Post by Jay Omega on Mar 11, 2015 8:52:12 GMT -5
"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."
~The Philadelphia skyline was very similar to so many of the cityscapes The Omega Man, Jay Omega had seen in his time. Very different from a few, and exactly the same as one, though he'd be krekked if he could remember which. Jay turned his attention from the sight of the site of his next epically ginormous battle, and took in the room around him once more. Sure, the overly large conference room spoke of wealth and class, but that was what bothered The Omega Man; this had obviously been put together by a professional decorator, there wasn't a single touch of Jayson Price's hand to the whole room, despite the numerous Pantheon-themed trappings. But then, considering it was Price Tower, that wasn't too surprising. It might be his personal abode, but Jayson Price had probably passed out drunk during a few stages of the tower's developmental process; it would certainly explain floors nine, fifteen, and twenty-eight. Just thinking about that last one was enough to set Omega's head shaking in wonder again.
The unnecessarily large conference table was inlaid with the golden, triangular "Elements, Dynasty, Future" Pantheon logo; a projector centered in the triangle. Snacks abounded across the table's remaining surface area, coffee cakes predominantly featured, though there was variety wide enough to serve as a prepackaged banquet. Jay tore into a bag of Hot Fries, then immediately regretted his decision and spat the half-chewed mouthful back into the bag with a grimace. They tasted like slightly potato flavoured sand had been compressed into little bars of spite, then sprinkled with powdered shame. From his left, Chelsea Armstrong looked at him questioningly, then smiled when Jay pantomimed gagging. Chelsea went back to her scrutiny of Price on the other side of the table, and Jay followed her gaze, to where Jayson was slumped over onto the table; his face buried in the crook of his elbow. There was a high probability Price was passed out drunk at that moment.
The door to the room opened and Corey Black entered, then strode purposefully to stand beside the screen facing the projector. "First things first, I'd like to thank you all for coming--" he started, "That's what she said." Interjected Price with a muffled voice. "Shut up, Price." Corey said flatly, as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I want to take a moment to address something. I told you the moment we made the announcement, haters would crawl out of the woodwork, claiming that Pantheon is nothing to sweat over. The gold you're carrying around with you says otherwise." Black uncrossed his arms as he continued; pointing at Armstrong. "Chelsea, you won that title from me. Don't forget how difficult that was, and don't let anyone else forget it, either." Black shifted his aim to Alex Richards; sitting on the other side of Chelsea from Jay, and dividing his attention between his laptop and the gloriously bearded man. "And Richards, you hold a title made relevant by Pantheon..." Corey said with a nod to Price, who silently raised the hand not attached to the arm supporting his head, "And you're doing a damn fine job of keeping it that way."
Black turned to face the other side of the table, and re-crossed his arms. "Scarecrow, you hold a title that's always been equated with a popularity contest. Which means the fans like you, and in this business, they're the only people you need to like you. Being in Pantheon has always been synonymous with being the best, and the four of you are the best in your divisions. One by one, I'm sure that each of you--" Corey cut off as Omega raised his hand, waving it about wildly. "I gotta potty!" Jay said in a sing-song voice, "I gotta potty, I gotta poo, I have to drop a Deu-hoo-hoose!" Black frowned at the interruption, and narrowed his eyes at The Omega Man. "Why didn't you go before the meeting?" He asked, which drew a snort from Jay. "Well obviously because I didn't have to go then. But the big ass bowl of chili I ate seems to have run right through me." Omega said, and indicated the empty bowl on the table before him. Corey sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go. But make it fast; I don't want to be here all day." Jay casually walked out of the room and checked his watch; made sure to memorize the exact time and date as he strode quickly down the hall.
Omega drew close to the express elevator that would take him up to the helipad, when the squeak of rubber on marble stabbed at his ears. Jay spun around, and found himself face to face with himself. "So, I guess my plan to break into Jonny Fly for A White Guy's mansion paid off." He said to himself. "Did it ever," Alpha Omega said, as he tossed himself the keys to the Ranchero, "Truck's parked up on the helipad. You would not believe how many tries it took to figure out how to set spatial coordinates." Beta Omega nodded in acceptance. "I can imagine. You're here for the meeting, right?" Alpha Omega nodded once, "Cool. Fill me in on anything important, will ya? I'm gonna see what I can do about making the Ranchero more user-friendly." With a short salute, Beta Omega turned, and continued in the direction of the elevator to the roof. Sure enough, when Jay reached the helipad, he found the Ranchero gleaming in the afternoon sun. A grin split Omega's face in half as he raced over to the truck, Bo Duked across the hood, and threw himself into the driver's seat.
Jay fired up the oddly silent engine, and glanced at the display screen built into the dash that flickered to life. Based on what he could remember of his excellent adventure with Johnny Reb, and the Bill and Ted movies, time travel should be as easy as punching in the temporal coordinates of the date he wanted to visit, and putting the pedal to the metal. Omega took a moment to formulate a plan, then discarded it when he realized that he must have already gone back to last Saturday in order to help himself pretend to wrestle a midget and a tomato. And he had been looking forward to portraying JMAC again. Ah well, he had the outfit; he could be JMAC any time he wanted. For now, Jay had a promise to keep, about making a few upgrades to the Ranchero. The problem was that he didn't know a damned thing about car engines in general, and even less about time travelling vehicles specifically. What he needed was someone super smart, like a scientist. But not some boring lab coat, no. Omega needed someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty; a real mad scientist kind of guy. A smile spread across Jay's face, and he reached out to display screen to input his temporal destination; October 12th, 1885. Omega pressed the accelerator to the floor, and the world disappeared in a flare of white.~
"One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane."
~The slamming door startled a group of pigeons into flight, though the angry man who had done the slamming paid little notice to the avian nuisances. Months of work, all gone for naught! And all because of that insufferably inefficient fool! To think that the laze-about had duped him out of his work rankled him. Him! Nikola Tesla! Well, he would show Edison what for, he would! There were dozens of eager investors who would be willing to put their considerable fortunes at his disposal; he didn't need that boorish oaf! A bright flash of light from behind him interrupted Nikola's internal diatribe, and he turned about in mild irritation; if some photographist thought to... He never completed the thought. The strangest contraption he had ever seen stood in the middle of the street, and though he hadn't been paying the utmost attention, it most certainly had not been there a few moments before. The door to the... conveyance? Yes, it must be, though what powered it, Tesla couldn't even begin to hypothesize. The door to the conveyance opened, and out stepped a man who was every bit as out of place as his odd, yet marvelous, horseless carriage.
"Pardon me, good sir," began The Omega Man, "But are you not the highly regarded inventor, Nikola Tesla?" Ah! What good fortune; this must be one of those eager investors Nikola had just been thinking of. Tesla's chest puffed out proudly as he drew himself to his full height. "I am indeed." He said simply, graciously. "Awesome sauce." Jay said as he approached Tesla and stuck out his hand, "Real pleased to meetcha; name's Jay Omega. Could I perhaps get you to take a look at something for me?" Nikola took Omega's hand and shook it, intrigued; Tesla had heard of great advancements in locomotion lately, though surely there would have been word among the scientific community about something this astounding. Nikola ran his eyes over the Ranchero in wonder as he came closer, reached out a hand to touch the glossy metal. Jay walked around to the passenger door and opened it for Tesla, inviting him to have a seat within.
Once Nikola had settled himself onto the comfortable bench seat, Omega took the driver's seat, and started the Ranchero once more. Tesla gaped at the display screen on the dash as it flickered to life, then shot a look of incredulity at Jay. "What, erm, what was it you wanted me to see?" Nikola asked uncertainly, rapidly rethinking this hasty decision. Omega turned to face him with a wide smile, and began to punch in a series of numbers on the display screen. "The future." Jay said, and hit the gas. The world disappeared in a blinding flash, followed by a tunnel of streaks of colourful lights. There was no sensation of motion, but they were clearly going somewhere, or somewhen if Tesla's new acquaintance were to be believed. Of course, considering the scenery outside the vehicle, Nikola was inclined to believe. The future, Omega had said, but not how far. From what year did this stranger hail? And if he were capable of time travel(!), what need did he have of Tesla?
"You know you're thinking out loud?" Jay interrupted Nikola's thoughts, "Like, straight up monologging, dude." While Tesla wasn't sure what 'straight up monologging' meant, he realized that he had indeed been giving voice to his thoughts. Nikola began to stammer an apology, but Omega cut him off. "Don't worry about it; I'm sure this is pretty strange to you, and it's about to become overwhelmingly so." Jay decelerated, and the blurring streaks of light slowed, shimmered, and coalesced into a solid state of reality with another white flash. Tesla was so absorbed in trying to look in every direction at once that he missed what Omega had said, to Jay's amusement. When Nikola caught on that The Omega Man was trying to speak to him, he stammered out another apology that Omega laughed off. "I said it was going to be overwhelming, didn't I? Let me be the first to welcome you to the Twenty-First Century, the year Two Thousand Fifteen, to be exact."~
"The present is theirs; the future, for which I really worked, was mine."
~Jay Omega stepped out of the Ranchero, and indicated the skyline of Philadelphia with a sweeping gesture as Nikola Tesla joined him, mute with shock. "Things are obviously quite different, but welcome to modern day Philadelphia. Don't get too close to the edge, one good gust of wind and it's a loooong way down." Omega said, as he began to walk toward the massive helicopter that sat on the other side of the large helipad, "I understand that it's gonna take you a bit to get used to how shit works in the here and now; I went through the same thing when I got here. Whew, talk about culture shock!" Jay chuckled to himself as he opened the door to the chopper's passenger cabin with a shake of his head, "Anyway, you come chill in here for a bit; I've got to cut a promo for my World title match."
The Omega Man looked back over his shoulder, to see Nikola looking at him in incomprehension. Jay chortled to himself again, and realized he'd have to explain quite a few things to the man. Omega figured he'd start off with something small, and simple to understand. "I'm a professional athlete; a wrestler by trade. One of the best, if I do say so myself." Jay shot Tesla a confident grin, "I've got an important bout at the end of this week, to determine the World Champion of wrestling. And I need to demoralize my opponents, as well as promote the match, which I will accomplish by speaking to a video camera. That information will then be wirelessly transferred to a central hub, where anyone in the world can access it with the touch of a few buttons." Nikola's eyes grew wide with excitement as The Omega Man casually rattled off things thought impossible in Tesla's day; if such things were commonplace, what other wonders did this time hold?
"I know you're a thinker who likes to tinker, so I'm going to do you a solid, Nicky." Tesla looked confused at the statement, but he joined Omega in the helicopter's interior. Nikola took one of the plush leather seats, and looked around the cabin. "This is all a little strange." Tesla said, "Why would you have a sitting room on the roof?" Jay laughed, even slapped his knee, "This isn't a sitting room, Nick," Omega explained, "It's a flying machine, called a helicopter. Doesn't have the range or speed of a jet, but it has the advantage of being able to hover, as well as land and take off vertically." Jay collected his camera from its storage compartment, set it up on a small table between two opposing seats across the aisle from Nikola, then took the seat facing the camera. Omega reached into one of his cavernous cargo pockets, and pulled out his mask; the most important part of The Omega Man's ensemble. Jay slipped the mask over his head, and powered up the camera.~
"Winning isn't everything. But wanting to win is."
*Welcome back, True Believers! Our scene fades in on the masked visage of The Omega Man, Jay Omega, in a close up shot. A small strip of stained oak is visible at the bottom of the screen(presumably the table on which the camera rests), and above that is Omega's upper body, relaxing against a black leather seat with his new Hardcore Championship belt slung over his shoulder. Jay's electric blue eyes bore into the camera's lens like a pair of diamond-tipped augers, and a slight crinkling around their edges indicates a smile beneath his mask, confirmed in his tone of voice.*
Jay: Hot diggity daffodil, looks like The Omega Man is moving up in the world! In the short time since yours truly returned to the Whickiff, I technically won the United States Championship, I totally won the Hardcore Championship, and now I've got a shot at the World Championship, which you can bet your bottom dollar I'm going to win as well. Sadly, it means I have to give up this wicked cool belt I fought so hard to win. Well, not this belt; I had this one custom made, because the actual one that I won was all tainted by El Tomato's craptacular reign. No offense to any of the great names who held it before Danny boy, but his reprehensible actions after stumbling into a fluke win over the Oakland Mack kind of shat on the legacy of this prestidigitatious title. Metaphorically. I mean, I'm pretty sure DVS didn't actually drop a steamer on the belt, but he was pretty fucked up, so we can't rule it out.
*The Omega Man places his forearms on the table, and clasps his hands together, fingers interlaced.*
Jay: And after a matter of only twelve days, there's a two out of three chance that I'm gonna drop the strap to someone else. But to whom? Will our new Hardcore Champion be Drunky McHobobeard, or our current World Champion, the Bobfather Goddy R. Cairo? My money's on Cairo, since this is his first World title defense; ergo, he's gonna be trying his Godfatherdamnedest to go on a, quote unquote, "Bobby Cairo murkin spree". But too bad for our transitional champion, 'cause he's got the same one in three odds of retaining that belt, that I do of winning it. Sure, there's also a one in three chance of me walking out of the world-famous ECW Arena with nothing, but c'mon, this is me we're talking' about. I'm not leaving empty-handed. I've beaten worse odds than this before, and you can be damned sure I'll beat worse odds in the future.
*Omega unclasps his hands, and they drop below the table. When his hands come back into view, the left holds his gold Zippo lighter, the right holds his black plastic cigarette case. Jay pulls out a joint, sticks one end through the mouth-slit of his mask, and fires up the other end with a flourish of the Zippo. Once the case and lighter have been returned to their respective pockets, Omega supports his chin with his left hand, and takes the joint in his right.*
Jay: But I'm not filling your screens with my awesomeness to talk about the laws of probability, I'm here to bark about the top two dogs in the yard, and I think I'll start with the ICE Man, since I have more experience with him. Had a pretty badass ladder match with him, in which he acquired the rights and recipe to Whoop Ass beer, the only beer worth drinking. And boy has he gone wild with the drinking since. I wouldn't be surprised if he got so drunk he thought this Triple Threat match was contested under Hardcore rules, and spent the next week hyping the shit out of it in his own roundabout way, only to have his ass kicked cleanly, and eliminated first, when I pin him for that one, two, three.
*Jay hits the joint, then turns, and offers it to someone off screen.*
Jay: Hey, Nicky, you want a hit this? I'd hit it, if I weren't already hitting it. Primo pot, pal; please partake. Attaboy.
*"Nicky" goes into a coughing fit off screen, and Omega chuckles as he takes the joint back.*
Jay: Yeah, it's a bit stronger than what you might be used to. But back to business; beating Beckman. And Cairo too, but I'll get to him. Right now, it's about the other funny man in this upcoming match. And believe me, I'm a fan of the funny; I'm probably the biggest hashtag ICE Man Fan in the Whickiff, besides the Periwinkle Princess of Punishment. Which is why is damn near breaks mah heart to tell you that you're probably going to be the first one out of the running, Natty. And sent to the back of the line in the process. Now that probably gets your panties all in a wad, doesn't it? This upstart Jay Omega gets all up in your rematch, bumps you off, and then goes on to trade titles with the guy who practically stole the World Championship from you... ain't life a bitch?
*Jay fills his lungs and holds the hit for a few seconds. His offered joint apparently gets refused off camera, and Omega exhales through his nose, then snaps the fingers of his left hand.*
Jay: Oh, but you's Sethie-Pie's golden boy, ain'tcha, Beckster? The owner gets half-loaded, then puts in motion a half-cocked plan to, what, take out Pantheon? Pull the trigger on that, and it's going to explode in your face, pal. You can't destroy a concept, you can't kill an idea, and you can't stop Pantheon. We are Earth's Mightiest Wrestling Stable; winning is what we do. Which we will demonstrate quite gloriously at Thirteen. We currently hold almost all the titles, and rest assured that we're going to collect the rest too. They're like Pokemon; we gotta catch 'em all. And the first one on the list is that World Championship that Zee Macklemorris lost on your behalf, ICE.
*Jay draws deeply on the doobie, and clucks his tongue as he exhales.*
Jay: One way or another, Beckster - whether it's A Robert Hercules Cairo, or whether it's me, Jay Omega, or whether it's-ah me, Mario - this Friday night here will be no excuses for you to fall back on. No cryin' foul 'cause someone else being pinned cost you the title. Your shoulders are going to be on the mat for the three second tan this time. You're going to know it was your fault you couldn't bring home the gold. Any of the gold that's on the line. The ICE Age had to end sooner or later, and the winter of your discontent is over. Spring is in the air, thanks to Bobby Cairo, but bad news for the Cairofather, Governor Bob Thickness, because after your nine years of toiling, your World title reign is going to be one of the shortest in Whickiff history.
*Omega glances around for somewhere to deposit his accumulated ash, then shrugs and taps the joint over the table. Jay puffs on the pot, and again tries to offer it off screen only to be refused once more.*
Jay: Here's something I don't understand about you, Cairo; how you gonna play me off like I'm nothin', considering what I've done in my short time here in this elite organization? I've won the United States Championship twice in the span of six months, though that second time is unrecognized officially, because I didn't want to be burdened with an anchor that would keep me from the great things I'm destined to achieve. What else, oh, I won the Hardcore Championship after a pretty brutal fight against that monstrous mountain, TUBA, that worthless deviant, El Who Gives A Damn, and the Coked Up Madman, Zombie McMoron. You know, the guy you were prepared to cheat against, because you weren't sure you could beat him in that Coke On A Pole match?
*The Omega Man tilts his head to the left as he hits the joint again, then settles back into the plush leather seat.*
Jay: I don't know why you had such a hard time with him, but I do understand your choice to take the easy way out in that clusterfuck title match that was already pretty stacked against the ICE Man. Seriously, "Clusterfuck" should be Lerch's middle name. But my point stands, Bob-a-reenie; you knew you couldn't beat Natty, One showed us that. And the way you took the low road to, ahem, "win" that championship proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. So why is it that I think you're going to outlast Beckman in this elimination scenario? Because I want you to. I've had my sights set on the World Championship since I arrived in the Whickiff, and I love the thought of beating both you and Natty in the same match to get it. I plan to pin the ICE Man first, so you and I can have a proper go at it, Bobby.
*Jay ashes on the table again, hits the joint a final time, then grinds it out on the table.*
Jay: I don't think either of you is suited for the violently prestigious Hardcore division, but I think you'd do better than ICE would, Bob-a-loo. That's why I'm going to give you the gift of this shiny Hardcore Championship. That, and because you've shown that you enjoy holding titles you haven't technically won, so this should be right up your alley. You lose in your first defence, but gain another title, so it's not all bad. And besides, you'll get another shot at yours truly sooner or later; them tag belts you hold are a requirement for both the Triple Crown and the Grand Slam, so I'll be looking to add them to my collection someday.
*Omega brushes the little pile of ash onto the floor, and deposits the roach of his joint into his pocket.*
Jay: Go ahead and try to talk tough, both of you. Try and act like Jay Omega is some jobber nobody that you're gonna roll right over. It's gonna be real embarrassing when this "jobber nobody" kicks the bejeebus out of both of you at the same time. Sure, I like to have fun, I like to fuck around. Who doesn't? But I don't fuck around when top-tier titles are on the line in high-profile matches. Take a look at my title history; I haven't legitimately lost any of the belts I've won, and I'm not about to start now. Yeah, there's only a one in three chance I'll retain this badass Hardcore Championship, but I'll take that one in three chance of upgrading. No risk, no reward, after all. Yes, I did just quote Shia LeBeef; deal with it.
*Jay gives a semi-apologetic shrug.*
Jay: You're both going to spew the same old tired shit everyone else has, so I don't know why either of you will bother, though at least Beckster will make it entertaining, with his parodies, and his jokes, and his awesome webcomics. Which would be fantastic, because I don't feature in nearly enough of them. Unfortunately for my opponents, as badass a wrestler Bobby Cairo is, and as entertaining a wrestler as ICE Beckman is, Jay Omega is the ultimate combination of the two. I'm a badass entertainer, and one of the greatest wrestlers to ever lace up a pair of boots. I have a habit of kicking asses and taking names, and your names just came up, guys. Good talk, dudes. Let's have another one soon, 'kay?
*Omega reaches for the camera, and the scene fades to black.*
"A man, though wise, should never be ashamed of learning more."
~Fascinated, Tesla watched as The Omega Man lifted up the hidden screen of a laptop built into the table, and connected it to the camera with a USB cable, though he of course didn't know what a USB cable was. While the video file encoded for upload, Jay turned to Nikola, and pointed at the laptop as he began to explain. "This here is a laptop computer, capable of a shit ton of things that weren't even dreamed of in your time, such as face to face communication across the world." The file finished encoding, and began to upload to the WCF website. "It's going to become your best friend, along with Google and Wikipedia. Probably Redtube, too. With this device, the sum of the world's accumulated knowledge is literally at your fingertips." Nikola hadn't been this excited since he originally moved to New York. He was quite eager to learn of all the incredible advancements society had made in the last hundred twenty years.~