The ACW office was a far cry from the shiny corporate spaces that the newer companies loved to flaunt.
It was tight, with wood paneling, and had a faint whiff of old paper mixed with cigarette smoke. The walls were plastered with posters from past ACW events, their edges yellowing with age. In the middle of the room stood a large desk, cluttered with ratings reports, promotional flyers, and financial documents.
Behind that desk was Zach Sachman.
And let me tell you, Zach Sachman was not in a good mood.
He slammed a ratings report down onto the table.
"This is unacceptable!"
Sitting across from him was James Wilson, maintaining a carefully neutral expression, while Flora Yates sat a bit to the side, arms crossed.
Sachman jabbed a thick finger at the paper.
"Look at this! IRW!"
He spat out the letters as if they were bitter.
"They're almost matching our best rating ever!"
James didn't reply right away.
Sachman leaned in closer.
"Do you get what that means?"
James nodded slowly. "Yes."
Sachman slammed his hand on the desk again.
"It means they're stealing my money!"
He shot up from his chair and started pacing.
"Every viewer they grab is cash slipping right out of my pocket!"
Flora averted her gaze, trying not to grin too widely. Watching James on the receiving end of Zach's fury was a bit entertaining for her.
Sachman halted his pacing and pointed at James.
"So tell me, Wilson—what exactly is IRW doing that we aren't?"
James stayed silent for a few moments.
Finally, he said, taking his time, "They've started letting wrestlers use microphones during the show."
Sachman blinked in surprise.
"What?"
"They're actually talking to the audience," James went on. "Throwing insults at each other. Arguing. Building up the tension before the matches."
Sachman just stared at him.
"Why on earth can't our wrestlers talk on microphones?"
James paused, unsure of how to respond.
"Well… traditionally, ACW has always focused more on in-ring competition—"
That was it; Sachman lost it.
"Traditionally?"
He slammed his hands down on the desk.
"Traditionally, we're losing our ratings!"
James fell quiet.
Sachman turned to Flora.
"And what about the women's division?"
Flora straightened up a bit.
Sachman waved the ratings paper again.
"I saw that clip from the IRW show. Three women in a triple threat match. The crowd was all in!"
He leaned in closer.
"Do you have any idea how popular that Maya Hart girl is getting?"
Flora was well aware.
And she also knew how much Sachman despised that fact.
Sachman threw his hands up in frustration.
"Why can't ACW have its own Maya Hart?"
Flora chose her words with care.
"It's still a gamble to change our women's matches like that. Our audience might not—"
Sachman interrupted her without hesitation.
"I don't care!"
He pointed emphatically at the door.
"If IRW is doing it, we're doing it too!"
Flora nodded slowly, absorbing his intensity.
Sachman turned his attention back to James.
"You got that?"
James nodded.
"Yes."
"Good."
Sachman leaned back in his chair, a hint of satisfaction in his posture.
"Because I refuse to let some new promotion make a fool of me in my own city."
Meanwhile, across town in a high-rise apartment with a view of downtown Dodge's twinkling lights, another man was having a far worse morning.
Yoichi slammed the telephone receiver down with such force that it skidded across the table.
"Those idiots!"
His assistant, an older gentleman who had been with Yoichi's father for years, stood calmly nearby.
Yoichi paced the living room, frustration radiating from him.
"The arena burns down, and suddenly the insurance company forgets how insurance works!"
"They say the circumstances are unclear," the assistant replied, maintaining his composure.
Yoichi spun around to face him.
"Unclear? The building is in ashes!"
"Yes," the assistant said evenly, "but they're looking into whether it was intentional."
Yoichi's face flushed with anger.
"Then we sue them!"
"That might not be wise."
Yoichi shot him a glare.
The assistant continued, unfazed.
"A lawsuit would bring unwanted attention to the promotion wars. It could tarnish your father's reputation."
Yoichi clenched his fists, irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
He despised it when the old man brought up his father.
The room fell silent for a moment.
Then Yoichi halted his pacing.
"Get in touch with the IRW booker."
The assistant raised an eyebrow.
"Which one?"
"Mark… something."
"Rivera."
"Yes."
A slight smirk appeared on Yoichi's lips.
"I'll make him an offer. Set up a meeting at a restaurant."
The assistant gave a quick nod and stepped out of the room.
Yoichi switched on the television.
An advertisement popped up right away.
"Next week on Vox… IRW is back!"
Highlights from the Falls Count Anywhere match flashed on the screen. Hogan crashing through a table. Eddie hoisting the championship high above his head.
Yoichi's expression twisted in anger.
He snatched a glass from the table and hurled it against the wall.
The glass shattered into pieces.
"That damn Vince!"
----
The following morning, Vince was seated at the conference table in the Maston Holdings headquarters.
He looked worn out.
Gavin picked up on it right away.
"Long night?" he asked, grinning.
Vince rubbed his eyes a bit.
"You could say that."
Gavin chuckled.
"I figured managing that show would wear anyone out."
He leaned in, excitement bubbling over.
"By the way—great job! The Vox numbers are through the roof."
Vince managed a tired smile.
The truth was, Gavin was only partly right.
Running the show had been draining.
But he hadn't slept much either.
Mostly because Maya had stayed over until morning.
Vince pushed that thought aside and glanced at the investment reports Gavin had laid out on the table.
"What's the update on Dongle?"
Gavin's face lit up.
"Oh, that's the good news."
He opened the portfolio file.
"Dongle's been on a growth spurt lately. Ever since they upgraded their server infrastructure."
He pointed at the report.
"Their search engine is now operating on a national level. Traffic keeps climbing."
Vince nodded slowly.
"And our stake?"
"We still own thirty percent."
Gavin beamed.
"Largest shareholder."
Vince allowed himself a satisfied nod.
"Good."
He flipped to another page.
"What about that kid we invested in?"
Gavin frowned slightly, deep in thought.
"The one with the quirky hardware idea?"
"Yes."
"…Carl."
Gavin snapped his fingers.
"Right."
He settled back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Last I heard, he's still tinkering away in his garage."
Vince raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Still?"
Gavin shrugged, a hint of skepticism in his demeanor.
"He says he's on the verge of finishing whatever he's working on. You know, the thing you asked him to create."
Gavin couldn't help but chuckle a little.
"I still can't wrap my head around why we decided to invest in him."
Vince closed the folder with deliberation.
"Because sometimes," he replied in a measured tone, "you have to take a leap of faith before the rest of the world catches on to the vision."
He leaned back in his chair again.
"And when it finally pays off… everyone else realizes they missed the boat."