AN: HOW ARE YOU LIKING THE NEW LORE? GIVE ME SOME IDEAS
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The room seemed to vibrate with the sound of his name.
Harry Khan.
Gavin considered the name for a moment in silence, then said it again so he could hear it out loud. It was difficult to believe that just one man could have such a dramatic effect on the entire floor of the hospital without saying a single word.
Against the wall, the man stood with his arms crossed. The tattoos covered his neck and presumably went all the way down to his belly—he didn't look to be bothered by them. He didn't come across as overly loud. The five men who were with him—each of them appeared hardened, and all five were keeping their eyes on everything—were all quite enough.
Lance saw Gavin staring and leaned forward just a bit. "That's the leader of the IRW Ultras," he said quietly. "The extreme faction."
Gavin scrunched his face in confusion. "Like... fans?"
Lance offered a weary smile as if he wanted to tell Gavin more than he had time for. "More than that."
Harry Khan was notorious in the city. He was the type of person that city officials chose to ignore unless they absolutely had to focus on him. He was also the type of person that appeared when tensions between wrestling promotions were heated up long before any wrestler walked into the building. His followers, known as the IRW Ultras, were known for being loyal, aggressive, and extremely dangerous when provoked.
Local governing bodies had tried. Crackdowns. Raids. Temporary bans on gatherings. None of it stuck. The Ultras caused trouble, yes—but they also protected their promotion with religious devotion. In a city where wrestling was identity, not entertainment, that kind of loyalty bought immunity.
Promotions, in turn, shielded their Ultras. Quiet calls. Favors. Lawyers on standby. It was an unspoken pact.
Gavin listened as Lance explained it all, his disbelief slowly turning to unease.
"So this is… normal?" Gavin asked. "Fan factions enforcing territory?"
"Promotion wars aren't common," Lance replied. "But they're not myths either."
Victor Cross shifted his weight, arms folded tightly. "And when they happen, they're ugly."
Maya, standing slightly apart, felt her stomach knot as the conversation deepened. She knew promotion wars existed. Everyone did. But hearing the structure laid bare—the rules, the politics—was different from locker room whispers.
Promotion wars weren't riots. They were systems.
Weeks, sometimes months, of buildup. Taunts on air. Wrestlers showing up unannounced on rival shows to disrupt matches. Fans vandalizing posters, gyms, merchandise trucks. Escalation without outright collapse.
Then came the decision.
Each promotion hosted one set of matches on their own shows—inter-promotional bouts to decide who would host the final event, and under what rules. The stipulation itself was a weapon.
And then—the Promotion Wars PPV.
Champions against champions.
The winner didn't just take pride. They took territory. Neighborhoods. Training access. Sometimes even wrestlers, if contracts allowed. Fans adapted. They always did.
Victor's world.
Maya swallowed. "So… IRW and NPJW…"
"Are now headed there," Victor said grimly.
Gavin didn't like the sound of any of it.
Harry advanced a step forward, his voice low but filled with anger. "He attacked our boss, which is plenty for me."
The men behind him approved as they murmured.
Harry continued, "We will retaliate. Tonight if need be."
Lance turned sharply towards Harry. "No."
Harry turned his gaze towards Lance. "No offense intended, Lance, but this was not done on your watch; this happened because of him." Harry motions with his head towards the man in the hospital bed.
A few of the Ultras clicked their tongues in agreement with Harry.
Maya felt this change, it was respect, but not loyalty.
Lance slowly exhaled. He had seen something like this before with the creation of IRW and the skepticism from the fans. It took years of loyalty, hard work and a near collapse of trust to build the trust he now had with the fans.
Victor walked between them. "That's it. We wait."
Harry looked as if he was going to argue with him, but after a long pause he raised a hand and one of Harry's men ran off with his phone to follow orders to stay in their territory and hold their current locations.
Then the nurse returned and appeared to be very overwhelmed. "Mr. Maston is awake and can only have a few in to see him at a time."
Lance, Gavin, Maya, Victor, and Harry entered the hospital room.
Vince lay on a bed surrounded by pillows with a swollen face and one black eye. His right wrist was in a plaster cast. He looked awful.
Still, he had a smile on his face.
Maya felt tightness in her chest at the thought of the man who had laid hands on Vince's face. Zen. She would remember the name for future reference.
When Vince saw Harry, his expression changed slightly. "Who is that?"
Lance introduced everyone to Vince and explained how the Ultras were waging war for territory and in retaliation against promoters.
As they spoke, Vince did not respond and kept his eyes partly closed, breathing slowly even though he was in pain. When they finished speaking to him, Vince did not say anything.
Victor was the first to speak up. "They attacked you personally, we need to take action."
Harry replied. "They won't acknowledge our silence."
Lance was about to say something, to advise caution and slow down the momentum. He understood the cost of the promoter's wars more than anyone.
However, before he could speak, Vince looked at Gavin and said, "What about Vox?"
Everyone froze.
Gavin is stunned. "Right now?"
"Just tell me."
After hesitating a little, Gavin informed Vince that Vox Broadcasting used to be a huge company in the United States but now has been ruined because of bad decisions. Their market share went from ten percent to three percent, they lost out on multiple sports contracts, and most of their executives went to jail for tax evasion. The actual owner of Vox Broadcasting wants to leave the city and the business.
Vince nodded again. "Perfect, I want to let them know that Maston Holdings is interested in possibly purchasing it. Get me a bid ready."
Gavin stared at him. "Vince-"
Vince just raised his plastered hand. "Make it happen."
Gavin swallowed the urge to argue and nodded. He left the office simply wishing Vince a fast recovery but still shaking his head.
In the silence of the office...
All of the other people in the office (Maya, Victor, and Harry) were looking at each other in confusion.
Finally, Lance spoke up. "What are you doing?"
Vince looked Lance directly in the eye. "We are purchasing a TV station."
"What?"
"This way, if we acquire Vox, IRW doesn't need RedTV because we can broadcast ourselves. We control the timetable, control the narrative, and control the exposure."
Harry scoffed. "That won't stop NPJW."
"No," Vince agreed. "But it buys time."
He shifted slightly, wincing. "If I go all in on Vox, I'll be cash-strapped for months. No funds for a promotion war. No war chest."
Victor frowned. "So we just… wait?"
Vince's eyes hardened. "We stand back."
Harry bristled. "They humiliated you."
Vince looked directly at him. "I know."
He remembered the police. The smirk. The muttered insult. The indifference.
"I want revenge," Vince said quietly. "More than you know."
Harry stilled.
"But not now. We bid our time. We build power. And when we strike—" His lips twitched painfully. "—they won't see it coming."