SAN PATRICIO'S BASH [03-21-2020]

Cameras cut to the backstage area of the Oceanside Event Center, particularly the winding hallways. Focus fell upon one man in particular as he sat upon a rather large rolling crate. That man would be none other than undefeated Limitless Wrestling star 'YOUR Favorite Drug' Xavier Laroux. As usual, Laroux was his overly arrogant self, talking aloud.

Xavier Laroux: So first, I fuckin run through that fat fuck Kasiano. Then? I have the fight of my fuckin life with West. Ain't ever gonna be a better fight in this company than that one. You'd think that after two performances like that, I'd be comin up on some gold or somethin like that. But insteadd, I gotta face another ex. One that prolly still holds a grudge cause me and Gabe fucked her over a while back, y'know? This is some straight bullshit. I'm the best goddamn talent this company has and they wanna dick me around like that. And not even the good dickin around either.'

Sighing out, Laroux shook his head, clearly not happy with the match he has this evening. With the focus on Laroux, it was unknown if he was talking to another or just another run of the mill conversation with himself. That is until the focus panned out, revealing someone accompanying Laroux, a rather attractive female to be more precise. One who shook her head after he was done with what he had to say.

Woman: Those bastards.

Xavier had the entirety of his focus on that woman. Pushing his hands into the crate on either side of him, he shoved off of that crate, landing down on his feet. Laroux was dressed to compete, a pair of tattered denim jeans and a skin tight white tanktop covered his body. Approaching that young lady, he wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting upon the small of her back as her arms moved up to wrap around his shoulders.

Xavier Laroux: 'After tonight..after I handle the old..they won't be able to keep me away from everythin I want outta this fuckin company. I'm better than just..bein handed shit. I deserve the best. I deserve better than Eliza and that's exactly what I got right here.'

His hands drew back only to swing forward, sharply slapping her denim covered ass with the both of the hands, that smirk of his only growing larger as he did so. His companion however shook her head a bit but didn't hide the amused smirk that came to her lips.

Woman: I'll be honest, I don't understand how all this works, so most of the shit I'm just gonna nod and agree about until I've watched a bit more and figured it out. Plus, it's kind of hot watching you talk, almost as good at it as...other things… Almost. I can fully agree with the better comment though, cause I am pretty fuckin great.

Leaning up she nipped at his lower lip and as she did so, Laroux pulled her close. Lowering his head to look at her, that smirk of his took a bit of a devious undertone to it.

Xavier Laroux: Y'know, I still got time afore the match. Bouta just drag ya ass till it's time.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked up at him, a look of confusion on her face.

Woman: So why the fuck are you still talking then?

Xavier Laroux: Total..fuckin..upgrade.

Leaning down, Xavier brought his arms around that woman's waist before rising back up, hoisting her up onto his shoulder. Walking off, the camera focused upon them for just a moment before returning to the ringside area.

---

Once again we find Siobhan Mahoney backstage, sitting on a production trunk in her ring gear, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her bright red hair is left loose around her shoulders, her skin pale and her eyes bright.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: Fuck Erik Holland.

A passing intern hears this and stops in their tracks, turning and looking at the rookie Irishwoman. Siobhan fixes them with a glare, raising a brow.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: What? You’ve got something to say? Go fetch someone coffee, that’s your job.

To emphasize her point, she leans forward and snarls at the intern, looking for all intents and purposes like she’s about to pounce. The intern wisely scuttles away, leaving Siobhan to her devices.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: As I was saying. I don’t care what kind of spooky Erik Holland thinks he is this month. I don’t care how many fights he’s been in, how many times he claims to have been dragged through hell, or how badly he thinks he’s going to beat me. Fact is, he didn’t even know this was a bloodsport match. He doesn’t pay attention to a damn thing except what’s going on in his own head, and that’s how I’ll be able to get past him and on to the next round of this tournament to crown Limitless’ first ever Bloodsport Champion. I want this, because I’ve never known what it is to hold a title belt. And now that I’ve gotten my first win, now I want my first championship.

She shrugs her shoulders, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a grin.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: I am many kinds of bitches, Erik. I’m an arrogant bitch, I’m a ruthless bitch, I’m a hungry bitch. But I am no spooky bitch. I’m not out here whining and crying about the unfairness of the world, telling everyone who’ll listen that they don’t know how the industry works and you’re the only one who knows the rules. I’m tired of you thinking that there’s a little man who lives in your head that tells you what to do, because you can’t accept that you enjoy hurting people and toying with them.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: So let’s get one thing straight, Holland - I know the rules, and I will fully admit to enjoying beating the absolute shit out of people, yourself included. And I’m happy to keep you in lower card purgatory for as long as I possibly can, because I see what you can’t accept. I see you for the worn out old man that you are, maybe not in years, but in spirit. You’re tired, and you’re broken, and you’re still trying to prove to the world that you’re worth a damn when the fact is that the time of Erik Holland is finished. The time of whatever demonic alter ego you’ve invented is also finished. I’m a practical woman, who deals in realities. And the reality of your situation is that you’re about to get your arse kicked by the One Legged Wonder Slut of Limitless.

Hopping down off her production trunk, Siobhan looks directly into the camera, as if eye to eye with her opponent.

SIOBHAN MAHONEY: You may be too proud and too stupid to admit you’re dead, but don’t worry, darling. After I’m through with you? The world will know. And they’ll join me in having a laugh at your expense.

She waves her fingers and walks off, letting the camera go elsewhere.

---

"Wolf Like Me" hits the speakers as Eliza Foley steps out onto the stage to a mixed reaction. As she regards the crowd a smirk rests on her lips and she begins to strut her way down the ramp. When she reaches the ring, she easily hops over the top rope and lands in the middle of the ring, looking out at the crowd once more.

Eliza: I have been quiet, I’ve bided my time and stepped back. I watched and waited to see what each of you would do and do you know what happened? I was let down. Disappointed. Not a single one of you did what you claimed you would and stood up, not a single one of you truly wanted to be counted. So last show, I made an announcement, I held my head up and demanded that I be counted, for all of you who are too afraid to do it for yourself.
And what happened?

Eliza slowly begins to pace the ring, letting out a low sigh before looking up the ramp with narrowed eyes.

Eliza: Nothing, the same people sing the same songs and the world keeps turning. The industry looks past us because nobody reads the same book cover to cover, night after night and yet. That’s all any of you have to offer.. mindless, numbing and pointless. The moment things are hard people want someone else to blame and that’s just fine.. I’ll be the one to take the blame. And then, when I’m the one who takes EVERYTHING, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

In the back of the Oceanside Events Center, the twins Annica and Aliyah Greene are seen with their heads together, whispering in a way they clearly think is quietly but just as clearly is not even close.

Aliyah Greene : “You know they was surprised by us, Andrew Wilkow and Jackie D I mean. Like. Look how long it took ‘em to say anything stead of just bragging it all up, and that says lots because wrestlers got egos doe.”

The pretty pair laugh about this, the sequins on the sheer parts of their ring gear tonight winking in the light as they shimmy with it. Annica sighs though, and shakes her head. It’s clearly not that she disagrees with her sister on this at all, but her eyes narrow thoughtfully as she pulls clear of her for a second to look around, almost as if she’s sensing the camera spying on them.

Annica Greene: “Girl, we know this. Everybody know this. Just I know that this ain’t never gonna be easy for us, not tonight - we got Brew Collar, the Champs you know they gonna do whatever they can to keep that gold around their waists. We already know ‘bout Jana Riker and Honey, seen that Jana a couple places, and Honey too. They ain’t cheatery at least I guess… but about the Hun Death Squad… two great big ol’ honking boys, course course. But.”

Her twin nods and points at something on the tablet in her hands.

Aliyah Greene: “But they just big, agile, ‘bout like Bristow & Barnes, ‘cept that manager? That’s who we gotta watch for. He’s the dangerous element with that team I bet. Bet almost anything he’s gonna be a root cause of some fuckary, but that’s okurr. We know about that, we know alllllll about that.”

The pair laugh, in that nearly perfect unison they seem to naturally have, and Aliyah squares her shoulders and puts the tablet away in the inside pocket of her sparkling ring jacket.

Aliyah Greene: “Heads on swivels I guess. Maybe if it’s the cause, we needa get our own manager, but we’ll see, we’ll see.”

Annica grins and then sighs dramatically.

Annica Greene: “Too bad we can’t get King Hedonist himself, I wonder where he done went. Still can’t believe he smells like what rich must feel like, but it’s true. So true. But a distraction for later on, we got us a match to win. One way or the other but...”

Annica held up her hand, frosted brows raised just a bit, giving her a sincere look, surprisingly.

Annica Greene: “We gotta find out if they gots Champions Advantage cause that will set off the strategy.”

Aliyah looks startled at this but nods enthusiastically as her voice gets louder and bolder.

Aliyah Greene: “Yeahhhh yeah that’s important. That’s smart… but I ain’t aiming to be second fiddle, second best in this match even with all the moving parts. We want the titles, we’re hungry over these championships because we got something real to prove. It matters.”

Annica reaches over and takes her sister’s hand, the pair swinging their linked hands in a counterpoint to the sway of their hips as they walk.

Annica Greene: “Matters where, too. Still California, still a chance we can get our first titles in the backyard of The Enemy. Show ‘em how wrong they were.”

Annica pulls her sister in a little closer, looking around again just as they start around the nearest corner to head towards the ringside area.

Annica Greene: “I gotta plan, so here’s what we’re gonna try…”

---

The cracking of beer cans can be heard as we pan down to see the LCW Tag Team Champions, Jack Danielson and Andrew Wilkow, shotgunning beers and crushing them over their heads once their done. The cheer in pure hype as they hi-five and continue to hype each other up with fist bumps and bro-hugs. Jack, who had finished his beer first flexes for a moment before saying.

Jack Danielson: Gotta keep up, brother. I know it’s hard to drink as fast as “The Fastest Shotgunner this side of the Mason Dixon Line”, but it’s just something you gotta do to get out of that bodyguard mindset and into the “Dually” Tag Champion Mindset.

Andrew Wilkow: I feel ya, Jackie-Boy, but just because you drink beer faster than a fish gulps water don’t mean I can’t still drink you under the table like I was that Giant Feller that drank 156 beers in one sitting.

Jack Danielson: Yea, but brother, if you could drink 156 beers in one sitting, we wouldn’t be out here wrestling. We’d be pimping your ass out to every county fair and beer festival that has a drinking contest so we could make better money.

Jack pats Wilkow on the back and they both chuckle at the thought of Wilkow being a beer drinking champion and Jack being his “pimp”. They pick their tag titles up and put them over their shoulders.

Jack Danielson: But that’s also why we are here today ain’t it And-

Andrew Wilkow cracks open another beer in the loudest way possible accidentally interrupting Jack in the process.

Andrew Wilkow: My bad, Jackie-Boy. Keep it going!

Jack Danielson: As I was saying, we are here to become Limitless Tag Team Champions.

Andrew Wilkow: Yee Yee!!!

Jack Danielson: Now, don’t ever let it be said that I don’t love and respect my dear cousin, Ms. Honey Sunshine herself, and or her title reign. Hell, we can even through her cute little tag team partner too. Kinda wish she didn’t have a dude, but we can work things out between us, Jana I’m sure.

Andrew Wilkow: Wouldn’t be the first time he’s rode on the Devil’s Tricycle for some cute blonde he couldn’t get over.

Jack Danielson: I do love me some blondes, that’s for damn sure. Yee Yee!!!

Jack kinda looks up and to the left dreaming of blondes and Andrew has to shake him out of his daydream and snap him back into reality.

Andrew Wilkow: Earth to Ol’ Jackie-Boy!!!

Jack Danielson: Sorry, I was seeing blondes. What were we talking about?

Andrew Wilkow: We were talking about how we respect the current tag team champions, but the last time you had faced them, you had a little feller at your side and still pushed them to their limit. You pushed them to their limits basically by yourself with a man half your size, but now you have a man who is about 1 ft taller and 100lbs heavier than you and is your actual tag team partner.

Jack Danielson: Couldn’t have said it better myself, brother.

Andrew Wilkow: And it’s the truth too. Like a few months ago when you faced them, you were not a tag team champion, and you had a half-sized mini-man bull guy. That was never going to get you in the dubya corner, brother. This time around though, you’ve got a tag title and a tag champion partner that is 3x the size of what Reventon is. We gon’ tear through your fam and her friend like a wet ass through toilet paper after eating $1 tacos from that cheap looking mexican place down the street!

Jack Danielson: Mmmmmm, El Gordo’s does sound good right now. I could tear up a chimichanga right now.

Andrew Wilkow: With an ice cold beer? I think we have our post match plan, brother.

Jack Danielson: You damn right we do, but first we gotta win our match and become “Dually” tag team champions! Imagine walking to El Gordo’s with both belts on our shoulder.

Andrew Wilkow: Jorge is gon’ be so excited, I swear. Yee Yee!!!

Jack and Andrew do a big dramatic sounding hi-five that pops our eardrums basically with how loud the clapping noise is. Andrew downs his beer and crushes it over his head, as Jack hands him another and dual fists two beers on his own to “catch up”.

Jack Danielson: Sorry it gotta be this way, Cousin Honey, but it’s the year of Brew Collar and we want those shiny belts ya got. I’ll but you some tacos though if you want!

Andrew Wilkow: You’re such a good cousin, Jacky-boy.

Jack and Andrew open their beers and smash them together before downing them. They begin to hoot, holler, and jump around chanting "Yee Yee" as they head out the door toward for their match.