rtg Light Beers & Lariats: Mance Warner’s Road to Glory

[Blodyxe]

Light Beers & Lariats: Mance Warner’s Road to Glory

A simple man sat slouched in his battered recliner, the dim glow of his old TV casting flickering shadows across the cluttered interior of his trailer. 

A half-empty case of light beers sat beside him, cans scattered like fallen soldiers. The static disappeared and this telly blared with the sounds of a classic wrestling match: Ric Flair and Roddy Piper versus Scott Hall and Kevin Nash. 

Mancer's eyes were glued to the screen as Flair and Piper decided to fight The Outsiders…

"Get 'em, Hot Rod!" he cheered, raising his can in salute just as Piper delivered a perfectly timed eye poke to 'Big Sexy'. 

This glorious moment was interrupted by the insistent buzzing of his old phone, vibrating its way across the cluttered table. Mancer glanced at the caller ID, barely able to see through the cracked screen. It was Court Bauer.

He took a swig of beer, belched loudly, and answered.

"Well, if it ain't Court Bauer himself. What's up, big dawg?"

"Mancer, got a booking for you," Bauer said, not amused in the slightest by Warner’s greeting.

"Booking, huh? What’s the pay?" Mancer leaned back.

There was a brief pause, the kind that told Bauer was about to dance around the question. 

"The pay is the same, but you're gonna love your opponent for MLW Reload!"

"That so?" Warner took another swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "And who might that be?"

"Steph De Lander."

Warner let out a loud, boisterous laugh. 

"Steph? Well, hell, I’m on my way! But seriously, Court, what's the pay?"

"Mancer, you’re gonna get paid in glory, my friend. Glory and...well, we'll talk numbers later. Gotta go now!" Bauer chuckled nervously.

Hanging up, Warner shook his head, and muttered ‘that lying MFer’ before tossing the empty beer can into a bin that overflowed with its companions and grabbed a fresh one for the road. 

Mance did not need to pack his gear - he was already in it. Blue jeans, black singlet, cargo baseball cap, work boots, a sweet ass satin jacket, and an American flag bandana around his neck. Warner checked his fanny pack and paused to give himself a pep talk in the grimy mirror.

"Alright, Mancer, you got yourself into this hole, now you gotta get out of it. Never sign another damn contract in your life, big dawg, there’s nothing but trouble with them. Ok, time to hit the road and kick some ass. Glory awaits, bebeh!"

With a final swig, he crushed the can in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. The trailer door creaked as it swung open, revealing the picturesque views of Bucksnort Tennessee. Mance Warner stepped out, a man on a mission, ready to take on the world — or at least, his soon-to-be-life-partner Steph DeLander.

As he climbed into his old truck, the engine roared to life. ‘The Southern Psycho’ sped off down the dusty road, the promise of glory and just maybe a decent paycheck driving him onward…

Edited July 30 by Blodyxe

[DarK_RaideR]

I came into this thread because of Blodyxe and ol' Mancer.

I started reading about Mance watching TV all alone and felt the urge to comment "this diary needs more Steph DeLander"

I kept reading and he's actually fighting her.

I meant to follow either way, but now, consider me hooked!

[alpha2117]

Steph better go over

[DarK_RaideR]

10 minutes ago, alpha2117 said:

Steph better go over

TNA vs MLW, PCO versus Mance Warner, Steph DeLander on a forklift match. BOOK IT, YOU COWARDS!

[kanegan]

32 minutes ago, DarK_RaideR said:

TNA vs MLW, PCO versus Mance Warner, Steph DeLander on a forklift match. BOOK IT, YOU COWARDS!

Took the words right out of my mouth. Cmon @Blodyxe, book SDL on a Pole

[Blodyxe]

Who needs a booking team when you have GDS forums? We will absolutely DO that! Going to TNA might be a play, I'll see what I can do

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part One: Stuck Between Two Worlds

Mance Warner’s truck rumbled and rattled its way out of the good ‘ol Bucksnort,Tennessee.

The old beast groaned under the weight of a medium-sized beast, his mistress, and a cooler full of light beers, the faithful companions of two road warriors. The miles stretched ahead, winding towards the city of brotherly love, Philadelphia. Mancer took a long swig from a can, the bitter liquid a familiar comfort as he pondered about his career. 2024 is here, and Mancer had big plans for it.

2023 was alright. He had a couple bangers, lost the AAW title to Davey Vega, smacked Effy with a steel chair and then won a Do or Die Rumble in GCW, which grants him a title shot at any time. But that is a story for another day, now let’s talk about the beast that was waiting for the good ‘ol Mancer in Philly.

MLW wasn't making Fusion episodes anymore. They were taping two events at a time to save some moolah. 

"Court Bauer, you cheap bastard," Mance muttered. 

His relationship with Bauer was a rollercoaster, swaying wildly between camaraderie and contempt. Right now, it was somewhere in the middle. The first falling out happened a few years ago when Bauer did not pay his talent after MLW got booted from Bein Sports. He wouldn’t let wrestlers leave or work for other promotions either, blocking people from earning a living. GCW, Mancer’s home promotion, was one of the companies that gave MLW people a chance to work, and they eventually bumped heads with Bauer. Mance decided to walk out and was granted his release.

Disgruntled wrestlers are a common occurrence in MLW though, they look for exits and get away eventually. After losing Hammerstone, the league is now set to lose another major star in Jacob Fatu, who’s hoping to join ‘The Bloodline’ group in the fed. One thing that Bauer is able to do is bring people back again and again.

Mancer wasn’t an exception. Perhaps ‘The Southern Psycho’ had one too many brewskis when he returned to MLW in 2022, or maybe Court decided to pay up a bit more after getting 20 million dollars from WWE in a legal battle. Memories were fuzzy… 

"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me," Warner grumbled, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

Asking Bauer for a release again was like making love to a wall — it remained cold, unyielding, and leaving you more frustrated than before. The kicker? Mance was lined up to be the main guy in GCW, but they weren’t going to pull the trigger until he chose them as a priority. Meaning no world title for him until he was done with MLW. The good brother was stuck in limbo, a man with a foot in both worlds. Long-term, Mancer wanted to focus on GCW, but for now, he could run from town to town, raise chaos, and hit the pay window.

"When life gives you lemons, you grab a tequila, pinch some salt and down that sumbitch in one go," Mancer mused, the road unfolding before him. 

It wasn’t all doom and gloom though - in MLW he worked with his ‘Second Gear Crew’ brothers in Matthew Justice and Manders, partied away with Microman, and now he was heading to the show to wrestle his partner in life, Steph De Lander, who was sleeping in the back.

"Wake up, mama!! This is how it's gonna be. We get to the arena, grab some toys, fool around in the ring a bit, I roll your sweet a*s for three, and then we hit the pay window!!"

"It's almost perfect, but you don't need to go over, boo. You gotta give me a rub. I'm an up-and-coming talent, and the fans want to see me win!" said Steph with her sleepy voice.

"Good ol' Mancer would agree, but you're talking to Good Brother #3 here, and that doesn't work for him."

Ah yes, ‘Good Brother Number 3’... Mance Warner lost a ‘Loser Leaves Town’ match to Matt Cardona, and was then asked to wear a black mask and behave the exact same way as he always did. Think Hogan as ‘Mr. America’. Peak wrestling ‘comedy’ right there! 

"Fine... then I'm going to kick your ass for the majority of the match." Steph sighed, exasperated but amused.

"That's fine with Good Brother number three. He ain't the Southern Psycho, but he can take it."

As the city lights of Philadelphia came into view, illuminating the night sky with a kaleidoscope of colors, Mance knew Steph could kick his ass regardless, but he needed to sell this program, to make the fans believe and buy into every punch, every hold, every eye poke. This match had to be ‘heated up’ and he had just the right idea to turn chicken s#!t into chicken salad. The fans deserved it, and so did he.

[alpha2117]

Steph is totally turning on him.

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part Two: A Crowded Room

Mance Warner’s boots echoed through the hallways of the 2300 Arena as he strolled in six hours before showtime. 

"God damn locker room rules, bebeh," he muttered under his breath. 

But truth be told, the early arrival wasn’t the worst part. The locker room was one of the best things about MLW, a melting pot of superstars and young, hungry talent itching to prove their worth.

Matt Riddle zipped past him on a bike, high as a kite, grinning ear to ear. Tom Lawlor and Matt Cardona cracked jokes with Team WTF nearby. Alex Kane's entourage seemed to grow bigger by the day, a testament to his rising star. RSP and AKIRA were locked in a tense conversation, the kind that promised fireworks later on. 

Over in the shadows, Jacob Fatu sat alone, his recent scandal casting a shadow over his potential WWE jump.

"Microman!" Mancer called out his drinking buddy behind the counter, saluting him with a brewski bump.

Passing by the Second Gear Crew who played cards with Willie Mack and Tony Deppen, Mance promised to catch up with them later. He had a mission, and he was hell-bent on seeing it through.

Finally, he found the room he was looking for. No knock-knock for Court Bauer. Mancer barged into the booking meeting, greeting everyone loudly.

"WHAT'S UP, FOLKS?"

Court Bauer sat at the head of the table, flanked by a motley crew: Delirious in his mask, Raven, Dr. Tom, Delmi Exo, and Rocky Romero via Zoom, his connection spotty at best.

"Bauer, not gonna waste your time. I have a creative idea for you," Mancer announced, taking the room by storm. "I'm going to propose to Steph De Lander tonight. This romantic oh-la-la stuff gets the best ratings, so I thought we’d take that real-life goodness and play it out on TV, big dawg."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Bauer raised an eyebrow.

"I’ll cut a promo asking Matt Cardona for Steph's hand. He’ll say if I want his blessing, I gotta beat Snitsky!" Mancer grinned.

"Snitsky?" Bauer asked, bewildered.

"I'm a big fan. That, and he’s also part of WTF," Mancer explained, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm.

"WTF, indeed. Alright... what’s next?" Bauer scratched his head.

"I beat him in a match against the odds, but there's a swerve. Steph says her heart belongs to another man who’s no longer working for MLW. She’ll only accept Good Brother Number Three if he proves to her that he’s as strong as her true love interest. That’s how we set up a match you called me for. I win, make her a proposition, she says yes, we make love on 5 out of 6 continents, and bring a crowd of a little Mancers bebeh. What do you say?"

Bauer looked skeptical but intrigued. "That's not how I would do things, but since you’re talking about it with such passion. What do you guys think?"

"I think it’s an awesome idea. Wrestling needs more romance," Delmi said, eyes bright with excitement. Romero's screen froze momentarily. 

‘I can’t help with the wedding, but I can help you put on a match,’ Dr. Tom nodded thoughtfully.

Delirious mumbled something unintelligible, and then all eyes turned to Raven, the smartest guy in the room.

"When you fight Snitsky, let’s have him take a baby from the first row and punt it into you as a spot," Raven suggested nonchalantly.

Gasps filled the room.

"What?? It’s not going to be a real baby. A doll," Raven clarified.

"You know, this is crazy enough that it might work," Bauer admitted. 

Court had to make a call. He’s the big dawg after all, and with a sigh he succumbed under the pressure of Mancer’s death stare.

"You ain't gonna regret it, bookerman!" yelled out Mancer.

"You have five minutes in the first match, under ten with Steph. I’ll pick the road agents shortly and arrange a meeting."

"I want to work with Dr. Tom and Raven!" Warner declared.

"Yeah, we got other road agents too. Now please leave," Bauer said, waving him off.

Mancer saluted and backed out of the room with a triumphant grin on his face. 

He just politicked himself into another match, two wins, a hot angle, and therefore a bigger payday. The plan was as wild and unpredictable as he was. As he made his way back to the locker room, he knew one thing for sure: tonight was going to be the night he will remember for a very long time.

[Nees29]

This reminds of of efedding lol. I love it. What a rollercoaster.

[alpha2117]

Funny ... funny ... funny stuff

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part Three: Don’t Kick The Baby

A few hours passed, and Mance Warner found himself in the interview area, prepping for a promo. 

The road agent assigned to him was none other than Steph’s on-screen manager, Mr. Saint Laurent. Mancer couldn't help but smirk at the sight of MSL — a sleazy goo of fat, Bauer’s stooge, and all-around talentless hack.

"So, do you want it to be serious or comedy? Develop a story or your character? Hype or tease?" MSL asks, oozing with insincerity.

"All of the above. As the young kids say nowadays, let me cook!"

Now wearing a black mask, Mancer steps into the spotlight, and the cameras starts rolling. He launched into his promo with the kind of energy that only the ‘Southern Psycho’ could muster.

"Howdy! It’s Good Brother Number Three here, comin’ at ya live and in livin’ color! Now, I got somethin’ real important to discuss tonight. I’m here to talk about love, baby! I’m here to talk about romance, and I’m here to talk about Steph De Lander!"

"Now, I’m a simple man with simple needs. A cold beer, a good brawl, and a beautiful woman by my side. And let me tell ya, Steph De Lander? She’s the kinda woman that makes a man wanna put down his beer and pick up a bouquet of roses. So here I am, ready to do somethin’ real special.”

"Matt Cardona, you ol’ woo-woo-woo son of a gun! I’m comin’ to you man-to-man, heart in hand, askin’ for your blessin’. I wanna make an honest woman outta Steph. Now, I know what you’re thinkin’. ‘Good Brother Number Three, you’re crazy if you think someone like you could tame the lioness that is Steph De Lander!’ And you’d be right. But crazy’s what I do best!”

"So Mr. Cardona, what do ya say? I know we don’t see eye to eye, but give the brother your blessin’, and I promise to treat Steph like the queen she is!"

One take, boom. The promo was in the can, and Mance knew he had nailed it. Snitsky stood behind the cameras, eyes wide and sporting a terrifyingly happy smile. 

"Good to have ya back in the ring, big man," Mance said as he walked over to shake the big man’s hand.

Snitsky nodded, his grin almost splitting his face. "Happy to be here! I just can’t stay away, it seems. I may be a bit rusty though…”

“No worries, Mancer has you covered!"

…A FEW HOURS LATER…

Good Brother Number Three had his last warm up set of crisp, cool, light beers in the back, as he watched Cardona tear into the rabid Philly crowd. Matt had the crowd in the palm of his hand the entire time, being on of the best workers on a mic in MLW.

“Now let’s set the record straight about this whole Good Bro Number 3 nonsense!" He paused, letting the jeers wash over him. "It’s so obvious who he is that it insults my intelligence. But clearly, it doesn’t bother all you Philly hacks in attendance tonight! Like, how stupid can you be? It’s clearly that dipshit Mance Warner under the mask!"

The crowd’s boos grew louder, refusing to agree, but Cardona relished in it. 

"Warner, if you want Steph’s hand, you have to prove that you’re a man. And to be the man, you have to beat another man, wooo! Now, I already beat you twice, so it’s not gonna be me. I’ll let someone else do the dirty work for me. And it will be a man who has a track record of destroying happy couples… the man who totally owned that big red idiot Kane back in ‘04… a freak that wants to see your ladies feet… THE BIG GENE SNISKY!"

Yes, it’s Snisky, without a ‘t’, his actual surname. Gene's generic music blared, and he emerged from the back, a menacing figure towering over the crowd. Snisky looked as big as ever and sported an impressive beard that would make a barbarian gnome jealous. He was ready to crush! Cardona asked if Good Brother was scared, but before he could finish a sentence, the man appeared on the ramp, his entrance music accompanied by a chorus of cheers. Brother grabbed a mic, swaggering down the ramp. 

"The things a good brother will do for love…" he began, shaking his head. "I accept the challenge, so bring it on, big dawg!"

Short and sweet delivery from totally-not-Mance-Warner here, who rushes the ring and peppers Snisky with some hands. The referee calls for the bell, and the match is underway. 

Good Brother #3 vs. Gene Snisky

Snisky charges at GB#3, knocking him down with a few powerful shoulder blocks. 

Mance scrambles to his feet, only to be met with another crushing blow that sends him sprawling. Snisky dominates the early moments, his size and strength overwhelming his opponent. Cardona joins the announcers and savors every moment of Snisky’s dominant start.

Then, a commotion in the first row catches the monster’s attention — a crying baby. He turns, zeroing in on the source. Gene lumbers over and takes the baby into his massive hands to shush it, but to his dismay, it is merely a doll. The fans played along, heightening the tension. 

Snisky, ever the showman, grunts and prepares to ‘kick the baby’.

He punts the baby towards Good Brother, but he ducks at the last second, the doll sailing harmlessly over his head. 

Snisky’s distraction gave the underdog the opening he needed. Seizing the moment, he unleashes a barrage of strikes, backing Snitsky into the ropes. EYE POKE! Cardona, watching from the desk, looks increasingly worried.

Brother tries to knock the big man down with a sweet lariat, but Snisky stands firm. He counters, attempting his patented Powerslam, but Brother gets out of it, catching the big dawg with a Twisting DDT. Snisky staggers to his feet, dazed… a running knee floors him for the 1-2-3!

Quote

Good Brother #3 def. Gene Snisky in 04:28 by pinfall with a Running Knee Strike. [30/100]

Fans give their ironic cheers. Good Brother picks up the discarded doll, gives it a theatrical kiss, and hands it back to the fan in the first row, earning even louder applause. What a ‘white meat babyface’ he is! As he celebrates, Steph De Lander appears on the apron, her presence immediately drawing the winner’s attention. She raises the microphone to her red lips and shushes the crowd…

"Good Brother Number Three, if that is your real name… My heart belongs to another man. He’s no longer working for MLW… you might know him, his name is Mance Warner and he’s twice the man you are. But let’s make it fun. I’ll give you a chance if you prove to me that you’re as strong as my true love. Do you really think you can handle all this?" She spun around, her movements graceful yet powerful, showcasing her confidence.

Good Brother, standing across from her, whistled appreciatively. 

"That's a lotta woman right there," he drawled. "For this match made in heaven, I’m bringin’ a bouquet of flowers, a box of liquored chocolates, and some stiff wood made in Bucksnort, Tennessee, bebeh. YOU ARE ON!"

At the commentary desk, Matt Cardona watched the exchange with visible worry etched on his face. His platonic relationship with Steph made him protective, and the thought of her facing off with the Southern Psycho was unsettling. Good Brother blew an air kiss to Steph, who rolled her eyes before disappearing behind the curtain.

"Snisky!" Cardona yelled, his frustration boiling over. "What happened out there?"

Gene, still catching his breath, shrugged helplessly. "It wasn’t my fault! That damn baby…"

[alpha2117]

What the heck did I just read?   

Why did a sick twisted part of me pop for it?

Does this mean that FaceBrooke is soon to appear?

If a tree falls in a forest with nobody to hear does it still make a sound?

Why am I randomly typing questions that dont need answering?

 

 

 

Edited August 1 by alpha2117

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part Four: Making The Rounds

Good Brother Number Three made his way to the back, feeling good about his performance. Yes, it wasn’t an instant classic of a fight, but it was fun. He saw Snisky and wrapped him in a big bear hug, still in his mask. "Great match, big man!"

Gene looked a bit sheepish, his massive frame seeming smaller with his shoulders slumped. 

"Sorry, I wasn’t at my best. That doll went miles over your head…"

Mance shook his head and grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Screw it, big dawg. It’s all about the money and the miles… Now go hit that pay window!"

Snisky smiled, visibly relieved, and headed off. 

Mance took off his Charlie Brown from Outta Town gimmick, got a beer can and turned his attention to the match card, a fairly big one at that. "Let’s see what else is going on," he muttered to himself. His eyes landed on the Akira vs. RSP Taipei Death Match. 

"Oh, that sounds spicy."

Seeing a stipulation like that made Mancer feel warm and fuzzy inside. He got the deathmatch bug, and that bug demanded blood. At least once in two weeks, preferably more. But tonight he will work a different type of match, as Steph does not like deathmatches as often as good ol’ Mancer does. 

“Deathmatch Royalty my a*s!” he thought to himself.

He glanced around and spotted his boys from Second Gear Crew, set to defend their titles against Tom Lawlor and Josh Bishop. Tom was always in a good mood, but could get into an MMA badass mode in an instant if the situation called for it. Bishop was more serious, which earned him the nickname ‘Intense Icon’. After all, he was a big dude that looked a bit like Sid Vicious. Not the one from Sex Pistols, mind you. 

Manders caught Warner’s eye and sauntered over, his cowboy boots clacking against the concrete floor. 

"Hey, Mance, we might need you for the title defense. Could use a little assist. Those eye poking fingers in good shape?"

"Ye, I got a few eye pokes in the pocket for you. Does that mean another appearance? Cheers, big dawg!" Mance exclaimed, slapping Manders on the back, the sound echoing through the corridor. 

He was about to bankrupt Court Bauer with all the rounds he was about to make during these tapings. Of course people like Fatu, Kane and Riddle got most of the time on the show, but Mancer worked himself into these tiny angles that could still result in a good payout.

‘The Southern Psycho’ then spotted Raven, a man whose aura was as mysterious as ever, even though he had dropped the grunge look and sat in the chair, not in the ring corner. Mancer cleared his voice, made his way over and asked, "Raven, what’d you think of the match?"

"Ah, who cares about the match. It’s all about the story." Raven shrugged, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of countless battles.

"Damn right," Mance agreed, a shared understanding passing between them.

Raven didn’t watch the match. As amazing as he was, the ECW legend was a bonafide ‘free spirit’, and perhaps not the best choice to hold a position in the booking committee. But he was damn smart, and that was all that mattered! Mance felt like he had a lot in common with a hardcore legend with a penchant for storytelling, so he held Raven’s opinion in high regard. 

Just then, Steph De Lander confronted Mance backstage, her eyes blazing with intensity. "Is what’s planned true? Are you going to propose?" she demanded an answer.

"Where’d you hear that, Meltzer? Don’t work yourself into a shoot, bebeh." Mance no-sold it, playing dumb. He almost succeeded.

"We need to script the match, so you won’t keep your secrets from me." Steph narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it.

"Nah, we don’t do that over here," Mance said, grinning. "Let’s play it by the ear. You’re about to go on a Mancer experience, a beautiful wild ride. I’ll call it in the ring!"

“I’m not doing any gruesome spots, boo. No way!”

“We won’t do any, cause RSP and AKIRA are about to do that next!”

Indeed, the members of ‘The Calling’ were going through their pre-match rituals. This time, they dipped their taped fists into glue and crushed glass. Mancer could not help himself, he approach the bucket and give it a good ol' sniff-sniff…

“Smells delicious, boys. Is that real glass?” Mance asked in a tongue-in-cheek manner.

“Yeah… cry me a river!” dropped Rickey Shane Page.

Rickey was an old friend and another influential figure both in MLW and on the indy scene. A guy who Mancer could contact if the bookings got dry for one reason or another.

AKIRA wasn’t as established yet, but Bauer clearly saw a lot in the kid, booking him to be a double champion not that long ago. Mance shared the sentiment, also knowing that he would see ‘The Death Samurai’ on a lot of upcoming shows. A match between the two was just a matter of when, not if...

Mance wished both guys to have fun and got his lady a seat to enjoy the violent spectacle that was about to unwrap in the ring.

…15 MINUTES LATER…

Steph covered her eyes for most of the match, a stark contrast to Mancer, who was glued to the screen, pun very much intended.

For him, this was the match of the night so far, something he would pay money to see as a fan. One thing is for sure - he and De Lander had to bring something entirely different to the table to 'stick out' on this card.

After a few minutes RSP and AKIRA returned after their battle, bloodied but victorious, receiving applause from the boys. They had put it all on the line, earning their respect. The match also marked the return of Sami Callihan, a mainstay on the indy scene. Mance knew that Sami was going to show up, but decided to play along as he approached the guy.

"Didn’t expect to see your fat a*s over here, Sami," Mance called out, smirking.

"No wonder, you’re not the smartest trailer park trash I know," Sami shot back, grinning.

After a bit of ball-busting, the two hugged it out. Mid-hug, Mance leaned in. 

"Hey, can I get booked on that upcoming Revolver show?"

"You sneaky son of a… fine, I’ll call you back. But don’t expect anything big," Sami said, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Working for a fellow wrestler was refreshing, as Callihan was perfectly aware of the hardships of a hardcore indy worker. For now, Sami was honest about the money, he didn’t sugarcoat a sh!t sandwich, and told you upfront you’re going to get a little more than a handshake and a hot dog.

Up next was the tag team title defense for Mancer’s boys. Manders and Justice were heading to the ring, ready to give the Philly fans yet another fun brawl. 

 

World Titan Federation vs. Second Gear Crew (c)

The action started on the floor, Manders and Bishop trading hard chops that echoed through the 2300 Arena. The exchange seemed endless, a testament to the resilience and sheer will of both men. Lawlor and Justice finally entered the ring, and Mance's eyes widened as Lawlor hit a top-rope Suplex into Kimura. That guy is so underrated!

The heels took control, Bishop and Lawlor laying into Manders with vicious chair shots across his back. Justice, ever the fighter, hit a top-rope flying shoulder tackle on both heels, rallying the crowd and Mance alike.

The SGC began constructing a double-decker board bridge in the ring, a signature move that always promised a spectacular bump. Bishop slammed Justice spine-first onto a ring post on the floor, then Manders hit a powerslam. The bridge fell apart, drawing a rueful laugh from Mance. 

The slugfest continued, and sure enough, Bishop hit a Razor’s Edge on Manders, sending him over the top rope and through a table, earning a well-deserved “holy $hit!” chant from the crowd. Mance nodded appreciatively, taking a swig of his beer. At this moment Dr. Tom clapped Mance on the back, the signal it was his cue.

"No music. Get into the action through the people."

Yes sir! Mancer got his mask on once again and moved through the crowd Jon Moxley style, feeling the excitement of the fans around him. As he approached the ring, he started talking trash to Lawlor, who was taking his time on the turnbuckle. This distraction proved to be effective, as poor Tom was thrown off the corner through another board bridge on the floor, the crowd erupting in cheers. 

Bishop went right after Masked Good Brother Number 3, and Justice caught him with a Spear to swing the momentum firmly in favor of the SGC. With the support of the whole arena, Justice hit a Death Valley Driver on Bishop onto the pile of chairs. 

The referee counted the pin, and the bell rang, signaling the end of a hard-fought brawl. A solid match Mance hoped to one up in his next appearance...

Quote

Second Gear Crew def. World Titan Federation in 14:35 when Matthew Justice defeated Josh Bishop by pinfall with a Death Valley Driver. Second Gear Crew retain their MLW Tag Team Titles. [41/100]

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part Five: Till Death Do Us Part

Four hours of MLW tapings were almost done, and Mancer had just a few little matters on his hands to take care of. His agenda for the night was simple - put on a classic with Steph, hit the pay window, and get away from Court Bauer for another month or so.

Steph made her entrance first, strutting to the ring with the confidence of someone who believed she had it all figured out. She taunted the Philly crowd, soaking in the boos like they were applause. But what she didn’t know was that Good Brother Number Three had a few tricks up his sleeve. 

Good Brother Number 3 doesn’t work scripted matches, nor does he cut scripted promos. Unbeknownst to SDL, he cut one as soon as they got to the arena…

Good Brother #3 makes his entrance, bumping fists with fans. He drops a beer can in the corner of the ring, and we are ready to kick this ‘old school Memphis intergender fight’ off.

Good Brother #3 vs. Steph De Lander

The bell rings, and the two collide in the center of the ring. 

Steph moves first, her eyes lock onto Mance’s with a mix of contempt and twisted affection. Without warning, she darts in and plants a kiss on him, catching Good Brother off guard. Before he can react, she rolls him up, nearly stealing the win in the opening seconds.

Steph follows GB3, smirking as she grabs a beer can from the apron and salutes him with it — straight to the dome. She then launches her opponent into the guardrail.

Brother has to fight back, but he doesn’t put his hands on a lady. Instead, he ducks her next attack, letting Steph kiss a ring post with her forehead. As she recoils, GB3 uses the breather to find two chairs and a wooden board, sliding them into the ring.

Just as he turns, BAM! Steph throws a chair right at his face. Brother, dazed but not out, sits up on a chair as Steph prepares to deliver a vicious kick. But the Good Brother catches her foot, looking up at her with a grin that promises trouble.

He speaks a few magical words, words the audience can’t hear but can feel, and Steph’s expression shifts. She teases a lap dance, much to the crowd’s delight, but Mance isn’t having it. He plants her on the chair and asks for a mic.

“If anybody’s doing a little lap dancing, it’s gotta be Good Brother Number Three!”

GB3 instructs the DJ to hit his jam. He begins to peel off his black sweater slowly, warning everyone in attendance that the divorce rate is about to skyrocket. Just as he’s getting into his groove, Steph takes the opportunity to drop him head first onto the chair where she was sitting just seconds ago. The chair dangles from Brother’s neck like a noose, and Steph, ever the Deathmatch Queen, smashes it with another chair before spearing him through the wooden board. Steph goes for the cover, but her visavis kicks out at two. 

Frustrated, Steph gives a shout-out to her partner in crime, Matt Cardona, mimicking his signature “woo-woo-woo” before setting up for a Facewash in the corner. But Good Brother isn’t out yet! He throws a chair at her, regaining momentum in one swift move.

As she staggers back, Mance can’t resist a little showmanship. Mimicking Ric Flair’s famous “I’m sorry, I love you” moment, he prepares to smack her with a chair. But before he can, Steph hits him with a low blow, leaving him doubled over in pain. She doesn’t go for the cover this time, though. Instead, she grabs a mic…

“Baby, this isn’t us. We don’t fight, we love!”

Good Brother, ever the romantic, nods in agreement. “One day, my mama said I’d find myself a woman, and guys, I think I’ve found the one.” The crowd eats it up as Mance bends down on one knee, looking up at SDL. 

“Steph, will you marry Good Ol’ Ma—I mean, Good Brother Number Three?”

The crowd chants “YES!” as Steph does too, her eyes glinting. Instead of a ring, Good Brother pulls out a beer can, presenting it to her like a sacred offering. To wrap up the ceremony, Brother demands another kiss. 

Steph, her eyes closed, leans in…

… only for Good Brother to lick his fingers and deliver a classic eye poke.

One, two, three! The bell rings, and Good Brother Number Three is declared the winner. 

Quote

Good Brother #3 def. Steph De Lander in 08:28 by pinfall with an Eye Poke. [49/100]

He jumps to his feet, running around the ring like he’s just won the World Series. Steph, still reeling from the eye poke, is on the verge of tears, realizing she’s been outplayed in the most ridiculous way possible.

Good Brother #3 grins from ear to ear, knowing he’s ducked fifty years of heartache… for now.

[Blodyxe]

Chapter One, Part Six: Big Dawg, Where’s My Payday?

After his match, Mance is still buzzing from his big win over Steph. 

The cheers of the Philly crowd echo faintly in his ears as he heads toward the pay window. But just as he’s about to collect his well-earned money, Mr. Saint Laurent, a greasy, sleazy stooge steps into his path.

“Hey, Mancer, Court wants you to wait till the end of the show,” MSL drops.

“All right, all right, but if y’all are holdin’ out on me, we’ll have words later.” 

Mance doesn’t push it, he knows the game. With time to kill, Mance decides to hang out with his boys, his brothers in arms, Manders, Matthew Justice, and the one and only Microman. 

The four of them settle down in a corner of the locker room, talking shop and shooting the breeze as they crack open some cold beers. The atmosphere is relaxed, and the jokes are flowing, but underneath, there’s an unspoken understanding that this business can be tough as nails.

“Hey Mancer, heard you’re working with Dan The Dad at GCW next week,” Manders says, a grin spreading across his face. “You gonna teach him some real Southern manners?”

Mance chuckles, tipping his beer back. “You betcha, big dawg. Dan The Dad? Hopefully he doesn’t hit as hard as my old man.”

Manders chuckles. “I’m in a trios match against Steph, by the way. I’m gonna go easy on her, since she’s about to be your wife soon.”

“Good,” Mance grins wickedly. “But she could totally kick your cowboy culero anywho.”

Matthew Justice chimes in, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve only got one match this month. Callihan’s Revolver show. Gonna make the most of it though, get in, get paid, and get the hell out.”

Meanwhile, Microman, ever the wild card, stays silent, carefully laying down his cards. When the final hand is played, he raises his tiny arms in victory. The boys can’t believe it, handing over the prize — beer cans, because they’ve got no cash to spare before they hit the pay window.

“That little son of a gun,” Mance mutters with a smirk. “Microman always wins.”

As the show wraps up with a big title fight between Alex Kane and Jacob Fatu, the fans finally head home, and the boys are preparing to hit the road. Court Bauer walks into the locker room with the payday, getting a pop from the boys. 

A good game of cards softened the blow of the initial delay, but as Mancer grabbed his envelope he immediately noticed that it felt too light. Not enough heft. Something ain’t right…

Keeping his cool, Mance stuffs the envelope into his back pocket and heads out into the corridor to catch up with the boss. 

“Court,” Mance says, his voice low and steady. “What’s the deal with this envelope? Feels like y’all forgot somethin’ in there.”

Bauer looks up, not surprised to see Mance confronting him. 

“Look, Mance, you’re one of the few guys who worked twice tonight. You got your way with the booking, too. What you’re getting is fair.”

“Fair?” Mance’s voice tightens, a hint of anger creeping in. “I don’t know what y’all call fair, but this envelope feels lighter than my grandma’s Sunday supper, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“Mancer, you know how this works. You had a great match, memorable moments, you’re building your brand and we’re investing our time in you.”

Mance clenches his jaw, biting back a retort. Bauer’s giving him the old “you’re getting paid in exposure” line, and it’s all Mancer can do to keep from blowing up right there in the hallway. Instead, he simply walks away. As soon as he’s out of sight, Mance mutters under his breath, cursing every name he can think of. 

“Exposure, my a$s… Ain’t no pay window for exposure.”

The drive out of Philly is long and quiet, as Steph De Lander is kinda upset that Mancer’s proposition was just a wrestling angle for now. She would confront him about it, but ‘The Southern Psycho’ is hot about his interaction with Bauer, and his hands are gripping the steering wheel a little too tight. It’s not just about the money. It’s the principle of the thing. He gave them everything tonight, and they shorted him. They all want Mancer to put on a show, but no one wants to pay for the fireworks.

That’s fine, though. Mancer ain’t the type to let it slide, even if he plays the game for now. There’s always another fight waiting. And if Court Bauer thinks he’s gonna keep Warner on a string, he’s got another thing coming. Luckily, he’s heading into GCW soon, where he can really cut loose. There, he can let out all this pent-up anger, all this frustration. 

“Good thing I’m workin’ heel,” Mance mutters to himself, a dark grin creeping across his face. “Cause I’m about to make somebody’s night a whole lot worse.”

He cranks up the radio, letting the music drown out his thoughts as the highway stretches out before him. Next stop? GCW No Compadre. Chicago, Illinois.

[Blodyxe]

Chapter Two, Part One: Milking The System

Mancer steps inside a cozy, bustling bar with Steph De Lander by his side. The atmosphere is lively, with music playing softly in the background. 

As Mance looks around the room, he notices folks enjoying themselves, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the walls. He spots a group at the bar, each holding a tall glass with a Corona beer bottle flipped upside down into a margarita - a Coronarita, they called it. Steph immediately wants to try it…

“Fancy little gimmick,” he thinks. “They really got folks paying an extra just to flip a beer bottle upside down in a drink? Not ol’ Mancer, though, I ain’t about to get hustled by some flashy bar trick.”

He watches as the bartender flips another Corona into a margarita with practiced ease.

“I could make one of those right here at this table... Hell, I’ve been flipping beers my whole damn life.”

Mance considers his options, glancing at the menu in front of him. The Coronarita stares back at him, taunting him with its inflated price tag of 25 buckaroos. The thought settles in his mind, and before he knows it, he's ordering both - a margarita, neat and strong, and a regular ol' Corona on the side. Steph says nothing, but raises her slit eyebrow.

A few minutes later, the drinks arrive. He eyes the Corona, cold and perfect, just as it should be. Then he looks at the margarita, bright and full of promise. With a slow, deliberate motion, he starts flipping the Corona, angling it carefully over the margarita glass. The beer pours in just as he planned, blending with the tequila and lime. 

DIY Coronarita, just like that. It’s just as good as any he’s had at the bar - maybe even better, knowing he outsmarted the system. Steph is hiding her face behind the smartphone to save her embarrassment.

Bartender: Wow, amazing. You saved yourself a few bucks there!

Mancer: Big dawg, with the amount of adult beverages I’m consuming, those bucks start adding up. I’ve spared myself enough cash to get another normal-sized light beer. As Booker T once said, don’t hate the player, hate the game, son.

Bartender: I didn’t know Washington said that... Well, you do your thing. As long as you keep coming back here!

While Steph is scrolling through her phone, a fan nervously approaches.

Fan: Excuse me, are you Steph De Lander? Big fan!! Can I get a photo with you?

Steph: Sure, no problem.

The fan hands his phone to a nearby passerby, who takes the shot. The picture is taken, and as the fan starts to walk away, Mance suddenly steps into the scene, putting a firm hand on the guy’s shoulder.

Mancer: That’ll be 25 bucks, buddy.

The fan looks stunned for a moment, unsure if this is some kind of joke. But the intensity in Mancer’s eyes tells him otherwise. Not wanting to cause any trouble, the fan quickly pulls out his wallet and hands over the cash. As the fan hurries off, Mancer turns toward the bartender.

Mancer: One Coronarita for my soon-to-be wife, please!

[Blodyxe]

Chapter Two, Part Two: Making Things Awkward

If you think that GCW is pure chaos in the ring, you haven’t seen what is happening behind the curtains. 

Wrestlers and crew members are packed shoulder to shoulder, moving around in the tight space like ants in a hill. Gear bags are piled in every corner, and the air smells like a mix of sweat and energy drinks. Conversations overlap, voices rising and falling as everyone discusses their matches. Everyone wants to get their s&it in! It’s loud, cramped, and filled with the nervous energy that comes with performing in front of a rabid crowd.

Mance Warner steps into the room, letting the door slam behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking it all in — the buzz of the locker room, the frantic preparation, the determined faces. He’s been here a thousand times before. Everyone's hyped up, planning out intricate spots, making sure they get their minutes to shine under the lights.

But Mance? He couldn’t care less about any of that tonight. 

Tonight, he’s keeping it simple. Less is more. Quick in, quick out, then hit the pay window and grab a few cold ones. That’s the plan.

As Mance stands there, soaking in the scene, Dan The Dad walks up to him. Dan’s got that signature look — khakis, polo shirt, a cup of dirt cheap coffee in his hand. The embodiment of suburban dad energy, even here in a gritty wrestling locker room. He’s smiling, trying to be friendly, but there’s always a bit of cautiousness around Mance. You never quite know what the Southern Psycho is thinking.

“Mancer, what’s up, man?” Dan says, taking a sip of his coffee. “So, uh, what’re you thinking for tonight? Got any ideas for the match?”

Mancer looks at him, that slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face. Dan shifts his weight, feeling the intensity in Mance’s gaze.

Mancer leans in, speaking in a low, gravelly voice. “I tell you what, Daniel… We’re gonna get in that ring, I’m gonna kick your ass in two minutes flat, then I’m gonna roll on outta there, sip me a few light beers, and hit that damn pay window. How’s that sound, brother?”

Dan blinks, taken aback. He lets out a small laugh, trying to shake off the unease creeping up his spine. He assumes Mancer’s joking. 

“Ha, yeah, good one, Mance. But seriously, what’s the plan?”

But Mance doesn’t blink. His grin fades just enough to make Dan realize he wasn’t kidding. He leans in a little closer, locking eyes with Dan, his voice even lower this time. 

“Am I joking, Daniel?”

For a moment, the room feels still, even with all the chaos around them. Mance stares into Dan’s eyes, not blinking, not flinching. Dan can feel the weight of the question pressing down on him. He’s not sure what to say, so he just nods slowly, backing off without another word.

As Dan turns and walks away, Mance watches him go, the smirk slowly returning to his face. He lives for this — pushing people’s buttons, making them squirm. It’s all part of the game to him. He doesn’t just want to beat people in the ring; he wants to get in their heads, make them uncomfortable, force them to react. Whether they’re pissed off or scared, it doesn’t matter to Mance. He just loves the chaos. Making things as weird as possible, making people either want to punch you, or suck his tongue. He wasn't sure what Effy would do if he pulled it on him, so Dan The Dad was a sitting duck for some mental games.

Mance cracks open a light beer from his bag, takes a long swig, and lets out a satisfied sigh. He’s in the semi-main event, while Effy is in the ‘death spot’, a six man tag going second. Who’s laughing now?

[Blodyxe]

Chapter Two, Part Three: Hanging Out With The Boys

Another GCW show is off to a hot start. The energy inside the small, packed venue in Chicago was the kind you could feel vibrating in your bones. 

In the ring, Manders, Allie Katch, and Effy were celebrating their victory over Steph De Lander, Jimmy Lloyd, and Matt Cardona, collectively known as Team Broski. The bad guys almost cheated their way to victory, but the team of SGBUSSY came out on top after Effy nailed Jimmy Lloyd with a Fameasser, sealing the win.

Backstage, Mance Warner sat alone. A half-crushed beer can sat at his feet, forgotten in the heat of the moment. He was pulling for Steph, no doubt, but it wasn’t just about loyalty tonight. Something deeper gnawed at him as he watched Effy and his team celebrate. Mance could feel the familiar rage bubbling up inside him, the same feeling he had back when they lost yet another match because of that loser. He remembers how he bashed Effy in the head with a steel chair, one of the best days of his GCW life.

On-screen, Effy’s celebration started to falter. He didn’t look happy, despite the win. His face, usually filled with mischief and flamboyance, was now twisted with frustration. Effy grabbed a mic, his breath heavy, and signaled for the crowd to quiet down.

“MANCE WARNER! If you’ve got a problem with Effy, you could have told me in the hotel room or the car. You could have told it to my face! But twice now, you’ve attacked me from behind and taken things out of my hands that I rightfully earned! So I’m standing right here, and if you’ve got the balls, do it to my face, dude!”

Allie and Manders, sensing their friend’s turmoil, tried to calm him down, placing hands on his shoulders and whispering to him. But Effy wasn’t having it. He shrugged them off, brushing away their attempts at comfort. The crowd was buzzing, waiting, anticipating Mance’s music to hit, for the Southern Psycho to march down the aisle and confront Effy like a man.

But Mance didn’t move, he held back. There was something satisfying about watching Effy squirm, about making him wait, about knowing that he could ruin the moment with a single step through that curtain. He reached down, grabbed the beer can at his feet, and took a long, slow sip. The bitterness of the beer matched the bitterness in his gut, fueling his resolve to keep Effy hanging on the edge of uncertainty.

He had always been a man who thrived on chaos, on pushing people’s buttons, on making them react. But this? This was different. Effy wasn’t just another opponent. He was someone Mance had called a friend, a brother in arms. And yet, there was something thrilling about pushing him to the brink, about making him question everything. It was a game, but one with stakes higher than any they had played before.

Effy’s face twisted in frustration as he realized Mance wasn’t coming. The crowd started to boo, but it wasn’t clear if they were booing Mance’s absence or Effy’s inability to draw him out. Warner spent the next hour reliving the highlights of his decorated GCW career, re-watching the recent GCW Do Or Die Rumble. 

Mance could describe that moment without rewatching it on YouTube religiously. Effy’s hand was raised in victory, but just as he celebrated, he appeared, tossed Effy over the top rope to steal the win and kickstart his own road to the tippy top. He could watch this scene unfold time and time again, but alas, he had to go face that dweeb Dan The Dad. Just as Warner laced his boots, he heard Dan cutting a short pre-match promo…

“Mance, I love you, son,” Dan begins, “but when you turned your back on Effy, when you turned your back on your brother… you turned your back on me too.”

Ok, enough of this soap opera BS… Mance could not ignore this anymore, and now he really wanted to beat up someone’s dad so much that their kids wouldn’t recognize them. The past two months have hardened him, made him meaner. 

‘The Southern Psycho’ shows up, hurling abuse at Effy fans, and riling up the neutrals. Meanwhile Dan walks over to the corner, grabbing a beer from the ring apron. He pops it open and pours it into his coffee cup, a defiant gesture in the face of Mance’s growing rage.

“We’re gonna share an adult beverage and put this behind us, alright?”

Huh… why didn’t he think of that himself?

This rivalry is so childish, they could just sit down their stubborn asses, have a couple of brewskis and leave that heat in the past. The offer made so much sense. Mancer takes the cup, lifts it to his lips, and drinks. But just as Dan starts to relax, Warner spits the beer right back in his face and starts stomping him into the mat!!

Mance Warner vs. Dan The Dad

The crowd erupts as Mance unleashes a brutal assault. 

Dan fights back, hitting his jab punches and a top-rope crossbody block for a near fall. But it’s not enough. Mance hits a vicious clothesline, then a chokeslam, followed by a patented knee strike to Dan’s head. He’s relentless, throwing a chair at Dan and getting the belt from Dad’s pants. Mance literally whoops Dan’s rear end and then wraps the belt around Dan’s throat, choking him with a savage grin.Suddenly, Effy’s music hits, and the crowd goes wild. Effy charges to the ring, a chair in hand, and swings at Mancer.

Mancer rolls to the floor, but Effy dives onto him, and the brawl spills into the crowd. 

Quote

Mance Warner and Dan The Dad went to a no contest after Effy interfered. [36/100]

The fight had escalated into the kind of chaos that GCW fans live for. Bodies crashing against metal barriers, chairs flying, but this? This was personal.

Mance Warner and Effy had fought their way through the crowd, their brawl spilling out of the ring and into the packed venue like a wildfire. Fans parted like the Red Sea, giving the two men space as they traded brutal blows with reckless abandon. Every punch, every strike, every slam against the cold concrete sent shockwaves through the audience.

Up ahead, the balcony loomed, a small and dangerous ledge that jutted out over the crowd. It wasn’t designed for fighting; it was barely designed for standing. But in the heat of the moment, Mance didn’t care. The balcony was smaller than it looked from the floor, a narrow platform. Mance’s breath was ragged as he backed Effy against the edge, the cold metal railing pressing into Effy’s back. Below them, the crowd swirled like an ocean of bodies, chanting and shouting, their faces tilted up in anticipation.

Effy’s hands gripped the railing, his eyes wild with adrenaline and desperation. Mance was right in front of him, a vicious grin stretching across his face as he leaned in close, the madness in his eyes unmistakable. He had Effy right where he wanted him. With a swift motion, Mance grabbed Effy by the collar and belt, hoisting him up with the kind of strength that comes from pure adrenaline and rage. Effy’s feet dangled over the ledge, his arms flailing as he tried to fight back. 

For a split second, time seemed to freeze. Mance stood there, holding Effy over the edge of the balcony, his face twisted in a snarl. Effy’s body was halfway over the ledge, the only thing keeping him from a potentially deadly fall being Mance’s grip. And then, just as it seemed like Mance might actually go through with it, two figures burst through the crowd and up the stairs.

Allie Katch and Manders charged onto the balcony. They grabbed Mance by the arms, pulling him back with all their strength. Allie wrapped her arms around Mance’s waist, yanking him away from the edge, while Manders threw himself between the two men, shoving Effy back to safety.

Effy stumbled back, collapsing against the wall, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Mance, still seething, finally let Allie and Manders pull him back, his eyes never leaving Effy.

One day, Effy… One day, you won’t get so lucky.

Edited September 9 by Blodyxe

[Blodyxe]

Chapter Two, Part Four: Dude, Where’s My Car?

For a long, breathless moment, the four of them stood on that narrow balcony, the weight of what had just happened hanging over them like a storm cloud. Warner was in a Bubba Ray Dudley-like trance, but Mance slapped him back to normality.

As Mance left the ringside area and went through the curtain, he was met by none other than Colt Cabana.

Colt showed up to fill in for guys who couldn't make the show because of the snow storm. Cabana made a comment about Mancer really going hard on Effy, and Mancer had to laugh.

"Man, hell no, we were just hittin' second gear! That’s why we’re called ‘The Second Gear Crew’... Wait for tomorrow, brother!"

“Soooo that’s where the name comes from!” Colt looked genuinely surprised.

Mance had considered teasing him some more, getting in his head a bit for fun, but he knew better. He had to save those games for when he had the leverage — when he had the GCW World Championship around his waist. 

That scrawny ginger kid Blake Christian held the belt for now, but Mance had his eyes on it for a very long time. Blake was holding on by the skin of his teeth, only retaining his title against Calvin Tankman with an assist from Shane Mercer, his ‘heater.’ The crowd didn’t like Blake, and Mance knew he’d make a better champion, someone they could hate even more. 

As Mance leaned back against the wall, the noise from the locker room buzzing around him, his thoughts drifted to the influx of ex-WWE guys showing up in GCW. Tonight, Mustapha Ali had closed the show, defeating Gringo Loco in a hard-fought match that had the hometown crowd on their feet. 

It was good for business, sure, but it also ground Mance’s gears. Rumors were already swirling about Nick Nemeth, the former Dolph Ziggler, making his way to GCW. The whispers backstage were all about these WWE guys swooping in and taking spots.

Mance wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, though. He was protective of his spot, no doubt, but the idea of mixing it up with someone who had some mainstream popularity also had its perks. More eyes on the product meant more money, and Mance Warner wasn’t going to turn down a bigger payday. Still, that championship belt was his main priority, and for that, he had to stay ruthless.

He and Steph were done for the day and stepped outside. The cold air hit them like JBL if they were a bunch of Blue Meanies, but they didn’t care. The GCW crowd wasn’t exactly known for its hygiene, and after spending hours in that packed-like-sardines venue, the freezing weather was almost a relief. Almost.

Steph's arms wrapped around herself for warmth as they waited in the parking lot. The weather was awful. Cold, wet, and miserable. But that wasn’t the worst part. They’d been waiting out here for hours with a bunch of bags full of merch, gear and toys. Not the bedroom extravaganza, mind you, but all kinds of stuff for sale. 

Apparently, the guy who was supposed to pick them up, Cole Radrick, had gotten spooked by the cops and left the pickup zone. The bozo hadn’t even bothered to let them know until they asked him where he was, so now they were walking on foot with all this heavy gear in the freezing cold.

Mance’s knee, already screwed up from years of punishment, was starting to ache something fierce. Every step sent a sharp pain shooting up his leg, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving. Steph was right beside him, doing her best to keep up despite the miserable conditions. They finally spotted the car, and Mance’s heart sank.

It was a tiny-ass Chevy Cruze.

“Aw, hell no!!” Mance muttered under his breath. They’d been walking for 15 minutes in the freezing cold, and this was what they had to cram themselves into? He popped the trunk, hoping for at least a bit of space for their bags, but Cole shook his head.

“Not much room in the trunk,” he said, dead serious.

Mance looked inside the car, and for a moment, he thought he was seeing things. The backseat was filled with what looked like copper wiring, like the kind you’d see someone stealing from an abandoned building. 

“Don’t worry,” Radrick said, completely unfazed. “I got a ratchet strap. We can put your stuff on the roof.”

Mance stared at him, dumbfounded. "You're telling me you want me to strap my beautiful boots, my jeans, and all my merch on top of a Chevy Cruze? With a ratchet strap?"

‘Raddy Daddy’ nodded, as if this was a perfectly reasonable solution. Mance exchanged a look with Steph, and they both knew that when their paths would eventually cross inside the squared circle, Mancer would go straight into fifth gear.