Post by Jay Omega on Oct 11, 2015 16:53:46 GMT -5
PRE-WAR
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.::He crept along the crumbling remains of the ruined cathedral, the uneven floor littered with rubble from the obsidian walls. Larger chunks of the black stone came from ragged holes in the ceiling, allowing for an interspersing view of the whirling maelstrom formed by black clouds in the reddened sky above. He kept the Core close behind him; though they had managed to infiltrate the structure with relative ease, they were quickly approaching a chamber his IFF feed assured him was full of hostiles. He decided that the utmost stealth would be needed as they came closer to the source of the jabbering voices. He purposely slowed their pace and came to a stop several feet short of the end of the hall, then turned to face the Core. Reb's biometric signature might be coming from just ahead, but walking out and joining Johnny felt like a really bad idea.::.
"The room up ahead is overwhelmingly unfriendly, but Johnny's definitely in there. We need to do a little recon, but we can't be seen. What level of active camo has your supersuit got?"
"Uh, Erin? ... Well that's just fuckin' fantas-- ... I kno-- I know it's not your fault, I just ... Now's not the time for this, Erin ... Yes, I'm sure we will. Okay, so, apparently this was a frontline assault unit, wasn't designed for ambushes, yadda yadda yadda, short version is; this is as stealthy as I get."
"Oh. Yaysies. All right, stick close to me, don't break contact, don't move too fast, and for Xor's sake, turn off your external speakers!"
"My external..? Oh son of--"
"Uh, Erin? ... Well that's just fuckin' fantas-- ... I kno-- I know it's not your fault, I just ... Now's not the time for this, Erin ... Yes, I'm sure we will. Okay, so, apparently this was a frontline assault unit, wasn't designed for ambushes, yadda yadda yadda, short version is; this is as stealthy as I get."
"Oh. Yaysies. All right, stick close to me, don't break contact, don't move too fast, and for Xor's sake, turn off your external speakers!"
"My external..? Oh son of--"
.::He heard a click in his ear as the Core changed broadcast channels.::.
"A bitch!"
.::He took one of the Core's hands and placed it on his shoulder to create a tactile bridge. A small holographic display projected from the armored plate on his forearm, and he input a few quick commands, then activated the multi-phasic stealth suit's highest level of active camouflage. The two of them quickly faded from sight as light from the visible spectrum was refracted around them. At the highest level the field also dampened heat signatures, reduced noise output, and muddied auras. He'd encountered very few beings capable of detecting him through all these countermeasures, which generally made up for the massive drain on his energy reserves that came with extended use. Of course, cloaking two people would consume a ridiculous amount of energy very quickly, so they weren't likely to be making heavy use of the tech. For now though, it would allow them to get close enough to assess the situation, then pull back in order to formulate a plan of attack.::.
"Stay low, stay slow. You're invisible so long as you keep that hand where it is, but if you break contact, you might as well light up a signal flare. Now let's go see what's what."
.::Together they crept forward; the end of the hall opened up into a walkway leading to a large rotunda. With all the stealth of a jungle cat stalking its prey, they approached the inner circle of the domed structure. In the very center, within a seven-pointed star, stood the Timekeeper Johnny Reb. Slowly turning in place, Reb was apparently conversing with several unknown someones seated in dark alcoves set above the packed stands.::.
"--Clear violation of the ancient precepts, and not one of y'all has given me a straight answer! Quit playing coy; you know damn well who I am! I might look different, but I am the Timekeeper; do ya really want to push this?"
.::A moment of... not silence; there was a ceaseless chatter from the occupants of the dim and shadowy stands that stretched up and outward in concentric rings. It was more like anticipation. When someone did finally answer, it was in a sultry, feminine voice that caught his immediate interest. Not because it sounded like the speaker was mid-orgasm, but because the structure of the sound was wrong somehow; like he was hearing the voice with a different set of ears.::.
"Do forgive us, dear; it gets dreadfully boring. We so rarely get visitors of any sort, let alone such handsome ones. We were merely enjoying the diversion from the tedium. But as to your scandalous accusations... Well I'm afraid we can't help you there."
.::Johnny didn't like that; the look on his face said as much. The Timekeeper opened his mouth to respond angrily, but another voice cut in; like good oil it was both refined, and slick. And like the previous voice, he felt he wasn't actually hearing it.::.
"Come now, you can't really expect us to just give information away, can you? What do you offer us in return?"
.::A quick smile flickered across Reb's face. The Timekeeper made one full revolution before answering, looking up at the other unseen participants in this conversation.::.
"That's easy; I offer yer lives. I didn't come here for games, and I sure as shit didn't come to bargain. I came for some answers, and by God, I will get some!"
.::A breeze rose up and stirred the dust lining the covered courtyard. The shadowy spectators fell into a collective hush, and he gathered that this was something unnatural here. The breeze intensified to a light wind as it surrounded Johnny; whipping the dust up into a spiral around the Timekeeper's knees.::.
"I will ask one final time, and then I'm gonna start pullin' answers outta y'all. And I guarantee, ain't none of us gonna like it if I have to do that. Now, why have y'all been gallivantin' around on the upper Planes? The precepts only allow for one o' yer kind to inhabit the Material Planes at a time, and these encroachments could be seen as an act of war."
"Oh do be patient, good Timekeeper. Must everything be done in such a frenzied rush? Perhaps you should take a century or two to relax. No? Oh, very well. I feel I must inform you that none of our kind inhabit any of the realms within your dominion. At least, not anymore."
"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What it means, sweetness, is that we can't be held responsible for the actions of the Voracious One. It's common knowledge that one went rogue several millennia ago."
"I see. So all them excursions in the last year have been what? Sight-seein' trips?"
"I, for one, can only speak for myself, but I was merely trying to determine our brother's motivations. He lost sight of our true purpose aeons ago; when we were forced to exile one of our own."
"I told you that was a waste of your time, dear brother. Without His Hatefulness to bar the path, the Great Destroyer will seek to consume all. It isn't unexpected; that is his domain after all."
"Regardless, it's against the laws that govern the higher functions of reality. But if y'all ain't gonna do nothin' about it, then I will."
"Do take care, Timekeeper. That very nearly sounded like a threat."
"Oh did it? My apologies; allow me to rephrase. There are dark places where even your kind know fear, and if none o' y'all are gonna do anything about this breach, then I swear in the name of Ixmucane, I will tear the offending party into pieces, and scatter them across the Metaverse!"
"Oh do be patient, good Timekeeper. Must everything be done in such a frenzied rush? Perhaps you should take a century or two to relax. No? Oh, very well. I feel I must inform you that none of our kind inhabit any of the realms within your dominion. At least, not anymore."
"And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What it means, sweetness, is that we can't be held responsible for the actions of the Voracious One. It's common knowledge that one went rogue several millennia ago."
"I see. So all them excursions in the last year have been what? Sight-seein' trips?"
"I, for one, can only speak for myself, but I was merely trying to determine our brother's motivations. He lost sight of our true purpose aeons ago; when we were forced to exile one of our own."
"I told you that was a waste of your time, dear brother. Without His Hatefulness to bar the path, the Great Destroyer will seek to consume all. It isn't unexpected; that is his domain after all."
"Regardless, it's against the laws that govern the higher functions of reality. But if y'all ain't gonna do nothin' about it, then I will."
"Do take care, Timekeeper. That very nearly sounded like a threat."
"Oh did it? My apologies; allow me to rephrase. There are dark places where even your kind know fear, and if none o' y'all are gonna do anything about this breach, then I swear in the name of Ixmucane, I will tear the offending party into pieces, and scatter them across the Metaverse!"
.::It was time to move. The conversation was clearly over, and Reb was heading their way. He gently nudged the Core, and the two of them crept back toward the hall they had emerged from. When it was certain the coast was clear, he reached for the controls that would disengage the cloaking device, but a voice stopped him. A voice that hadn't been heard in quite some time; one that veritably dripped with malice.::.
"Hello, James. It's been a while."
.::The tactile bridge was broken as the Core lurched to his feet and spun about, Erin's weapon systems powered up with a shrill whine. He turned in that direction as well, hoping he was still hidden by the stealth suit's cloaking field. He turned around slowly, and reached for the Virfneb Caster Mark Kirle with equal caution. His ears hadn't been playing tricks on him; the shadow wraith Scathe stood a few feet distant, a shifting mass of deeper blackness that stood out against the obsidian walls. He raised the Caster in Scathe's direction, then felt a serrated edge press itself against his throat. A serpentine voice hissed in his ear.::.
"That would not be advisssable. Unlesss you feel you no longer require your head? Yesss, lower your weapon. We only ssseek to parley."
.::Oh shazbat. If these two were skulking about in the shadows here, that only confirmed the Timekeeper had led them into one of the Nine Hells. Likely Nessus, based on the architecture. And if these two were desperate enough to parley, then there was something horrifying in the works. It seemed there was no choice at the moment, though, so he lowered his weapon, and prepared to hear them out.::.
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TBC...
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TBC...
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October 9, 2015
1420hrs, Local Time
~The beaches of Hawaii were grand, to be sure, though they paled in comparison to the white sands of Jay Omega's private beach on his island nation. But Jay wasn't standing outside the Hilton Hawaiian Village Waikiki Beach Resort for the sun and surf, nor for the bevy of nearly-bare beauties. No, the newly-crowned WCF World Champion (suck it, Purse) was standing outside the resort waiting for someone in particular to arrive. This wasn't the first major title Jay had won during the course of his career, so he was well-versed in the contractual obligations that came with the territory. As such, he'd been prepared for the phone call he had received earlier in the week, and had spent the past few days making sure things would go according to his meticulously laid plan.1420hrs, Local Time
Jay wasn't used to having an assistant who actually assisted, so when he had gotten the call from Pantheon assistant Jade Seung about a meeting with the Make A Wish Foundation, he had been a little confused at first, but the matter had quickly been sorted. After having Jade schedule him in for an 8pm "boning session", Jay had agreed to meet with representatives from the foundation, in order to work out what wishes Jay would be willing to help make come true. As he stood by the resort's entrance, his mind drifted back toward the conversation he'd had with a mister Gerald Lawless, concerning the sickly young man whose dying wish was to spend the day with the current WCF Trios Champions.
They had met in a nondescript office; white walls, a beige carpet, a pressboard table, and a few plastic chairs. The word "non-profit" was taken literally, it seemed. Gerald Lawless was a slightly overweight, balding man in his middle years whose face was reminiscent of a confused bird's. "Good afternoon, Mister Omega," Lawless had begun, only to be cut off by Omega. "Good to meet ya, Gerry. Now, this is about that sick little dude who wanted to hang out with the most electrifying men in all of performance arts, right?" Naturally, Mr. Lawless was somewhat taken aback by Jay's unorthodox behaviour, but he had learned a long time ago that celebrities were often... eccentric. "Robert, yes, the little boy who wanted to meet Pantheon." Gerald hesitated a moment, then continued, "This coming Friday will be his birthday, and since it's doubtful he'll live to see another, we were wondering if you'd be interested in bumping the scheduled visit ahead a few days."
"Oh hell yeah!" Jay had exclaimed, "That'll be awesome! I mean, I did have an appointment to play Crokinole with the princess of Monaco, but it looks like I'll be cancelling again. So do you want I should pick up the little tyke, or are we all gonna meet up somewhere? What's the deal?" Gerald had tried to get a word in edgewise, "He's hardly a tyke--" But Jay had just steamrolled right over him. "Y'know what? Let's make it awesome for the kid; I'm scheduled to be in Hawah-ee-ee this weekend, so just bring him out to my hotel. Here, get yourself a pen ready." Gerald took up a pen and a pad of paper as Jay proceeded to give directions. First to a bakery in Toronto, then to a video store in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, and finally to a brothel in Venice, Italy. At length, Gerald let out a sigh, and rubbed the bridge of his pudgy nose; eccentricites be damned, this was starting to seem like a terrible idea.
"Mister Omega, I'm beginning to rethink this decision. I'm not sure if--" Again Lawless had been cut off. "No no, it's all good in the hood," Jay had said reassuringly, "There will be plenty of other trained professionals around, some of them reasonably capable." That had brought a measure of relief to Gerald's face. "So I can expect cooperation from the rest of Pantheon, then?" Lawless had asked, then continued with some hesitation, "The Foundation has some guidelines which we strongly suggest all celebrities adhere to when visiting with a sick child. Though, of course, we do try to get as close to the child's wish as possible." Jay had nodded in understanding, then leaned back in his seat to put his feet up on the table. "No problemo. Everything's gonna be hunky-dory, homeslice." A small smile had broken out on Gerald's face. Seemingly mollified, the representative had leaned forward with his pen in hand once more. "Most excellent. Now if you could give me directions to your hotel this time..."
Jay blinked rapidly as he shook himself free of his memories. Gerald was walking his way, towing along a boy who looked to be around twelve or so with dirty blond hair. "Mister Omega, thank you for being here," Jay threw him a confused look at the greeting. "What's that supposed to mean? You saying some people bail on meeting sick kids?" The question seemed to make Gerald uncomfortable, so Jay changed the subject. "So this is little Bobby, is it?" Already set in a scowl, the child's face darkened even further. "My fuckin' name is Robert," Came the correction, "Call me Bobby again, and I'll punt your balls up into your fuckin' eye sockets." Jay raised an eyebrow at the outburst, while Lawless looked mortified. "Robert, you promised you would behave yourself." Gerald said quietly, which caused Robert to shake his head. "Nah, I promised I'd try. There's a difference."
"I like this kid already." Jay said with a chuckle, which caused Robert to flip him off. Gerald glanced around quickly, then gave Jay a worrisome glance. "Where are the other members of your trio? I was led to believe there would be three of you here?" Jay made a placating gesture as he explained. "Relax, they'll be here. These guys are reliable. But it's not exactly a quick flight all the way out to Honolulu, ya dig?" Once satisfied that all would be well, Lawless left young Robert in the dubious care of Jay Omega, and left them to their own devices, with an assurance that he would return to pick up Robert by nine o'clock that evening. "All right kid, what do you want to do while we wait for the other two to get here?" Jay asked, prompting Robert to flip him off again. "I ain't a fuckin' kid," Robert replied angrily, "I'm thirteen today." Robert waited a few moments longer while he made sure Gerald was completely out of sight, then turned back to Jay.
"Can I help you cut a promo? Maybe just hold the camera or something?" Jay was a little surprised by the child's prescience; he had been about to ask if Robert would be interested in such a task. "Sure, why not? I still have to do something concerning this six man tag match I've got Sunday night." Jay motioned for Robert to follow him as they headed inside the resort to retrieve the GoPro Hero from Omega's room. "You know how to use a video camera, little dude?" The question brought a disgusted noise from Robert's throat. "Duh, it's Twenty Fifteen, fuckbag. Fuckin' babies know how to use a digital camera." That might be a bit of an exaggeration, but Jay was willing to let it slide. Once they had the camera in hand, Jay stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the ocean breeze, and beautiful bouncing sights below. Omega took a moment more to spark up a joint, then nodded to Robert to begin filming.~
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*Welcome back, True Believers! As our scene fades in, we find ourselves confronted with a stunning ocean view, partially blocked by a Plexiglass barricade. Azure waves lap at the sandy beach far below us, and just to the right of the center of the screen stands WCF World Champion, Jay Omega. Dressed in camo cargo shorts and a black silk button up, Omega's icy blue eyes are hidden behind his signature reflective Oakleys. A burning joint is held loosely in his right hand, and Jay raises it to his lips for a moment before he deigns to speak.*
Jay Omega: What the fuck is this supposed to be? Now, maybe Lerch feels I need to take it easy after the hellacious beating I not only endured, but overcame last week. But if that were the case, why not just give me the night off? No no no, instead he books the current Trios Champions - Earth's Mightiest Wrestling Stable - against three guys who have had zero success against me in the past. And that's just me; doesn't even take Purse and Alex into account. Hell, Lerch could have made this a three-on-one handicapped match, and it would still have the same result; a victory for Pantheon. I mean, Zombie McMorris? Oblivion? Doc Henry? This isn't Two Thousand Eleven anymore; these guys haven't been marketable for years. Let's start with Doc Henry; get him out of the way first, since he'll provide the least resistance in the match.
*Jay hits the joint in his hand, in order to break up the text. Because scene setting is important.*
Jay Omega: Some people say that Doc Henry is synonymous with the tag team division. When in actuality, Doc Henry is synonymous with being carried through the tag team division. You can look through the history records if you want, but I'll save you some time; though he has won those Tag Titles more than just about anyone else, you'll note that not once was Doc Henry the closer of whatever team he was on. He was always riding the coattails of those better than him. And this is a guy who teamed up with Terry Roberts! When Terry Roberts is the heavy hitter of your team, you know there's a big fuckin' problem. But for some reason, Doc seems to think he's still a credible threat. "Panty-On is goin' down!" and "Tort fears Doc!" all over the place. Nobody fears you, Doc; there's nothing worrying about you.
*Again Jay hits the doobie, exhaling a thick cloud into the clear sky.*
Jay Omega: Oblivion. Jesus Christ, what do I even say to or about Oblivion? I don't think it matters, it doesn't seem like he'd understand me anyway. I mean, this is a guy who thinks Lerch is protecting Pantheon. Lerch hates us, dude. The only reason he booked this match, was so he'd have a legitimate reason for not giving Jeff and I the shot we deserve at the Tag Team Championships. But would you like to know why the Trios Championships aren't on the line? Because you're just a ragtag team who doesn't have a hope of winning them anyway. That's like making Teo Del Sol defend his title against Biohazard; just... why? What's the point? The outcome is never in doubt, so there's no tension, no suspense. Putting the Trios titles on the line would actually be detrimental to both this match, and the already limited value the titles have.
*Jay taps the ash from the end of the joint, takes another haul, then passes it off screen to the camera's operator.*
Jay Omega: And finally, good old Zee Macklemorris. You just go on running your mouth over Twitter, dude. We all know that's your calling. There's no denying that you are the cornerstone of the Internet division, and that belt is truly the title you deserve. But let me ask you this: What good does it do you to be regarded as one of the best "shit talkers" in the company, if you can't do anything else? Seriously, ZMAC, for all your talk of ending career, and pushing shit in, you haven't done a goddamn thing of note, other than win that Internet title. Oh, and making my career, if we're to believe you. Sure, I had some good times kicking the shit out of you every time we squared off, but that doesn't mean you "made" my career. I'm pretty sure winning more than I lose is what made my career. But hey, if you want to claim responsibility for all my victories, then I'll thank you in advance for the one you're going to give me Sunday night.
*The spliff gets passed back to Omega, but he pauses in the midst of taking a toke.*
Jay Omega: Wel, I think that covers everything I need to. Why waste my breath talking to people who won't listen, anyway? Shut 'er down, Robert, we're done here.
*The scene fades to black as Omega exhales at the screen.*