The Star Forge hums under fluorescent light. Students finish their drills, some lounging on the apron, while others already watch as the door creaks open. Graysie Parker steps inside, gym bag slung over her shoulder, her phone buzzing in her hand. She glances down at the screen.

MVC:
You free? Ring’s open.

Graysie smirks, shaking her head. “Guess I’m about to get stretched by the woman I idolized as a kid. I had your posters on my ceiling, you know.”

Marie Van Claudio is already in the ring. Gear on, stance loose, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other. She motions Graysie over with two fingers.

“You didn’t think I texted you for a latte, did you?”

Graysie laughs, a little nervously. “Honestly? Yeah. I thought maybe cappuccino and war stories.”

“You’ll get your stories. But first—you’re sore from last night, right?”

“Everything hurts.”

“Good. The best cure is more reps. Drop the bag, lace ‘em up.”

Graysie kicks off her sneakers, tapes down her wrists, and climbs into the ring.

They circle, the Forge students quieting down, all eyes on the ring. Lock-up. Marie slides into a headlock, then a wristlock, coaching as she goes. “Don’t hunt the limb. Make them offer it up. Control the breath, control the match.”

Graysie rolls through, reverses into a hammerlock, and grins. “Gonna warn you now—Eric Dane thought he was gonna teach me a lesson in a gym like this back before I started training with him. I ended up rolling him up for three right there in front of God and everyone else in that gym that day.”

A chuckle ripples from the apron. Marie arches an eyebrow. “If you got him, it’s because he let you. Learn from that.”

Graysie: “Hey—”

Van Claudio does not let her continue.

“Think about it like this,” Marie started. “Maybe he was recruiting you.”

The pace quickens. Marie drops her weight and sweeps Graysie into a cradle. ONE! Graysie kicks free, rolling away.

“That’s how Amy Harrison got me last week,” Marie mutters, smirking through the edge in her voice. “I let myself get comfortable. Never again.”

They reset. Graysie hits the ropes, drops into an arm drag. Marie pops up, clapping once in approval before driving her straight into a snapmare, a kick to the back, a lateral press. Two-count.

“See that? You get caught reaching, you pay for it.”

Graysie snarls, pushes harder. Waistlock, reversal, victory roll. Two-count. Sunny Holliday gasps, leaning forward on the apron. Tigress Wilde just nods, filing the moment away like a hunter marking prey.

Marie waves it off, hands on her hips, calling for space. Sweat drips. Her voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re strong. You’re smart. You can shock a legend. But here’s the truth: winning the belt is the easy part. Keeping it is the war. Every night, someone will think they can outlast you. Some will. The difference is knowing when to absorb, when to explode.”

Her eyes lock with Graysie’s. “Don’t just wrestle matches—wrestle reigns.”

The Forge goes still. Sunny mouths the words under her breath. Tigress’s stare sharpens.

Graysie straightens her shoulders, the grin gone. “Wrestle entire reigns. Got it.”

Marie nods once. “You’ve got it. Just don’t let it eat you alive.”

She extends a hand. Graysie takes it, and Marie pulls her in for a quick, grounding hug. The students clap quietly. Sunny and Tigress exchange a glance, the bar raised before their eyes.

Graysie climbs out of the ring, grabbing her bag. Before heading to the showers, she pauses to look back. Marie is still there, standing tall, the ring hers.

Fade to black.