Post by Jay Omega on Jun 27, 2014 14:49:06 GMT -5
*We fade in a magnificently decorated room; a cream coloured vaulted ceiling, golden marble walls, with a thick Persian carpet covering the floor with various dark, earthy tones. Seated in an overstuffed, black leather recliner is Jay Omega, his right ankle resting on his left knee, a half-grin comfortably creasing his features. He picks up a tumbler half filled with an amber liquid from the small mahogany table to his left, takes a sip, and swirls the liquid a few times before replacing it beside a clipboard. Without further preamble, Omega begins his spiel.*
Jay: Well, I'm back, folks. Partly to further express my views on my opponents this Sunday, Adam Young, and Biohazard, and partly... well, mostly because I enjoy listening to intelligent people discuss awesome things. Like me, talking about myself. Hey, I told you it was my favourite subject, didn't I? Consider yourself warned.
*Jay reaches over and picks up the clipboard, resting it in his lap. He glances at the top page, then lifts it to peruse the second. After a moment, he drops the page, and looks back to the camera.*
Jay: First, let me say that I'm a little let down. I introduced myself in a video that was full of holes and inaccuracies, and overtly standoffish, in the hopes of coercing my opponents into speaking up, giving me a better sense of what I was up against. Sadly, my ruse didn't work. Either that, or I was so damn intimidating that Young and Haz took my advice about keeping their mouths shut.
*A flash of disappointment crosses the Omega Man's face, and he gives his head a small shake.*
Jay: And here I had this whole parody skit planned out; my friend Ajira was to portray the part of Ai Dom Yeung, opposite my Biomega, with the intent of mercilessly mocking whatever they might have had to say. And now it seems I wasted my time even bothering to come up with the premise. All right, then. You boys don't want to say anything to me, then I don't have a whole Hell of a lot to say to you. The rest of the WCF Galaxy, on the other hand...
*Jay reaches for the crystal tumbler again, but stops his hand less than halfway, and reconsiders, before withdrawing his hand.*
Jay: So, I've been in the WCF less than a week, and have yet to step into the ring for my debut, but already my social media is blowing up with supporters and detractors, though many of the latter are clearly unfamiliar with me. You'd think fans of this great sport would be a little more knowledgeable, or at least open minded toward doing a bit of research, but nooo. I mean just listen to some of this stuff.
*Omega lowers his electric blue eyes, clears his throat, and reads from the first page.*
Jay: SerpentineIdolizer says: "Another run of the mill, cocky asshole in the WCF? Yeah, 'cause the wrestling world needs another one of those."
*Jay looks back at the camera with an arched eyebrow.*
Jay: "Run of the mill"? I'd hardly say that describes me. I'm more like one in a mill...ion. And as for the cocky asshole bit? Well, I can't honestly dispute that, though I've always preferred the term "puckish rogue".
*A quick flash of perfect teeth, barely passable as a smile, and Omega goes back to reading.*
Jay: BlasFemur had this to say: "Who does this guy think he is? Biohazard was the first man to win the WCF Television title!"
*A snort of derision rips its way from Omega's nose as he looks back up, his left hand reaching for the crystal tumbler beside him.*
Jay: First TV Champ, huh? That was, what, a decade and a half ago? And what's he done since then, besides suck out loud? Two things; jack, and shit. And as for who I think I am, I'm pretty sure I already introduced myself earlier in the week. I'm Jay Omega, the most entertaining man in the industry. Hell, WCF's stock has risen four and a half points since my first video aired, and it's just going to keep climbing higher once this self-contained galaxy gets a load of what I'm capable of.
*Jay waves his hand dismissively, as though brushing away such negativity, sloshing some of the booze onto the clipboard in the process, then flips to the second page.*
Jay: It's not all bad, though. I've built a huge fanbase during my career, and it's inevitable that some of them would be in the WCF's audience. Check this out; "OMFG! The Hardcore Maniac in the WCF?!? Business is about to pick up!"
*Omega rolls his eyes at the phrasing, but puts on a pleased smile anyway.*
Jay: First of all, HorseFan3277, it's spelled O-M-E-G-A, not O-M-F-G. Secondly, stealing catchphrases is my shtick. Leave it to the professionals, m'kay? Not that I'm ungrateful. Lord knows I'd never have reached the heights I have, if not for the loyal support of my fans.
Ajira(offscreen): And the help of a few friends.
*Jay flips back to the first page, scans a few lines, then brings his gaze up to meet Ajira's eyes.*
Jay: You're not allowed to talk while filming anymore; it seems you're not polling well with the fans these days. Outside of Japan, anyway. And speaking of the Japanese fans, I do hope the Tokyo Dome isn't bereft of paying customers familiar with my... our... legendary performances here. After all, this is where we broke into the business.
Ajira(offscreen): I'm not going to keep my mouth shut just because a few dozen people have a problem with me.
Jay: Hundred. A few hundred fans are disgruntled by our friendly banter. Apparently, it takes away from the seriousness, but not in the good way.
Ajira(offscreen): What seriousness?
*The Omega Man shrugs helplessly, a baffled expression on his face.*
Jay: Hell if I know. One thing I learned after working for American Championship Wrestling, is that you can't take shit too seriously, or else it sucks the fun right out of everything. And you know I love my fun. And my pot.
Ajira(offscreen): And yourself.
*Jay nods sagely, as though Ajira had just said something of great significance, rather than stating the obvious.*
Jay: Too true. Sometimes I love myself all night, when I'm too lazy to pick up some strange.
Ajira(offscreen): Yeah, thanks for the image, Osbourne.
Jay: Funny you should mention him. I sent Steve an invitation to come watch my debut.
*Ajira sighs disgustedly, and the camera tilts down slightly, as though he had hung his head. The image tilts back up as Omega stands, sips from the glass, then walks toward the far end of the room, motioning for Ajira to follow. The camera turns to the right, sweeping past an enormous flatscreen television, and follows the Hardcore Maniac down a short hallway, one wall comprised of a floor to ceiling glass display case containing a multitude of keepsakes from Omega's travels around the globe. We pass through the kitchen, a blend of traditional Japanese décor and modern functionality, and Jay pauses just before the sliding glass door to regard a large bag of gummi worms sitting on the black granite counter. His gaze flits to the drink in his hand, then back to the gelatinous worms, then repeats the process. With a shrug, the Omega Man drains the contents of the glass in a single quaff, and picks up the bag of candy before continuing out onto the balcony. Jay leans against the railing, his back to the sparkling splendor of Tokyo's nighttime skyline, and pops a handful of gummi worms into his mouth.*
Jay: By the way, I must thank Chelsea Black Armstrong; I stopped by her campaign headquarters earlier, because I couldn't resist the allure of free candy. That right there is a brilliant campaign strategy; bribery has rarely failed me in the past, so it's not surprise that she's doing so well in the polls. Of course, I voted for Alex Jones, but only because I respect an asshole who's straightforward about being an asshole; you always know what to expect from those types. Never trust them when they tell you they've got your back; they're just looking for the best place to plant the knife.
*A cryptic gleam enters Omega's eye as a slow smile creeps across his face.*
Jay: Of course, I don't have to worry about things like that. See, Steven Osbourne isn't the only former colleague I've been in contact with recently. I can't claim to speak for any of them, but I'm willing to bet heavily that the WCF is going to have a small influx of new talent real soon. Talent that will make the suits in the head office sit up sharp, and take notice.
*Another handful of gummi worms gets devoured, as Jay scans over the page in his hand once more. A puzzled expression furrows his brow for a moment, but fades as he lifts his gaze once more, smoothing his features.*
Jay: Hmm. I could've sworn I had some more negative social commentary to refute. Bah, I'm sure there's more to come, anyway. I suppose I could talk some more about how many people are praising me, but what for? After all, in just a few short days, my inherent awesomeness will be displayed for all to see; shining bright like an O type star in a galaxy of brown dwarves.
*Omega sets the bag of gummi worms on his clipboard, reaches into the left pocket of his dark blue jeans, and pulls out a black cigarette case. Of course, anyone in the know wouldn't be so naïve as to think the case contained mundane tobacco. Jay shakes a fair-sized joint to the edge of the case, and plucks it out with his lips. He quickly replaces the case in his pocket, withdrawing a gold Zippo lighter from the same pocket, and sparks up. The lighter quickly follows the case back into the confines of the denim, and the Hardcore Maniac takes a few moments to enjoy his personal vice. The marijuana quickly takes effect, as when Jay speaks next, his tone is more relaxed.*
Jay: You know what gets me? I know Adam Young has a lot to say. After all, if Twitter is to be believed, he never shuts up. And his opinion of himself is almost as high as mine is of me. Yet he can't even find five minutes to cut a promo, and acknowledge me? That's insulting, and I've never been one to let insults slide. I understand why he claims to be the most hated man in the WCF, but I don't think Adam understands the difference between hatred, and pity.
*Omega hauls in another lungful of intoxicating smoke, then exhales it in twin streams through his nostrils.*
Jay: I've been quietly lurking, watching him and Caliban go about their pissing contest to see who's the more immature troll, and I can't help but think "jeez, why don't you lovebirds just fuck and get it over with"? I'm sure both of them will feel better once they realize no one cares what they have to say, anyway. Caliban just tries too hard, and Young increasingly reminds me of a fifteen year old virgin bragging about his numerous sexual conquests.
*Jay shrugs offhandedly, hits the joint, then flicks the ash over the edge of the balcony.*
Jay: Sorry, kid, but teddy bears don't count. They've got to be living, breathing, and most importantly, willing. Which removes any doubts I might have had. Quite clearly the only time Adam Young has ever been in a vagina, was the day he was born. You need to get your priorities straight, bucko. You're not facing Caliban at Blast, you're up against the hottest thing to hit this company since Arabella Montgomery.
*Omega waggles his eyebrows suggestively, makes a phone shape with his left hand, and mouths the words "Call me". Then his eyes widen momentarily, as he realizes how that must have looked.*
Jay: Ahem, I was suggesting that Arabella should call me, not you, Adam. That's just gross. I have no intention of helping Mister Young lose his virginity, though he's certainly going to get fucked up Sunday night. And bringing up Sunday night makes me feel like I've forgotten something, but what?
*The Omega Man places the doobie between his lips, and taps his chin a few times with his forefinger. A glimmer of remembrance hits his eyes as he snaps his fingers.*
Jay: Of course, Biohazard. Sorry to downplay your role in this match so much, old bean, it's just that you're so thoroughly forgettable. And unlike Adam, you haven't done or said anything recent enough for me to care about. I ask you, is that the mark of a champion? Is that something an established superstar would do? No, to both questions. A true superstar, a true champion, former or otherwise, would not allow some upstart new blood to just waltz in and start talking smack, but that's exactly what's happened here. Who knows, maybe the two of you were smart enough to check out some of the highlights of my career, and saw the brutality of the matches I've thrived in. Saw the lengths I'm willing to go to, in order to pick up the win.
*Passion flows into Jay's voice, and his piercing gaze gains in intensity; his eyes seemingly becoming diamond-tipped augers boring through the camera lens, and into the very hearts of his opponents.*
Jay: Don't expect any mercy, because I have none to give. Don't expect any rookie mistakes, for I'm as seasoned as the Colonel's chicken. But most importantly, don't expect to win, because you most assuredly won't, either one of you. Adam Young, Biohazard, the two of you may have once had what it takes to make names for yourselves, but those halcyon days are past.
*The camera slowly zooms in, until Omega's eyes fill the screen.*
Jay: In the end, it all boils down to this: I will win, because I am better. End of story.
*The scene then fades to black.*
Jay: Well, I'm back, folks. Partly to further express my views on my opponents this Sunday, Adam Young, and Biohazard, and partly... well, mostly because I enjoy listening to intelligent people discuss awesome things. Like me, talking about myself. Hey, I told you it was my favourite subject, didn't I? Consider yourself warned.
*Jay reaches over and picks up the clipboard, resting it in his lap. He glances at the top page, then lifts it to peruse the second. After a moment, he drops the page, and looks back to the camera.*
Jay: First, let me say that I'm a little let down. I introduced myself in a video that was full of holes and inaccuracies, and overtly standoffish, in the hopes of coercing my opponents into speaking up, giving me a better sense of what I was up against. Sadly, my ruse didn't work. Either that, or I was so damn intimidating that Young and Haz took my advice about keeping their mouths shut.
*A flash of disappointment crosses the Omega Man's face, and he gives his head a small shake.*
Jay: And here I had this whole parody skit planned out; my friend Ajira was to portray the part of Ai Dom Yeung, opposite my Biomega, with the intent of mercilessly mocking whatever they might have had to say. And now it seems I wasted my time even bothering to come up with the premise. All right, then. You boys don't want to say anything to me, then I don't have a whole Hell of a lot to say to you. The rest of the WCF Galaxy, on the other hand...
*Jay reaches for the crystal tumbler again, but stops his hand less than halfway, and reconsiders, before withdrawing his hand.*
Jay: So, I've been in the WCF less than a week, and have yet to step into the ring for my debut, but already my social media is blowing up with supporters and detractors, though many of the latter are clearly unfamiliar with me. You'd think fans of this great sport would be a little more knowledgeable, or at least open minded toward doing a bit of research, but nooo. I mean just listen to some of this stuff.
*Omega lowers his electric blue eyes, clears his throat, and reads from the first page.*
Jay: SerpentineIdolizer says: "Another run of the mill, cocky asshole in the WCF? Yeah, 'cause the wrestling world needs another one of those."
*Jay looks back at the camera with an arched eyebrow.*
Jay: "Run of the mill"? I'd hardly say that describes me. I'm more like one in a mill...ion. And as for the cocky asshole bit? Well, I can't honestly dispute that, though I've always preferred the term "puckish rogue".
*A quick flash of perfect teeth, barely passable as a smile, and Omega goes back to reading.*
Jay: BlasFemur had this to say: "Who does this guy think he is? Biohazard was the first man to win the WCF Television title!"
*A snort of derision rips its way from Omega's nose as he looks back up, his left hand reaching for the crystal tumbler beside him.*
Jay: First TV Champ, huh? That was, what, a decade and a half ago? And what's he done since then, besides suck out loud? Two things; jack, and shit. And as for who I think I am, I'm pretty sure I already introduced myself earlier in the week. I'm Jay Omega, the most entertaining man in the industry. Hell, WCF's stock has risen four and a half points since my first video aired, and it's just going to keep climbing higher once this self-contained galaxy gets a load of what I'm capable of.
*Jay waves his hand dismissively, as though brushing away such negativity, sloshing some of the booze onto the clipboard in the process, then flips to the second page.*
Jay: It's not all bad, though. I've built a huge fanbase during my career, and it's inevitable that some of them would be in the WCF's audience. Check this out; "OMFG! The Hardcore Maniac in the WCF?!? Business is about to pick up!"
*Omega rolls his eyes at the phrasing, but puts on a pleased smile anyway.*
Jay: First of all, HorseFan3277, it's spelled O-M-E-G-A, not O-M-F-G. Secondly, stealing catchphrases is my shtick. Leave it to the professionals, m'kay? Not that I'm ungrateful. Lord knows I'd never have reached the heights I have, if not for the loyal support of my fans.
Ajira(offscreen): And the help of a few friends.
*Jay flips back to the first page, scans a few lines, then brings his gaze up to meet Ajira's eyes.*
Jay: You're not allowed to talk while filming anymore; it seems you're not polling well with the fans these days. Outside of Japan, anyway. And speaking of the Japanese fans, I do hope the Tokyo Dome isn't bereft of paying customers familiar with my... our... legendary performances here. After all, this is where we broke into the business.
Ajira(offscreen): I'm not going to keep my mouth shut just because a few dozen people have a problem with me.
Jay: Hundred. A few hundred fans are disgruntled by our friendly banter. Apparently, it takes away from the seriousness, but not in the good way.
Ajira(offscreen): What seriousness?
*The Omega Man shrugs helplessly, a baffled expression on his face.*
Jay: Hell if I know. One thing I learned after working for American Championship Wrestling, is that you can't take shit too seriously, or else it sucks the fun right out of everything. And you know I love my fun. And my pot.
Ajira(offscreen): And yourself.
*Jay nods sagely, as though Ajira had just said something of great significance, rather than stating the obvious.*
Jay: Too true. Sometimes I love myself all night, when I'm too lazy to pick up some strange.
Ajira(offscreen): Yeah, thanks for the image, Osbourne.
Jay: Funny you should mention him. I sent Steve an invitation to come watch my debut.
*Ajira sighs disgustedly, and the camera tilts down slightly, as though he had hung his head. The image tilts back up as Omega stands, sips from the glass, then walks toward the far end of the room, motioning for Ajira to follow. The camera turns to the right, sweeping past an enormous flatscreen television, and follows the Hardcore Maniac down a short hallway, one wall comprised of a floor to ceiling glass display case containing a multitude of keepsakes from Omega's travels around the globe. We pass through the kitchen, a blend of traditional Japanese décor and modern functionality, and Jay pauses just before the sliding glass door to regard a large bag of gummi worms sitting on the black granite counter. His gaze flits to the drink in his hand, then back to the gelatinous worms, then repeats the process. With a shrug, the Omega Man drains the contents of the glass in a single quaff, and picks up the bag of candy before continuing out onto the balcony. Jay leans against the railing, his back to the sparkling splendor of Tokyo's nighttime skyline, and pops a handful of gummi worms into his mouth.*
Jay: By the way, I must thank Chelsea Black Armstrong; I stopped by her campaign headquarters earlier, because I couldn't resist the allure of free candy. That right there is a brilliant campaign strategy; bribery has rarely failed me in the past, so it's not surprise that she's doing so well in the polls. Of course, I voted for Alex Jones, but only because I respect an asshole who's straightforward about being an asshole; you always know what to expect from those types. Never trust them when they tell you they've got your back; they're just looking for the best place to plant the knife.
*A cryptic gleam enters Omega's eye as a slow smile creeps across his face.*
Jay: Of course, I don't have to worry about things like that. See, Steven Osbourne isn't the only former colleague I've been in contact with recently. I can't claim to speak for any of them, but I'm willing to bet heavily that the WCF is going to have a small influx of new talent real soon. Talent that will make the suits in the head office sit up sharp, and take notice.
*Another handful of gummi worms gets devoured, as Jay scans over the page in his hand once more. A puzzled expression furrows his brow for a moment, but fades as he lifts his gaze once more, smoothing his features.*
Jay: Hmm. I could've sworn I had some more negative social commentary to refute. Bah, I'm sure there's more to come, anyway. I suppose I could talk some more about how many people are praising me, but what for? After all, in just a few short days, my inherent awesomeness will be displayed for all to see; shining bright like an O type star in a galaxy of brown dwarves.
*Omega sets the bag of gummi worms on his clipboard, reaches into the left pocket of his dark blue jeans, and pulls out a black cigarette case. Of course, anyone in the know wouldn't be so naïve as to think the case contained mundane tobacco. Jay shakes a fair-sized joint to the edge of the case, and plucks it out with his lips. He quickly replaces the case in his pocket, withdrawing a gold Zippo lighter from the same pocket, and sparks up. The lighter quickly follows the case back into the confines of the denim, and the Hardcore Maniac takes a few moments to enjoy his personal vice. The marijuana quickly takes effect, as when Jay speaks next, his tone is more relaxed.*
Jay: You know what gets me? I know Adam Young has a lot to say. After all, if Twitter is to be believed, he never shuts up. And his opinion of himself is almost as high as mine is of me. Yet he can't even find five minutes to cut a promo, and acknowledge me? That's insulting, and I've never been one to let insults slide. I understand why he claims to be the most hated man in the WCF, but I don't think Adam understands the difference between hatred, and pity.
*Omega hauls in another lungful of intoxicating smoke, then exhales it in twin streams through his nostrils.*
Jay: I've been quietly lurking, watching him and Caliban go about their pissing contest to see who's the more immature troll, and I can't help but think "jeez, why don't you lovebirds just fuck and get it over with"? I'm sure both of them will feel better once they realize no one cares what they have to say, anyway. Caliban just tries too hard, and Young increasingly reminds me of a fifteen year old virgin bragging about his numerous sexual conquests.
*Jay shrugs offhandedly, hits the joint, then flicks the ash over the edge of the balcony.*
Jay: Sorry, kid, but teddy bears don't count. They've got to be living, breathing, and most importantly, willing. Which removes any doubts I might have had. Quite clearly the only time Adam Young has ever been in a vagina, was the day he was born. You need to get your priorities straight, bucko. You're not facing Caliban at Blast, you're up against the hottest thing to hit this company since Arabella Montgomery.
*Omega waggles his eyebrows suggestively, makes a phone shape with his left hand, and mouths the words "Call me". Then his eyes widen momentarily, as he realizes how that must have looked.*
Jay: Ahem, I was suggesting that Arabella should call me, not you, Adam. That's just gross. I have no intention of helping Mister Young lose his virginity, though he's certainly going to get fucked up Sunday night. And bringing up Sunday night makes me feel like I've forgotten something, but what?
*The Omega Man places the doobie between his lips, and taps his chin a few times with his forefinger. A glimmer of remembrance hits his eyes as he snaps his fingers.*
Jay: Of course, Biohazard. Sorry to downplay your role in this match so much, old bean, it's just that you're so thoroughly forgettable. And unlike Adam, you haven't done or said anything recent enough for me to care about. I ask you, is that the mark of a champion? Is that something an established superstar would do? No, to both questions. A true superstar, a true champion, former or otherwise, would not allow some upstart new blood to just waltz in and start talking smack, but that's exactly what's happened here. Who knows, maybe the two of you were smart enough to check out some of the highlights of my career, and saw the brutality of the matches I've thrived in. Saw the lengths I'm willing to go to, in order to pick up the win.
*Passion flows into Jay's voice, and his piercing gaze gains in intensity; his eyes seemingly becoming diamond-tipped augers boring through the camera lens, and into the very hearts of his opponents.*
Jay: Don't expect any mercy, because I have none to give. Don't expect any rookie mistakes, for I'm as seasoned as the Colonel's chicken. But most importantly, don't expect to win, because you most assuredly won't, either one of you. Adam Young, Biohazard, the two of you may have once had what it takes to make names for yourselves, but those halcyon days are past.
*The camera slowly zooms in, until Omega's eyes fill the screen.*
Jay: In the end, it all boils down to this: I will win, because I am better. End of story.
*The scene then fades to black.*
