Who's ready to see the behind the scenes of the behind the scene of that pulse pounding, second season episode of Lucha Underground? Anyone? Yes! You in the back! Step right up and dig in!
Hope I got the seasoning right!

Done toweling off after a good warmup, Fénix stowed the reliable hunk of terry-esque fabric in his locker and turned around. Glancing toward the entrance when he heard footsteps approaching.
Someone who, in the doom and gloom of the hallway, seemed to be... not struggling per se, with the lid of a sports bottle was making their way in.

"These things are always impossible!" They mumbled. Rather loudly. "There; stupid thing's open, finally." In walked one of the tallest women Fénix had ever met, by the name of Taya, holding a bottle of blue liquid. The sides of which were dotted with condensation, which made him wonder whether the 'fridge' was having one of its infrequent 'good days'. If so, he could really use a drink right about then.

"Hola, Taya," he said. Alerting her to his presence.

"Oh, hey. Just the Luchador I was looking for!" Fénix couldn't help the confusion that scrunched his face at that. He'd met Taya maybe a handful of times, and each of those awkward-wave moments were because she and his Trios Team 'partners' hung out together after practice.
They hadn't had the chance for much in the way of pleasantries over the weeks.
"I just thought, the third member of the soon to be Trios Champions might also like a pre celebration treat. Jack and PJ are always forgetting that sweat is liquid leaving your body. Not 'weakness'," she said, a set of air quotes and a 'where did they even hear that' look on her face.

Fénix chortled and accepted the Gatorade from a grinning Taya, thinking it thoughtful of the 'Güera Loca', however unnecessary, to have already broken the seal for him.

"Good luck in your match tonight. I know every member of a team's important, so drinks all around! Wouldn't want Jack and 'The Darewolf' pulling... one and a half duty because 'The Bird Of War' got dehydrated," she said, flipping some hair behind one shoulder. Reminding Fénix of just how many times a match he did the exact same thing with his mascara's dangly feather tassels. Could get annoying. If things were getting intense in the ring. Otherwise; it was a small price to pay for looking that cool.

After a big, grateful swig, he raised the bottle and smiled in thanks. Wondering whether his team mates' friend spoke any more Spanish than they did.
Working on a team wherein you were more likely to be made fun of than listened to was a challenge all on its own. Although, it was possible that the jokers understood him alright, but had collectively elected to ignore anything he had to say.
He wouldn't put it past them.

"Muchas gracias..."

"Taya. Good to meet you too." Said the fighter who appeared to be every inch as tall as he was. Proving in barely over a sentence that at least she didn't have a firm grasp -or perhaps no grasp at all- on the Spanish language.
At least she was trying.

"Gracias por la bebida, y su apoyo," he said, taking another swig. This time indicating the drink by pointing at it.

"Oh! Right. No prob. What're friends of friends for?" That smile of hers was getting wider by the second. Did she think his Spanish sounded funny? Or maybe his voice? Maybe the blue of the sport drink was staining his dientes or lips, or-
"So..." Taya said, pulling her lips back down over her pearly whites and giving them a little quirk. "You feeling up to this whole Championship Trios match thing?" At the questioning head cant, she went on, "PJ and Jack can be a lot to keep up with, ya know?"

Fénix nodded, "Oh sí, tus amigos pueden ser realmente molesto," he said with an emphatic nod. Not at all perturbed with the possibility of her understanding what he'd said. After all, anyone who stood in a room with those two for more than three seconds would have to agree with him. A friend should be painfully aware.

"Uh... right. They're unique. But I haven't dropped in on any of your little 'team practice sessions'," she said with a little frown. "You get along well enough to net a sick set of belts?"

"Nos marcharemos con esos cinturones esta noche. Incluso si son súper molesto," stated a Fénix who didn't mind bragging to someone who likely only caught every fifth word. Felt good to be confident.

"Oh. Well... good to hear," said Taya, glancing around the room as if the translation might superimpose itself somewhere handy.
Fénix loved it when people pretended to understand what he was saying. The more patent the lie of comprehension, the more entertaining, and Taya was getting pretty darn entertaining right about then. Funny enough that he used a laugh to stifle an out of place yawn.
"Least, those idiots're good for something."

"Si, es verdad!" He confirmed, taking another draught from the quickly emptying bottle of electrolytes and sugars. Hoping the liquid would give him back a little of his waning pep.
Really weird, that. He was usually bouncing, if not wired before a match.

"You lookin' a little tired there, Fénix? Didn't get enough sleep?" Asked the Luchadora, one eyebrow and opposite corner of the mouth quirked.

"Dormí bien. Estoy bie-" Fénix cut off the statement before it had the chance to be proven a lie. Suddenly feeling as if getting himself a little closer to the ground would be a good idea.
What was up? He never got light headed.
He moved to sit on a bench conveniently not four feet off to one side, plopping down with more force than he'd meant to. Brow scrunched at how... tired his eyes were suddenly feeling. And at that funny feeling in his stomach.

He didn't bother hiding his concern, when meeting eyes with a Taya who'd followed him to stand by the bench and was now towering above. He also didn't hide his surprise at the Güera's open grin.

"Ha! So cute! You've obviously never been roofied before! Don't worry, little birdy, we're just gettin' you out of the way for this fight," said by a fighter who seemed to be going in and out of focus. Which prompted Fénix to shake his head. Which he shook again when he realized he hadn't understood some of those words until he'd managed a belated double take.
'Out of the way? This fight?' What was Taya talking abou- 'Roofied'?!

He'd only heard of such things happening in bars! And to people more... defenseless than a full fledged, Championship winning Luchador!

Had the world flipped upside down? Were nice, relatable people like Taya going around poisoning people with unknown substances just for poops and giggles now?! What if he died?!
Would his Mamá y Papá ever get closure? Would poor, no doubt well-ish intentioned Taya be sent to jail and locked away for veinte a la vida, sobre un accidente? Just for trying to- Wait. How would this benefit her friends?

"Oh, poor thing. Lemme help you with that," the extremely tall blonde and rosado haired fighter said, leaning down and taking the nearly drained sport drink bottle from Fénix's worryingly slack hand. "Wouldn't wanna spill this on your nice costume pants. Might stain," she explained. Chucking the evidence, cap screwed back on with a flourish, into a conveniently not overflowing trash can.

"¿Qué estás- Por qué estás..." His tongue was starting to stick against his teeth. Words getting lost on their way from his mind to his lips anyway, as he stared in wonderment at the dismal colors of the locker room beginning to bend and blend with Taya's far more festive hues. She was almost as colorful as Fénix himself. And she was absolutely looming, seeming to come closer and...
was her hand stroking the side of his face?

"Mind if I take a peek at the mystery behind the mask? I won't take pictures. Promise," she cooed the last word as her fingers finished inching their way along his jaw and lit upon the button fastens underneath.

Fénix felt a surge of fight or flight hit him full force in the heart, desperation peaking in his clouding mind, pulsing strength into extremities that had begun feeling as if they'd be hard pressed to support a fawn.
Turned out they had enough left in them to get him off the bench and all the way up in the Luchadora's cara, hands coming up and latching onto pale shoulders with grip a shadow of its normal ferocity. His stomach sank when he realized he couldn't feel his fingers.

"Fine, Fiesty, mask stays on. Geez, no need to get-"

"¿Por qué? Jack y PJ, tus amigos, me necesitan... o no cualifi-" The cutting smile enough to put his floundering mouth to silence, Fénix drew in an unsteady breath. Feeling the while as if even his lungs were being affected by the tainted, soporific surprise.

"Tch. It's not obvious? There's no rule book says it has to be you playing number three," The scoff at the beginning a nice touch, Fénix couldn't help but hang off Taya's words. Like he was starting to feel he was doing from her shoulders.
"Naw. Johnny's taking your place, pajarito, and there's... mmh, nothing you can do about it. So you might as well stop fighting the cocktail and have a nice little lie down." The Güera leaned in closer, her eyebrows taking up most of Fénix's weirdly zoomed in field of vision, and added, "I bet you deserve it." Her breath felt like a humid desert breeze against skin that was beginning to crawl.

Fénix's left hand slipped off the mountain of a Canadian's shoulder just as one of his knees buckled. Eyes screwing shut as his drugged body resigned itself to becoming a smudge on a hard concrete floor. Opening when instead, a chest softer than most he ever needed to crush into a mat squished him against itself, assisted by a pair of warrior strong arms that'd somehow snuck under his and yanked him into a... hug position?

"Woah there! Take a seat before you regret standing, brother."

"No eres mi... hermana," Fénix managed before his whiteboard mind could erase the black, impermanent marker of a sentence.

"Figure of speech, Sleepy," said the Sequoia-esque one easing him down for a seat he'd barely gotten himself up from... an absolute lifetime ago. His muscles were going- had gone pliant by then, so even though he didn't want to, he sat obligingly and just concentrated on keeping his head from lolling clean off his neck.
"Go on; close your eyes. I won't let you break your head. Or your funky chicken comb for that matter," Taya said, picking at the upright feathers adorning Fénix's crest.

"No soy... un pollo. Soy un Féni-"

"Yeah, yeah; you're a Phoenix. Big whoop," said with much sarcasm and a little zing. "I'm getting bored. So if you could," the blonde made a 'darse prisa' motion with both hands, then set her -at least, currently- far stronger than his arms akimbo. Perhaps getting comfortable for a wait.

Fénix shook his head, the somnolence from earlier about filling every spare corner, forcing out useful things like 'the ability to talk a full sentence' , and 'how to fill your lungs to capacit-' uh-oh!

"Now don't go hyperventilating on me! You're body's just a little ahead of you; already knows it should be sleeping, and that's plenty oxygen for someone who's already gone to Dream Town," the 'Loca' seemed to both chastise and -and Fénix knew how utterly absurd it would be- comfort the desperate not to die, fully kitted out, Professional Wrestler.

Fénix, no idea why, reached out an uncoordinated hand and grabbed a fistful of Taya's sweatpants. Though, even he could tell that all she'd need to do to get free was twitch backwards. Or to either side. Or wait a few seconds for his grip to slip on its own. Which is exactly what happened.
Kinda an embarrassing moment for both of them really.

Taya, unmoved by the handsy gesture, stepped even closer, made a 'face' which included a scrunched nose and the flashing of some front teeth in a move that decidedly wasn't a smile, and put a hand on Fénix's mask for a second time. Another hand coming to rest on one of the younger Luchador's collar bones.

"No! Mi mascara.. es mi-"

"Seriously? We already went through that. Mask stays on, I know," she sniped, as Fénix realized the offending five digited appendix was cupped round the back of his head. "You 'Enmascaradas' are all the same! 'No! My mask is me!' Pth!" She said, blowing a raspberry at the end which startled the guy she was just standing there, touching.
"Just looks like you need some help laying down for your nap," she explained. Then, she set her closer knee up on the bench next to Fénix's hip and, using it as a pivot point around which to maneuver the fighter, pushed down on the tattooed chest with just the right amount of pressure.

Fénix would have absolutely flopped backwards if it wasn't for the mitt around the back of his head, exerting plenty strength to cradle him down without injuring anything more than his pride.
He, in fact, almost felt like thanking the Güera. Almost.

"Now, don't go tellin' me that's not better. I bet your head's swimming less, right? Room stop spinning?" Fénix willed himself not to nod in confirmation to the... potentially taunting, though accurate, words.
Taya's hand slipped out from under his head and moved next to his covered ear on the bench, supporting her upper body as she leaned down, closer and closer to his face. Fénix stared listlessly at the look of curious concentration and a pair of lightly puckered lips approaching his... was Taya coming in for a ki-
Shocked at the realization that, if he fell into a drug induced coma out in the open locker room, anyone who had access to the place would be given the best shot they'd ever get to take 'advantage' of him in any way they pleased, his mind short circuited and, in the time it took him to roll out from under the most dangerous person in the room, his entire body broke out in a cold sweat.

He hit the floor hard and tried, the man of a thousand lives tried hard as he could to make it to his feet and get the hell out of that suddenly perilous locker room, but his legs, just like every single other muscle group in his doped up body, felt like mush.
He ended up half crawling, half dragging himself little more than a yard before his arms gave out all together and he ended up face down on the grime covered concrete floor. No better off than he'd been on the bench. Though, perhaps more likely to have medics called on him if anyone with half a heart happened to stumble over him on their way to a rusty locker.
Who in their right mind fell asleep on the floor, right?

"Daang, brother. I know they're called 'date rape' drugs, but no one's got that planned for you," a small pause as it sounded like the Canadian waited for Fénix to catch his breath. "I was just checking. Thought you'd finally fallen aslee-"

"Taya, what the heck, man?" A raucous entry startled both Luchadores and brought their attentions to the locker room entrance.

"That's our Trios Team partner!" Called a second voice.

"Not anymore," declared a smug Johnny Mundo as he entered the locker room on the heels of a befuddled Jack Evans and PJ Black. A completely spent Fénix unable to do anything more than watch and listen as his body betrayed him in what might end up being one of the most desperate hours of need of his relatively young life.
The gang was all there.
He prayed that what Taya had told him turned out to be la verdad honesto a Dios.
Otherwise... he hoped the drugs she'd given him were as powerful as they felt. Because, no matter whether he was aware in the moment of... what the clique who did everything together might well have planned for him -Por favor, Dios, no-, at least he wouldn't remember it. Not well.

Through half lidded eyes and a feeling of dread strong enough to eclipse most any he'd experienced since he was old enough to sleep with the lights off, he tracked the Mundo's approach to his side.
He didn't see the boot to the temple coming. Hadn't expected it. Hadn't had the strength left even if he had to protect against it.
So he took it full force, feeling the body rocking impact only through a building wall of numbness and thinking in a far off corner of his winking mind, that this was far kinder than a poisoned well wishing gift from a supposed friend.

Hoping they did him the decency of leaving his mask on, the still youngest in the room felt his grip on reality slip; then, his last vestige of consciousness sputter out, crash, and burn.
All to the sound of riotous cheers.

"Bit excessive, John?" Whispered a Taya who'd leaned in toward the head near hers as inconspicuously as possible.

"No way. Helps build team morale. Look how excited they are," a pleased as pie Johnny Mundo whispered just as quietly, leaning in a smidge closer. Neither of them interested in being overheard.

"...Sure," she whispered back, wondering whether Johnny caught the obvious uncertainty in her voice. By the looks of it, he might've stopped listening by then.

The four of them filed out of there, surprise mission accomplished, and made a huge splash in their debut entrance as the Worldwide Underground. A name which their Temple's owner-promoter was, understandably, one hundred percent behind.

Taya, not able to squeegee the sound of Johnny's boot hitting the already out of it fighter's head, slipped away from her clique right when they were at their most distracted; when the crowd started cheering and jeering their Trio's Team taking the stage and hamming it up.
Compelled by some strange feeling akin to... not worry per se, she found a funny little break room it'd never been her displeasure to visit before and walked right in, as if she owned the place. Turning heads just like her Daddy taught her.
You want- need something; you act like you already earned it.

"Hey, medic people?" The three not very imposing, blue clad EMT all sitting around on plush, old looking seats nodded. "Yeah, there's some masked fighter passed out in the locker room. Thought ya might like to-" Two medics darted past the stilt legged fighter without bothering with eye contact or even an 'excuse me'. "...know. Rude," said a Taya who wasn't sure why she'd bothered.

The third, and most pathetically tiny, of the EMT pack broke Taya out of her quagmire of disdain, centered around the fact that she was wasting her own very valuable time, with the clearing of a throat.
"Thanks for the tip, Saboteador." The last word positively growled out of a face contorted by a feral snarl.

Hoping the spinal shiver didn't show on her face, the 'Guerra Loca' moved just a bit, allowing the medic with the bag that looked two ounces from tearing a shoulder out of joint to jaunt past and out of there.
To Taya's dismay, the blue jacket stopped right next to her and turned to squint straight up into her face.

"Clara, we're gonna need the bag!" Came an echoed yell, sounding as if it'd bounced around at least two corners before reaching their little face off.

"Te veo," said the shorty apparently known as Clara, backing out the break room. Warp speed.

"Yeesh. It's gotta be hell working with that one," Taya whispered to herself, shaking out her platinum tresses and trying to wipe the image of an angry, gnome-medic from her short term memory. Before it had the chance to be committed to long term.

Taya made it back ringside in time to catch most of the beginning of the match and ended up spacing for a good chunk after. More of her attention dedicated to trying not to think about the subterfuge she'd committed than she was comfortable with.
She'd built a career out of knocking people around. Why should the business with Fénix have felt any different?

As one of her teammates ascended the ropes, Taya's attention was pulled across the main hall, to a shadowy hallway opening and an EMT compelled, Fénix laden stretcher making quick progress in a general 'away from the locker room' direction.

The flash she'd caught? The kid looked like he'd been poisoned... Right. That's exactly what she'd done to him. 'Roofie' just sounded a lot less harsh. It wasn't hard for the severity of such a thing to get lost in translation with such a fun street name.

Taya abandoned the ring, right in the heat of a Championship main event spot, to trail behind the medical entourage, eyes ghosting over her handiwork. Managing to overhear snips of back and forth rife with enough 'medic' jargon that most of it went over her head.
She did get that they thought the kick to the head was the sole cause of the kid's unresponsive state. Concerned murmurs coming every time they slowed their pace just enough that the next of them could take their turn shining a pen light in Fénix's half lidded eyes.

"Again with that, Clara?" Asked the guy hunched over the stretcher. Quick walking like a pro without even needing to look where he was going.

"There wasn't any evidence of a drink-"

"We barely stopped to look for one!" The Tasmanian Devil-esque one shot back at the 'Ponytail' doing most of the pushing. "You didn't even let me check the trash!"

"Contaminated. Or way too many cups and bottles to choose from. Besides; if he was poisoned, when's the kick to the head come in to it?" All good points, thought Taya. About the time she'd had enough of the incessant whining.

"Hey!" She yelled, knowing that with someone's life seemingly in jeopardy, they'd never give her the time of day unless it sounded like some sort of emergency.
The stretcher stopped, three heads whipping around to locate the trouble.
"I saw him... drinking a Gatorade earlier. In the locker room."

"On it," rushed the tallest of the blueys as he jogged back the way they'd come.

"What color, Gringa?"

"Electric Blu-"

"Blue one, Federico!" Called Ponytail, hands cupped around her mouth to help the sound hit home.

"Just how many of those bottles you think he's gonna find; he needs to know what color? Eh, Gabby 'Two Shoes'?"

"... Sorry for not taking your concerns seriously. You're a great-"

"Hey, long as he," said Clara, pointing at the patient who'd yet to return to the waking world, "turns out okay, so will everything else." Then, realizing this was probably a rare glimpse of the 'softer' side of the Wolverinetine medic, Taya watched with curiosity as the two locked eyes over their patient. "You're also a great-"

"Found it!" Exclaimed a bounding Federico, nearly empty Gatorade clutched in one skin tight gloved hand.

"Aaand he's a screw u-"

"Can you believe there was only one?"

"Good find. Lemme?" So the guy handed it over to Gabby, who popped the lid and took a good whiff. Then, before she was satisfied, she licked the bottle lip and swished her tongue around inside her mouth.
Gross.

"Well?" The other two prompted in unison.

"Uh, I don't drink Gatorade, but it- Yep. Yep! That's spiked." Ponytail announced for the class, a cringe breaking through her 'professionalism'.

"Alright! Doc Stillwater's gonna have a hot date with a roofied-"

"Sí, Clara. We really need to start listening to you, don't we?" Asked a Federico who was back at it with the penlight. New information marking his movements with a fresh confidence.
"Pupil response makes more sense now."

"Let's get him loaded. Paddy's gettin' lonely."

"It's creepy when you refer to the Ambulance as a sentient being. You know that, right?" All Federico received in reply was an 'accomplished' grin and a worrying chuckle. "Of course you do."

"You two are- Lets move," said Gabby, and the only one out of them who seemed to have their head on straight pushed hard. The stretcher juttered, the penlight was shoved in a utility pocket, and the three disappeared down the hallway exit.
Unfortunately, that left one not so angry medic standing in the middle of the space, staring straight through Taya's mascara.

"Yo veo..." Said with a chin flicked up and an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, whatever, weirdo. Just make sure the kid's okay," Taya said. Unsure what would be considered admitting guilt, but feeling compelled to respond just the same.

"That's my job, chica. Maybe you should stick to yours. Doesn't look like that's," Clara jammed a thumb at the exit farther down the hall, "sittin' too well."

"Psh, shut up. Cerrado tu boca."

"Uh... I'mma pretend you didn't say that," said while backing to catch up with the rest of the team, who sounded like they were opening up some- right. The ambulance. "Maybe stick to English too." Then with a hand raised in a stiff wave the EMT turned and ran out the back door.

"Yeah. Definitely hell to work with," Taya said, rolling her eyes at what she'd just witnessed. Wondering the entire walk back to the ring why it was that she'd followed the medics. Sure, it was cool to see professionals wheeling somebody off, but she could see that any old day. Almost.
What couldn't be seen just any old day, was all her friends fighting in a Triples Team Championship match, and she'd skipped out on a chunk of it... for that? To be insulted? What was even wrong with her Spanish?! She'd taken it in high school! One semester...

All the Güera Loca knew for sure; she didn't like the look of the younger fighter on the gurney. Ostensibly half dead, with medics poking and prodding, asking him to tell them 'how many fingers, sir-', 'his name's Fénix. Don't you listen to the announcers?', 'Just trying to follow procedu-', 'Ai, Dios mío!'

All entertaining... but she'd been the one to put him there, and not with her boots. Not in a fight where they were being paid to beat each other to a pulp, but with a smile and a friendly offer of electrolytes.

"Dang." Looked like the medic was right. She really wasn't cut out for this. With a huff, she turned and started back towards the ring. Pausing only for a moment when she heard an engine turn over.
"Guess next time, I'll just have to take the boots to 'em. Personally," she said to herself, shaking off the feeling of... ill at ease best she could. The roar of an excited crowd helping wash away the after image of a drugged, potentially concussed Luchador and the three determined EMT carting him away.

Phoenixs always rise again. This one wasn't gonna be any different.

Taya walked back out into the main hall, knowing somewhere in her that she'd never look at Fénix the same way again. Not worrying that her reflection might look a little accusatory next time she found herself in front of a mirror, she realized she wouldn't be messing with anyone's drink... again.