There was definitely something different about the Tag Team Champions tonight.
Hawk and Animal seemed to have embraced a whole new vibe. Sure, they were still massive, muscle-bound, and intimidating enough that most wrestlers would rather avoid them in a dark alley—or anywhere else, for that matter—but the shift was all about the attitude that came with that intimidation.
Gone was their usual straightforward entrance, replaced by a swagger that was hard to miss. Hawk strutted around the ring with an exaggerated sense of confidence, while Animal engaged with the crowd, both of them decked out in flashy accessories that looked oddly familiar to anyone who had been following IRW over the past few months.
Tony picked up on it right away. "Are they trying to channel the Apex Predators?"
Justin chuckled. "That's exactly what they're doing!"
"They're just mocking them," Luke said, shaking his head in disbelief.
It became crystal clear when Hawk dramatically adjusted a pair of over-the-top golden sunglasses before flashing an exaggerated smirk at the camera—an unmistakable nod to the flamboyant entrances that the former Tag Team Champions had made famous.
Even Noah couldn't help but chime in from the commentary booth. "I can't believe the Road Warriors have suddenly developed a taste for fashion."
Irvin laughed. "You really think Hawk woke up today and thought, 'I need some golden glasses'?"
"Given what those two did to the Apex Predators, I'd say they're having a blast with this."
The joke was clear: the Road Warriors had snatched the championships from the Apex Predators, and now they were stealing their swagger too.
Finally, Hawk tossed the sunglasses aside, grabbed the microphone as the laughter began to fade, and said, "Now that we've had our fun..."
Animal leaned casually against the ropes behind him while Hawk scanned the arena. "We've got something we want to discuss."
Hawk kicked off the conversation about the tag division. "Ever since we snagged those championships, Animal and I have been keeping a close eye on the other teams. We're craving some real competition—opponents who'll actually make us sweat to hold onto our titles."
"But instead," he continued, "we keep seeing the same guys getting chances they haven't earned."
He pointed them out. "The Flashpoint Brothers."
The crowd's reaction was a mixed bag, prompting a sarcastic chuckle from Hawk. "Cal Bishop and Marcus Vane? They might just be the biggest joke in this entire tag division."
That comment sparked a louder response from the fans. Animal stepped in, grabbing the microphone. "How many times do these guys have to lose before someone realizes they just aren't cut out for this?"
Hawk raised his fingers as if counting off. "They kept getting beaten by the Apex Predators. They finally break free, and what do they do?"
"They lose to the Steel Titans!" Animal chimed in, causing both champions to burst into laughter.
Noah frowned slightly from the commentary booth. "That's pretty harsh."
"Is it really wrong?" Irvin countered.
"There's a fine line between being right and just being mean."
Hawk resumed his pacing around the ring. "Yet every few weeks, there they are again—the Flashpoint Brothers, getting another match. Another shot. More airtime." He shook his head in disbelief. "They don't deserve that spotlight."
As the boos from the crowd intensified, Animal leaned closer to the ropes. "So let's give that time to someone who actually deserves it."
"Someone who can really fight," Hawk agreed.
Just as he finished his thought, an unfamiliar tune cut through the air—well, unfamiliar to most of the audience.
Luke's head snapped toward the entrance; he recognized that music, and so did a few of the older wrestling fans scattered throughout the arena. The reaction wasn't overwhelming, but a noticeable wave of recognition rippled through the more dedicated followers in the crowd.
Noah glanced down at the information sheet laid out before him. "Well, this is intriguing."
At the top of the ramp, two young men made their entrance.
The first was Bret Hart. At just twenty-eight, Bret exuded a level of composure that was noticeably more restrained than the man next to him.
His long black hair cascaded around his shoulders, and his youthful face remained calm as he took in the arena. He sported pink wrestling tights adorned with black and white accents—an unconventional choice in the world of wrestling gear, but one that certainly made him pop.
Next to him was his younger brother, Owen.
At twenty-two, Owen was brimming with excitement about the moment. His blond hair set him apart from Bret, while his pink vest and black tights echoed the family colors without making them look like carbon copies.
While Bret strode down the ramp with a steady confidence, Owen seemed on the verge of dashing into the ring and throwing down right then and there.
Noah raised his voice to cut through the rising buzz. "Some of our viewers might be seeing these two for the first time, but anyone who's followed wrestling beyond Dodge should recognize that last name.
Bret Hart and Owen Hart, hailing from the New York wrestling scene, are part of one of the most storied families in the business!"
Irvin nodded in agreement. "The Hart family."
"Exactly. Their family has been a cornerstone of professional wrestling since its inception. Their father, Stu Hart, is held in high regard within traditional wrestling circles, and we've already become quite familiar with another member of that family here in IRW."
Tony was staring at Luke. "Wait."
Luke could see where this was headed. Tony gestured toward Bret and Owen. "Are those your brothers?"
"Cousins," Luke replied.
Tony nodded, while Justin turned to Luke, raising an eyebrow. "So, Maya wrestles. Your cousins wrestle. Your uncle wrestles—or trained wrestlers or something. Your whole family seems to be wrestling royalty."
Luke let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "What's your point?"
"Why aren't you a wrestler?"
Luke looked at him as if the answer should be crystal clear. "Because I have common sense."
Justin chuckled, and Luke pointed toward the ring. "You see what happens to these guys every week? Broken arms, people getting tossed around like sacks of potatoes, smashed into posts. I don't have the guts to get beat up like that every week."
"At least you're honest," Tony said with a grin.
Meanwhile, in the ring, Hawk and Animal had stopped their joking as the Hart Brothers climbed in. Owen's gaze was locked on the champions. Animal noticed and moved closer to the younger Hart, prompting Owen to step forward without hesitation.
Bret casually draped an arm across his brother's chest. "Easy there."
Owen looked up at him, practically buzzing with energy. Bret gave him a small, firm shake of the head. Reluctantly, Owen halted, though his eyes remained glued to Animal.
Irvin laughed from the commentary booth. "Check out Owen."
"Bret looks like he's got a wild animal on a leash," Noah chimed in.
Owen seemed to catch that, and a big grin broke out on his face.
Bret took the microphone. "You said you wanted someone deserving."
Hawk nodded. "That's what I said."
"Here we are," Bret said, gesturing between himself and Owen as the crowd erupted in cheers. "You want a tag team that can actually wrestle? You want someone who won't waste your time? Well, look no further."
Hawk chuckled, shaking his head. "You haven't even stepped into the ring here yet."
"No," Bret replied, his demeanor calm and collected. "But we've wrestled everywhere else."
Hawk's grin faded a bit as Bret moved in closer. "You know the Hart name. You know our roots. You know who trained us."
That hit home. Hawk might have been poking fun at the Flashpoint Brothers, but he and Animal were well aware of wrestling's legacy. The Hart name carried weight.
Bret opened his arms slightly. "So if you want someone who deserves a shot, stop whining. We're right here."
Owen finally squeezed in close enough to the microphone. "And we're ready to fight you right now."
The crowd roared, and Bret briefly shut his eyes at the unexpected twist.
Hawk glanced at Animal, who returned a knowing smile. For a heartbeat, it looked like they might actually take the challenge, but Hawk just laughed. "You've got guts, kid."
"I've got more than that," Owen said, stepping forward, but Bret pulled him back once more.
Hawk's expression shifted to serious. "But this isn't New York." He lifted the Tag Team Championship high above his head. "You don't just waltz into IRW and claim these because you're a Hart."
Bret nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. "Fair enough."
"You want us?" Hawk pointed toward the entrance. "Prove it."
"How?" Bret raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Hawk's grin returned. "You heard us talk about Flashpoint. They couldn't take down the Steel Titans." He pointed at Bret, then at Owen. "You beat the Titans... and maybe we'll think you're worth our time."
"Done," Owen quickly replied, not missing a beat.
Bret shot him a glance. "You could've let me chime in."
"I already knew what you'd say."
Their banter drew laughter from the crowd, and even Bret couldn't help but crack a smile—until the arena was suddenly plunged into darkness, and heavy music blasted through the speakers.
The grin faded as Owen and Bret turned their attention to the entrance, while Hawk and Animal exchanged amused glances as they rolled out.
Noah leaned closer to his microphone. "Looks like the Steel Titans are ready to make their entrance."
Brocke Steele was the first to step out, his massive figure dominating the entrance as he glared toward the ring. Hunter followed closely behind, equally intimidating, both men clearly unhappy about being seen as mere stepping stones.
The crowd erupted in cheers as Owen's smile returned and Bret straightened up, poised and ready for action.
As the Titans made their way down the ramp, Hawk leaned over the ropes. "Good luck, fellas."
Animal gave Hawk a playful slap on the shoulder, and the champions climbed out of the ring, content to watch the chaos they had set in motion.
Brocke hopped onto the apron while Hunter entered from the other side, but the Hart Brothers stood their ground. For a tense moment, all four men locked eyes until Brocke sized Bret up, smirking at his pink tights.
"These are the guys?"
"Want to find out?" Owen stepped forward defiantly.
Hunter shoved him, and that was all the spark Owen needed to launch himself at Hunter. The crowd went wild as the two started trading punches. Brocke advanced on Owen, but Bret intercepted him with a solid forearm to the face, igniting a four-way brawl in no time.
Officials rushed down the ramp, yelling for both teams to head to their corners instead of trying to break them apart.
Noah could hardly contain his excitement. "I don't think we're waiting until next week for this!"
Irvin laughed as Owen and Hunter continued trying to break free and get at each other's throats. "The Hart Brothers wanted to prove themselves, and apparently they're going to get the opportunity immediately!"