Post by Jay Omega on Jul 2, 2014 16:55:14 GMT -5
~Jay Omega rubbed at his temples, trying to soothe the oncoming headache he felt behind his eyes. A little too much sake, mixed with the bright lights of Kabukicho, Tokyo's red light district, was a bad combination for any foreigner unfamiliar with the region, though that description hardly fit the athlete known as the Omega Man. A bittersweet smile flitted about his face, as the sights and sounds of Tokyo brought back a flood of memories, both malicious and benign.
That smile soon soured on his lips, though, for memories of Japan inevitably brought back memories of Carol; his first love, mother of his child, and the greatest loss Omega had ever experienced. Twelve years later, and her untimely death still tore at his heart, a reminder that some days, his chosen profession could get a little too personal, and some people took things too far.
With great effort, Jay pushed the thoughts away, trying to clear his head of not just the memories, but the alcohol as well. He couldn't afford to let himself become distracted, not with his reputation on the line. Making an initial impact just wasn't as easy for him as it had been in his early days, though that had more to do with his younger self's lack of coherence than his drive.
The thought struck a chord deep within Omega, and he took a moment to examine it further. Was he perhaps taking himself too seriously? Looking into his memories again, Jay concluded that he had indeed enjoyed himself, and the sport, far more when he hadn't cared about titles. Conversely, as he'd climbed the ladder of success rung by rung, while his mind had come back together, the rest of his life had fallen apart.
That train of thought derailed itself, as its course brought Omega to memories of Melissa; his second chance. But that had been a lie concocted by Jay's greatest tormentor, the dark demon whose legacy haunted Omega even now, though surely the man was dead. Whatever Scathe's final fate may have been, his evil touch still lingered in the back of the Omega Man's mind, like a stalking predator waiting for the right circumstances to unleash his wrath from beyond the grave.
"No. I'm free of him." Jay muttered to himself, though he knew it was far from true. He could feel that dark blight lurking in the recesses of his thoughts, sharing space with the broken man he had been; the composite he'd become. Was he happy with this forced arrangement? No, of course not; the mere idea forced him to shake his head. He couldn't be happy so long as he knew that TaRtArUs was still alive; the man was too unpredictable, and he held the keys to the Omega Man's freedom, or enslavement.
Omega tried to force his mind clear once again, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the cool brick of the alley mouth he stood in. His relief was short lived as he considered his surroundings, and realized where he was. Was it fate which had brought him to this particular section of Kabukicho, rife with organised crime, or had his mild intoxication allowed that buried portion of himself the free reign needed to guide his steps? Regardless, he was in an area he knew he shouldn't be, but before his feet caught up to his brain's decision to move along, he decided it must have been fate.
"You were told not to come here, dog." It was a voice that was all too familiar to him which called out, in Japanese, from further in the alley.
"Fuck." Jay muttered in English. A momentary spike of panic rose in the back of Omega's neck, but he ruthlessly quashed it. These were not the type of people you showed even the slightest hint of weakness to. He opened his eyes, pushed away from the wall, and turned to face the speaker, easily slipping into Japanese as a wide grin split his face.
"Taisei, it's been a long time. How's the family?"
Taisei ignored the question, and calmly slapped the baton in his right hand against the palm of his left. Behind him, Omega counted three more thugs, none of them sporting nearly the same amount of tattoos as their leader, but all easily marked as younger members of prominent Yakuza families
"Come on, man," Jay said, a note of exasperation in his voice, "You know damn well we won that race fair and square. I understand about protecting your image, that's why I agreed pay your father--" Jay cut off as Taisei took a step forward, malice clear in his eyes.
"This isn't about money, this is about revenge. You embarrassed me--" This time, it was Omega who interrupted, his anger apparent.
"You embarrassed yourself, Taisei. I paid a debt I didn't owe, but you and your boys came after me anyway, so I gave you the trouble you were looking for. And now here you are again. Didn't you learn anything the last time I kicked your ass?"
"Yes. I learned not to take chances. You don't have any help with you this time." Taisei said, as he took another step forward, raising the baton.
Exploding into motion, Jay sprung forward to meet the charge, snapped his left arm out to catch Taisei's wrist, and pulled him in for a headbutt to the nose. Omega released his first attacker as the rest surged forward, and pivoted on his heel to drive a back elbow into the face of the diminutive, if muscular, foe approaching from his right.
Spinning back the other way, Jay leaped into the air, continuing the spin, and lashed out with his right foot in a flying roundhouse kick, catching Taisei flush in the face, which broke his nose with a moist cracking sound.
Clutching his ruined face, Taisei stumbled back a few steps, forcing another of the assailants to nearly lose his balance as he slipped around his leader. The man came forward, a length of chain clenched in his fist, and took a wild overhand swing, easily dodged as Omega sprang to his left, then back to the right, putting the momentum behind a haymaker.
The fourth member of Taisei's group stepped in then, brandishing a knife with a wickedly curved, serrated blade. Taking no chances himself, Jay quickly shucked his black silk shirt, winding it around his left hand and wrist just in time to catch the blade on the material, rather than his unprotected flesh. A quick but forceful kick to the stones sent the knife clattering to the pavement, as the wiry man sank to his knees, agony etched on his features.
Outnumbered as he was, Omega knew he had few options, but running wasn't among them. The local police were unlikely to take the side of a foreigner against the Yakuza, which meant the only course available to the Omega Man was to win this fight quickly and decisively. A feat which would require more luck than skill.
His luck held out a few moments more, as he drove another pair of elbows into the head of the second man he'd hit, staggering the now witless foe into the side of a grimy dumpster. The tide of the battle quickly shifted, though, as the man with the chain, and Taisei came forward in tandem, the chain-wielder quick-stepping to Jay's right, forcing him to turn his back to the wall to keep both opponents in view, and cutting off any thoughts of retreat out of the alley.
Electric blue eyes darting back and forth between the two slowly advancing criminals, Omega surreptitiously worked the toe of his left foot under the cross guard of knife at his feet, unwinding his shirt from his forearm as he did so, more to keep the attention of his adversaries off his feet than anything else. Snapping the shirt taut between his hands, Jay reflexively used it to block a swing from the bloodied Taisei's baton, resulting in an odd metallic clack, then dropped one end of the shirt as he kicked the knife up into his waiting hand.
Seeing Jay arm himself, the chain-wielder swung his weapon over his head twice, then out at Omega with a sidelong swipe. The Omega Man dropped flat quickly, then popped back up, and scored a slashing hit on the forearm; a deep gash that disarmed his opponent, and had the man backing away, clutching his now useless arm to his chest.
Having thought he'd earned a small reprieve, Jay turned back to Taisei, only to find that the odds were back up to three on one. A tinge of worry floated at the outside of Omega's concentration, but he forced it back as he forced a smile to his lips.
"Let's talk about this, guys. There's no need for all of you to wind up in the hospital. I'll let you walk away and tell everyone you beat my ass, so long as you drop this stupid grudge." He said, trying to reach a compromise. It was a long shot, but he had to end the confrontation soon. This was no wrestling match, no referee could call for a bell, and these three wouldn't heed it anyway. A quick glance at the three faces in front of him, one bloody, one bruised, and the other slightly gray, told the Omega Man his suggestion of a peaceful resolution wasn't going to happen.
With a resigned sigh, Jay burst forward again, hoping to overwhelm his attackers with sheer fury. A quick feint to his right was followed by an uppercut to the ashen-faced man on the other side of Taisei, which kept him just barely off to the side of Taisei's baton swing. Not fooled by the feint, the bruised, and still slightly dazed man to Omega's right slipped in behind him in the wake of the baton, grabbing hold of Jay's right arm, twisting it behind his back with a hammerlock.
Seeing the opportunity, Taisei swung backhand, connecting a glancing blow with the wildly thrashing Omega Man's head. Jay's eyes glazed momentarily, but he managed to shrug off the strike, though his momentary lapse caused his grip to slacken, and dropped the knife in his left hand. Redoubling his efforts to break free, he saw the end of the fight approach swiftly, when the gray faced man latched onto his other arm, bringing a mumbled curse from Omega's lips.
He tried to kick out at Taisei, but a well placed shin deflected his foot out wide. Another blow rained down on his head, and while it didn't have full force behind it, this one connected solidly with the crown of his skull. Jay slumped from the force of the hit, only the twin grips of the men on either side keeping him upright. A vicious smile crept over Taisei's face, made all the more gruesome by the blood flowing freely from his broken nose. He snapped a lightning fast kick into Omega's ribs, then another. An offhand punch connected with the Omega Man's jaw, followed by a baton strike to the other side of the ribs
The baton came up high again, but before it could descend, a fist sized rock hummed into the alley, slamming into Taisei's sternum. A mixture of shock and pain fought on Taisei's features, with pain quickly winning out as he fell to his knees, labouring for breath. Confused, the man holding Omega's right arm glanced over his shoulder, just in time to catch a chain-wrapped fist with his cheek, cracking the bone, and sending him sliding toward unconsciousness.
Now the only one supporting the barely conscious Omega Man, the final combatant on his feet released his burden, and spun about to face whatever interloper had dared interfere. When his gaze fell upon Ajira casually swinging the short length of chain in one hand, his eyes widened, and his face lost what little colour it had regained.
"One chance." Ajira calmly stated, "Run. Now."
Without hesitation, the thug nodded and took off down the alley, his gait awkward from the residual pain in his groin. Ajira eyed the other two warily, Taisei's face a mask of hatred, but he made no move. A prod to the ribs of the other man showed that he was indeed unconscious, and was unlikely to spring to his feet any time soon.
"Well, I don't think I'm drunk anymore."
Nor was Jay, on the other hand. Waves of pain assaulted his senses, and he barely managed to shuffle himself into a sitting position against the alley wall. His unfocused eyes found Ajira, and a puzzled expression crossed his face; fading away as his consciousness was crushed beneath a tidal wave of blackness.
More than an hour later, Omega opened his eyes, somewhat surprised to find himself stretched out on the black leather couch which took up one wall of his penthouse apartment's living room. His gaze crept slowly about the room, for moving his eyes too fast sent shivers of nausea through his gut. The motion of his head drew the attention of Ajira, who had been reading nearby.
"My hero." Jay said with a wry smile. "How'd you find me?"
"Wasn't hard," Came the reply, "I just followed the blood trail."
"Blood trail?" Omega asked, confused. Only then did he recall the thug he'd slashed, remembered the tug as the serrated blade scraped against bone.
"You weren't answering your cell, then this bleeding punk ran by me," Ajira shrugged, "Wasn't hard to add two and two together."
With a sigh, Jay reached for his discarded shirt, put his hand in the breast pocket, and pulled out the remains of his Diamond Crypto smartphone; tiny shards of the shattered screen tinkling as they hit the marble floor.
"Well, that's money well spent." He said, then tossed it onto the coffee table beside him, before wearily climbing to his feet.
"You shouldn't be moving. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion, and you need rest." Ajira said, concern clear in his voice, but Omega brushed the comment away.
"I'm fine. I just need something in my stomach. Can you run down to Hassho, and grab some take-out?"
"You know they hate it when you do that. They're not a fast food chain."
"Yet they allow it, because I pay double. All mighty yen, my friend." Jay smiled easily, though his eyes froze as they fell upon an addition to the living room that he hadn't made; and old VCR now sat amid the jumble of video games and DVDs, with a cassette waiting to be pushed in. He continued as though nothing were out of the ordinary, though.
"And while you're out, can you grab some Pepsi Mont Blanc? Maybe some Skittles?"
"What kind?" Ajira asked tiredly.
"One of each." Came the immediate reply.
With an overdramatic sigh, and a resigned nod, Ajira gathered up his car keys. He had barely closed the door when Omega all but leapt at the television, and shoved the tape into the VCR. A burst of static filled the TV's 72 inch screen, followed by a few seconds of blackness, before it faded into a rooftop view of Tokyo. A young blonde stood in the center of the view, fear readily visible on her pretty face, and causing a quiver in her delicate British accent.
"H-hello. My name is Rebecca and I need help."
"Quick!" A male voice said in English, almost too quietly to be picked up.
"I... Three, nine, one, twelve, four, seven!" The frightened young lady blurted, and a sense of serenity immediately settled over the Omega Man. He sank back, stretching his legs out in front of him, as an enormous man walked into the frame of his television.
"Thank you very much, Beckers. I think I can take it from here." He said to the girl
"I can... go?" She asked incredulously.
"That was the deal, wasn't it?" The man asked, sounding confused.
"What deal? You kidnapped me, dragged me up here, and made me read those numbers!" She said, on the verge of tears.
"I didn't kidnap you, I borrowed you. There's a huge difference, because now you can go back to whatever you were doing before I saw you and thought you'd make a great distraction, because little Jimmy likes pretty ladies."
"You... I'm... What?" Rebecca asked, as she had quickly become more confused than afraid; a reaction not uncommon when dealing with the madman called TaRtArUs.
"Jimmy doesn't want to listen to me anymore, so I had to trick him with a pretty face. You just reminded him that we're good friends, and now he's going to be a liiiittle more open-minded to the idea of hearing me out."
True enough, Jay felt no desire to stop the tape, despite a voice in the back of his head frantically screaming for him to do just that. He wondered why that voice was so insistent; surely TaRtArUs was his friend?
"Hi there, ol' buddy, ol' pal, 'ol numerous superlatives!" TaRtArUs said into the camera, as he adjusted the black and red jester's hat pulled down over his face, his visible features a frozen mask of glee with an ever-present manic smile. "By now, you should have met up with and old acquaintance of ours, and if he followed orders, he should have given you a bit of a knock to the noggin. Sorry about that, but you're always more fun to talk to after the bell rings."
The black and crimson clad giant on Omega's screen sat down in front of the camera, and a flash of disapproval touched his eyes. He remained silent for a few moments, either gathering his thoughts, or listening to some internal advice.
"You've been very naughty, Jay. I'm not happy that you managed to eliminate Scathe; he was a useful tool. Congratulations on pulling it off, though! I never would have expected the Irishman to come through. But then you dropped off the radar for a few years. Tsk tsk. How am I supposed to keep an eye on you, if I can't keep an eye on you? No-no-no, that won't do at all."
TaRtArUs waggled his finger, then crouched down, and idly dipped that same finger in a puddle at his feet. He licked the finger as he stood again, and turned his head to look out at the Tokyo horizon.
"I was a pretty surprised when I got a call from Mister Waki-chocky, or Mishy-mashy... the bald guy with the eyebrows. You really should have known better than to come to Japan; you stand out. You know what else stands out? Your dick. Not, like, your dick dick, your dick attitude. You're so full of yourself, you've forgotten about having fun. It's like you're stuck in that American Championship mindset, not the freewheeling Canadian roots I nurtured."
The big man puffed out his chest proudly, and his face-splitting grin somehow become bigger. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a compact audio cassette recorder.
"But lucky for you, I've got your back. I hoped Project Senshi could continue without direct oversight, but your evolution doesn't fit the original parameters anymore, so we're gonna have to improvise. Ooo, this is so exciting!"
TaRtArUs pressed the play button on the cassette player, which issued forth a discordant string of clicks and chirps that ended with a gong. The watching Omega Man's posture changed again, as he snapped to rapt attention.
"Achtung! Initiate special protocols Living Colour, Homegrown, and Cleaning Lady. Authorization: Wookiee Indigo Newton, nine-nine-one."
"Command code recognized," Jay spoke monotonously, "Special protocols initiated, memory partitions engaged in new alignment."
"Now watch some Star Trek, and for Buddha's sake, enjoy yourself a little more!" Came a parting retort from TaRtArUs, when the image on the television abruptly changed to an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
A haze rested over Jay's mind for some time, and his unfocused eyes lost their glaze halfway through the next episode, just before Ajira came back through the door, his arms laden with bags.
"Where the hell have you been?" The Omega Man cried immediately, "You need to prep the camera; it's go time!" He wasted no more time with explanations, and took off down the hall to his bedroom. Ajira let out a long-suffering sigh, unburdened himself, and made the necessary preparations.~
*We fade in on a golden marble hallway, just as Jay Omega steps out of a doorway at the far end. His blue jeans are standard fare, though he wears a black T-shirt covered in sparkling green script which says "Steve Orbit: Motherf#cking Pimp" superimposed over a picture of a flamboyant purple hat. Most striking about the Omega Man's appearance, though, is the dark colouring of his blackened right eye. Jay approaches the camera, turning aside as his chest fills the screen, and we follow him into the kitchen, where he hops up onto the black granite counter, beside the chrome range.*
Jay: Kon'nichiwa futatabi. Anata wa, watashi ga T?ky? de mada gozen miru koto ga dekimasu--
*Jay cuts off with a sheepish look, and shakes his head.*
Jay: English, Jay. English. Hello, again. You can see I'm still in Tokyo, because I fuckin' love Japan. I keep this apartment for my frequent visits, since the penthouse at the Imperial Hotel Tokyo is almost always booked with high-end names. Kind of like myself; once I make my initial splash in a wrestling company, I consistently get booked against the top competition. I must have made a bigger impact at Blast than I thought, because Lerch didn't hesitate in granting me a match against my long-time object of hatred; my predecessor, the Great Hypocrite himself--
Ajira(offscreen): Uh, Jay? You do know this isn't the same Jayson Price, don't you?
*Omega seems to take this in stride, though he regards Ajira quizzically.*
Jay: He's not? Are you sure?
Ajira(offscreen, incredulous): How could you not know that? We watched the World Championship match from the Robot Restaurant.
Jay: No, you watched the match. I was drinking with Hyena, and he makes Craig look like a lightweight. Price really seemed different to you?
Ajira(offscreen): Uh, yeah. In the age of the Internet, it's unbelievable you can be so clueless.
Jay: In this age of palm-sized computers, and alien cloning technology, it's unbelievable you believe I'm supposed to believe you, when you say the Price is wrong. No, he's up to something, I'm telling you. Price is almost as sneaky as a snake, but I'm on to him. And if he thinks he's got me fooled, well, he's going to be pretty damned surprised.
Ajira(offscreen): Yes, he's going to be surprised.
*Jay ignores the comment, his icy blue eyes glossing over as his mind drifts back into the mists of the past. When he speaks, he sounds more like he's talking to memories, rather than the camera.*
Jay: I still remember what you had to say the last time we squared off, Price. You spent a good deal of time drawing parallels between us; hyping the both of us like you had a part time job in the marketing division. You mentioned we can both go for the long haul in the ring, but when we reach that higher level, when we fight the good fight, that's where I generally fall short. You claimed that when you truly want something, you can step up your game, and achieve loftier goals than your skill set should allow. That's always been the difference between us, Jayson. Rather than achieve things beyond my skill set, I merely expand my skills to make those achievements easier.
*Omega comes back to the now, his eyes regaining their customary electric quality as he slips off the counter, and saunters over to the refrigerator. He pulls a bottle of Pepsi Mont Blanc from the frigid interior, closes the door, and leans back against the fridge, carefully positioning the bottle in his hands so the label faces the camera.*
Jay: Maybe you were right when you said that I'm not the top star of my generation. Maybe scientists are right when they say that humans are alone in the universe. Personally, I believe neither, and I know that there's a huge section of the population who agree with me on both counts. See, Price, if I'm not the top star, how could I have done what I have? Do what I do? I consistently get booked in big matches, and I consistently win, regardless of my challenges. Do I win all the time? No, but everybody loses some time. And everybody loses to me at some time as well, because if you beat me, you mark yourself.
*Jay twists the cap off the bottle, and raises it to his lips for a long pull. He then replaces the cap while smacking his lips together.*
Jay: Mmm, chestnuts. Now, I'm willing to give credit where credit is due, Price. We've had some rough battles, and yes, you certainly are a practiced survivor, much like myself.
Ajira(offscreen): Hold on, who the hell do you think you're talking to?
*Omega puts on a look of condescending confusion.*
Jay: Jayson Price, duh.
Ajira(offscreen): I got that. Be more specific.
*The condescension leaves Jay's face, leaving true confusion.*
Jay: What do you mean "more specific"? Jayson Price; the guy who I've beaten more times than he--
Ajira(offscreen): No, not him.
Jay: Not him? Ah, he backed out. Smart. Who'd they get to replace him?
Ajira(offscreen, exasperated): No, you are up against Jayson Price--
Jay: You just said I wasn't. The words just left your mou--
*Ajira interrupts with a sigh.*
Ajira(offscreen): No, he is Jayson Price, just--
Jay: Will you make up your fucking mind?!? Either he is Price, or he isn't, there's no two ways about this.
Ajira(offscreen): Oh, for the love of... Here, just watch this.
*A smartphone flashes past the lens, landing easily in the Omega Man's waiting hand. With an intrigued expression, Jay taps the screen, and the image before us freezes. The tableau resumes motion a mere second later, and Omega now wears a look of consternation on his face.*
Jay: Oh, Krishna. Two guys with the exact same stupid name, what are the odds? I mean, this certainly explains a few things. But still, why the fuck didn't you tell me?
Ajira[/b](offscreen): I did. You never listen.
Jay: Quiet, you. When I want your opinion, I'll tell it to you. Fuck, this changes so much. I've gotta scrap everything I was about to say, and start fresh. Pause that shit; I've got some work to do.
*The scene goes still once more, though the break is just as brief as the first. When motion returns, we find ourselves out on the balcony, with the glittering sights of nighttime Tokyo serving as a bejeweled backdrop. The Omega Man has changed shirts, having decided to promote himself, rather than the current WCF World Champion. Now a deep blue, his shirt is designed to look like an architecht's blueprint of a wrestling ring, with an image of Jay Omega standing in the center. The right half of the likeness is seemingly made of gold, criss-crossed by a wireframe grid that leaks into the other half; Jay dressed for competition. Above the image is the word "Championship", and below is the word "Material". Omega poses a few times, giving various angles of the form-fitting shirt before he continues.*
Jay: Like the merch? It's not available through WCF's online shop just yet, but you can back order it through my site, along with all the other awesome crap I shill. And I've shilled a lot of crap. But that's to be expected when you're a commodity as hot as I am, which is my segue back to Price. I know it's a terrible segue, but Price is a terrible person, and he doesn't deserve my razor wit. And by his own admission, he never deserved to be a member of Pantheon.
*Jay holds up a hand, as though to ward off any interruptions he couldn't hear anyway.*
Jay: He may not have said it directly, I don't know. I haven't finished watching his promotional videos from the week leading up to Blast, let alone any of his other stuff. I keep getting distracted; been playing Candy Crush on Ajira's phone. But yeah, Price might not have flat out said he didn't deserve his Pantheon spot, but his actions spoke clearly enough. Of course, I can't put too much stock in the rest of Pantheon, if they couldn't see through Price's bullshit. You're a lot like your namesake in that regard, Jayson.
*Omega produces the black cigarette case again, giving viewers the sense that either a goodly period of time has passed during the pause, or that Jay smokes dope like a fiend. Those who know him, know that the answer lies somewhere in the middle. A quick spark, a few puffs, and then a cloud of smoke drifts away into the cool night air.*
Jay: See, the original Jayson Price was an ungrateful, untrustworthy bastard, too. He was welcomed, with open arms, into the service of an idea larger than himself. He went through the motions, kept up appearances, did everything he was supposed to do. But in the end, just like you, he turned his back on what he supposedly stood for, all for a fleeting, failed chance at gold.
*The Omega Man draws a few quick puffs, then leans in to the camera.*
Jay: Jayson, you're already making the same mistakes he did, and you're flaunting them on the Internet. Don't underestimate me, don't dismiss me, don't think for one moment that, just because I'm new here, I don't have what it takes to hang with guys like you. You think you're more accomplished than I? You think the wars you've fought have been any more difficult than mine? Or your opponents more challenging? I could say I'll be the biggest challenge you'll ever face, but I do know how to be humble. You, on the other hand, don't strike me as the humble type.
*Omega draws heavily on the joint, and rolls a kink out of his neck while exhaling. From his right pocket, he pulls out a small cassette recorder, and hits the play button. Jayson Price's voice floats out from the machine, amidst the crackling of the oft-used cassette.*
Jayson Price: I want the WCF World Title. Brotherhood, friendship, Pantheon, they're all just words to me, they don't mean anything.
*Jay stops the recording, takes a lungful from his joint, then flicks the ash into the breeze, and shakes his head in disapproval.*
Jay: I can feel where you're coming from, Pricey, I really can. Shit, I want the WCF World Championship strapped around my waist too. But the rest of that? You're going about it the wrong way, man. I've got my brother from another mother running my camera, a great circle of supportive, if eclectic, friends, and I've had the pleasure of having two trustworthy stables stand behind me in battle. Every single one knows how much I value them, and every single one knows that everything between those bells is just business. I've kicked the shit out of Ajira more times than I can count--
Ajira(offscreen): Three.
Jay: -- and yet he's still my best friend. But you... if you haven't just made a bunch of powerful enemies, then at the very least, you've just painted a big ol' bullseye on your forehead, and snubbed some pretty powerful allies. The road you've just chosen to travel is lonely and dangerous, dude. I've walked down it, and it just keeps getting worse; there's no cell reception, and you can forget about Wi-Fi. Which makes it even lonelier, if you follow my reasoning. See, a man's gotta have someone he can rely on, especially when he pulls a stunt like yours. Shit like that has consequences, and I'm not talking about being pushed to the bottom of the card.
*Omega's face becomes a mask of irritation for a moment, but he dispels the expression with a shake of his head.*
Jay: I'll get to that. At the moment, I'm talking about come-uppance. I've seen this exact moment in a man's career a dozen times; it's happened to me, once or twice. Now, I'm not fully aware of all the variables, and logistics 'round here--
Ajira(offscreen): I'll say.
Jay: -- so I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to who it might be that's already sighted in on that pretty painting on your face. But I can tell that things are about to get pretty rough for you, now that you have no one to watch your back. Lucky for you, you can count on the fact that [/I]I'm[/I] not part of some devious plot, and I'm likely to be the only thing you'll have to worry about Sunday night. Of course, that alone should be enough to worry you.
*Jay hits the joint again, then passes it off to Ajira. Omega's face draws down in a pensive manner, and he turns his head to the right to look out at Tokyo for a moment. Jay exhales in a rush, doubling over as a coughing fit takes hold of him. The Omega Man spits over the balcony railing, and draws a few wheezing breaths before he composes himself enough to continue.*
Jay: Pardon me. Now, Price probably isn't worried about going toe to toe with yours truly, because he doesn't pay attention to the dozens, AND DOZENS, of rival promotions out there. And I can't rightly fault him for that; you can't afford to split your focus when you're that close to the big belt. So this brings me to my favourite part of these videos; talking about myself.
*Jay flashes his usual half-baked half grin, and bows his head slightly.*
Jay: You say you give no fucks about what happens outside the WCF, fine. Then allow me to clue you in to what's about to happen in the immediate future. You think you got pushed to the bottom? No. I dumped a fat stack of C-notes on Lerch's desk, and demanded this match, because I thought you were somebody else. But you're not. So why should I even care, I hear some of you asking.
*Omega's expression becomes baffled, and he scratches his head, mussing his expertly styled blond hair.*
Jay: Well, because I don't back down from a fight, obviously. Even if it's not the fight I thought I was picking. That's something that sets me aside from everyone else. I'm not here to win titles, though I'll gladly take them. I'm not here to become the most marketable name on the roster, though I doubtlessly will. No, I'm here in the WCF because I have the spirit of a warrior, and that spirit has become restless.
*Jay smiles with a manic quality, and his electric blue eyes shine with an inner light.*
Jay: I've been grinding along in this business for years, high-flying from ring to ring in a never-ending quest to find, face, and fuck up the very best this sport has to offer. That's my motivation; I'm looking for fights that will test my limits, and entertain millions. I don't mind a loss here and there, because on those rare occurances, I know I put everything I had into it, and I feel no shame losing to someone who does the same.
*Omega shrugs offhandedly, and leans back with his elbows resting on the railing.*
Jay: Sure, I could have gone into mixed martial arts, my style certainly reflects that, but it's also the problem. Specifically, mainstream MMA's lack of style. Pro wrestling has all the full-contact fun, but with the added element of showmanship, and WCF will be hard pressed to find a better entertainer than me.
*Jay waggles his left forefinger at the camera.*
Jay: But don't go thinking I'm all sizzle, no steak. I've got plenty of steak, and it's so tough, it likely cost two dollars. I know you can, and will, give me the thrilling battle I'm after, Price. I'm pretty sure you can push me right to the edge, the only question I have, is will you? I most certainly hope so. I would be terribly disappointed if my victory over you were tainted by a mediocre effort on your part. I want you better than you were last week, Price, because if I'm going to lose, you'd best believe you earned that win.
*Omega clenches his left hand into a white-knuckled fist, and his voice practically drips with fervor.*
Jay: You weren't pushed to the bottom of the card, Jayson, I just turned it upside down. Sunday night, the fans in Hershey are going to get a treat as sweet as the chocolate which shares their city's name. The get to watch Slam's main event right at the start of the show. You and I are going to pull the roof down before anyone else even gets to set foot in the ring. At least, I will. And if you don't help me, you're gonna get buried in the rubble. I mean, what else is on the card that's noteworthy? Besides Arabella Montgomery teaming up with Steve Orbit. Seriously, Arabella, call... shit, my phone's broken. Ajira, remind me to get a new phone later.
*The camera shifts slightly as Ajira presumably nods, then shifts back into position.*
Jay: Hey, keep that thing steady
Ajira(offscreen): Sorry, I'm used to the clamp. I'll have to figure out how to detach it from the other camera.
Jay: Yeah, good luck with that. Now stop interrupting, unless you're giving exposition; you're derailing my train of thought. Bottom... main event... roof... Right. By the time we're done, Price, I fully expect a good portion of the audience to start walking out, thinking the show's over. But as my fans already know, when it comes to me, the show never ends. The Adventures of the Omega Man was just greenlit for another season, and you're my first real guest star, Jayson. I know you don't think much of the opportunity that's been put in front of you, but some day you'll appreciate it. Some day, you'll be able to point at this manly picture of awesome and tell your friends, if you have any at that point, "I almost beat him, before we knew how incredible he is".
*Jay makes a subtle motion with his right hand, and the scene fades to black.*
~On the other side of the world, TaRtArUs huddled lower in the basket of the Snoopy-shaped hot air balloon, and wrapped his legs around the base of the oscillating floor fan plugged into the generator beside him. The behemoth giggled softly to himself as Omega's video faded out on his laptop's screen, then restarted it for the fifth time. TaRtArUs stuck a finger in his mouth, then raised his arm above his head, in order to gauge the wind direction. He brought the finger back down, and gave it a sniff.
"Ugh, Jersey." He muttered to himself, as he adjusted the angle of the fan. "I should have bought a Dyson, it's going to take forever to get to Pennsylvania. But it's worth it to see if I still have influence. And if I do... Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
The madman began to chuckle, softly at first, but it soon gained in volume and intensity, until his mad cackling nearly competed with the howling winds on which he rode.~
That smile soon soured on his lips, though, for memories of Japan inevitably brought back memories of Carol; his first love, mother of his child, and the greatest loss Omega had ever experienced. Twelve years later, and her untimely death still tore at his heart, a reminder that some days, his chosen profession could get a little too personal, and some people took things too far.
With great effort, Jay pushed the thoughts away, trying to clear his head of not just the memories, but the alcohol as well. He couldn't afford to let himself become distracted, not with his reputation on the line. Making an initial impact just wasn't as easy for him as it had been in his early days, though that had more to do with his younger self's lack of coherence than his drive.
The thought struck a chord deep within Omega, and he took a moment to examine it further. Was he perhaps taking himself too seriously? Looking into his memories again, Jay concluded that he had indeed enjoyed himself, and the sport, far more when he hadn't cared about titles. Conversely, as he'd climbed the ladder of success rung by rung, while his mind had come back together, the rest of his life had fallen apart.
That train of thought derailed itself, as its course brought Omega to memories of Melissa; his second chance. But that had been a lie concocted by Jay's greatest tormentor, the dark demon whose legacy haunted Omega even now, though surely the man was dead. Whatever Scathe's final fate may have been, his evil touch still lingered in the back of the Omega Man's mind, like a stalking predator waiting for the right circumstances to unleash his wrath from beyond the grave.
"No. I'm free of him." Jay muttered to himself, though he knew it was far from true. He could feel that dark blight lurking in the recesses of his thoughts, sharing space with the broken man he had been; the composite he'd become. Was he happy with this forced arrangement? No, of course not; the mere idea forced him to shake his head. He couldn't be happy so long as he knew that TaRtArUs was still alive; the man was too unpredictable, and he held the keys to the Omega Man's freedom, or enslavement.
Omega tried to force his mind clear once again, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the cool brick of the alley mouth he stood in. His relief was short lived as he considered his surroundings, and realized where he was. Was it fate which had brought him to this particular section of Kabukicho, rife with organised crime, or had his mild intoxication allowed that buried portion of himself the free reign needed to guide his steps? Regardless, he was in an area he knew he shouldn't be, but before his feet caught up to his brain's decision to move along, he decided it must have been fate.
"You were told not to come here, dog." It was a voice that was all too familiar to him which called out, in Japanese, from further in the alley.
"Fuck." Jay muttered in English. A momentary spike of panic rose in the back of Omega's neck, but he ruthlessly quashed it. These were not the type of people you showed even the slightest hint of weakness to. He opened his eyes, pushed away from the wall, and turned to face the speaker, easily slipping into Japanese as a wide grin split his face.
"Taisei, it's been a long time. How's the family?"
Taisei ignored the question, and calmly slapped the baton in his right hand against the palm of his left. Behind him, Omega counted three more thugs, none of them sporting nearly the same amount of tattoos as their leader, but all easily marked as younger members of prominent Yakuza families
"Come on, man," Jay said, a note of exasperation in his voice, "You know damn well we won that race fair and square. I understand about protecting your image, that's why I agreed pay your father--" Jay cut off as Taisei took a step forward, malice clear in his eyes.
"This isn't about money, this is about revenge. You embarrassed me--" This time, it was Omega who interrupted, his anger apparent.
"You embarrassed yourself, Taisei. I paid a debt I didn't owe, but you and your boys came after me anyway, so I gave you the trouble you were looking for. And now here you are again. Didn't you learn anything the last time I kicked your ass?"
"Yes. I learned not to take chances. You don't have any help with you this time." Taisei said, as he took another step forward, raising the baton.
Exploding into motion, Jay sprung forward to meet the charge, snapped his left arm out to catch Taisei's wrist, and pulled him in for a headbutt to the nose. Omega released his first attacker as the rest surged forward, and pivoted on his heel to drive a back elbow into the face of the diminutive, if muscular, foe approaching from his right.
Spinning back the other way, Jay leaped into the air, continuing the spin, and lashed out with his right foot in a flying roundhouse kick, catching Taisei flush in the face, which broke his nose with a moist cracking sound.
Clutching his ruined face, Taisei stumbled back a few steps, forcing another of the assailants to nearly lose his balance as he slipped around his leader. The man came forward, a length of chain clenched in his fist, and took a wild overhand swing, easily dodged as Omega sprang to his left, then back to the right, putting the momentum behind a haymaker.
The fourth member of Taisei's group stepped in then, brandishing a knife with a wickedly curved, serrated blade. Taking no chances himself, Jay quickly shucked his black silk shirt, winding it around his left hand and wrist just in time to catch the blade on the material, rather than his unprotected flesh. A quick but forceful kick to the stones sent the knife clattering to the pavement, as the wiry man sank to his knees, agony etched on his features.
Outnumbered as he was, Omega knew he had few options, but running wasn't among them. The local police were unlikely to take the side of a foreigner against the Yakuza, which meant the only course available to the Omega Man was to win this fight quickly and decisively. A feat which would require more luck than skill.
His luck held out a few moments more, as he drove another pair of elbows into the head of the second man he'd hit, staggering the now witless foe into the side of a grimy dumpster. The tide of the battle quickly shifted, though, as the man with the chain, and Taisei came forward in tandem, the chain-wielder quick-stepping to Jay's right, forcing him to turn his back to the wall to keep both opponents in view, and cutting off any thoughts of retreat out of the alley.
Electric blue eyes darting back and forth between the two slowly advancing criminals, Omega surreptitiously worked the toe of his left foot under the cross guard of knife at his feet, unwinding his shirt from his forearm as he did so, more to keep the attention of his adversaries off his feet than anything else. Snapping the shirt taut between his hands, Jay reflexively used it to block a swing from the bloodied Taisei's baton, resulting in an odd metallic clack, then dropped one end of the shirt as he kicked the knife up into his waiting hand.
Seeing Jay arm himself, the chain-wielder swung his weapon over his head twice, then out at Omega with a sidelong swipe. The Omega Man dropped flat quickly, then popped back up, and scored a slashing hit on the forearm; a deep gash that disarmed his opponent, and had the man backing away, clutching his now useless arm to his chest.
Having thought he'd earned a small reprieve, Jay turned back to Taisei, only to find that the odds were back up to three on one. A tinge of worry floated at the outside of Omega's concentration, but he forced it back as he forced a smile to his lips.
"Let's talk about this, guys. There's no need for all of you to wind up in the hospital. I'll let you walk away and tell everyone you beat my ass, so long as you drop this stupid grudge." He said, trying to reach a compromise. It was a long shot, but he had to end the confrontation soon. This was no wrestling match, no referee could call for a bell, and these three wouldn't heed it anyway. A quick glance at the three faces in front of him, one bloody, one bruised, and the other slightly gray, told the Omega Man his suggestion of a peaceful resolution wasn't going to happen.
With a resigned sigh, Jay burst forward again, hoping to overwhelm his attackers with sheer fury. A quick feint to his right was followed by an uppercut to the ashen-faced man on the other side of Taisei, which kept him just barely off to the side of Taisei's baton swing. Not fooled by the feint, the bruised, and still slightly dazed man to Omega's right slipped in behind him in the wake of the baton, grabbing hold of Jay's right arm, twisting it behind his back with a hammerlock.
Seeing the opportunity, Taisei swung backhand, connecting a glancing blow with the wildly thrashing Omega Man's head. Jay's eyes glazed momentarily, but he managed to shrug off the strike, though his momentary lapse caused his grip to slacken, and dropped the knife in his left hand. Redoubling his efforts to break free, he saw the end of the fight approach swiftly, when the gray faced man latched onto his other arm, bringing a mumbled curse from Omega's lips.
He tried to kick out at Taisei, but a well placed shin deflected his foot out wide. Another blow rained down on his head, and while it didn't have full force behind it, this one connected solidly with the crown of his skull. Jay slumped from the force of the hit, only the twin grips of the men on either side keeping him upright. A vicious smile crept over Taisei's face, made all the more gruesome by the blood flowing freely from his broken nose. He snapped a lightning fast kick into Omega's ribs, then another. An offhand punch connected with the Omega Man's jaw, followed by a baton strike to the other side of the ribs
The baton came up high again, but before it could descend, a fist sized rock hummed into the alley, slamming into Taisei's sternum. A mixture of shock and pain fought on Taisei's features, with pain quickly winning out as he fell to his knees, labouring for breath. Confused, the man holding Omega's right arm glanced over his shoulder, just in time to catch a chain-wrapped fist with his cheek, cracking the bone, and sending him sliding toward unconsciousness.
Now the only one supporting the barely conscious Omega Man, the final combatant on his feet released his burden, and spun about to face whatever interloper had dared interfere. When his gaze fell upon Ajira casually swinging the short length of chain in one hand, his eyes widened, and his face lost what little colour it had regained.
"One chance." Ajira calmly stated, "Run. Now."
Without hesitation, the thug nodded and took off down the alley, his gait awkward from the residual pain in his groin. Ajira eyed the other two warily, Taisei's face a mask of hatred, but he made no move. A prod to the ribs of the other man showed that he was indeed unconscious, and was unlikely to spring to his feet any time soon.
"Well, I don't think I'm drunk anymore."
Nor was Jay, on the other hand. Waves of pain assaulted his senses, and he barely managed to shuffle himself into a sitting position against the alley wall. His unfocused eyes found Ajira, and a puzzled expression crossed his face; fading away as his consciousness was crushed beneath a tidal wave of blackness.
More than an hour later, Omega opened his eyes, somewhat surprised to find himself stretched out on the black leather couch which took up one wall of his penthouse apartment's living room. His gaze crept slowly about the room, for moving his eyes too fast sent shivers of nausea through his gut. The motion of his head drew the attention of Ajira, who had been reading nearby.
"My hero." Jay said with a wry smile. "How'd you find me?"
"Wasn't hard," Came the reply, "I just followed the blood trail."
"Blood trail?" Omega asked, confused. Only then did he recall the thug he'd slashed, remembered the tug as the serrated blade scraped against bone.
"You weren't answering your cell, then this bleeding punk ran by me," Ajira shrugged, "Wasn't hard to add two and two together."
With a sigh, Jay reached for his discarded shirt, put his hand in the breast pocket, and pulled out the remains of his Diamond Crypto smartphone; tiny shards of the shattered screen tinkling as they hit the marble floor.
"Well, that's money well spent." He said, then tossed it onto the coffee table beside him, before wearily climbing to his feet.
"You shouldn't be moving. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion, and you need rest." Ajira said, concern clear in his voice, but Omega brushed the comment away.
"I'm fine. I just need something in my stomach. Can you run down to Hassho, and grab some take-out?"
"You know they hate it when you do that. They're not a fast food chain."
"Yet they allow it, because I pay double. All mighty yen, my friend." Jay smiled easily, though his eyes froze as they fell upon an addition to the living room that he hadn't made; and old VCR now sat amid the jumble of video games and DVDs, with a cassette waiting to be pushed in. He continued as though nothing were out of the ordinary, though.
"And while you're out, can you grab some Pepsi Mont Blanc? Maybe some Skittles?"
"What kind?" Ajira asked tiredly.
"One of each." Came the immediate reply.
With an overdramatic sigh, and a resigned nod, Ajira gathered up his car keys. He had barely closed the door when Omega all but leapt at the television, and shoved the tape into the VCR. A burst of static filled the TV's 72 inch screen, followed by a few seconds of blackness, before it faded into a rooftop view of Tokyo. A young blonde stood in the center of the view, fear readily visible on her pretty face, and causing a quiver in her delicate British accent.
"H-hello. My name is Rebecca and I need help."
"Quick!" A male voice said in English, almost too quietly to be picked up.
"I... Three, nine, one, twelve, four, seven!" The frightened young lady blurted, and a sense of serenity immediately settled over the Omega Man. He sank back, stretching his legs out in front of him, as an enormous man walked into the frame of his television.
"Thank you very much, Beckers. I think I can take it from here." He said to the girl
"I can... go?" She asked incredulously.
"That was the deal, wasn't it?" The man asked, sounding confused.
"What deal? You kidnapped me, dragged me up here, and made me read those numbers!" She said, on the verge of tears.
"I didn't kidnap you, I borrowed you. There's a huge difference, because now you can go back to whatever you were doing before I saw you and thought you'd make a great distraction, because little Jimmy likes pretty ladies."
"You... I'm... What?" Rebecca asked, as she had quickly become more confused than afraid; a reaction not uncommon when dealing with the madman called TaRtArUs.
"Jimmy doesn't want to listen to me anymore, so I had to trick him with a pretty face. You just reminded him that we're good friends, and now he's going to be a liiiittle more open-minded to the idea of hearing me out."
True enough, Jay felt no desire to stop the tape, despite a voice in the back of his head frantically screaming for him to do just that. He wondered why that voice was so insistent; surely TaRtArUs was his friend?
"Hi there, ol' buddy, ol' pal, 'ol numerous superlatives!" TaRtArUs said into the camera, as he adjusted the black and red jester's hat pulled down over his face, his visible features a frozen mask of glee with an ever-present manic smile. "By now, you should have met up with and old acquaintance of ours, and if he followed orders, he should have given you a bit of a knock to the noggin. Sorry about that, but you're always more fun to talk to after the bell rings."
The black and crimson clad giant on Omega's screen sat down in front of the camera, and a flash of disapproval touched his eyes. He remained silent for a few moments, either gathering his thoughts, or listening to some internal advice.
"You've been very naughty, Jay. I'm not happy that you managed to eliminate Scathe; he was a useful tool. Congratulations on pulling it off, though! I never would have expected the Irishman to come through. But then you dropped off the radar for a few years. Tsk tsk. How am I supposed to keep an eye on you, if I can't keep an eye on you? No-no-no, that won't do at all."
TaRtArUs waggled his finger, then crouched down, and idly dipped that same finger in a puddle at his feet. He licked the finger as he stood again, and turned his head to look out at the Tokyo horizon.
"I was a pretty surprised when I got a call from Mister Waki-chocky, or Mishy-mashy... the bald guy with the eyebrows. You really should have known better than to come to Japan; you stand out. You know what else stands out? Your dick. Not, like, your dick dick, your dick attitude. You're so full of yourself, you've forgotten about having fun. It's like you're stuck in that American Championship mindset, not the freewheeling Canadian roots I nurtured."
The big man puffed out his chest proudly, and his face-splitting grin somehow become bigger. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a compact audio cassette recorder.
"But lucky for you, I've got your back. I hoped Project Senshi could continue without direct oversight, but your evolution doesn't fit the original parameters anymore, so we're gonna have to improvise. Ooo, this is so exciting!"
TaRtArUs pressed the play button on the cassette player, which issued forth a discordant string of clicks and chirps that ended with a gong. The watching Omega Man's posture changed again, as he snapped to rapt attention.
"Achtung! Initiate special protocols Living Colour, Homegrown, and Cleaning Lady. Authorization: Wookiee Indigo Newton, nine-nine-one."
"Command code recognized," Jay spoke monotonously, "Special protocols initiated, memory partitions engaged in new alignment."
"Now watch some Star Trek, and for Buddha's sake, enjoy yourself a little more!" Came a parting retort from TaRtArUs, when the image on the television abruptly changed to an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
A haze rested over Jay's mind for some time, and his unfocused eyes lost their glaze halfway through the next episode, just before Ajira came back through the door, his arms laden with bags.
"Where the hell have you been?" The Omega Man cried immediately, "You need to prep the camera; it's go time!" He wasted no more time with explanations, and took off down the hall to his bedroom. Ajira let out a long-suffering sigh, unburdened himself, and made the necessary preparations.~
*We fade in on a golden marble hallway, just as Jay Omega steps out of a doorway at the far end. His blue jeans are standard fare, though he wears a black T-shirt covered in sparkling green script which says "Steve Orbit: Motherf#cking Pimp" superimposed over a picture of a flamboyant purple hat. Most striking about the Omega Man's appearance, though, is the dark colouring of his blackened right eye. Jay approaches the camera, turning aside as his chest fills the screen, and we follow him into the kitchen, where he hops up onto the black granite counter, beside the chrome range.*
Jay: Kon'nichiwa futatabi. Anata wa, watashi ga T?ky? de mada gozen miru koto ga dekimasu--
*Jay cuts off with a sheepish look, and shakes his head.*
Jay: English, Jay. English. Hello, again. You can see I'm still in Tokyo, because I fuckin' love Japan. I keep this apartment for my frequent visits, since the penthouse at the Imperial Hotel Tokyo is almost always booked with high-end names. Kind of like myself; once I make my initial splash in a wrestling company, I consistently get booked against the top competition. I must have made a bigger impact at Blast than I thought, because Lerch didn't hesitate in granting me a match against my long-time object of hatred; my predecessor, the Great Hypocrite himself--
Ajira(offscreen): Uh, Jay? You do know this isn't the same Jayson Price, don't you?
*Omega seems to take this in stride, though he regards Ajira quizzically.*
Jay: He's not? Are you sure?
Ajira(offscreen, incredulous): How could you not know that? We watched the World Championship match from the Robot Restaurant.
Jay: No, you watched the match. I was drinking with Hyena, and he makes Craig look like a lightweight. Price really seemed different to you?
Ajira(offscreen): Uh, yeah. In the age of the Internet, it's unbelievable you can be so clueless.
Jay: In this age of palm-sized computers, and alien cloning technology, it's unbelievable you believe I'm supposed to believe you, when you say the Price is wrong. No, he's up to something, I'm telling you. Price is almost as sneaky as a snake, but I'm on to him. And if he thinks he's got me fooled, well, he's going to be pretty damned surprised.
Ajira(offscreen): Yes, he's going to be surprised.
*Jay ignores the comment, his icy blue eyes glossing over as his mind drifts back into the mists of the past. When he speaks, he sounds more like he's talking to memories, rather than the camera.*
Jay: I still remember what you had to say the last time we squared off, Price. You spent a good deal of time drawing parallels between us; hyping the both of us like you had a part time job in the marketing division. You mentioned we can both go for the long haul in the ring, but when we reach that higher level, when we fight the good fight, that's where I generally fall short. You claimed that when you truly want something, you can step up your game, and achieve loftier goals than your skill set should allow. That's always been the difference between us, Jayson. Rather than achieve things beyond my skill set, I merely expand my skills to make those achievements easier.
*Omega comes back to the now, his eyes regaining their customary electric quality as he slips off the counter, and saunters over to the refrigerator. He pulls a bottle of Pepsi Mont Blanc from the frigid interior, closes the door, and leans back against the fridge, carefully positioning the bottle in his hands so the label faces the camera.*
Jay: Maybe you were right when you said that I'm not the top star of my generation. Maybe scientists are right when they say that humans are alone in the universe. Personally, I believe neither, and I know that there's a huge section of the population who agree with me on both counts. See, Price, if I'm not the top star, how could I have done what I have? Do what I do? I consistently get booked in big matches, and I consistently win, regardless of my challenges. Do I win all the time? No, but everybody loses some time. And everybody loses to me at some time as well, because if you beat me, you mark yourself.
*Jay twists the cap off the bottle, and raises it to his lips for a long pull. He then replaces the cap while smacking his lips together.*
Jay: Mmm, chestnuts. Now, I'm willing to give credit where credit is due, Price. We've had some rough battles, and yes, you certainly are a practiced survivor, much like myself.
Ajira(offscreen): Hold on, who the hell do you think you're talking to?
*Omega puts on a look of condescending confusion.*
Jay: Jayson Price, duh.
Ajira(offscreen): I got that. Be more specific.
*The condescension leaves Jay's face, leaving true confusion.*
Jay: What do you mean "more specific"? Jayson Price; the guy who I've beaten more times than he--
Ajira(offscreen): No, not him.
Jay: Not him? Ah, he backed out. Smart. Who'd they get to replace him?
Ajira(offscreen, exasperated): No, you are up against Jayson Price--
Jay: You just said I wasn't. The words just left your mou--
*Ajira interrupts with a sigh.*
Ajira(offscreen): No, he is Jayson Price, just--
Jay: Will you make up your fucking mind?!? Either he is Price, or he isn't, there's no two ways about this.
Ajira(offscreen): Oh, for the love of... Here, just watch this.
*A smartphone flashes past the lens, landing easily in the Omega Man's waiting hand. With an intrigued expression, Jay taps the screen, and the image before us freezes. The tableau resumes motion a mere second later, and Omega now wears a look of consternation on his face.*
Jay: Oh, Krishna. Two guys with the exact same stupid name, what are the odds? I mean, this certainly explains a few things. But still, why the fuck didn't you tell me?
Ajira[/b](offscreen): I did. You never listen.
Jay: Quiet, you. When I want your opinion, I'll tell it to you. Fuck, this changes so much. I've gotta scrap everything I was about to say, and start fresh. Pause that shit; I've got some work to do.
*The scene goes still once more, though the break is just as brief as the first. When motion returns, we find ourselves out on the balcony, with the glittering sights of nighttime Tokyo serving as a bejeweled backdrop. The Omega Man has changed shirts, having decided to promote himself, rather than the current WCF World Champion. Now a deep blue, his shirt is designed to look like an architecht's blueprint of a wrestling ring, with an image of Jay Omega standing in the center. The right half of the likeness is seemingly made of gold, criss-crossed by a wireframe grid that leaks into the other half; Jay dressed for competition. Above the image is the word "Championship", and below is the word "Material". Omega poses a few times, giving various angles of the form-fitting shirt before he continues.*
Jay: Like the merch? It's not available through WCF's online shop just yet, but you can back order it through my site, along with all the other awesome crap I shill. And I've shilled a lot of crap. But that's to be expected when you're a commodity as hot as I am, which is my segue back to Price. I know it's a terrible segue, but Price is a terrible person, and he doesn't deserve my razor wit. And by his own admission, he never deserved to be a member of Pantheon.
*Jay holds up a hand, as though to ward off any interruptions he couldn't hear anyway.*
Jay: He may not have said it directly, I don't know. I haven't finished watching his promotional videos from the week leading up to Blast, let alone any of his other stuff. I keep getting distracted; been playing Candy Crush on Ajira's phone. But yeah, Price might not have flat out said he didn't deserve his Pantheon spot, but his actions spoke clearly enough. Of course, I can't put too much stock in the rest of Pantheon, if they couldn't see through Price's bullshit. You're a lot like your namesake in that regard, Jayson.
*Omega produces the black cigarette case again, giving viewers the sense that either a goodly period of time has passed during the pause, or that Jay smokes dope like a fiend. Those who know him, know that the answer lies somewhere in the middle. A quick spark, a few puffs, and then a cloud of smoke drifts away into the cool night air.*
Jay: See, the original Jayson Price was an ungrateful, untrustworthy bastard, too. He was welcomed, with open arms, into the service of an idea larger than himself. He went through the motions, kept up appearances, did everything he was supposed to do. But in the end, just like you, he turned his back on what he supposedly stood for, all for a fleeting, failed chance at gold.
*The Omega Man draws a few quick puffs, then leans in to the camera.*
Jay: Jayson, you're already making the same mistakes he did, and you're flaunting them on the Internet. Don't underestimate me, don't dismiss me, don't think for one moment that, just because I'm new here, I don't have what it takes to hang with guys like you. You think you're more accomplished than I? You think the wars you've fought have been any more difficult than mine? Or your opponents more challenging? I could say I'll be the biggest challenge you'll ever face, but I do know how to be humble. You, on the other hand, don't strike me as the humble type.
*Omega draws heavily on the joint, and rolls a kink out of his neck while exhaling. From his right pocket, he pulls out a small cassette recorder, and hits the play button. Jayson Price's voice floats out from the machine, amidst the crackling of the oft-used cassette.*
Jayson Price: I want the WCF World Title. Brotherhood, friendship, Pantheon, they're all just words to me, they don't mean anything.
*Jay stops the recording, takes a lungful from his joint, then flicks the ash into the breeze, and shakes his head in disapproval.*
Jay: I can feel where you're coming from, Pricey, I really can. Shit, I want the WCF World Championship strapped around my waist too. But the rest of that? You're going about it the wrong way, man. I've got my brother from another mother running my camera, a great circle of supportive, if eclectic, friends, and I've had the pleasure of having two trustworthy stables stand behind me in battle. Every single one knows how much I value them, and every single one knows that everything between those bells is just business. I've kicked the shit out of Ajira more times than I can count--
Ajira(offscreen): Three.
Jay: -- and yet he's still my best friend. But you... if you haven't just made a bunch of powerful enemies, then at the very least, you've just painted a big ol' bullseye on your forehead, and snubbed some pretty powerful allies. The road you've just chosen to travel is lonely and dangerous, dude. I've walked down it, and it just keeps getting worse; there's no cell reception, and you can forget about Wi-Fi. Which makes it even lonelier, if you follow my reasoning. See, a man's gotta have someone he can rely on, especially when he pulls a stunt like yours. Shit like that has consequences, and I'm not talking about being pushed to the bottom of the card.
*Omega's face becomes a mask of irritation for a moment, but he dispels the expression with a shake of his head.*
Jay: I'll get to that. At the moment, I'm talking about come-uppance. I've seen this exact moment in a man's career a dozen times; it's happened to me, once or twice. Now, I'm not fully aware of all the variables, and logistics 'round here--
Ajira(offscreen): I'll say.
Jay: -- so I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to who it might be that's already sighted in on that pretty painting on your face. But I can tell that things are about to get pretty rough for you, now that you have no one to watch your back. Lucky for you, you can count on the fact that [/I]I'm[/I] not part of some devious plot, and I'm likely to be the only thing you'll have to worry about Sunday night. Of course, that alone should be enough to worry you.
*Jay hits the joint again, then passes it off to Ajira. Omega's face draws down in a pensive manner, and he turns his head to the right to look out at Tokyo for a moment. Jay exhales in a rush, doubling over as a coughing fit takes hold of him. The Omega Man spits over the balcony railing, and draws a few wheezing breaths before he composes himself enough to continue.*
Jay: Pardon me. Now, Price probably isn't worried about going toe to toe with yours truly, because he doesn't pay attention to the dozens, AND DOZENS, of rival promotions out there. And I can't rightly fault him for that; you can't afford to split your focus when you're that close to the big belt. So this brings me to my favourite part of these videos; talking about myself.
*Jay flashes his usual half-baked half grin, and bows his head slightly.*
Jay: You say you give no fucks about what happens outside the WCF, fine. Then allow me to clue you in to what's about to happen in the immediate future. You think you got pushed to the bottom? No. I dumped a fat stack of C-notes on Lerch's desk, and demanded this match, because I thought you were somebody else. But you're not. So why should I even care, I hear some of you asking.
*Omega's expression becomes baffled, and he scratches his head, mussing his expertly styled blond hair.*
Jay: Well, because I don't back down from a fight, obviously. Even if it's not the fight I thought I was picking. That's something that sets me aside from everyone else. I'm not here to win titles, though I'll gladly take them. I'm not here to become the most marketable name on the roster, though I doubtlessly will. No, I'm here in the WCF because I have the spirit of a warrior, and that spirit has become restless.
*Jay smiles with a manic quality, and his electric blue eyes shine with an inner light.*
Jay: I've been grinding along in this business for years, high-flying from ring to ring in a never-ending quest to find, face, and fuck up the very best this sport has to offer. That's my motivation; I'm looking for fights that will test my limits, and entertain millions. I don't mind a loss here and there, because on those rare occurances, I know I put everything I had into it, and I feel no shame losing to someone who does the same.
*Omega shrugs offhandedly, and leans back with his elbows resting on the railing.*
Jay: Sure, I could have gone into mixed martial arts, my style certainly reflects that, but it's also the problem. Specifically, mainstream MMA's lack of style. Pro wrestling has all the full-contact fun, but with the added element of showmanship, and WCF will be hard pressed to find a better entertainer than me.
*Jay waggles his left forefinger at the camera.*
Jay: But don't go thinking I'm all sizzle, no steak. I've got plenty of steak, and it's so tough, it likely cost two dollars. I know you can, and will, give me the thrilling battle I'm after, Price. I'm pretty sure you can push me right to the edge, the only question I have, is will you? I most certainly hope so. I would be terribly disappointed if my victory over you were tainted by a mediocre effort on your part. I want you better than you were last week, Price, because if I'm going to lose, you'd best believe you earned that win.
*Omega clenches his left hand into a white-knuckled fist, and his voice practically drips with fervor.*
Jay: You weren't pushed to the bottom of the card, Jayson, I just turned it upside down. Sunday night, the fans in Hershey are going to get a treat as sweet as the chocolate which shares their city's name. The get to watch Slam's main event right at the start of the show. You and I are going to pull the roof down before anyone else even gets to set foot in the ring. At least, I will. And if you don't help me, you're gonna get buried in the rubble. I mean, what else is on the card that's noteworthy? Besides Arabella Montgomery teaming up with Steve Orbit. Seriously, Arabella, call... shit, my phone's broken. Ajira, remind me to get a new phone later.
*The camera shifts slightly as Ajira presumably nods, then shifts back into position.*
Jay: Hey, keep that thing steady
Ajira(offscreen): Sorry, I'm used to the clamp. I'll have to figure out how to detach it from the other camera.
Jay: Yeah, good luck with that. Now stop interrupting, unless you're giving exposition; you're derailing my train of thought. Bottom... main event... roof... Right. By the time we're done, Price, I fully expect a good portion of the audience to start walking out, thinking the show's over. But as my fans already know, when it comes to me, the show never ends. The Adventures of the Omega Man was just greenlit for another season, and you're my first real guest star, Jayson. I know you don't think much of the opportunity that's been put in front of you, but some day you'll appreciate it. Some day, you'll be able to point at this manly picture of awesome and tell your friends, if you have any at that point, "I almost beat him, before we knew how incredible he is".
*Jay makes a subtle motion with his right hand, and the scene fades to black.*
~On the other side of the world, TaRtArUs huddled lower in the basket of the Snoopy-shaped hot air balloon, and wrapped his legs around the base of the oscillating floor fan plugged into the generator beside him. The behemoth giggled softly to himself as Omega's video faded out on his laptop's screen, then restarted it for the fifth time. TaRtArUs stuck a finger in his mouth, then raised his arm above his head, in order to gauge the wind direction. He brought the finger back down, and gave it a sniff.
"Ugh, Jersey." He muttered to himself, as he adjusted the angle of the fan. "I should have bought a Dyson, it's going to take forever to get to Pennsylvania. But it's worth it to see if I still have influence. And if I do... Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"
The madman began to chuckle, softly at first, but it soon gained in volume and intensity, until his mad cackling nearly competed with the howling winds on which he rode.~
