Post by Sahara on Aug 4, 2020 9:00:02 GMT -5
Standing in the back bed of a pearl white Ford Raptor parked out front of the OPW Offices on Bourbon Street, Sahara paces a few steps and begins making a grand waving motion with her hands, obviously designed to catch people's attention. The stunning blonde is dressed in her full ring attire with an oversized AV shirt pulled over the top, and the stitches above her left eye were shown loud and proud. Her partially laced Doc Martens bang against the steel bed of the pickup as she generates some added noise.
She also has a load of multi-colored "New Orleans/Bourbon Street" beads hung around her neck.
She also has a load of multi-colored "New Orleans/Bourbon Street" beads hung around her neck.
While planning for this little event, she knew there would be the usual smattering of OPW diehards milling about the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite Outlaws. Making it even easier was the office she was doing this in front of just happened to be loaded with sizzling hot strippers and adult stars that would only help attract some added attention.
As expected, they instantly took notice of that familiar shock of platinum blonde hair and made their way over to see what all the fuss was about.
Lifting a megaphone to her mouth, the blonde smiled.
“Call your friends, call your neighbors … call your sons, call your daughters! Get their asses down here to the OPW Offices and get your custom designed OPW shirts! And hey, the party is on me!”
Boxes of merchandise were stacked on and around a folding table laid out behind the pickup, and a few random guys and gals from the Fallout Wrestling Academy collected money from sales, and a couple of recruits she picked up at the OUTLAWZ club were provocatively dancing on either side of her on the truck bed, simply adding to the party-like atmosphere.
The fans clamored for the obviously bootlegged merchandise, as well as the attention from the strippers and Sahara herself. It was a wonderfully sunny day, and coolers of icy cold beverages were also available for those in need of some intoxicating refreshment!
“As an added bonus, I’ll autograph each and every one of these shirts right before your very eyes so you know it’s authentic! Hurry while supplies last … or the store remains open! Oh, also fellas, just look at these girls I got with me. Every shirt you buy, they'll lift their shirt for you for FIVE whole seconds!”
The blonde smiled as she watched many of the fans present whip out their iPhones or Androids and start typing away or calling people, as well as taking pictures and videos, just as she expected they would. Wrestling fans could never get enough wrestling -- or strippers -- and she fully understood that if you paid them even a little mind, they’d absolutely fall in love with you…
A random voice called out from the crowd, “You got some kind of a Blair shirt?!”
“I got better!” Turning around, Sahara looked through a few of the boxes before whipping out a white shirt adorned with black and red lettering on it, laying it on top of the box, she quickly scrawled her autograph on it before tossing it out to the fan in question.
Tapping one of the Fallout girls on the shoulder, Sahara pointed to the fan, “Forty bucks for that one!”
The fan looked at the shirt and smiled, and didn’t even think twice about shelling out the forty dollars, which brought a smile to Sahara’s face.
Another fan shouted up at the blonde, “You got a Syndicate shirt?!”
Sahara rolled her eyes at the request, “You mean a SUCKdicate?!”
“No, a Syndicat--”
The fan quickly fell silent as a random smattering of boos emerged from the surrounding crowd. Sahara simply glared at him and tapped a foot, waiting for his coming retraction--
“Okay, I meant SUCKdicate!”
Leading the charge, Sahara lifted the megaphone to her mouth and said, “THIS IS AWESOME”, a chant which instantly spread through the growing crowd of marks.
Reaching down, she grabbed another shirt from the “white box” and scribbled her name across the top before throwing it at the fan in question. “See?! You just got yourself a this is awesome chant! And I'm givin' you fifty percent off on that one … so welcome to the revolution! Oh, oh ... let's not forget girls, let's give these fans a show for the next five seconds!”
As the dancers lifted their shirts, a legion of cellular phones went up to record the moment.
Signing autograph after autograph, Sahara tossed out various anti-Syndicate shirts to the gathering fans, every so often glancing back, wondering how long it’d take for the OPW to shut down her little enterprise...
Or whether she’d get an unexpected visitor.
But neither was of much concern to her. She was generating good will with the fans, and simply being an annoyance to the faction in power. If they did shut her down, the fans would like her even more for bucking the authority. Not to mention, she had a contingent of wrestling students there to protect her in case anything should happen.
As the party started to grow, on the back of the pickup truck, Sahara was sandwiched between two of the dancing club girls, and everyone seemed to be having a grand old New Orleans time!