As the last of Eddie Prince's and Hogan Hornet's match faded from the arena, all that was left were the darkened lights and the sound of the audience buzzing with anticipation for next week. While this was happening, production staff were backstage completing the behind-the-scenes work that kept the show running smoothly. They were uncoiling wires, shutting off equipment, and removing barricades-soon they'd be heading into yet another long day, their jobs often unnoticed.
Vince had just finished finalizing his duties for the evening when he saw who awaited him in his office.
Nina Clarkson, and Diego Cortez, positioned in readiness and appearing neither angry nor overly nervous, just very determined.
Upon viewing this, Vince immediately began mentally running through all of the possible issues that might bring them here-could it be due to a harassment issue? Injuries? Someone threatening to quit? Or perhaps a fight took place backstage?
"What's wrong?" he questioned while shutting the door behind him. "What brings you here tonight?"
Nina and Diego locked eyes with each other as Diego awkwardly shifted his weight, showing clear indecision to speak up. Then Nina moved forward.
"Boss... we want our opportunity to be on TV."
Vince raised his eyebrows at this request. While he had anticipated that eventually every locker room will go through this experience - and therefore had a reasonable expectation that he would start hearing these requests soon, he hadn't planned to hear them quite so soon after they had started up under the new style (which they'd only done for a little more than a month).
Sitting back in his office chair, Vince motioned for Nina to proceed.
After taking a deep breath, Nina was thankful to see that Vince had not rejected her idea outright.
"Look, Maya and Evelyn are doing great. The crowd loves them, the story is exciting, and we're all happy it's working," she began, hands clasped nervously in front of her. "But the rest of us… the women in the locker room… we feel cramped. We want our chance to wrestle too. To be in front of the crowd. To show we exist."
Vince moved his hand to his chin and started rubbing it, while he thought. He was not arguing with her idea, or dismissing her completely. Instead, he turned to Diego.
"Do the men feel the same?"
Diego nodded slowly. "Sí… I mean, yes. We get it-your stories are working. Ratings are crazy right now. But… there are twenty of us back there. We want opportunities too. Even if it's something small. A match. A rivalry. Just something."
Vince leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Nina and Diego waited tensely, unsure whether he was thinking deeply or silently plotting their termination.
Finally, he leaned forward.
"In our current contract with RedTV," he began, "we only have a one-hour slot. One hour. It's impossible to showcase everyone in that time. If I try to cram all twenty of you and the whole women's division into one hour… the show falls apart. We lose quality."
He folded his hands on the desk.
"But I'm working on something. A new TV deal. If it goes through, I want two hours. With two hours? I can showcase everyone. Rotate storylines. Give both of you-give everyone--a real chance."
Diego let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't anticipated an immediate response, but he also didn't expect Vince to have such a solid plan in place.
Nina offered a faint smile, feeling thankful. "Thanks for listening to us…"
Yet, she paused, recalling something she had overheard earlier.
"I… heard about RedTV," she said cautiously. "About the contract falling through. How's the new deal shaping up?"
Vince was taken aback—not because of her question, but because no wrestler had ever dared to inquire about the business side before.
Instead of getting defensive, he smiled.
"We're on the lookout for new partners," he replied honestly. "With the All In surge and tonight's ratings, someone will want to pick us up. We're too hot right now. Even RedTV knows that."
He pulled out a sheet from his drawer—tonight's early rating projections—and handed it over to them.
Diego and Nina stared at the lines and numbers, not quite grasping the financial details, but they understood one thing:
An upward trend meant good news.
They thanked Vince once more before stepping out of the office. The door clicked shut behind them.
Vince set the paper down.
Then he picked up the phone.
He dialed Gavin.
Gavin picked up on the second ring, his voice buzzing with excitement.
"DUDE! DUDE! Vince, WHAT was that crowd dive by Apex Predators?! And that brawl?! I just watched the whole show—holy hell, this might be your best one yet! I swear, Eddie and Hogan-those two are going to tear Harborview apart!"
Vince chuckled. "Glad you enjoyed it."
"Next week's match—I'm already pumped. Eddie's totally losing, right?"
Vince smirked, though Gavin couldn't see it.
Gavin let out a frustrated groan. "Oh, come on! You can't just leave me in suspense like some random viewer!"
"I can and I will," Vince replied, clearly enjoying himself. "Now, let's get back to business. What's the scoop on the task? The list of TV channels that need funding or are looking to sell?"
Gavin's excitement faded, replaced by a more serious tone.
"Right, about that… it's taking a bit longer than expected. But we've managed to identify two so far."
"Great! Who are they?"
"Well," Gavin said, glancing at his notes, "One is located on the east coast, a regional channel. Not exactly what you're looking for. But the second one…"
He paused dramatically, as if he were about to deliver a big reveal.
"The second one is right here in Harborview City. And it's—well—pretty well-known. Or at least it used to be."
Vince leaned in, intrigued.
"Who is it?"
"Vox." A once-powerful name now reduced to a shadow of its former self.
Vince frowned, the name ringing a bell. Very familiar.
"What happened to them? How does a media giant fall apart like that?"
Gavin let out a heavy sigh. "Poor choices. A string of failed broadcasting deals. Budget mismanagement. And the final nail in the coffin—tax fraud by the previous owners. They're behind bars now. The new owner is eager to sell before it all goes under."
Vince sat in silence for a moment, processing the information.
Then he asked, "What's the asking price?"
Gavin didn't even let him finish.
"No," he said, his tone flat. "The answer is no."
"What? Why not?"
"Because the price is outrageous. They're asking for $120 million for a controlling stake. We've got forty in liquid capital. Selling off some stocks might net us another twenty-five, maybe. Vince, this isn't like buying IRW or investing in Dongle or funding Carl Holler's little science project. This is a media empire we're talking about."
"I can negotiate."
"No. Absolutely not. You are NOT draining our assets chasing this wild dream. You don't save a sinking ship by tossing gold into the sea."
Vince slowly closed his eyes.
"I'm telling you, Gav… if this deal goes through, I can turn it around. I can make everything work."
Gavin rubbed his forehead, the sound audible in the silence.
"Please. Let's talk tomorrow. At the office. When your adrenaline isn't running high."
Then he hung up.
Vince stared at the keypad phone for several long seconds.
"…Bastard," he muttered under his breath.
He set the phone down and leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the ceiling.
He needed this deal. He needed a broadcaster big enough for IRW to expand without fear, without limits. Two hours of weekly programming. Pay-per-view leverage. Advertising revenue. National recognition.
A platform large enough to change wrestling forever. And maybe he would add other sports for more profit.
He was so close. So incredibly close.
But for the first time in a long while—
Vince felt the walls closing in.
He needed a miracle. Or a gamble.
And Vince Maston had never shied away from taking risks.