Same Bed, Different Dreams
The final match of Hot Slam had come to an end.
The TPA wrestlers had given it everything they had. They moved faster than usual, hit harder than usual, poured every ounce of themselves into the ring.
But the crowd’s cheers belonged to the wrestlers from WWO NEXT.
It came down to ratings.
NEXT averaged between five and seven hundred thousand viewers. TPA, which only got a national broadcast once a month, never even cracked three hundred thousand. On top of that, NEXT talent occasionally appeared on Law and Smash Down—shows that pulled two and a half million and one point eight million viewers respectively. On a PPE or PPV night those numbers could climb toward ten million. NEXT wrestlers rotated through those programs. Of course the popularity and name recognition gap was going to be massive.
Only a few years earlier the disparity hadn’t been this wide. Then WWO partnered with YouTube starting in 2025, and the gap just kept growing.
“No matter how hard our guys work, the crowd’s eyes still go to those thieves. Harry… was collaborating with WWO a mistake?”
“We didn’t have a choice. Without it we would’ve struggled just to sign talent, and landing sponsors would’ve been a nightmare.”
“I know. Still pisses me off. Feels like I’m sitting on a cuckoo’s egg.”
“Grit your teeth and hang on one more month. Charina’s incredible, but Selma, Alf, and James are excellent too. They wouldn’t look out of place against WWO’s mid-carders. All four of them are going to become the faces of TPA.”
“Yeah. They have to. They absolutely have to.”
Saturday night, while TPA Hot Slam was running in New York, Bruce Stevenson was attending a party in Miami.
He hated these kinds of gatherings, but after hearing that Hot Slam had failed to sell out, he had no choice but to show up.
“Representative Stevenson. It’s been a while.”
“Oh my. Never expected to see you all the way over here.”
Bruce forced the brightest greeting he could manage. As he moved past them, snatches of conversation drifted to his back.
“What’s Bruce doing here?”
“I heard TPA’s cash flow is in freefall.”
“Apparently a bunch of bad luck piled up while he was dividing assets in the divorce. Guy probably doesn’t even have a million dollars to his name.”
“So he’s basically broke? This is an investors’ party. Shouldn’t they be a little more selective about who they invite?”
Bruce could only clench his jaw until it ached. He had come here specifically to find the president of Orlando Bank—his main bank, the one that seemed to be deliberately dodging him. Causing a scene and getting thrown out would make the whole trip, and skipping Hot Slam, completely pointless.
He scanned the room and finally spotted the bank president in a corner, deep in conversation with someone. The figure’s back was slender—a woman. Seeing a man chatting with a woman at a party was so ordinary he thought nothing of it and walked over.
“Mr. President.”
At Bruce’s call, both the bank president and the woman turned. The moment he saw her face, Bruce froze.
“Oh my, Representative Stevenson. It’s been a while.”
“I never expected to see you at a place like this, Representative Stevenson.”
The woman speaking with the bank president was Stacey McMahon of WWO. She had stepped down as CEO because of ankle surgery and childcare, only to return to the role recently. Her husband, Triple J, served as CCO—Chief Content Officer. Everything at WWO now sat in the hands of that couple.
“Representative McMahon. It’s been a long time. Belated congratulations on your return.”
“Thank you.”
Bruce exchanged brief pleasantries with Stacey, then looked at the bank president.
“Mr. President, once you’re finished speaking with Representative McMahon, could I have a private word?”
“Hmm. I only stopped by to show my face. I have another appointment and need to leave soon. I’m afraid I don’t have time for a private conversation.”
An obvious excuse. The man was trying to dodge him again.
“I’ll step aside. You two talk.”
“Thank you, Representative McMahon.”
The bank president’s brow twitched for a second before he smoothed it into a smile.
“Haha. Well then, by all means. Representative McMahon, I’ll give you a call within a few days.”
“Of course. Take your time. Nothing urgent on my end…”
Once Stacey had cleared the space, Bruce got straight to business.
“Look… is there any way we can extend the loan?”
“I get weekly reports on TPA’s ratings. Average attendance is dropping too, I hear. More importantly, TPA’s valuation has fallen more than thirty percent since we issued the loan.”
They talked a little longer, but the bank president stuck rigidly to policy and then stood, claiming he had to leave. Bruce wanted nothing more than to hurl the champagne glass in his hand across the room. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. His hand just trembled.
A short while later he sighed, trudged over to a bench in the corner, and sat. He had been staring blankly for who knew how long when a conversation nearby drifted into his ears.
“‘Fine Signature’ is going public in two weeks?”
“Yeah. Deep-learning AI. This one’s a guaranteed home run.”
“How much are you putting in?”
“Me? Around five million.”
“Right. I should throw in about the same.”
Going public in two weeks? Fine Signature?
In their conversation, Bruce thought he saw a single ray of light.
Monday morning.
Carl reported for work at TPA. His body was exhausted, but the thought of finally meeting the four new rookies today still sent a thrill through him even at fifty.
“Director, you’re here.”
“Good morning, CMO.”
“You must be wiped out after all that.”
He answered the staff greetings with a raised hand and headed for the main conference room. Even though the meeting was still ten minutes away, all twenty-odd attendees were already present. After a quick round of hellos he took the seat at the head of the table.
“Everyone worked hard prepping Hot Slam. Even if it didn’t draw the way we hoped.”
Carl swept his gaze across the faces, then let it settle on one person.
“Scenario team lead.”
“Yes.”
“We’re overhauling every storyline.”
“Sorry—what direction are we taking?”
Neville Brosnan of the scenario team couldn’t hide his surprise. Not only did it mean more work, the basic framework had been locked in less than a week ago.
“I’m sure you’ve heard, Brosnan. These new kids who just arrived are no joke. We’re debuting them as fast as possible.”
“Full push?”
“We’ll give three of them a solid push and gauge the reaction. Charina gets the full-court press.”
The room buzzed at the idea of aggressively pushing a rookie who hadn’t even worked a dark match yet.
“Here’s the basic framework. Thursday’s dark match: the men’s tag team, the Inquisitors, against Thunder Storms. Inquisitors win. We’ll polish that story and debut them the following Wednesday at the house show. Debut match is a fifteen-minute bout against Team Heritage the week after that.”
Team Heritage as a debut opponent was solid booking. Thunder Storms were technicians, but Team Heritage sat a cut above them. Back-to-back technical matches should produce something fun.
“Who wins the debut?”
“We’ll decide after we see the house-show reaction. Next—Selma. She debuts against Tyna.”
“Dark match and house show are both against Tyna as well.”
“That gives them plenty of time to gel. Same style—technician high-flyers. I want a match full of aerial spots. Something like the old Miyu Sky versus Sara Bankis matches… Coach Barini, two weeks of chemistry work should be enough, right?”
Carl’s eyes found Sophia. She answered immediately.
“More than enough. It’ll be a classic.”
“Okay. Doesn’t matter who wins that one. Winner and loser both become talking points.”
“Agreed.”
After Sophia’s confirmation, Carl looked around the table again.
“Before we get to Charina, we need to talk about Anne Clements. For the time being, Anne Clements keeps the Knockouts Championship.”
“What? Natasha Bland is going to lose her mind.”
Natasha Bland’s looks and in-ring ability were excellent—easily top two among TPA’s women. Her personality, however, was a dumpster fire. Racist remarks, and if she didn’t like someone she would “miss” a move and actually hurt them. WWO had essentially run her out over character issues, and no other promotion would touch her, so she had washed up at TPA.
“Irrelevant. We’re cutting her loose. Actually, Charina won’t even work a match with Natasha. That bitch will be jealous for sure. And if Natasha causes one more incident, her contract is terminated.”
“She still has a lot of fans.”
“Don’t need them. How many people has she already put on the shelf? Medical bills alone more than cover her salary.”
Carl’s tone left no room for argument. Neville fell silent. Still, everyone in the room quietly wondered what Carl was basing this confidence on.
“The reason Anne keeps the title is simple: we’re putting her in a No DQ hardcore match with Charina.”
“Hardcore?”
“A brand-new rookie in a hardcore match?”
“That’s insane.”
The word “hardcore” set the conference room buzzing.
—Bang—
Carl slammed his palm on the table and the room went quiet.
“You all saw New York. Were our wrestlers lacking skill? They put on that kind of performance and still lost the popularity contest to NEXT greenhorns purely on name recognition.”
No one in the room could deny it. Failing to sell out had been embarrassing enough, but the crowd’s reaction during the matches had been a gut punch.
“We need heat. And the diamond that can generate that heat just walked through our door. Not one—four of them. And in case you haven’t seen Charina’s contract terms yet, we already agreed to put her in hardcore matches. Who on our Knockouts roster can actually work a proper hardcore match? Only Anne. And if we’re finally running a women’s hardcore match after all this time, shouldn’t the champion be the one doing it?”
“Will Anne go for it?”
“I’ll handle that.”
Someone raised a hand.
“Hercules PD. Something to say?”
“Yes. If it’s hardcore, what format are we using?”
Carl answered with force.
“Obviously! Cage match with TLC.”
Maybe he had said it too hard. Everyone except the few who already knew the plan went completely stiff.
“Coach Barini.”
“Yes.”
“Once the house show is over, start drilling Charina on hardcore work in the gaps. The moment she’s ready, we go into testing.”
“Understood.”
“Next—Kim.”
“Yes.”
“Every storyline involving Charina is yours. I’ve already given Team Lead Kingsley the direction, so the two of you work it out. We’ll lock her debut opponent after we see the house show.”
“With the finance lead?”
“Yes. I’ve already given the finance lead full instructions. Proceed without worrying about anyone else’s opinion.”
“Got it.”
More agenda items followed, but the attendees, still reeling from the bombshells that had opened the meeting, mostly just sat and listened in a daze.