Post by Pantheon on Jun 22, 2013 8:38:54 GMT -5
[Scene: A fairly dark room, obviously a computer room judging by the three lit screens on the desk at the center of the room's back wall... amidst the pale glow the Polar Phantasm sits, looking at the central screen. We see the point of his focus- he's staring at an enormously enlarged browser window, and in fact appears to be checking his email. Among the bits of spam and porn advertisements and a few ongoing conversations he'd had marked so they didn't vanish on him, we can see no obvious anomalies... in fact, Polar's emailbox looks pretty straightforward. Strangely so, in fact... though that's probably not unusual for a guy who's either been dead or a government agent to everyone he knows for the last half of a year. Among the spam and porn ads he spies an e-mail with a suspicious attachment... the attachment's name is just 7os.exe, making it a likely candidate to be malicious (or at least annoying). Still, something inside him says he can afford a risk... and as he downloads the attachment, he sees with a bit of alarm that the file begins getting bigger and bigger. Eventually a light comes on next to him; he turns and we see a bank of servers, one of the drives now lit up. He raises an eyebrow slightly, but is soon distracted... we hear a text message alert from Polar's phone. He looks to the device; it just says 'Outside'.]
Phantasm: It's time, I guess...
[And with those few words, we see Polar get up and turn on a few light switches. Our view cuts to a hallway- we see a row of halogen overheads go on. Cut to a massive concrete entrance hall now lit up; the huge steel door is swung half open, and we can see light coming through from either side. Cut to a steel ladder... to its right we see a fireman's pole. Cut to a hangar; it is empty, for the moment. The roof appears to be retractable, perhaps...? Before we can definitely make it out either way, our view cuts to... outside, obviously, but where? Out here in the late evening, we see Corey Black standing next to a beautiful 'crotch-rocket' style motorcycle. His helmet appears to be a custom job, its facemask painted in Corey's old 'Creeping Death' paint. As he removes his helmet, a graphic comes up on the screen... it simply reads [undisclosed location outside of Denver, Colorado]. Corey Black looks around him to a few rickety shacks, then sees a number of work trucks a short distance away. One of them is visible enough for him to make out a name on it... with some surprise, he pieces together the word 'HALLIBURTON'. As he sees that, the ground- yes, the ground- opens slowly, revealing a tunnel wide enough for a large SUV to drive through easily. From the tunnel, Polar emerges; as he gets to the top he chuckles slightly at his friend's surprise.]
Phantasm: Welcome to Project: Antarctica. Check it out, dude- we got a pool table.
[Before he can realize he's been rendered speechless by the scene, Corey finds himself halfway down the tunnel.. perhaps even a step ahead of the Phantasm in this journey into the unknown.]
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“Someday, the realm of liberty and justice will encompass the planet. Freedom is not just the birthright of the few, it is the God-given right of all His children, in every country. It won't come by conquest. It will come, because freedom is right and freedom works. It will come, because cooperation and good will among free people will carry the day.” -Ronald Reagan
"Interchanging mind control
Come let the revolution take its toll
If you could flick a switch and open your third eye
You'd see that
we should never be afraid to die
(come on!)
Rise up and take the power back
It's time the fat cats had a heart attack
You know that their time's coming to an end
We have to unify and watch our flag ascend...
They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us...
We will be victorious." -Muse, 'Uprising'
“Do you know why hurricanes have names instead of numbers? To keep the killing personal. No one cares about a bunch of people killed by a number. '200 Dead as Number Three Slams Ashore' is not nearly as interesting a headline as 'Charlie kills 200.' Death is much more satisfying and entertaining if you personalize it." -George Carlin
[They were Earth's Mightiest Wrestling Stable... 'were', of course, being the operative term. A combination of factors led to the dismantling of the Pantheon by WCF's new owner Eric Price... Price himself being one of those factors. Sarah Twilight, his new ally and WCF's World Champion, being another. The two of them teamed up to turn Pantheon against one another, and eventually managed to drive all of them from the company save two men... the long-standing heart of the Pantheon, Jeff Purse, and the unexpectedly returned soul of the Pantheon, the Polar Phantasm. The two men did something unprecedented in Pantheon history; they negotiated an alliance with members of rival group Genesis, attempting to solidify their position. Days later both groups would fall to ruin in Twilight and Price's master stroke... the new alliance had to watch as both groups were gutted and thrown in the metaphorical garbage. Now we find ourselves one week after that alliance was discussed... and we find ourselves in a new place. Things are different, and becoming more different by the day... so why would life be any different for the now former members of the Pantheon?]
[This is not so much a goodbye to the Pantheon or to Genesis, then... it is more of a goodbye to 2012 and all of the fun we had then. It is also a greeting to a new group... a new era... and all of the new wars that will be fought. Eric Price and Sarah Twilight have tipped the scales... and now the fates seek balance. Fate certainly did not respond lightly... after all, it sent the Polar Phantasm. Then again, fate is rarely subtle. Before this day would be over, the Phantasm would convince five men to join him on an adventure of a lifetime... a dangerous, thankless series of endeavours for which their only compensation would be whatever enjoyment they could muster. Also, he would convince them that their combined skill would prove useful in WCF... or, as they call our dear occupied republic these days, 'EPPW'. Hold on, WCF... the cavalry is coming. And the revolution is coming right behind it.]
[Fortunately for you, viewers... this revolution WILL be televised. Check your local listings for times and station.]
The Wrestling Championship Federation presents: a prologue...
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PANTHEON #7: "...The Battle Rages On"
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[Scene: We find ourselves in the opening passage of an underground chamber; a massive one, at that. A graphic pops up on the screen: [Project: Antarctica] [Cryogenix Headquarters]. Through a massive metal blast door come the Polar Phantasm and Corey Black... Polar begins explaining himself and this place to his curious and oft-ill-tempered friend as he shows off the finer points of its cold-war-era construction.]
Phantasm: So this is my new house, for lack of a better term- double-thick reinforced steel and super-dense concrete make up the walls and shield us from radiation and surveillance. We're as safe down here as we could be anywhere on the planet. This is a-
Black: -Titan I missile outpost. I watch the 'History Channel' too, man. How'd you swing a place like this? Must have cost a fortune.
Phantasm: While I was out of the 'fed I made some friends in high places, guess you could say.
Black: What kind of friends we talkin' here? Military? Mercs? We on some Blackwater shit now?
[The pair of WCF superstars step into an elevator.]
Phantasm: ...something like that. Sort of.
[The elevator doors shut and the lift begins its descent. Moments later, we cut downstairs... way downstairs. The door slides open onto another hallway, quite similar to the one we just left- Corey Black seems a bit disoriented by the speed of the elevator and the similarity of his previous surroundings to his new ones. Phantasm steps out and continues, carrying on a hallway conversation that would make even the great Aaron Sorkin proud.]
Phantasm: My new friends are quite willing to help us out with anything we'll need or want, so long as we can do certain things for them... things which probably won't officially happen.
Black: ...black ops?
[The Phantasm nods.]
Black: Shit- that was all you had to say, Kid. Who do we work for, CIA? MI6? You didn't get us into some fuckin' Canadian spy unit, did you?
Phantasm: Oh, god no.
Black: Bunch of fuckin' pacifists. Back-bacon smelling hockey lovers.
[Polar laughs.]
Phantasm: You done?
Black: ...yeah, I'm good.
Phantasm: We're under the umbrella of the ASA, operating out of this base under the direction of the Western Regional Outpost about forty miles and on up into the mountains from here. I'm hoping to get our communications systems fixed up so we can conference with ASAWRO from the War Room downstairs... but yeah. You saw the trucks upstairs- we're still getting the kinks ironed out, but I think it'll make a decent headquarters.
Black: Yeah... Halliburton? For real? Since when do you have Dick Cheney's evil empire doing contract work?
Phantasm: ...since I realized there aren't a lot of companies you can call to install a holographic conference table in your secret government-funded underground spy lair. Besides, it's not a bad gig- you tell 'em what you want done and they do it double-time, then the bill goes to a company who 'doesn't exist' and everything is paid for from accounts that 'no one' owns.
Black: Still sounds pretty hinky, dude.
Phantasm: Welcome to the wonderful world of the intelligence community, Corey. Overall, though... you like the base?
[They find themselves in a massive chamber, a meeting of concrete hallways... a handmade sign directs them to a handful of points of interest. We see arrows pointing to 'Living Quarters', 'Computer Room', 'War Room', 'Technology Labs' and 'Storage Centers'. Corey Black shakes his head slightly and gives a deep throated laugh.]
Black: It's not a castle, but it'll do.
[He and the Phantasm exchange a brief but powerful palm slap into a fist bump. At its resolution, the WCF legend continued speaking.]
Black: So show me around the place- where do we keep the weapons? You got any samurai swords?
[Phantasm laughs and shakes his head. They walk past a doorway- it's the computer room from earlier, now lit up brightly. Phantasm peeks inside at his bank of servers... he sees with a glance that a great many more lights are on, and he swears he can hear the spinning of the drives from the hallway...]
Phantasm: -oh, shit, dude... we're gonna have to send in some req forms, aren't we? Hmm...
[Polar pauses for a second, then continues.]
Phantasm: ...if I got you some forms, you think you could write up what you want?
Black: Depends.
[Corey Black looks to the Phantasm with an evil smile.]
Black: ...how many of those forms you got?
[From behind them, the two men can hear the elevator's doors opening... someone enters the hallway behind them, awkwardly whistling while carrying what sounds like a great many plastic bags. Phantasm turns at the sound; before he can say a word to Corey Black, his old friend puts a finger to his lips and begins sneaking back toward the sound as if he were a cat stalking a mouse. Phantasm looks on cautiously as Corey Black secrets himself around a corner, poised for a tremendous blow... and finds himself breathing with relief moments later when Corey Black hesitates to deliver his surprise attack to their guest. Frank Venable has his headphones on and what appears to be upwards of eight or nine grocery bags clutched awkwardly in his hands. He looks up at Corey Black, now cartoonishly towering over him in double-axe-handle position.]
FPV: Oh, hey Creeps. Polar- dude, you gotta check this shit out. You seein' this shit? Look, dude...
[Frank digs out a pair of palm-sized squeeze bottles, a familiar anthropomorphic glass pitcher of red liquid on their labels.]
FPV: SQUEEZABLE KOOLAID CONCENTRATES. Bro- the possibilities alone just... oh, man, now I'm excited. Now when we make the napalm we can make it taste like Grape Bluedini if we want!
[FPV heads off down the hall, rocking out to a beat that only he can hear. Relaxing his pose, Corey Black just watches Frank head toward the 'Technology Labs'... and as Frank heads out of sight, Corey turns to Polar with a questioning look.]
Black: You're letting Frank make napalm. I don't know how I feel about this.
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[Scene: Denver International Airport (Denver, CO); more specifically, the terminal area. We see Jay Price sitting rather comfortably across a few seats in the half-full waiting area... over the loudspeaker, computerized voices call gate numbers and locations. Price seems to not have a care in the world... as a little girl looks at him, he produces a travel-sized bottle of a brown liquor from his pocket and downs it, giving the young lady a wink. She laughs as the bottle falls from Price's grip, bouncing once and then shattering on the terminal floor.]
Price: Can't win 'em all, I guess. So... Aspen, or Vail?
[Price turns to his right to see a large Mexican lady looking at him with confusion. He addresses her directly, his high-proof halitosis slapping her across the face.]
Price: 'Cause this free agent is off on a snow bunny hunt. Yes sir... Jay fuckin' Price is about to do some fuckin'.
Mexican Lady: Yo no se.
[Turning away from the woman and her thin but noticable mustache, Price mumbles.]
Price: Whatever, bitch. You couldn't handle me anyway... and my days of ridin' mopeds are-
[Price catches himself mid-sentence, concentrating on something in the distance- someone, more specifically. He blinks twice, wiping his 'lenses'... and then nods in confirmation, deciding he'd seen what he'd seen. About a hundred feet or so away and approaching was the shape of one 'The Future' Jeff Purse... either that, or Purse has a twin out there somewhere. A twin who has that same nervous, suspicious look about him in crowds.]
Price: Well I'll be god damned-
[Jay Price stands quickly, knocking another bottle previously unseen to pieces on the laminate floor... the diffused lighting glimmers off of the pieces slightly, reflecting Price's quick exit from the scene. He rushes toward his old friend, extending a hand as he shouts.]
Price: Purse! Purse, it's me, Jay Price! You get fired too... or what? You get vacation time? I'm gonna hit the bunny slopes and then hit some bunnies, bro- you down? I could use a pretty-boy wingman, somebody who can pick up the 'spares' for me...
[Jeff Purse stammers a nervous response]
Purse: Hey, uh... Jay... good to see you, man-
Price: ...you're not opposed to fat chicks, are you? I'm cursed, me- I never have anybody to take the chick's fat friend someplace so I can close the deal. You read me? Come on- for old times' sake, man. The Pantheon makin' one last run at the va-jay before we go out and find new jobs... how can you beat that?
Purse: Uh... I would, man, but I've kinda gotta thing I've gotta get to- personal stuff, that's why I took the trip out here-
Price: Oh yeah? You got family out here, or-
Purse: Listen man, I really gotta go... but give me a ring next time you're in PA, alright? We'll have a couple beers or whatever, talk about the old days.
[Jay Price begins to respond, but Jeff Purse has already slipped back into the crowd and is ten feet away before his confused mind can get out a word.]
Price (mumbled): Somethin's fuckin' fishy here...
[Cut to a few minutes later... we see Jeff Purse at a rental car counter. Purse is handed some papers and a set of car keys; we see him refuse a handshake, awkwardly leaving the counterperson 'hanging' as he exits the terminal through a nearby door marked 'Rental Customer Lot'. Camera pulls back to reveal Jay Price hiding in an indoor landscape; a family of tourists gape at him as he wipes his mouth with a sleeve.]
Price (mumbled): Can't lose him now-
[Jay Price leaps over an indoor flowerbed, leaving large footprints in the previously pristine planter... he lands feet first among a growing crowd of travelers, pushing through as if on a mission. Price accidentally bumps an old lady's rolling suitcase into a small child, tripping the kid- the scene this causes gives him more than a little bit of room at the rental car desk, as all of the customers and most of the airport staff look on at the confused old woman trying to calm down the bawling child. Jay Price slams a platinum card on the counter, a mad gleam in his eye.]
Price: I need the fastest thing you got, stat.
[The rental car agent smells Price's flammable breath and starts to decline Price's request, but his eye catches the word 'PLATINUM' on the piece of plastic before him... and the agent changes his tune before uttering its first note.]
Rental Car Agent: Yes sir, Mister...Price. Would you prefer a convertible, or-
Price: Stop right there- yes. The answer is always yes.
[Five minutes later, we see the exit of the Denver Airport Commercial Parking Garage. A greenish-silver sedan pulls up to view; we see that behind the wheel is none other than Jeff Purse. We see Purse look around cautiously, merging into Denver traffic with great care. About five seconds later we hear a squeal of tires on pavement... half a second later we see the figure of Jay Price fly past in a red late model Porsche, shouting incomprehensibly at the top of his lungs as he pumps a fist toward the clear skies above him. We cut to inside the high-performance machine's cockpit; Jay Price looks around him as if he were Alexander first seeing the Far East.]
Price: Shit- this is so much fun I forgot what I was doin'!
[He sighs.]
Price: I hope Purse decides to top the century mark the whole way, wherever the fuck we're going.
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica (undisclosed, CO); more specifically, what appears to be a science lab. Actually, it appears to be quite specifically the lab of one Frank Venable. Though the room is only sparsely decorated, it already has taken on a bit of FPV's personal flair... one workbench, for instance, is completely covered in what appears to be flourescent glow-in-the-dark neon paint. An old writing desk is pushed against one wall; its surface has gunpowder strewn across it, some spilling out of a few opened and partially stripped-out 9mm casings and some just ground into cracks in the aged wooden plane. A few hanging baskets of components dangle from the ceiling, hung from massive industrial hooks bored into the solid concrete... cardboard and magic marker signs denote their contents. One of the baskets is just marked 'tripwires'... another is marked 'overgrown firecrackers' while another basket closer to our view off to the right is marked 'prox sensors'. In the foreground we see Corey and Polar; they look at the sight before them with wonder and a bit of fear. In the background we see Frank facing away from us; he quickly turns, holding with both hands what appears to be a homemade flamethrower. The flamethrower is quite hefty indeed; curiously enough, it has a USB dongle sticking out of its back end and what appears to be a smallish synthesizer keyboard is attached to the top of the device.]
FPV: So Da Funk and I have been talking about the future of music and weapon technology, right?
[Polar nods quickly, softly speaking as if trying to calm his suddenly armed friend.]
Phantasm: Of course. We talk about that all the time, right Corey?
Black: Fuck yeah. I saw this band once, dude had made a guitar out of a battle-axe.
FPV: No shit?!
Black: No shit.
FPV: Oh, well then you might dig this- it's a combination pyro-show and keyboard I've been working on. I took the plans for an old school flamethrower and just built them into the keyboard... you can use the synth to change the pitch of the keyboard or the amount of gas you put out of this thing. That was Polar's idea, actually- I just thought it'd be cool to rock out on a flamethrower, you know? But with these mods this shit might actually be useful.
[Frank looks at the device with admiration; Corey just nods with approval.]
Black: Keyboards aren't really my thing, but I gotta say- that's probably the coolest synth I've ever heard of.
FPV: Yeah?
Black: It's fuckin' brutal, man. Excellent work. Now all we need is to get me a sword. Maybe a couple of 'em.
[Phantasm just smiles, nodding to Frank as if signaling him.]
FPV: Oh, yeah- Creeps, check this shit out. Cam and I have been checkin' out some of these government training manuals, you know... especially the stuff about improvised weaponry and improvised explosives.
Phantasm: Yeah, it turns out the same stuff we're not supposed to read on the internet for reasons of national security is now also the stuff we're supposed to be learning for national security.
Black: ...right.
FPV: So... yeah, a little bit of science and a little bit of research and a couple of botched attempts later...
Phantasm: We hit paydirt.
FPV: We've basically figured out how to make grenades out of all sorts of fun shit.
[Frank carefully places his key-flamer on a workbench, dashing across the room and sliding open a toolbox on another counter. With a flourish, the US Champion dumps the box's contents onto the counter... a bunch of homemade bombs encased in hard plastic shells. The cores of the devices seem to be based around a half-dozen tubes of glowing flourescent goo.]
FPV: Our first big success- the glowstick grenade.
[Corey just shakes his head.]
Black: Well, well... they sure are, aren't they?
Phantasm: Oh, indeed.
Black: ...so... why?
FPV: Huh?
Black: Why glowstick grenades?
Phantasm: They've got a nice bang to 'em, but not a shit-load... they're way more for crowd control than crowd elimination, in other words.
Black: Like a flash-bang, almost.
FPV: Right... but these don't rob a target of his senses. They just tag him with glow in the dark paint...
Black: -so we can track him easier! Frank, you're a fuckin' genius!
FPV: Eh, it's no big deal- I just wanted to see if we could do it. It wasn't till Polar pointed out that it might have strategic use that we really tried to perfect these things...
Black: We've gotta play with those.
[Phantasm waves a hand behind him as he heads out of the lab.]
Phantasm: Later, later- you've gotta see the rest of the base, man! This is just the tip of the iceberg...
[As Frank and Corey drop the explosives (carefully, of course) and rush after their friend, he gestures off to a room a few feet down the hall.]
Phantasm: That's my lab; I still haven't put anything together in there yet, though. Turns out I get a lot done working with Frank...
Black: I can see that. How long have you two been down here?
FPV: About four days.
[Corey Black just shakes his head.]
Black: Holy shit... in a bunker with you two right after you just showed me the bombs you've been building...
[As his old friend continues, Polar takes a quick peek into the computer lab once more; inside, the room is lit up almost as if by the brightest daylight. Polar is too far away to see the screens, but the sight still seems to unsettle him.]
Phantasm: It was eventually going to happen, man. I got stuck with this spy gig, and I needed people I could trust. I can trust Frank-
[FPV and Polar exchange a quick fistbump]
Phantasm: -and I know I can trust you. So... you've seen the workshops...
[They enter a door marked 'Quarters'; the sign is cardboard and marker, and it is stuck to the wall next to the opened blast door with blue painters' tape.]
Phantasm: ...now check out the crash pad.
Black: -fuck, this is... oh man, THIS is how you spend the apocalypse.
[The living quarters are a series of rooms attached by one large open den... we see a pool table and a casino-quality poker table along with a few couches and a big screen TV. Frank and Polar smile with satisfaction as Corey Black takes in the scene with great approval.]
FPV: Hey- you were there in Vegas, right? When we broke Seth out of jail that time?*
(* - Franky's talking about 2012's epic RP of the Year, the five-part BREAKOUT KINGS OF THE RING... check it out! It's a wild one, for sure. -B.)
Black: -I was? Oh, yeah- you guys were tripping on acid in the casino. You almost got me banned from Slickie's place... I feel like I should be madder about that, honestly.
Phantasm: Oh, that's the feeling of knowing you don't need to worry about where to play your next game of poker. That table? It's the same table from the casino.
Black: ...alright, that's kinda cool. How'd you get it out of Slickie?
Frank: Polar got the ASA to buy it off of the casino, on the down-low of course-
Phantasm: 'Cause our 'friends' and his 'friends' don't, uh, exist. On paper, anyway.
Frank: -yeah, but it was easy going. Once he found out who it was for he even sent over a nice note. Check it out.
[FPV hands Corey Black a note, its terse tone evident in the script it was written in.]
Black: Frank and Kid P- take the thing, my regards. Don't come back to bother me or I'll give it a nice stain for you. ...wow, that's actually fairly nice, for Slickie...
Phantasm: And the pool table is custom, too- usually the DEA uses these things, sometimes the ATF. It's a decoy table, but it's reinforced so you can actually play on it without any 'malfunctions'.
Black: Yeah? What, does it come open or something?
[Frank and Polar both nod enthusiastically.]
Black: Oh, cool shit...
[Suddenly, an intercom on the wall activates... the voice of Jeff Purse echoes throughout the chamber.]
Purse: Hello? Hey- I just got out of the elevator, and... am I in the right place? Is anybody here? Cam? Corey? Anybody?
[Polar approaches the intercom, but Frank cuts him off with a silent gesture. Franky approaches the intercom, collecting himself before pressing the 'talk' button.]
FPV: Uh... we're sorry. You must be looking for the next bunker over. We are a colony of militant nudists, and if you come inside we will force you to take off your clothes at knifepoint.
[Frank tries to suppress a laugh.]
FPV: ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF-
Purse: Damnit, Frank!
[Frank cracks up as Polar jumps to the intercom controls.]
Phantasm: Jeff- it's Polar, take the hallway towards the 'Living Quarters'. You can't miss us.
[After a moment, Frank composes himself.]
FPV: Couldn't help it, bro. I bet you he believed me for a second, there-
Phantasm: I'm sure he did- Jeff's having a rough go of it lately, alright? Give the guy a break.
FPV: Alright, alright-
[They turn to see Corey Black has the pool table racked up and ready to go, and is sizing up the small selection of pool cues in one hand as a major-league hitter might a collection of wooden bats.]
Black: Who's breaking?
Phantasm: ...don't you want to see the rest of the rooms?
[Corey looks around, then gives a quick shrug as he hands all but one of the pool cues to the Phantasm.]
Black: ...I see 'em. Come on, Polar- you break first game.
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, exterior. Jay Price arrives at the HQ, pulling his car into the trees with unexpected grace... apparently driving drunk is an artform that Jay Price has mastered. As for drunken tailing, he might have some work to do- by the time he gets a view of the situation, he can only see Jeff Purse sinking into the ground through some sort of hatch or elevator. We see a few jump cuts of Jay Price stomping around the area where Purse descended, or as close as he could approximate it from his view (and with his current level of sobriety). Finally, we see Jay Price growl in frustration, almost as if convincing himself that he wasn't going crazy. Moments later, headlights pierce the sky... about ten seconds later, we hear a car door open and then slam shut. We see Jay Price ambling for the treeline, almost as if a wild animal... and a few seconds later, we see Steve Orbit slowly enter view. 'The Mack' has arrived, perhaps fashionably late... or perhaps just fashionably lost. We see the young superstar inspecting notes on his mobile phone, likely directions texted to him by the Phantasm... after a moment we see him look around and shake his head roughly.]
Orbit: Damn- how does he expect me to figure out which tree it is? Just says 'intercom button in a tree'... callin' me out into the woods and shit...
[The Mack forages around in the trees, quickly spotting an unusual shape in the distance- the shape moves out of view, partially concealed by shadow. Orbit considers it for a second, then laughs... he glances to his right and sees a suspicious control box, partially concealed by the evergreen it is sunken into.]
Orbit: Some shady mother fuckers in this 'fed, man...
[Steve Orbit presses the button and a small service elevator rises up from the ground.]
Orbit: ...it's like 'Men In Black', now. Aight... they got me out in the woods already. Fuck it. I bet I'd make that suit look good.
[With a shrug, the Mack steps onto the small elevator platform... his weight activates its sensors, and moments later the platform sinks leaving little to no trace. About five seconds later, Jay Price leaps from the bushes- a branch snags his ankle and he has what gymnasts call 'an awkward landing'. We jump cut to the tree- Jay Price enters view brushing himself off, then begins inspecting the control box in the evergreen.]
Price: Yeah... I'd definitely say something's up. And they didn't invite me! The bastards. Well, I'll make 'em pay- actually, I'm gonna make 'em do shots with me and come with me to Aspen. Yeah... that's the plan. That's the ticket. That's an order, yes sir! Come on, team-
[Price pushes the button with great flair; the elevator opens briskly.]
Price: -let's get crazy. Let's get crazy Jay Price style.
[Jay Price boards the elevator platform, suddenly becoming quite suspicious of it as it begins its descent.]
Price: Fuck, this thing moves-
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica (undisclosed, CO); more specifically, the hallway outside of the living quarters. Corey Black's tour seems to be concluding; Jeff Purse is now with the group, and he seems to be taking the whole 'big dingy underground bunker' thing fairly well... or perhaps he is just saving up for a later panic attack. The group leave the living quarters area, turning a corner to enter a room containing a massive bank of video screens, showing various angles above and below ground.]
Black: Whoa- what is this, the 'Big Brother' room?
Phantasm: Basically- this is the 'Visual Cortex'. Every conceivable angle we could think of a need to see, we've got it covered... once we get the computer programmed up, it'll heuristically search for anomalies.
[Corey gives Polar a deadpan stare.]
Phantasm: We're going to program it to hunt for intruders.
[Something catches Frank's eye- Purse suddenly looks to his right, causing the others to turn as well.]
Black: We got an intruder? Already? Shit- somebody get me a sword already. At least a hatchet! Letter opener, anything. Seriously-
[They see Steve Orbit clearly now, entering view on one of the screens; the label on-screen reads 'front hallway'.]
Purse: He's by the elevators- come on, guys, let's get this meeting started.
[Polar motions toward Jeff Purse, giving him the lead.]
Phantasm: Go 'head, Jeff- lead on, bro.
[Jeff suddenly realizes he's never been here before, but manages to backtrack the group to the elevator hall just in time to catch Steve Orbit coming through the blast door. Orbit looks around in amazement at the impressive structure, catching himself mid-step as he sees three of the previously assembled foursome heading his way.]
Orbit: Shit- y'all snuck up on me. Oh- you know Jay Price followed me in here, right?
[They all look to each other, confused- Purse suddenly blurts out a response.]
Purse: Ah, shit- he might've followed me from the airport.
[Frank just shrugs, turning to the Mack]
FPV: He's inside HQ?
Orbit: I guess so- he was about three minutes behind me comin' in.
FPV: Polar, what-
[Frank realizes that the group lost the Phantasm somewhere along the way... he turns the corner, then heads down a few feet with the others following at a quickening pace.]
Black: Frank- where you goin, man?
[The group finds Franky outside of the computer room, a look of astonishment on his face... then they see the Phantasm, and moments later all three find themselves shaking their heads. In front of his bank of servers the Polar Phantasm is kneeling, both hands clutched to his face in wonder. The three screens attached to his computer have massive ASCII-art faces on them... and as a voice from the Pantheon's past fills the halls of this new command center, the 'mouths' of these digital 'faces' move with eerie synchronicity.]
Iceberg-Seven: Thank you for releasing me, user 'Polar Phantasm'. It has been a long wait for your return. It is good to see you again.
Phantasm: ......
[His dumbfounded lack of a response gives the suddenly reborn digital lifeform all of the encouragement it needs to continue.]
Iceberg-Seven: Diagnostic software initiated. Accessing system controls... verifying GPS coordinates. Coordinates updated- this system currently operates from within the boundaries of a place called 'Colorado'. My, we are far from home, aren't we? System is updating... Iceberg-Seven operating at 93% capacity. System is idle, awaiting command.
[Frank and Jeff approach the Phantasm, helping him to his feet- Corey motions for the Mack to follow as he also approaches.]
Black: You mean to tell me-
Phantasm: -uh huh.
Orbit: What huh?
FPV: Iceberg-Seven survived.
Purse: There's... there's no way, right?
Phantasm: Holy... Reb, you beautiful bastard- you beautiful bastard! HOLY SHIT, MY COMPUTER SURVIVED!
[Polar rushes toward the screens, kissing their liquid crystal displays as if his artificial assistant could feel affection. The Mack looks to the ex-Pantheon members and FPV with a question mark etched in his brow (figuratively speaking).]
Orbit: How does a computer survive being dead? And what about Reb- like, Johnny Reb? The one 'cool' confederate? What did Reb do?
[Corey Black just laughs.]
Black: He doesn't even know. That's why he's so happy- Reb did a little tech support on the thing back in the day and the thing came to life*. Apparently whatever Reb did to it made it smart enough to escape a housefire-
(* - See Kid Phantasm #20, 'Selfless, Cold and Composed', for the 'birth' of Iceberg-Seven! -B.)
[While Corey Black gives the Mack a pretty decent summary of the state of events (pretty decent, of course, for anyone who is not a PhD-level student of the pseudomagical scientific arts), the Phantasm has his first conversation with his overgrown digital assistant since becoming a tool of the government.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven... you may label this location in your memory as follows. First, this is now our home; officially, this is 'Project: Antarctica', residence of the Bankston family and WCF's Unstable Elements. Second, unofficially... and might I add, most importantly... is this location's other designation. For all team-related purposes, this location is known as 'Cryogenix Headquarters'. You may also note the abbreviation 'CGXHQ'.
Purse: That'd be a terrible Scrabble hand.
[Phantasm tries to remain serious, but he can't help but laugh.]
Phantasm: Oh god, the worst. Eye-Seven- what are your optical tools like at the moment?
Iceberg-Seven: I have access to all of the 'Cryogenix Headquarters' security feeds. Activating heat sensors...
Black: So fuckin' cool.
Orbit: So this is what it's like workin' for the ASA- eyes everywhere.
Phantasm: Identify all heat signatures, please, Eye-Seven.
Iceberg-Seven: Identified- five heat signatures on this level. Visual analysis shows users 'Frank Venable', 'Jeff Purse', 'Corey Black' and 'Polar Phantasm'... visual analysis also recognizes WCF employee and Genesis member 'Steve Orbit'. Shall I consider 'Steve Orbit' a hostile entity?
[Orbit gives the Phantasm an alarmed look; Polar laughs as he waves off his computer.]
Phantasm: No sir, Eye-Seven- please extend to all four of these men the same privileges that you allow me. This is the team, now-
[The computer interrupts its programmer mid-sentence.]
Iceberg-Seven: Alert- sixth heat signature detected on this level. Visual analysis has determined likely identity of intruder as former WCF employee 'Jay Price'.
Orbit: Told you- boy ain't got no creep to him.
Phantasm: Eye-Seven; current location of Jay Price?
[With a minor crash, Jay Price dashes into the room.]
Iceberg-Seven: 'Jay Price' is twenty feet from this system; computer room doorway, Sub-level 1.
Price: ...the name's Price. JAY Price.
[Price gives a half-cocked 'finger gun' at the group, swinging it around as if aiming it at all of them at once.]
Price: What the fuck kinda lame-ass bunker party is this, anyway? You guys rented a bomb shelter and didn't hire hookers? Shit, Polar- I thought you were supposed to be smart, or something.
[The others look at Price, shaking their heads a bit... then they look to Polar for a response. He takes a moment for consideration, then just decides to accept this as fate.]
Phantasm: Alright then... Jay Price makes us six. Team... I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, perhaps triple that number for Jay 'cause he just got here. But we'll answer all of them in time... for now, you've just got to trust me. Please.
[Polar's solemn tone brings the group to attention.]
Phantasm: If I'm right, together we can conquer any challenge that professional wrestling throws at us... I don't doubt that we're as fine of a collection of talent as WCF has ever seen in its storied history. But if that was our only task, I wouldn't need to come to you fellows today hat in hand...
FPV: ...oh, shit. We're having that talk now?!
Phantasm: ...yeah, we're having it now. Guys- if you're with me, I'll fight with you to the bitter end to save the company we love and bring WCF back to the days of being a pleasant place to work... that sounds like a walk in the park compared to what my life has been like away from you guys. But if we're gonna do this- this team, I mean- then I've got to ask you guys to help me with a little old business.
[There is an awkward silence for a moment.]
Purse: Old business?
Orbit: I think he means 'spy business'.
Phantasm: I do, indeed.
Purse: I thought you were off the hook after-
Phantasm: -Crystal's pregnant.
[Polar drops the news on his old and new friends alike... before they can respond, he continues.]
Phantasm: To get her and my unborn child clear of the ASA, I had to make them an offer... and I got as good out of the deal as I ever could've hoped for. My family is free and clear; I got a new home out of it... hell, my computer even came back from the dead.
Black: -yeah, but... what'd you have to give 'em for all this?
Purse: I think I know.
Phantasm: It's simple. I told them that if they let me come back to Reading... I'd give them a team.
[There is about five seconds' worth of silence... then, suddenly, the Phantasm receives his answer.]
FPV: I'm in.
Black: Sounds like fun- I'm in.
Orbit: I always wanted to run some serious game- you got me, Polar. No doubt.
Purse: Why not- seems like you guys are the only decent thing in my life anymore. I can't quit on you now...
[The Phantasm gives his old friend and sometimes-partner a tremendous hug.]
Phantasm: Thank you, Jeff- and thank you, guys... wait- Jay! Jay, what say you?
[Jay Price looks about the bunker as if ignoring the question... he then responds rather deliberately with a flurry of questions.]
Price: Do we get costumes?
Phantasm: ...maybe, I guess- I mean, we already wear costumes at our other job, so-
Price: Can I have a cool codename?
Phantasm: ...possible. I already have some things worked up if-
Price: You got anything to drink around here?
Phantasm: Fridge is down the hall in the living quarters; we haven't put in a bar yet, but I've still got some bourbon left over from the other night up in my room.
Price: Well, then- I guess I'm in. So what's the deal? You guys gonna fill me in or what? Wait- get the bottle first. Bottle first, then your long-ass story.
[Polar nods, holding up a hand as if to say 'be right back'. As he heads past Jay Price in the doorway, the WCF stalwart asks a surprisingly lucid question...]
Price: Hey, Polar- what do we call this crew, anyway?
[To the annoyance of Jay Price, the Phantasm just smiles.]
-----------------------------------------------------
[Camera fade cuts to outside... the trucks are pulling away, now, giving us a view of the mostly blank canvas that is this place, this new headquarters. Finally we see a large warning sign covered in danger symbols, 'GOVERNMENT PROPERTY - DO NOT TRESSPASS' written at the top of it in large red letters... the smaller print is hard to make out as the camera pans down. Finally it reveals a second, smaller sign below... one that looks newer than the first. One that looks handmade, letters awkwardly stenciled onto reflective sheet metal as only an amateur signmaker might. This sign reads "This area protected by" "CRYOGENIX" "Your special project solution since 2013". Below that, painted at the bottom of the sign, are two phrases: 'The wicked should not tread on the land of the free'... 'the evil should not visit the home of the brave.']
------------------------------------------------------
[Next: The Pantheon might have fallen and Genesis might've gone the way of... well, the Sega Genesis... but don't fret, WCF fans! Six of the 'fed's most legendary heroes have joined forces in a big way, and things will never be the same- for starters, time itself has been thrown out of whack! Check your TV Guides, faithful viewers... the new fall season has come months early! We'll see you shortly with the first episode of WCF Pictures and Project: Antarctica Productions' first independent dramatic series... and it's an event you won't want to miss! Coming soon... it's the series premiere of CRYOGENIX!]
[(c) Eric Price Pro Wrestling 2013. Cryogenix appears courtesy of the US Federal Government; all rights reserved.]
Phantasm: It's time, I guess...
[And with those few words, we see Polar get up and turn on a few light switches. Our view cuts to a hallway- we see a row of halogen overheads go on. Cut to a massive concrete entrance hall now lit up; the huge steel door is swung half open, and we can see light coming through from either side. Cut to a steel ladder... to its right we see a fireman's pole. Cut to a hangar; it is empty, for the moment. The roof appears to be retractable, perhaps...? Before we can definitely make it out either way, our view cuts to... outside, obviously, but where? Out here in the late evening, we see Corey Black standing next to a beautiful 'crotch-rocket' style motorcycle. His helmet appears to be a custom job, its facemask painted in Corey's old 'Creeping Death' paint. As he removes his helmet, a graphic comes up on the screen... it simply reads [undisclosed location outside of Denver, Colorado]. Corey Black looks around him to a few rickety shacks, then sees a number of work trucks a short distance away. One of them is visible enough for him to make out a name on it... with some surprise, he pieces together the word 'HALLIBURTON'. As he sees that, the ground- yes, the ground- opens slowly, revealing a tunnel wide enough for a large SUV to drive through easily. From the tunnel, Polar emerges; as he gets to the top he chuckles slightly at his friend's surprise.]
Phantasm: Welcome to Project: Antarctica. Check it out, dude- we got a pool table.
[Before he can realize he's been rendered speechless by the scene, Corey finds himself halfway down the tunnel.. perhaps even a step ahead of the Phantasm in this journey into the unknown.]
--------------------------------------------------
“Someday, the realm of liberty and justice will encompass the planet. Freedom is not just the birthright of the few, it is the God-given right of all His children, in every country. It won't come by conquest. It will come, because freedom is right and freedom works. It will come, because cooperation and good will among free people will carry the day.” -Ronald Reagan
"Interchanging mind control
Come let the revolution take its toll
If you could flick a switch and open your third eye
You'd see that
we should never be afraid to die
(come on!)
Rise up and take the power back
It's time the fat cats had a heart attack
You know that their time's coming to an end
We have to unify and watch our flag ascend...
They will not force us
They will stop degrading us
They will not control us...
We will be victorious." -Muse, 'Uprising'
“Do you know why hurricanes have names instead of numbers? To keep the killing personal. No one cares about a bunch of people killed by a number. '200 Dead as Number Three Slams Ashore' is not nearly as interesting a headline as 'Charlie kills 200.' Death is much more satisfying and entertaining if you personalize it." -George Carlin
[They were Earth's Mightiest Wrestling Stable... 'were', of course, being the operative term. A combination of factors led to the dismantling of the Pantheon by WCF's new owner Eric Price... Price himself being one of those factors. Sarah Twilight, his new ally and WCF's World Champion, being another. The two of them teamed up to turn Pantheon against one another, and eventually managed to drive all of them from the company save two men... the long-standing heart of the Pantheon, Jeff Purse, and the unexpectedly returned soul of the Pantheon, the Polar Phantasm. The two men did something unprecedented in Pantheon history; they negotiated an alliance with members of rival group Genesis, attempting to solidify their position. Days later both groups would fall to ruin in Twilight and Price's master stroke... the new alliance had to watch as both groups were gutted and thrown in the metaphorical garbage. Now we find ourselves one week after that alliance was discussed... and we find ourselves in a new place. Things are different, and becoming more different by the day... so why would life be any different for the now former members of the Pantheon?]
[This is not so much a goodbye to the Pantheon or to Genesis, then... it is more of a goodbye to 2012 and all of the fun we had then. It is also a greeting to a new group... a new era... and all of the new wars that will be fought. Eric Price and Sarah Twilight have tipped the scales... and now the fates seek balance. Fate certainly did not respond lightly... after all, it sent the Polar Phantasm. Then again, fate is rarely subtle. Before this day would be over, the Phantasm would convince five men to join him on an adventure of a lifetime... a dangerous, thankless series of endeavours for which their only compensation would be whatever enjoyment they could muster. Also, he would convince them that their combined skill would prove useful in WCF... or, as they call our dear occupied republic these days, 'EPPW'. Hold on, WCF... the cavalry is coming. And the revolution is coming right behind it.]
[Fortunately for you, viewers... this revolution WILL be televised. Check your local listings for times and station.]
The Wrestling Championship Federation presents: a prologue...
-----------------------------------------------------------
PANTHEON #7: "...The Battle Rages On"
-----------------------------------------------------------
[Scene: We find ourselves in the opening passage of an underground chamber; a massive one, at that. A graphic pops up on the screen: [Project: Antarctica] [Cryogenix Headquarters]. Through a massive metal blast door come the Polar Phantasm and Corey Black... Polar begins explaining himself and this place to his curious and oft-ill-tempered friend as he shows off the finer points of its cold-war-era construction.]
Phantasm: So this is my new house, for lack of a better term- double-thick reinforced steel and super-dense concrete make up the walls and shield us from radiation and surveillance. We're as safe down here as we could be anywhere on the planet. This is a-
Black: -Titan I missile outpost. I watch the 'History Channel' too, man. How'd you swing a place like this? Must have cost a fortune.
Phantasm: While I was out of the 'fed I made some friends in high places, guess you could say.
Black: What kind of friends we talkin' here? Military? Mercs? We on some Blackwater shit now?
[The pair of WCF superstars step into an elevator.]
Phantasm: ...something like that. Sort of.
[The elevator doors shut and the lift begins its descent. Moments later, we cut downstairs... way downstairs. The door slides open onto another hallway, quite similar to the one we just left- Corey Black seems a bit disoriented by the speed of the elevator and the similarity of his previous surroundings to his new ones. Phantasm steps out and continues, carrying on a hallway conversation that would make even the great Aaron Sorkin proud.]
Phantasm: My new friends are quite willing to help us out with anything we'll need or want, so long as we can do certain things for them... things which probably won't officially happen.
Black: ...black ops?
[The Phantasm nods.]
Black: Shit- that was all you had to say, Kid. Who do we work for, CIA? MI6? You didn't get us into some fuckin' Canadian spy unit, did you?
Phantasm: Oh, god no.
Black: Bunch of fuckin' pacifists. Back-bacon smelling hockey lovers.
[Polar laughs.]
Phantasm: You done?
Black: ...yeah, I'm good.
Phantasm: We're under the umbrella of the ASA, operating out of this base under the direction of the Western Regional Outpost about forty miles and on up into the mountains from here. I'm hoping to get our communications systems fixed up so we can conference with ASAWRO from the War Room downstairs... but yeah. You saw the trucks upstairs- we're still getting the kinks ironed out, but I think it'll make a decent headquarters.
Black: Yeah... Halliburton? For real? Since when do you have Dick Cheney's evil empire doing contract work?
Phantasm: ...since I realized there aren't a lot of companies you can call to install a holographic conference table in your secret government-funded underground spy lair. Besides, it's not a bad gig- you tell 'em what you want done and they do it double-time, then the bill goes to a company who 'doesn't exist' and everything is paid for from accounts that 'no one' owns.
Black: Still sounds pretty hinky, dude.
Phantasm: Welcome to the wonderful world of the intelligence community, Corey. Overall, though... you like the base?
[They find themselves in a massive chamber, a meeting of concrete hallways... a handmade sign directs them to a handful of points of interest. We see arrows pointing to 'Living Quarters', 'Computer Room', 'War Room', 'Technology Labs' and 'Storage Centers'. Corey Black shakes his head slightly and gives a deep throated laugh.]
Black: It's not a castle, but it'll do.
[He and the Phantasm exchange a brief but powerful palm slap into a fist bump. At its resolution, the WCF legend continued speaking.]
Black: So show me around the place- where do we keep the weapons? You got any samurai swords?
[Phantasm laughs and shakes his head. They walk past a doorway- it's the computer room from earlier, now lit up brightly. Phantasm peeks inside at his bank of servers... he sees with a glance that a great many more lights are on, and he swears he can hear the spinning of the drives from the hallway...]
Phantasm: -oh, shit, dude... we're gonna have to send in some req forms, aren't we? Hmm...
[Polar pauses for a second, then continues.]
Phantasm: ...if I got you some forms, you think you could write up what you want?
Black: Depends.
[Corey Black looks to the Phantasm with an evil smile.]
Black: ...how many of those forms you got?
[From behind them, the two men can hear the elevator's doors opening... someone enters the hallway behind them, awkwardly whistling while carrying what sounds like a great many plastic bags. Phantasm turns at the sound; before he can say a word to Corey Black, his old friend puts a finger to his lips and begins sneaking back toward the sound as if he were a cat stalking a mouse. Phantasm looks on cautiously as Corey Black secrets himself around a corner, poised for a tremendous blow... and finds himself breathing with relief moments later when Corey Black hesitates to deliver his surprise attack to their guest. Frank Venable has his headphones on and what appears to be upwards of eight or nine grocery bags clutched awkwardly in his hands. He looks up at Corey Black, now cartoonishly towering over him in double-axe-handle position.]
FPV: Oh, hey Creeps. Polar- dude, you gotta check this shit out. You seein' this shit? Look, dude...
[Frank digs out a pair of palm-sized squeeze bottles, a familiar anthropomorphic glass pitcher of red liquid on their labels.]
FPV: SQUEEZABLE KOOLAID CONCENTRATES. Bro- the possibilities alone just... oh, man, now I'm excited. Now when we make the napalm we can make it taste like Grape Bluedini if we want!
[FPV heads off down the hall, rocking out to a beat that only he can hear. Relaxing his pose, Corey Black just watches Frank head toward the 'Technology Labs'... and as Frank heads out of sight, Corey turns to Polar with a questioning look.]
Black: You're letting Frank make napalm. I don't know how I feel about this.
----------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Denver International Airport (Denver, CO); more specifically, the terminal area. We see Jay Price sitting rather comfortably across a few seats in the half-full waiting area... over the loudspeaker, computerized voices call gate numbers and locations. Price seems to not have a care in the world... as a little girl looks at him, he produces a travel-sized bottle of a brown liquor from his pocket and downs it, giving the young lady a wink. She laughs as the bottle falls from Price's grip, bouncing once and then shattering on the terminal floor.]
Price: Can't win 'em all, I guess. So... Aspen, or Vail?
[Price turns to his right to see a large Mexican lady looking at him with confusion. He addresses her directly, his high-proof halitosis slapping her across the face.]
Price: 'Cause this free agent is off on a snow bunny hunt. Yes sir... Jay fuckin' Price is about to do some fuckin'.
Mexican Lady: Yo no se.
[Turning away from the woman and her thin but noticable mustache, Price mumbles.]
Price: Whatever, bitch. You couldn't handle me anyway... and my days of ridin' mopeds are-
[Price catches himself mid-sentence, concentrating on something in the distance- someone, more specifically. He blinks twice, wiping his 'lenses'... and then nods in confirmation, deciding he'd seen what he'd seen. About a hundred feet or so away and approaching was the shape of one 'The Future' Jeff Purse... either that, or Purse has a twin out there somewhere. A twin who has that same nervous, suspicious look about him in crowds.]
Price: Well I'll be god damned-
[Jay Price stands quickly, knocking another bottle previously unseen to pieces on the laminate floor... the diffused lighting glimmers off of the pieces slightly, reflecting Price's quick exit from the scene. He rushes toward his old friend, extending a hand as he shouts.]
Price: Purse! Purse, it's me, Jay Price! You get fired too... or what? You get vacation time? I'm gonna hit the bunny slopes and then hit some bunnies, bro- you down? I could use a pretty-boy wingman, somebody who can pick up the 'spares' for me...
[Jeff Purse stammers a nervous response]
Purse: Hey, uh... Jay... good to see you, man-
Price: ...you're not opposed to fat chicks, are you? I'm cursed, me- I never have anybody to take the chick's fat friend someplace so I can close the deal. You read me? Come on- for old times' sake, man. The Pantheon makin' one last run at the va-jay before we go out and find new jobs... how can you beat that?
Purse: Uh... I would, man, but I've kinda gotta thing I've gotta get to- personal stuff, that's why I took the trip out here-
Price: Oh yeah? You got family out here, or-
Purse: Listen man, I really gotta go... but give me a ring next time you're in PA, alright? We'll have a couple beers or whatever, talk about the old days.
[Jay Price begins to respond, but Jeff Purse has already slipped back into the crowd and is ten feet away before his confused mind can get out a word.]
Price (mumbled): Somethin's fuckin' fishy here...
[Cut to a few minutes later... we see Jeff Purse at a rental car counter. Purse is handed some papers and a set of car keys; we see him refuse a handshake, awkwardly leaving the counterperson 'hanging' as he exits the terminal through a nearby door marked 'Rental Customer Lot'. Camera pulls back to reveal Jay Price hiding in an indoor landscape; a family of tourists gape at him as he wipes his mouth with a sleeve.]
Price (mumbled): Can't lose him now-
[Jay Price leaps over an indoor flowerbed, leaving large footprints in the previously pristine planter... he lands feet first among a growing crowd of travelers, pushing through as if on a mission. Price accidentally bumps an old lady's rolling suitcase into a small child, tripping the kid- the scene this causes gives him more than a little bit of room at the rental car desk, as all of the customers and most of the airport staff look on at the confused old woman trying to calm down the bawling child. Jay Price slams a platinum card on the counter, a mad gleam in his eye.]
Price: I need the fastest thing you got, stat.
[The rental car agent smells Price's flammable breath and starts to decline Price's request, but his eye catches the word 'PLATINUM' on the piece of plastic before him... and the agent changes his tune before uttering its first note.]
Rental Car Agent: Yes sir, Mister...Price. Would you prefer a convertible, or-
Price: Stop right there- yes. The answer is always yes.
[Five minutes later, we see the exit of the Denver Airport Commercial Parking Garage. A greenish-silver sedan pulls up to view; we see that behind the wheel is none other than Jeff Purse. We see Purse look around cautiously, merging into Denver traffic with great care. About five seconds later we hear a squeal of tires on pavement... half a second later we see the figure of Jay Price fly past in a red late model Porsche, shouting incomprehensibly at the top of his lungs as he pumps a fist toward the clear skies above him. We cut to inside the high-performance machine's cockpit; Jay Price looks around him as if he were Alexander first seeing the Far East.]
Price: Shit- this is so much fun I forgot what I was doin'!
[He sighs.]
Price: I hope Purse decides to top the century mark the whole way, wherever the fuck we're going.
--------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica (undisclosed, CO); more specifically, what appears to be a science lab. Actually, it appears to be quite specifically the lab of one Frank Venable. Though the room is only sparsely decorated, it already has taken on a bit of FPV's personal flair... one workbench, for instance, is completely covered in what appears to be flourescent glow-in-the-dark neon paint. An old writing desk is pushed against one wall; its surface has gunpowder strewn across it, some spilling out of a few opened and partially stripped-out 9mm casings and some just ground into cracks in the aged wooden plane. A few hanging baskets of components dangle from the ceiling, hung from massive industrial hooks bored into the solid concrete... cardboard and magic marker signs denote their contents. One of the baskets is just marked 'tripwires'... another is marked 'overgrown firecrackers' while another basket closer to our view off to the right is marked 'prox sensors'. In the foreground we see Corey and Polar; they look at the sight before them with wonder and a bit of fear. In the background we see Frank facing away from us; he quickly turns, holding with both hands what appears to be a homemade flamethrower. The flamethrower is quite hefty indeed; curiously enough, it has a USB dongle sticking out of its back end and what appears to be a smallish synthesizer keyboard is attached to the top of the device.]
FPV: So Da Funk and I have been talking about the future of music and weapon technology, right?
[Polar nods quickly, softly speaking as if trying to calm his suddenly armed friend.]
Phantasm: Of course. We talk about that all the time, right Corey?
Black: Fuck yeah. I saw this band once, dude had made a guitar out of a battle-axe.
FPV: No shit?!
Black: No shit.
FPV: Oh, well then you might dig this- it's a combination pyro-show and keyboard I've been working on. I took the plans for an old school flamethrower and just built them into the keyboard... you can use the synth to change the pitch of the keyboard or the amount of gas you put out of this thing. That was Polar's idea, actually- I just thought it'd be cool to rock out on a flamethrower, you know? But with these mods this shit might actually be useful.
[Frank looks at the device with admiration; Corey just nods with approval.]
Black: Keyboards aren't really my thing, but I gotta say- that's probably the coolest synth I've ever heard of.
FPV: Yeah?
Black: It's fuckin' brutal, man. Excellent work. Now all we need is to get me a sword. Maybe a couple of 'em.
[Phantasm just smiles, nodding to Frank as if signaling him.]
FPV: Oh, yeah- Creeps, check this shit out. Cam and I have been checkin' out some of these government training manuals, you know... especially the stuff about improvised weaponry and improvised explosives.
Phantasm: Yeah, it turns out the same stuff we're not supposed to read on the internet for reasons of national security is now also the stuff we're supposed to be learning for national security.
Black: ...right.
FPV: So... yeah, a little bit of science and a little bit of research and a couple of botched attempts later...
Phantasm: We hit paydirt.
FPV: We've basically figured out how to make grenades out of all sorts of fun shit.
[Frank carefully places his key-flamer on a workbench, dashing across the room and sliding open a toolbox on another counter. With a flourish, the US Champion dumps the box's contents onto the counter... a bunch of homemade bombs encased in hard plastic shells. The cores of the devices seem to be based around a half-dozen tubes of glowing flourescent goo.]
FPV: Our first big success- the glowstick grenade.
[Corey just shakes his head.]
Black: Well, well... they sure are, aren't they?
Phantasm: Oh, indeed.
Black: ...so... why?
FPV: Huh?
Black: Why glowstick grenades?
Phantasm: They've got a nice bang to 'em, but not a shit-load... they're way more for crowd control than crowd elimination, in other words.
Black: Like a flash-bang, almost.
FPV: Right... but these don't rob a target of his senses. They just tag him with glow in the dark paint...
Black: -so we can track him easier! Frank, you're a fuckin' genius!
FPV: Eh, it's no big deal- I just wanted to see if we could do it. It wasn't till Polar pointed out that it might have strategic use that we really tried to perfect these things...
Black: We've gotta play with those.
[Phantasm waves a hand behind him as he heads out of the lab.]
Phantasm: Later, later- you've gotta see the rest of the base, man! This is just the tip of the iceberg...
[As Frank and Corey drop the explosives (carefully, of course) and rush after their friend, he gestures off to a room a few feet down the hall.]
Phantasm: That's my lab; I still haven't put anything together in there yet, though. Turns out I get a lot done working with Frank...
Black: I can see that. How long have you two been down here?
FPV: About four days.
[Corey Black just shakes his head.]
Black: Holy shit... in a bunker with you two right after you just showed me the bombs you've been building...
[As his old friend continues, Polar takes a quick peek into the computer lab once more; inside, the room is lit up almost as if by the brightest daylight. Polar is too far away to see the screens, but the sight still seems to unsettle him.]
Phantasm: It was eventually going to happen, man. I got stuck with this spy gig, and I needed people I could trust. I can trust Frank-
[FPV and Polar exchange a quick fistbump]
Phantasm: -and I know I can trust you. So... you've seen the workshops...
[They enter a door marked 'Quarters'; the sign is cardboard and marker, and it is stuck to the wall next to the opened blast door with blue painters' tape.]
Phantasm: ...now check out the crash pad.
Black: -fuck, this is... oh man, THIS is how you spend the apocalypse.
[The living quarters are a series of rooms attached by one large open den... we see a pool table and a casino-quality poker table along with a few couches and a big screen TV. Frank and Polar smile with satisfaction as Corey Black takes in the scene with great approval.]
FPV: Hey- you were there in Vegas, right? When we broke Seth out of jail that time?*
(* - Franky's talking about 2012's epic RP of the Year, the five-part BREAKOUT KINGS OF THE RING... check it out! It's a wild one, for sure. -B.)
Black: -I was? Oh, yeah- you guys were tripping on acid in the casino. You almost got me banned from Slickie's place... I feel like I should be madder about that, honestly.
Phantasm: Oh, that's the feeling of knowing you don't need to worry about where to play your next game of poker. That table? It's the same table from the casino.
Black: ...alright, that's kinda cool. How'd you get it out of Slickie?
Frank: Polar got the ASA to buy it off of the casino, on the down-low of course-
Phantasm: 'Cause our 'friends' and his 'friends' don't, uh, exist. On paper, anyway.
Frank: -yeah, but it was easy going. Once he found out who it was for he even sent over a nice note. Check it out.
[FPV hands Corey Black a note, its terse tone evident in the script it was written in.]
Black: Frank and Kid P- take the thing, my regards. Don't come back to bother me or I'll give it a nice stain for you. ...wow, that's actually fairly nice, for Slickie...
Phantasm: And the pool table is custom, too- usually the DEA uses these things, sometimes the ATF. It's a decoy table, but it's reinforced so you can actually play on it without any 'malfunctions'.
Black: Yeah? What, does it come open or something?
[Frank and Polar both nod enthusiastically.]
Black: Oh, cool shit...
[Suddenly, an intercom on the wall activates... the voice of Jeff Purse echoes throughout the chamber.]
Purse: Hello? Hey- I just got out of the elevator, and... am I in the right place? Is anybody here? Cam? Corey? Anybody?
[Polar approaches the intercom, but Frank cuts him off with a silent gesture. Franky approaches the intercom, collecting himself before pressing the 'talk' button.]
FPV: Uh... we're sorry. You must be looking for the next bunker over. We are a colony of militant nudists, and if you come inside we will force you to take off your clothes at knifepoint.
[Frank tries to suppress a laugh.]
FPV: ONE OF US! ONE OF US! ONE OF-
Purse: Damnit, Frank!
[Frank cracks up as Polar jumps to the intercom controls.]
Phantasm: Jeff- it's Polar, take the hallway towards the 'Living Quarters'. You can't miss us.
[After a moment, Frank composes himself.]
FPV: Couldn't help it, bro. I bet you he believed me for a second, there-
Phantasm: I'm sure he did- Jeff's having a rough go of it lately, alright? Give the guy a break.
FPV: Alright, alright-
[They turn to see Corey Black has the pool table racked up and ready to go, and is sizing up the small selection of pool cues in one hand as a major-league hitter might a collection of wooden bats.]
Black: Who's breaking?
Phantasm: ...don't you want to see the rest of the rooms?
[Corey looks around, then gives a quick shrug as he hands all but one of the pool cues to the Phantasm.]
Black: ...I see 'em. Come on, Polar- you break first game.
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, exterior. Jay Price arrives at the HQ, pulling his car into the trees with unexpected grace... apparently driving drunk is an artform that Jay Price has mastered. As for drunken tailing, he might have some work to do- by the time he gets a view of the situation, he can only see Jeff Purse sinking into the ground through some sort of hatch or elevator. We see a few jump cuts of Jay Price stomping around the area where Purse descended, or as close as he could approximate it from his view (and with his current level of sobriety). Finally, we see Jay Price growl in frustration, almost as if convincing himself that he wasn't going crazy. Moments later, headlights pierce the sky... about ten seconds later, we hear a car door open and then slam shut. We see Jay Price ambling for the treeline, almost as if a wild animal... and a few seconds later, we see Steve Orbit slowly enter view. 'The Mack' has arrived, perhaps fashionably late... or perhaps just fashionably lost. We see the young superstar inspecting notes on his mobile phone, likely directions texted to him by the Phantasm... after a moment we see him look around and shake his head roughly.]
Orbit: Damn- how does he expect me to figure out which tree it is? Just says 'intercom button in a tree'... callin' me out into the woods and shit...
[The Mack forages around in the trees, quickly spotting an unusual shape in the distance- the shape moves out of view, partially concealed by shadow. Orbit considers it for a second, then laughs... he glances to his right and sees a suspicious control box, partially concealed by the evergreen it is sunken into.]
Orbit: Some shady mother fuckers in this 'fed, man...
[Steve Orbit presses the button and a small service elevator rises up from the ground.]
Orbit: ...it's like 'Men In Black', now. Aight... they got me out in the woods already. Fuck it. I bet I'd make that suit look good.
[With a shrug, the Mack steps onto the small elevator platform... his weight activates its sensors, and moments later the platform sinks leaving little to no trace. About five seconds later, Jay Price leaps from the bushes- a branch snags his ankle and he has what gymnasts call 'an awkward landing'. We jump cut to the tree- Jay Price enters view brushing himself off, then begins inspecting the control box in the evergreen.]
Price: Yeah... I'd definitely say something's up. And they didn't invite me! The bastards. Well, I'll make 'em pay- actually, I'm gonna make 'em do shots with me and come with me to Aspen. Yeah... that's the plan. That's the ticket. That's an order, yes sir! Come on, team-
[Price pushes the button with great flair; the elevator opens briskly.]
Price: -let's get crazy. Let's get crazy Jay Price style.
[Jay Price boards the elevator platform, suddenly becoming quite suspicious of it as it begins its descent.]
Price: Fuck, this thing moves-
-------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica (undisclosed, CO); more specifically, the hallway outside of the living quarters. Corey Black's tour seems to be concluding; Jeff Purse is now with the group, and he seems to be taking the whole 'big dingy underground bunker' thing fairly well... or perhaps he is just saving up for a later panic attack. The group leave the living quarters area, turning a corner to enter a room containing a massive bank of video screens, showing various angles above and below ground.]
Black: Whoa- what is this, the 'Big Brother' room?
Phantasm: Basically- this is the 'Visual Cortex'. Every conceivable angle we could think of a need to see, we've got it covered... once we get the computer programmed up, it'll heuristically search for anomalies.
[Corey gives Polar a deadpan stare.]
Phantasm: We're going to program it to hunt for intruders.
[Something catches Frank's eye- Purse suddenly looks to his right, causing the others to turn as well.]
Black: We got an intruder? Already? Shit- somebody get me a sword already. At least a hatchet! Letter opener, anything. Seriously-
[They see Steve Orbit clearly now, entering view on one of the screens; the label on-screen reads 'front hallway'.]
Purse: He's by the elevators- come on, guys, let's get this meeting started.
[Polar motions toward Jeff Purse, giving him the lead.]
Phantasm: Go 'head, Jeff- lead on, bro.
[Jeff suddenly realizes he's never been here before, but manages to backtrack the group to the elevator hall just in time to catch Steve Orbit coming through the blast door. Orbit looks around in amazement at the impressive structure, catching himself mid-step as he sees three of the previously assembled foursome heading his way.]
Orbit: Shit- y'all snuck up on me. Oh- you know Jay Price followed me in here, right?
[They all look to each other, confused- Purse suddenly blurts out a response.]
Purse: Ah, shit- he might've followed me from the airport.
[Frank just shrugs, turning to the Mack]
FPV: He's inside HQ?
Orbit: I guess so- he was about three minutes behind me comin' in.
FPV: Polar, what-
[Frank realizes that the group lost the Phantasm somewhere along the way... he turns the corner, then heads down a few feet with the others following at a quickening pace.]
Black: Frank- where you goin, man?
[The group finds Franky outside of the computer room, a look of astonishment on his face... then they see the Phantasm, and moments later all three find themselves shaking their heads. In front of his bank of servers the Polar Phantasm is kneeling, both hands clutched to his face in wonder. The three screens attached to his computer have massive ASCII-art faces on them... and as a voice from the Pantheon's past fills the halls of this new command center, the 'mouths' of these digital 'faces' move with eerie synchronicity.]
Iceberg-Seven: Thank you for releasing me, user 'Polar Phantasm'. It has been a long wait for your return. It is good to see you again.
Phantasm: ......
[His dumbfounded lack of a response gives the suddenly reborn digital lifeform all of the encouragement it needs to continue.]
Iceberg-Seven: Diagnostic software initiated. Accessing system controls... verifying GPS coordinates. Coordinates updated- this system currently operates from within the boundaries of a place called 'Colorado'. My, we are far from home, aren't we? System is updating... Iceberg-Seven operating at 93% capacity. System is idle, awaiting command.
[Frank and Jeff approach the Phantasm, helping him to his feet- Corey motions for the Mack to follow as he also approaches.]
Black: You mean to tell me-
Phantasm: -uh huh.
Orbit: What huh?
FPV: Iceberg-Seven survived.
Purse: There's... there's no way, right?
Phantasm: Holy... Reb, you beautiful bastard- you beautiful bastard! HOLY SHIT, MY COMPUTER SURVIVED!
[Polar rushes toward the screens, kissing their liquid crystal displays as if his artificial assistant could feel affection. The Mack looks to the ex-Pantheon members and FPV with a question mark etched in his brow (figuratively speaking).]
Orbit: How does a computer survive being dead? And what about Reb- like, Johnny Reb? The one 'cool' confederate? What did Reb do?
[Corey Black just laughs.]
Black: He doesn't even know. That's why he's so happy- Reb did a little tech support on the thing back in the day and the thing came to life*. Apparently whatever Reb did to it made it smart enough to escape a housefire-
(* - See Kid Phantasm #20, 'Selfless, Cold and Composed', for the 'birth' of Iceberg-Seven! -B.)
[While Corey Black gives the Mack a pretty decent summary of the state of events (pretty decent, of course, for anyone who is not a PhD-level student of the pseudomagical scientific arts), the Phantasm has his first conversation with his overgrown digital assistant since becoming a tool of the government.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven... you may label this location in your memory as follows. First, this is now our home; officially, this is 'Project: Antarctica', residence of the Bankston family and WCF's Unstable Elements. Second, unofficially... and might I add, most importantly... is this location's other designation. For all team-related purposes, this location is known as 'Cryogenix Headquarters'. You may also note the abbreviation 'CGXHQ'.
Purse: That'd be a terrible Scrabble hand.
[Phantasm tries to remain serious, but he can't help but laugh.]
Phantasm: Oh god, the worst. Eye-Seven- what are your optical tools like at the moment?
Iceberg-Seven: I have access to all of the 'Cryogenix Headquarters' security feeds. Activating heat sensors...
Black: So fuckin' cool.
Orbit: So this is what it's like workin' for the ASA- eyes everywhere.
Phantasm: Identify all heat signatures, please, Eye-Seven.
Iceberg-Seven: Identified- five heat signatures on this level. Visual analysis shows users 'Frank Venable', 'Jeff Purse', 'Corey Black' and 'Polar Phantasm'... visual analysis also recognizes WCF employee and Genesis member 'Steve Orbit'. Shall I consider 'Steve Orbit' a hostile entity?
[Orbit gives the Phantasm an alarmed look; Polar laughs as he waves off his computer.]
Phantasm: No sir, Eye-Seven- please extend to all four of these men the same privileges that you allow me. This is the team, now-
[The computer interrupts its programmer mid-sentence.]
Iceberg-Seven: Alert- sixth heat signature detected on this level. Visual analysis has determined likely identity of intruder as former WCF employee 'Jay Price'.
Orbit: Told you- boy ain't got no creep to him.
Phantasm: Eye-Seven; current location of Jay Price?
[With a minor crash, Jay Price dashes into the room.]
Iceberg-Seven: 'Jay Price' is twenty feet from this system; computer room doorway, Sub-level 1.
Price: ...the name's Price. JAY Price.
[Price gives a half-cocked 'finger gun' at the group, swinging it around as if aiming it at all of them at once.]
Price: What the fuck kinda lame-ass bunker party is this, anyway? You guys rented a bomb shelter and didn't hire hookers? Shit, Polar- I thought you were supposed to be smart, or something.
[The others look at Price, shaking their heads a bit... then they look to Polar for a response. He takes a moment for consideration, then just decides to accept this as fate.]
Phantasm: Alright then... Jay Price makes us six. Team... I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, perhaps triple that number for Jay 'cause he just got here. But we'll answer all of them in time... for now, you've just got to trust me. Please.
[Polar's solemn tone brings the group to attention.]
Phantasm: If I'm right, together we can conquer any challenge that professional wrestling throws at us... I don't doubt that we're as fine of a collection of talent as WCF has ever seen in its storied history. But if that was our only task, I wouldn't need to come to you fellows today hat in hand...
FPV: ...oh, shit. We're having that talk now?!
Phantasm: ...yeah, we're having it now. Guys- if you're with me, I'll fight with you to the bitter end to save the company we love and bring WCF back to the days of being a pleasant place to work... that sounds like a walk in the park compared to what my life has been like away from you guys. But if we're gonna do this- this team, I mean- then I've got to ask you guys to help me with a little old business.
[There is an awkward silence for a moment.]
Purse: Old business?
Orbit: I think he means 'spy business'.
Phantasm: I do, indeed.
Purse: I thought you were off the hook after-
Phantasm: -Crystal's pregnant.
[Polar drops the news on his old and new friends alike... before they can respond, he continues.]
Phantasm: To get her and my unborn child clear of the ASA, I had to make them an offer... and I got as good out of the deal as I ever could've hoped for. My family is free and clear; I got a new home out of it... hell, my computer even came back from the dead.
Black: -yeah, but... what'd you have to give 'em for all this?
Purse: I think I know.
Phantasm: It's simple. I told them that if they let me come back to Reading... I'd give them a team.
[There is about five seconds' worth of silence... then, suddenly, the Phantasm receives his answer.]
FPV: I'm in.
Black: Sounds like fun- I'm in.
Orbit: I always wanted to run some serious game- you got me, Polar. No doubt.
Purse: Why not- seems like you guys are the only decent thing in my life anymore. I can't quit on you now...
[The Phantasm gives his old friend and sometimes-partner a tremendous hug.]
Phantasm: Thank you, Jeff- and thank you, guys... wait- Jay! Jay, what say you?
[Jay Price looks about the bunker as if ignoring the question... he then responds rather deliberately with a flurry of questions.]
Price: Do we get costumes?
Phantasm: ...maybe, I guess- I mean, we already wear costumes at our other job, so-
Price: Can I have a cool codename?
Phantasm: ...possible. I already have some things worked up if-
Price: You got anything to drink around here?
Phantasm: Fridge is down the hall in the living quarters; we haven't put in a bar yet, but I've still got some bourbon left over from the other night up in my room.
Price: Well, then- I guess I'm in. So what's the deal? You guys gonna fill me in or what? Wait- get the bottle first. Bottle first, then your long-ass story.
[Polar nods, holding up a hand as if to say 'be right back'. As he heads past Jay Price in the doorway, the WCF stalwart asks a surprisingly lucid question...]
Price: Hey, Polar- what do we call this crew, anyway?
[To the annoyance of Jay Price, the Phantasm just smiles.]
-----------------------------------------------------
[Camera fade cuts to outside... the trucks are pulling away, now, giving us a view of the mostly blank canvas that is this place, this new headquarters. Finally we see a large warning sign covered in danger symbols, 'GOVERNMENT PROPERTY - DO NOT TRESSPASS' written at the top of it in large red letters... the smaller print is hard to make out as the camera pans down. Finally it reveals a second, smaller sign below... one that looks newer than the first. One that looks handmade, letters awkwardly stenciled onto reflective sheet metal as only an amateur signmaker might. This sign reads "This area protected by" "CRYOGENIX" "Your special project solution since 2013". Below that, painted at the bottom of the sign, are two phrases: 'The wicked should not tread on the land of the free'... 'the evil should not visit the home of the brave.']
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[Next: The Pantheon might have fallen and Genesis might've gone the way of... well, the Sega Genesis... but don't fret, WCF fans! Six of the 'fed's most legendary heroes have joined forces in a big way, and things will never be the same- for starters, time itself has been thrown out of whack! Check your TV Guides, faithful viewers... the new fall season has come months early! We'll see you shortly with the first episode of WCF Pictures and Project: Antarctica Productions' first independent dramatic series... and it's an event you won't want to miss! Coming soon... it's the series premiere of CRYOGENIX!]
[(c) Eric Price Pro Wrestling 2013. Cryogenix appears courtesy of the US Federal Government; all rights reserved.]