Gavin stayed back at Maston Holdings to start getting the paperwork ready for the loan application, while Vince had a much simpler goal in mind as he left the office.
He finally needed to buy a car.
It was starting to feel a bit absurd to own a company worth millions and still rely on taxis.
About half an hour later, Vince found himself in one of Dodge's biggest car dealerships. His gaze was instantly drawn to a sleek, low-profile sports car that was proudly showcased on a rotating display.
A Lamborghini.
"...Wow."
The salesman spotted his interest and quickly approached him. "Great choice, sir."
Vince strolled around the car, taking in every curve. "This one?"
The salesman nodded eagerly. "Our latest model."
Vince inquired about the price. The salesman revealed it.
Vince's smile faltered. "...Forget it."
He turned quietly and made his way to the exit. Once outside, he shook his head at his own bad luck.
"I own a television station... and I still can't afford the car I want."
With a resigned sigh, he flagged down another taxi. "IRW Arena."
The driver nodded and pulled away from the curb. For a few minutes, they rode in silence. Eventually, the driver glanced back at him in the rear-view mirror.
"You work at IRW?"
Vince looked up, curious. "What makes you say that?"
"You asked to go there." The driver chuckled. "Plus, you don't look like management. Too young. I'm guessing? Wrestler in training."
Vince chuckled back. "Eh....Something like that."
The driver beamed. "Were you at Promotion Wars?"
"I didn't go there personally, but I heard about it."
"Heard about it?" the driver exclaimed. "It was amazing! I've been a wrestling fan for years, and I never thought I'd see a small promotion come into another company's arena and actually win."
Vince just listened, his smile growing wider.
"The new owner has really turned things upside down," the driver said, his excitement growing as he maneuvered through the traffic. "The interviews, the rivalries, the stories—everything's different. I used to just have wrestling on in the background, but now if I miss even five minutes, it feels like I've missed something huge."
It was oddly gratifying to hear someone rave about IRW without knowing who he was talking to. There was something liberating about being anonymous.
"So," Vince chimed in casually, "who's your favorite wrestler?"
Without missing a beat, the driver replied, "Mason Brooks."
Vince raised an eyebrow. "The former champion?"
"Yep," the driver confirmed with a nod. "He totally deserves that title. I still think Eddie shouldn't have won it."
Vince leaned back in his seat. "But Eddie earned it. He beat Mason fair and square. He put in the effort."
The driver shook his head. "Mason got hurt. Then Eddie lost to Yokozuna. He owes Mason a rematch."
Vince couldn't fully argue with that. "Yeah, it's likely to happen."
The driver chuckled. "I really hope so."
By the time they pulled up outside the IRW headquarters, their chat had shifted to favorite matches and upcoming rivalries. The driver switched off the meter.
"Good luck at work."
Vince smiled as he stepped out. "Thanks!" He took a few steps away but then turned back. "Hey, quick question. How would you like front-row tickets to the next IRW show?"
The driver blinked in disbelief. "...Seriously?"
Vince nodded. "For you and a friend, of course."
The driver stared at him, processing the surprise. "Are... are you really telling the truth? Not some sort of prank?"
Vince just smiled. "Ask for Vince at reception. They'll know who I am."
Before the astonished driver could ask anything else, Vince waved and walked into the building.
Instead of heading to his office, Vince decided to switch things up and made his way to the training hall.
Unlike the loud, chaotic buzz of backstage during live shows, the training facility had a focused, rhythmic vibe. The steady thud of bodies hitting the canvas mats echoed throughout the space.
Some wrestlers were pumping iron, others were working on the heavy bags, while a couple of them practiced chain wrestling in a secondary ring. Nearby, a small group was stretching under Gus's watchful eye.
Vince greeted the head trainer first. "Morning."
Gus nodded back. "Morning."
Not far off, Torrie Wilson was wrapping up her conditioning drills. She flashed a smile and waved.
"Boss."
Vince returned the gesture before moving further into the hall. His gaze was instantly drawn to the main ring.
Inside, the Hart brothers were sparring with the Steel Titans.
Stu Hart stood just outside the ropes, arms crossed, observing every move with the keen, unforgiving eye of a seasoned veteran.
Bret and Owen were surprisingly in sync, especially considering they had only recently joined the company. Across from them, Brocke and Gunnar relied on their usual brute strength.
Whenever one side gained an unfair edge or stumbled in their execution, Stu calmly stepped in.
"No. Bret, your footwork. Don't step across your own balance."
Bret quickly adjusted his stance. Moments later, Owen made a sudden leap toward Brocke.
"Too eager," Stu called out. "Make him move first."
Owen sighed but nodded, resetting his position. The next exchange went much smoother.
Vince stood quietly beside Gus, taking in the session. "They're improving fast."
"They are," Gus agreed. "Stu's an incredible teacher."
Vince nodded, his mind already made up. The Hart brothers would kick off their IRW careers together as a tag team. With their natural chemistry and instinct, it was the clear choice.
Inside the ring, Stu pointed a stern finger toward Gunnar. "Don't fight his strength. Take his balance."
Bret immediately changed his angles, smoothly slipping around Gunnar's massive side instead of trying to meet the powerhouse head-on.
Gunnar gave a small nod of approval after the clean exchange.
Vince watched silently for another few minutes, deeply satisfied. Seeing hungry, experienced wrestlers rapidly elevate their game alongside established veterans under Stu Hart's masterful guidance proved that IRW's future was in incredibly capable hands.