Vince found himself alone in the chairman's office at Vox, one leg casually crossed over the other as he sifted through the latest weekly ratings charts sprawled across the desk.
The expansive glass windows behind him offered a stunning view of downtown Dodge. Below, cars zipped by like streams of light, and the city buzzed with life even late into the evening. But Vince was laser-focused on the numbers laid out before him.
IRW sitting right at the top.
And not just by a hair.
Only two long-running sitcoms were still in the race, and even their lead was dwindling week after week. Just below IRW was another title Vince had championed.
State Basketball Championship.
Regional, college level.
And its numbers were on the rise.
Vince leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile creeping onto his face.
Very good.
This was precisely how it needed to start.
The current basketball landscape across the Federation was a patchwork of small, independent competitions, lacking any real structure or media spotlight. Games were either broadcast on obscure local channels or covered by radio.
But Vince had a vision that others seemed to miss.
People will always rally behind their roots.
Their cities.
Their schools.
Their state.
And with the right marketing, rivalries could turn into full-blown obsessions.
The State Basketball Championship that Vox had recently acquired was the first officially televised college state tournament in the Federation. It was still regional for now, but Vince could already see the bigger picture unfolding.
Other states would undoubtedly follow suit.
Then came the interstate tournaments.
Next up, the national playoffs.
And eventually—
A professional centralized league.
The groundwork for a future NBA-like entity.
And Vox would already be ahead of the game before anyone else even realized the race had begun.
Nicholas sat across from Vince, several folders in hand, diving into the latest updates.
"The regional viewership is at an all-time high," Nicholas said, adjusting his glasses. "Especially with the younger crowd."
Vince nodded in agreement.
Nicholas pressed on, sounding more enthusiastic than he had in months.
"The Slantows Association officials are thrilled. Ticket sales have surged since the broadcasts kicked off."
A small smile crept onto Vince's face.
Television brought a sense of legitimacy.
Once people saw the cameras, the commentators, the production quality, and the packed stands, they instantly recognized its importance.
Nicholas flipped through another report.
"And it seems…" he said cautiously, "other state basketball associations are starting to talk about launching their own official tournaments."
This time, Nicholas's voice was laced with genuine excitement.
"I was thinking of reaching out to them myself before the competition swoops in."
Vince looked up, intrigued.
Nicholas caught the look and cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I see the potential now."
That earned him a warm smile from Vince.
Nicholas was finally starting to think ahead instead of just reacting.
The creative lead continued.
"If we can lock in enough regional tournaments early on, Vox could become the go-to name in basketball broadcasting."
"Exactly."
Nicholas looked a bit unsure.
"I also heard there was smoke outside the IRW arena after the last show."
Vince rubbed his eyes, clearly exhausted. "Goddammit."
Nicholas pretended he didn't hear that.
"How far has this spread?" Vince asked, his voice low.
Nicholas shrugged a little.
"Mostly just rumors."
Vince leaned back in his chair, responding with a casual tone. "An AC unit malfunctioned."
Nicholas didn't seem convinced.
"Thankfully, nobody got hurt."
That explanation felt way too rehearsed.
But Nicholas knew when to back off. Vince clearly didn't want to dive into details, and Nicholas had no desire to get tangled up in wrestling gang wars.
So he just nodded. "I see."
After waving Nicholas off, Vince grabbed his Zokia phone and dialed Lance Dawson.
The call connected almost instantly.
"What the hell happened to keeping things under wraps?" Vince shot out right away.
Lance sounded worn out. "It wasn't us."
Vince frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It's NPJW."
Vince leaned in a bit.
Lance continued, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Yoichi's spreading rumors on purpose. He's saying the fire was their message to us."
Vince scoffed. "So now he's bragging about arson?"
"He's just trying to look tough."
Vince fell silent for a moment, thinking it over.
"Give the police an anonymous tip."
Lance hesitated. "A tip?"
"About NPJW spreading rumors of criminal activity. Let the police waste their time bothering Yoichi for a few days."
Lance chuckled softly. "That's pretty petty."
"He's out there claiming he committed arson; I'm just being a good citizen."
Lance couldn't really argue with that.
Then Vince asked the crucial question. "What's the status of NPJW's rebuilding?"
Lance let out a sigh. "Still in progress. The warehouse damage was worse than we thought."
"And?"
"Megumi Isagi had to personally fund the reconstruction."
That made Vince smirk a little. "So daddy finally had to clean up the mess."
Lance lowered his voice, a hint of concern creeping in.
"He's not happy with Yoichi."
Vince nodded slowly, taking it all in.
There was something about internal pressure that always proved useful.
Yet, after a moment, his expression turned pensive.
"This can't go on forever."
Lance remained quiet, weighing his thoughts.
"If they keep pulling stunts like this," Vince pressed on, "both promotions are going to suffer."
Lance let out a dry chuckle.
"Yoichi doesn't care. He'd gladly watch NPJW go up in flames if it means IRW goes down with it."
That hit home for Vince.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, lost in thought.
Then, out of the blue, he asked, "What if we officially propose a Promotion War?"
Lance looked taken aback.
"Are you serious?"
"Absolutely."
Lance paused, considering the implications. "That would escalate everything."
"It's already escalated," Vince replied, his tone steady.
Lance couldn't argue with that.
Vince continued, "Let's send them the proposal."
"What terms are we talking about?"
"Neutral venue. Broadcast it exclusively on Vox."
Lance nodded slowly, processing it. "And the format?"
Vince smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
"They can figure that out."
Lance raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"You really trust our roster that much?"
"I trust them more than I trust you to keep things under wraps."
Lance couldn't help but smile wryly at that.
"Alright," he finally said. "I'll send the proposal."
After hanging up, Vince leaned back in his chair, staring out at the city through the glass windows.
The next few weeks were shaping up to be a whirlwind.
Promotion Wars.
Vox expansion.
Basketball acquisitions.
Internal roster tensions.
And amidst all that chaos— he still had to grow IRW.
Just then, his phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID read Gavin.
Vince's frown deepened.
Gavin rarely called during work hours unless something significant was going on.
He picked up quickly.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, all good," Gavin answered.
Vince felt a bit of tension ease off his shoulders.
"It's about that kid you put your money on."
Vince instantly got the picture.
"Carl Holler?"
"Exactly."
Vince straightened up in his seat.
"And?"
A hint of amusement crept into Gavin's tone.
"He says the prototype is ready."
Vince was taken aback, genuinely surprised.
His grip on the phone tightened.
A touchscreen phone in this day and age.
Vince leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing with excitement.
He was eager to find out if Carl Holler was really the genius Vince had always thought he was.