A Million-Dollar Home on Wheels
The show came to a close in spectacular fashion. And with it, my idea set the course for the Ring Survival script — Burning Kong as the dominant heel brand, Rkdawn as the underdog faces. The storyline that took shape sent real ripples through the industry. Until now, Ring Survival had meant nothing more than inter-brand matches. But my script gave it something beyond that, weaving the whole thing into a single story with room for far more variety.
The newsletter reporters weighed in like this:
They're not wrong.
But they weren't right, either. A rookie climbing to the main event championship in a short span was rare — not unheard of, though. At its core, the reason rookies don't get handed world titles is that they haven't earned the level of skill required. Flip that around, and if the ability is there, you push them immediately with a strong script.
Brock Lesnar was the proof. He debuted in 2001 and walked out of the company in 2003 — right into the main event from the moment he arrived. A brand-new rookie, fighting for the Universe Championship against someone on Taker's level. And the fans jeered none of it. Because it was convincing.
Lesnar was the most dominant amateur wrestler in the sport, a monster with virtually every attribute maxed out. Six-foot-five, 286 pounds, body fat in the low ten percent range — a true beast. Great power, crisp technique, and he could actually move in a match. His only flaw was that mosquito-buzz of a voice, and Paul Hagan stepped in as his manager personally to cover it.
So I believed I had the credentials too. My reactions were every bit the match of Lesnar's in his prime.
And I can talk. Which means I can build an even more entertaining storyline than he ever did.
I resolved to make this script another roaring success and earn my recognition inside the company. With that thought, energy surging through me, I pressed harder on the accelerator. The car tore down the highway toward my destination — Seattle.
I slept halfway there and set out again the next morning. Just as I was about to leave, Tiffany called.
"Sin, you're not here yet?"
"Where's here, exactly?"
"Seattle. We ended up coming out here too, now that we're involved in the scripting."
"……You could have told me in advance."
"Oh, come on. This is exactly the kind of thing you're supposed to show up and go surprise! That's half the fun, isn't it? Right?"
"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about."
Chuckling, I climbed into the rental and twisted the key. Nothing. Maybe because the day had turned cold, the engine refused to catch. I clicked my tongue lightly and stepped back out of the car — and immediately heard Tiffany's puzzled voice in my ear.
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing serious. It's the cold — the car won't start."
"What kind of car is that, anyway?"
"Let me think…… no idea."
"You don't even know your own car?"
"It's a rental. ……Ah, there it goes."
Just a glow plug being temperamental, apparently. I got moving right away, which means most of what Tiffany said after that washed over me half-heard.
"So you needed a car, huh……. Hmm."
And so I arrived in Seattle. I climbed out of my clunker of a rental and looked up, dumbfounded. Something strange was parked right in front of me.
"A motor home……?"
Or a "camping bus," as they're sometimes called — an enormous vehicle stood there to greet me. Far wider and larger than any city bus, its interior fitted out with every household amenity, cooking equipment, even shower facilities. A house with an engine, in every sense of the phrase.
Directly in front of it stood Tiffany McMahon in her sunglasses, watching my stunned face and flashing a proud, confident smile.
"Well? What do you think?"
"……"
"Surprised? They don't exactly sell these, so I ended up calling the chairman at headquarters myself."
Tiffany took my arm and pulled me along. Dazed, I boarded the bus — and the interior nearly knocked me over. It was nothing short of a hotel. This was the kind of vehicle meant for long-serving main eventers in the WWF. The future Cena, or Orton — or, right now, someone of Taker's standing.
Compared to this, the trailer car Adam and I used to ride around in during my indie days was practically an outhouse on wheels.
"Wouldn't it be comfortable to travel with a driver on staff?"
"I mean, yeah, but……"
"And it's secure. There's a system that converts the bedroom into a panic room automatically if it detects an intruder. There's even a solar charger mounted on the roof."
My mind went completely white. Seriously — come on. I thought of every grueling cross-country trip I'd endured. Hours hunched behind the wheel of a cramped rental, limping to the halfway point, hunting down a hotel to crash in. How many times had I thought, If I just had one of those Apple phones, I could've booked all this ahead! Too many to count.
But, hmm. A camping bus like this. Hmmmm.
Tiffany was smiling.
"You like it?"
With that, she took my arm again and led me toward the bed in the back. My brain had entirely checked out; she gave me a shove and I flopped down onto the mattress. Tiffany shed her jacket, dropped down beside me, and stretched her arms wide.
"Plenty of room in the bed, huh?"
"……"
"Hire one driver and you could travel everywhere without lifting a finger."
"Um, Tiffany?"
"Yes?"
She leaned in on her elbows, eyes sparkling, gazing at my face. I answered as coolly as I could manage.
"I can't accept this."
"Why not?"
"Let's be honest. I want it — I want it badly — but if I keep only taking from you, I'm going to feel terrible."
"It's only a million dollars."
"……That's more than my yearly salary."
"Not more than mine. Don't make it into something heavier than it is. Compared to everything you've given me, a bus like this is nothing."
"There was the watch, too."
"……Let's not start itemizing."
"No, seriously — what have I even done to deserve all this? It really is too much to——"
"You gave me a goal."
"A goal?"
"This isn't Bart Maxen's money. I invested the dividends from my own stock and earned it."
Tiffany's voice went cool and precise.
"Fifteen percent of my WWF shares. The dividends that come off that every year run to about four million. I've been rolling it over into stock investments and growing it ever since."
"Stocks can make that much money?"
"Stocks are only a money-loser for the little fish. Besides, I have access to information those people never see coming."
"So you're a member of the bourgeoisie."
"So now it's 'bourgeoisie' after 'Tiger,' is it? Tiger."
Tiffany slyly claimed my forearm and rested her head on it.
"It's just…… you made me look my dream in the eye again."
"Would you have given me the bus even if we weren't…… like this?"
"No. If we weren't, I'd probably have just bumped your salary a little."
"……"
"I'm the kind of woman who gives only what is mine to give, Sin. You need to understand that about me."
"Mm."
"What? Does it feel like you'd be living in a cage?"
"No — honestly, I can't even quite grasp what it is I've done for you."
"Truthfully, I feel the same way. All I know is that lately, life tastes good because of you. And I know this will sound unpleasant, but a million dollars is not a burden to me."
Tiffany closed her eyes. My gaze lingered for a moment on those flawless features.
"Same as you — I did what I could do. Stop worrying about how it looks to other people. Because through you, I intend to take everything."
"Everything……?"
"I'm going to own this company. And I'm going to build the things I want."
"The old locker room?"
"Yes. Back then, it was all just…… so much fun. But I was a fool, and too young — I didn't even realize how much everyone else was struggling."
By the time she finished saying that, her breathing had gone soft and even, and she'd slipped into sleep. I lay there quietly, my arm still serving as her pillow, and closed my eyes too.
The camping bus was silent. The facilities really were killer. Only an idiot would turn this down.
……So fine. I'll just take it. Traveling by rental, if I'm honest, made keeping my body in shape a constant battle. With this, I'd recover better, and that would show in the ring. I had goals of my own. The guilt could wait.
Gather a handful of guys who'd be good travel companions and take turns riding together. Split the upkeep between us, and effectively this bus is free.
That was the exact moment it happened.
"Whoa — what is this?"
Someone outside let out a cry of amazement, then another. I gently covered one of Tiffany's ears so she wouldn't wake.
"Man, with just one of these buses, traveling would be a dream!"
……That voice sounded awfully familiar. My brow furrowed — and then someone walked right in without so much as a knock.
Huh?
At the sight of them, I went wide-eyed with shock — a rare occurrence for me, truly.
Baku. Harley. Russell.
My GCW crew.
"……??"
"Oh, hey — it's Sin~!"
I was so startled that I shoved Tiffany to the far side of the bed without thinking.
"Fuhkiyah?!"
Still rolled up in the blanket, she tumbled off the edge with a thud. I felt my heart slamming against my ribs as I scrambled to my feet.
"No — what are you three doing here?!"
"Huh? We came for work."
"You didn't hear the news?"
Russell came forward and threw his arms around me. I was breaking out in a cold sweat as I glanced back over my shoulder.
"Ugh……. What is going on?"
Tiffany sat up, blanket draped over her head like a hood. Russell looked at me, then broke into a knowing grin. No. It is not what you think, you jerk. I swear it's not.
When I turned a deeply conflicted expression on him, Russell turned and headed back out. I followed him, and on the way pressed the bus's security panel beside the door.
Clunk! THUD!
The bedroom sealed itself into a panic room.
"So — this your camper, huh?"
"This thing kills~."
"Harley, look over here. The shower setup is incredible. Says it even comes with a tub you can take bubble baths in."
"Whoa, I wanna try that!"
Meanwhile, the good Mr. Russell was performing a public service, drawing every ounce of Harley's and Baku's attention onto himself.
Knock-knock. Tiffany rapped on the panic room door, and I whispered through it.
"J-just stay in there for now."
"Isn't that everyone arriving?"
"What do you think they'd say if they found out the two of us were just lying in bed together?"
"Ahhh~."
"I mean it, though — what is all this? Why is everyone suddenly here?"
"I told you on the phone. We're here for work."
"I never once imagined that meant Harley and Baku too!"
"Russell's coming."
"What?"
"Russell's scheduled to compete in this Ring Survival."
"……"
For a moment, I was struck speechless. I turned my head — and saw Baku shrugging out of his shirt for a test run at the bubble bath. He glanced back at me, shyly covering his chest with one hand.
"Oh — can I use it?"
"……"
Why was today suddenly raining unexpected gifts from every direction?
It wasn't as if such a thing had never happened before. A third brand joining Ring Survival alongside Burning Kong and Rkdawn, turning the whole event into a three-way war — that had occurred, once.
But that was something around the year 2020, when the satellite brands founded by then had finally matured.
MXT, wasn't it.
It was Ring Survival's second great evolution — the first being the division of faces and heels along brand lines. Fans went absolutely wild over the arrival of this third brand, and that year's Ring Survival ended with MXT standing as the victor. In a sense, Russell's entry into this year's event was the trailer for exactly that.
Not bad at all.
According to Tiffany, this was a project she'd pushed forward personally, greenlit with Bart's approval. But one problem remained.
Just who would Russell Hart, the reigning GCW Champion, be facing?
A triple threat against his fellow main champions — the World Champion and the Universe Champion? Or a match against his old GCW brothers: Sin, and Shawn Cena?
Either one made for a thrilling contest. While everyone around me argued the question back and forth, I found I could arrive at the answer without much difficulty at all.