," Dylan chimed in. "With a young, ambitious owner and a locker room full of talent, we might just be on the brink of a brand-new era for IRW!"
Shortly after, the opening match kicked off: two mid-card wrestlers squared off in the ring, trading holds in a slow-paced bout that felt all too familiar for the regulars. The crowd clapped politely, but the energy was lacking, just like it had been every week.
In the audience, Luke Cross was slouched in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. He was in his early twenties, tall and lean, a lifelong wrestling enthusiast who never missed a show. Next to him was Tony Hart, stockier, with sharp eyes, and a few years younger—also a devoted fan, and notably, the brother of IRW's own Maya Hart.
Luke let out a frustrated sigh as the match dragged on. "Same old routine every week, huh?"
Tony shrugged while taking a sip of his soda. "Pretty much. Basic holds, clean finishes, everyone heads home. It's safe, but honestly… kinda dull."
Luke turned to him, curiosity piqued. "Did you hear about the new owner? Apparently, some guy our age bought the whole company. Is that for real?"
Tony smirked. "Yeah. Maya mentioned he's serious about shaking things up. She didn't spill too much, but from what I gather, he's got… plans."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Plans, huh? Well, he better bring something good to the table, 'cause IRW could really use it."
Just then, the lights dimmed, and Tracey Prince's music blared through the arena.
The crowd buzzed with excitement as the women's champion made her entrance, her belt proudly draped over her shoulder and a microphone in hand.
"Speak of the devil," Tony whispered, leaning in closer.
Backstage, in the cramped production area, Vince stood alongside Lance and Mark, their eyes glued to the monitor. He could see Tracey's tense posture, her grip on the microphone betraying her nerves.
"She's nervous," Lance remarked, casting a sideways glance at Vince. "Are you sure about this?"
"She'll be fine," Vince replied, though a knot twisted in his stomach. This was her moment to shine, and all he could do was trust her instincts.
As Tracey stepped into the ring, she took a deep breath, the crowd gradually quieting down. She raised the microphone to her lips, her voice wavering at first.
"You know what?" she started, pacing back and forth. "Being champion… it's supposed to mean something. You're meant to face challengers who really push you, who make you fight tooth and nail to stay on top."
She paused, scanning the arena, her confidence growing as she noticed fans leaning in, eager to hear her words.
"But lately?" A smirk crept onto her face. "It's been dull. No competition. No real threats. Honestly, I'm getting tired of taking down the same nobodies week after week. So here's the deal—" She lifted the title high above her head. "—I'm issuing an open challenge! Anyone back there who thinks they've got what it takes, come out here and show me!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, buzzing with excitement over her fearless attitude.
Luke leaned forward in his seat, a big grin on his face. "Now this is something different."
Tony laughed. "She asked for someone with guts. Let's see who steps up."
The arena was electric, filled with anticipation. Then, the music kicked in—something totally new.
Evelyn Sharma.
The young wrestler made her entrance, her energy a stark contrast to Tracey's polished arrogance. While Evelyn might not have been a household name, her confident stride and fierce glare instantly grabbed everyone's attention.
"She's not backing down," Dylan shouted from the commentary booth.
Backstage, Vince was on edge, fists clenched as he watched intently. This was the moment that could either make or break his bold experiment.
Evelyn strode down the ramp and slid into the ring, getting right up in Tracey's face. The crowd went wild.
"You want competition?" Evelyn shot back, her voice booming without the mic. "I'm right here. Let's see if you can actually fight someone who isn't scared of you."
Tracey smirked and raised the mic again. "You? Please. You're just another rookie who's about to get flattened. But hey—if you want to embarrass yourself, be my guest."
The two squared up nose-to-nose, the tension palpable.
From the entrance ramp, a referee jogged down to the ring, holding his hands up. The crowd exploded, sensing what was about to happen.
"A referee's coming down!" Noah shouted. "Looks like we've got ourselves a match!"
Luke turned to Tony, excitement in his eyes. "Dude, this is already way better than the opener!"
Tony smirked. "If this is the new guy's doing, I'm all in."
In the gorilla position, Vince allowed himself the faintest smile. Step one: complete.