Guests, Part 3
Inside the BI Sports conference room in Seoul, several people were locked in a heated argument.
There was only one reason for the quarrel.
Who would go as the on-site broadcast team for November's The Live?
"TPA is going up against Law, so it only makes sense that we — the Law broadcast team — should go."
"You guys already went to last year's WrestleMaster. It's our turn this time."
By the actual rotation, it was the Smash Down broadcast team's turn — caster Kim Seong-cheol and commentator Choi Jae-jun.
But because TPA, home of the current hot potato Charina, had been matched against Law, the Law side — the so-called "Hoho Brothers," caster Yang Seong-ho and commentator Jo Dae-ho — suddenly had plenty to say about it.
The bureau chief listened to them go back and forth before delivering his verdict.
"We go by the rules. Seong-cheol and Commentator Choi are going."
"Yes! That's what I'm talking about!"
"That's right. We have to follow the rules."
"Chief! But it's still a Law match."
"If we start nitpicking every little thing, there'll be no end to it. Times like these, you stick to the established order."
"Even so, a specialized team should—"
The bureau chief clicked his tongue at Jo Dae-ho's words.
"Tsk. Tsk. You should count yourself lucky Commentator Choi is such a nice guy. If one of my juniors had talked like that, I'd have smacked him right then and there."
"Haa. Yes, sir."
The bureau chief pulled his gaze off Jo Dae-ho and looked to the other side of the table.
"Commentator Choi, I expect you to prepare thoroughly over the remaining month and a half."
"Understood, Chief."
"Seong-cheol, make sure you study the Law roster properly too. Organize your interview questions so you can handle anyone you run into, whenever you run into them."
"Yes, Chief."
"That concludes the meeting."
"Thank you for your hard work."
"Appreciate it, sir."
With that, the bureau chief left the conference room, and the two casters followed him out.
Once they were completely gone, Jo Dae-ho started grumbling.
"Haa! They could've at least given us a little consideration."
"Right? When we asked you to yield for WrestleMaster, why were you so dead set on clinging to it?"
"I know, I know. I'll get the Law roster materials organized and over to you as fast as I can."
"Yeah. Thanks. By the way — this might be the greatest invasion of all time, don't you think?"
Their work schedules barely overlapped, so the two of them almost never saw each other face-to-face.
"I'm not sure you can even call it an invasion, though. Looking at the audition element, the rumors might actually be true."
"The rumor that TPA got absorbed by WWO?"
"Yes."
Quietly, that rumor had been circulating.
But it was hard to believe — TPA's president, Bruce Stevenson, was both deeply attached to the company and extremely wealthy — so the prevailing opinion was that it simply couldn't be true.
"As you know, hyung, it's a little suspicious. At this point Bruce should've shown his face at least once, but he hasn't appeared at all. Director Carl only pops up briefly on his own show. For a simple collaboration, the pie is way too big."
"That's true. But if it were a merger, how could the rumor not have leaked by now? Loose lips are everywhere."
"That's fair, but still."
From the audition talk, the conversation drifted over to Charina.
"She's a complete monster, isn't she?"
"Honestly, hoisting someone twice your body weight is doable. You see it on variety shows sometimes — a girl idol picking up a comedian who used to be a ssireum wrestler. But a powerbomb? That one's genuinely incomprehensible."
"Heh. Actually, if I run into Charina in America this time, I was going to ask her to hit me with a powerbomb just once."
"Hah. Would've made a great visual, but she'll probably refuse — risk of injury."
Jo Dae-ho shrugged at that.
"Study your English hard before you go. She's a second-generation Korean-American, so she might not speak Korean."
"I was already planning on it. I'm going to memorize every possible question and answer cold."
"I've been telling you to do that for ages."
"Ugh. Anyway — Charina isn't going to get cut, right? She's been way too quiet lately. Her last match was against Anne, and since then it's just been a bunch of run-ins."
Her name recognition had skyrocketed and she was generating massive buzz, but as a wrestler she needed actual matches booked — and she had none. Whispers had even started circulating that she might have gotten injured during that hardcore match with Anne.
"There are injury rumors, sure, but for someone supposedly hurt, she looked way too good during those run-ins. As long as she's tied up with Polly, she's getting picked for sure."
"Hmm. Still, if she doesn't have a match this week either, it really could be an injury. Come on — we haven't seen each other in forever. Let's grab a meal."
"Yes. You're buying, right, hyung?"
"Yeah, you little punk."
About three hours after John and Jane left, a text came in while we were having lunch.
"That's the same advice Senior Alicia gave us."
"Yeah. What do you want to do?"
Just slotting in some submission work and building a match around that would have painted a perfectly fine picture. But this wasn't a regular match — it was a PLE bout, a match staged in the middle of a war. I wanted something with more impact.
An idea struck me, and I floated it to Charlotte.
"What if we go with a squash match?"
Charlotte's face lit up with genuine surprise.
A squash match was a one-sided affair — the kind of bout where the stronger wrestler simply steamrolls the weaker one.
"You sure you're okay with that?"
"Yes. I'll start with the provocation, and you've got the name value and the gimmick to sell it. I think it could work. And if I hit my comebacks hard in the spots where I fight back, it should offset looking too much like the underdog."
"How exactly?"
I laid out what I had in mind.
"Ha. This kid's trying to shove me right back into the villain's pit."
"It's a brand war. One time should be fine. Or do you not want to?"
At that, Charlotte crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and thought for a long while. It looked like she was painting the entire flow of the match in her head — and the crowd's reaction at every single beat.
Clap.
Charlotte's eyes snapped open and she clapped her hands together.
"Alright. Let's do it."
"First let's map the flow out on paper, then start working the timing."
The moment I said that, Charlotte narrowed her eyes and just stared at me.
"What is it?"
"You're way too suspicious. Do you have a wrestler in the family or something? How do you know all this?"
"You mean writing it out on paper and planning ahead?"
"Yeah. That."
I laughed.
"Haha. I learned this at the academy from Coach Donald McCarthy. It's not just me — Selma and Alf do it the same way."
Only then did Charlotte's expression shift into something that looked like understanding.
"Old-school method. You learned well. Kids these days just want to wing it in the ring. Even when you teach them to do it this way, they say it's too much trouble. You learned right."
"When I see Coach McCarthy, I'll tell him that the legendary Charlotte Flair gave him high praise."
"You do that."
Because of how one-sided they were, squash matches usually ran short — five or six minutes at most. Charlotte had done squashes before, but never a fifteen-minute one. So we dug up match footage of the men's division, hunting for anything we could use as a reference.
"There's nothing that runs fifteen minutes. The longest ones top out at seven."
"Matches like that were more common before the nineties. Let's pick one of those and build from it."
"Got it."
We settled on a bout from the early nineties and worked through the grainy footage, inserting several sequences into the opening and the mid-match stretches. That way we sketched out a rough flow, and after grinding through the entire afternoon, we finally finished it.
"Ugh! My head. Doing something I'm not used to is giving me a migraine."
Charlotte stretched hard, arms over her head.
"You worked hard."
"You did too. You've really watched a lot of matches. If I'd done this alone, it would've taken three or four days. Thanks to you, we wrapped it fast."
"I barely did anything. You did all the work. Let's call it here for today and sync up in the ring tomorrow."
"Yeah. That's enough for today."
"By the way, I heard WWO doesn't really do this kind of timing work."
I'd been told that WWO had so many matches and so many wrestlers that they usually just assigned the key spots and called it done. Even when they rehearsed, it often meant the wrestlers climbing into the ring and talking through the moves out loud, just confirming the traffic patterns.
"It's not always like that. For important matches, we do work the timing. Of course, this time is a bit excessive."
"Is it?"
"Yeah. Normally we wouldn't have this kind of free time. But right now there are barely any dark matches or house shows. And since I'm excluded from the voting, I've got the hours. You got pulled out too because you've already had so much Spotlight…"
On our side, Nana, Anne, and Dorothy had been almost completely left out as well — and WWO was the same. Main Eventers cut from the voting were essentially on rest, while everyone else was being given every possible chance to step into the ring one more time.
"I see. So the mental grind is more or less done. Now it's time to suffer with our bodies."
"It'll be fine. We deliberately kept the move list light…"
We still needed to run it once in the ring as written — check the traffic, time the whole thing. If we came up short, we'd have to add something; if we ran long, we'd have to cut. Coming up short was manageable. Having to strip moves out made everything complicated all over again. If it had been just me, I would have packed the match solid — but Charlotte insisted on leaving breathing room, so we trimmed a little.
"You know, you've got a real knack for this scenario work too."
"I just know it from watching so much."
"You think there are wrestlers who haven't watched match footage? Most of them have seen as much as you, if not more. But designing it is a different story. You've got talent."
"Thank you for saying so. But that's a conversation for the far-off future."
"True… Here I am, talking nonsense to a kid who just debuted. Let's just go out and eat tonight. You need a break too."
"Alright."
We were both sprawled across the sofa when, about thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
"Must be Alicia. She's early."
"Yeah. I figured she wouldn't show until six."
It was a little before five.
"Who is it?"
"I-it's me. Ali…cia."
Alicia's voice was shaky — she must have been through a lot.
"Thank you for your hard work, Senior Alicia."
I opened the door — and the sight that greeted me nearly made me pass out on the spot.
Bang.
I slammed the front door shut immediately.