The low, restless buzz of the arena hadn't faded since Tracey's return, and Tony could feel it vibrating through the seats beneath him. Luke leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes glued to the ring, while Justin hovered just behind them like an overly enthusiastic commentator no one had asked for.
"I'm telling you," Justin said, breathless with excitement, "three of them now. Tracey, Maya, Evelyn. That division's stacked! How do they even manage to book that without someone getting sidelined?"
Tony didn't take his eyes off the ring. "That's what I'm wondering too."
Luke nodded slowly. "Yeah, I didn't expect Tracey to come back so soon. That changes everything."
Justin beamed, thrilled that they were finally engaging with him. "Right? And if Tracey's back, then Maya's not going to back down, and Evelyn—"
Just then, the arena lights shifted, cutting him off.
Diego Cortez's music blared through the speakers.
The crowd's reaction was instant. A wave of cheers surged as Diego stepped onto the stage, arms wide open, soaking in the moment like he'd never left. He wore a confident grin, high-fiving fans along the ramp, pointing into the crowd, feeding off the energy that had been building for him since All In.
Tony straightened up. "There he is."
Luke smirked. "Looks like the crowd still loves him."
Justin squinted at the stage. "This guy actually beat Victor, right? At All In?"
Luke nodded. "Yep, clean win."
Diego slid into the ring, climbed the turnbuckle, and raised his arms once more. The cheers grew louder, making it feel like a homecoming, even though it had only been four weeks since he last performed.
Noah's voice rang out over the noise. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to IRW! Making his way to the ring—Diego Cortez!"
Irvin chuckled. "The fans definitely remember that All In performance, Noah."
Diego hopped down, pacing the ring, his eyes scanning the entranceway.
Tony leaned back, curious. "So, who's he up against?"
He was expecting a big name—Eddie, Victor, someone with a history.
Noah continued, "And his opponent… from Texas…"
Tony's shoulders relaxed a bit. "Alright, new blood?"
"…Steve Austin!"
Justin blinked in confusion. "Who?"
Luke frowned. "Steve… who?"
The music that followed wasn't anything special. Just a simple riff of guitar and drums, steady and unremarkable. A few puzzled claps echoed through the crowd as a young man stepped out onto the stage.
Tony tilted his head. "That's it?"
Steve Austin stood there for a moment, his buzz cut sharp, jaw clenched, and eyes locked on the ring as if it might come at him. He took a deep breath and began his descent down the ramp, each step slow and steady.
Steve's hands still quivered slightly as he walked. Mark's advice echoed in his mind: Keep it simple. Don't rush. Earlier, Victor had given his shoulder a reassuring clap, firm and steady.
You belong here.
In the ring, Diego watched him approach, his expression a mix of curiosity and respect.
Irvin filled the silence. "Looks like a debut, Noah."
Noah nodded in agreement. "A big chance for the young man."
Steve slid under the bottom rope and stood tall, rolling his shoulders once, his gaze darting between Diego and the crowd. The noise wasn't hostile, just filled with uncertainty.
Tony crossed his arms, skepticism in his voice. "I don't know, man. Diego's not exactly an easy first match."
Luke shrugged, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Trial by fire."
The bell rang.
They circled each other cautiously. Diego bounced lightly on his feet, loose and confident, while Steve remained grounded, hands up, eyes tracking every move.
They locked up.
Diego was going for leverage, but Steve caught him off guard with surprising strength, pushing him back a step. The crowd murmured in anticipation. Diego smirked, clearly impressed, and twisted away, slipping behind Steve for a quick waistlock. But Steve dropped his weight, broke free, and stepped back.
Irvin perked up. "Not bad at all."
Tony leaned in closer. "Okay, I see it."
Diego darted in with a swift arm drag, sending Steve rolling across the mat. Steve sprang back up quicker than anyone expected, his jaw clenched, and lunged at Diego—who sidestepped, landed a low kick, and followed up with a snap headlock.
Steve pushed Diego into the ropes and shot him off. Diego rebounded—Steve ducked, swung, and missed. In a flash, Diego leapt, landing on the ropes, and sprang back with a flying forearm that staggered Steve but didn't take him down.
The crowd gasped in surprise.
Luke nodded slowly. "Kid's holding his own."
Steve shook it off and charged at Diego, driving him into the corner with a shoulder, then another. He backed up and went for it again—Diego slipped out just in time, leaving Steve to hit the turnbuckle instead. Diego quickly rolled him up—
"One!"
Steve kicked out hard, sending Diego scrambling backward.
Tony grinned. "This is better than I expected."
Backstage, Victor Cross stood by the monitor, arms crossed. Vince leaned forward despite the pain in his injured hand. Lance watched intently, his expression unreadable. Mark's eyes darted between the screen and the entrance area.
Steve caught Diego with a solid right, then another, pushing him back. Diego responded with a chop that echoed through the arena. Steve winced but stayed on his feet, firing back.
The pace was picking up.
Diego was gearing up for a springboard move—
The crowd noise shifted.
And then, out of nowhere.
Five figures in dark hoodies leaped over the barricade, almost in perfect sync.
For a split second, everyone was just frozen, trying to process what was happening.
Then all hell broke loose.
They rushed into the ring, pushing the referee aside. One of them grabbed Diego from behind and slammed him into the mat. Another one kicked Steve in the ribs as he turned, sending him crashing down.
The bell rang, but it was pointless.
The boos erupted from the crowd.
Tony shot up from his seat. "What the hell?!"
Luke's eyes went wide. "That's not IRW."
Justin's voice trembled. "Are those—?"
One of the attackers yanked the referee out of the ring and tossed him to the floor. The others began to stomp on Diego and Steve, brutal and relentless.
Noah shouted, his voice strained. "This—this isn't part of the show!"
Irvin's voice turned sharp. "Those are NPJW colors."
The crowd gasped in unison as one of the assailants pulled back his hood.
Zen.
Victor's breath hitched backstage. "That bastard."
On the screen, Zen smirked, his eyes icy, as he landed a punch on Diego's face. He stood there, arms slightly outstretched, soaking in the crowd's reaction.
Vince's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together in frustration.
Lance glanced over at him. "They actually went through with it."
Vince kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Victor."
Victor was already on the move.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Diego was trying to crawl away but got yanked back by his ankle. Steve was struggling to get to his knees, only to take a boot to the jaw for his efforts.
The crowd's confusion quickly morphed into anger.
Tony shouted, "Get someone out there!"
Luke nodded vigorously. "This is crazy!"
Zen leaned down, shouting something at Diego that didn't quite make it to the microphones. He chuckled.
Then the camera picked up movement on the ramp.
Victor Cross was sprinting down, his eyes blazing with intensity.
The arena erupted in cheers.
Irvin nearly shouted, "Victor Cross is on his way!"
Zen looked up, a smirk on his face. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.
"Get out of the way," he commanded.
The masked men quickly peeled away from the ring and slid out, vaulting over the barricade only to find more hooded figures blocking their escape.
The crowd roared even louder, the realization hitting them all at once.
Tony's jaw dropped. "They've got them cornered."
Luke stared, breathless. "Oh my—"
Victor slowed down at ringside, fists clenched, cracking his neck as Zen's smirk finally faltered.