One for the Money

[Jay Omega]

==============================
"There is no safety this side of the grave"
-Stranger In A Strange Land
==============================

Outskirts of Grokdollaye City, Planet Kormoraht, Lowvash Star System
Third Day Planetside, Local Date Unknown
Late Afternoon, Local Time Unknown

~A searing plasma bolt impacted the bulkhead corner milliseconds after Jay Omega pulled his head back behind cover; the superheated projectile spattering bits of molten metal into the decrepit vehicle maintenance bay The Omega Man was defending. "How's it lookin' back there, Nicky?" Jay called out with a hint of worry, checking the ammo reserves of his trusty sidearm, the Virfneb Caster Mark Virm. "'Cause our exit window is closing fast, and while Darkmaw and I are seriously badass, we could really use Erin's help." From one of the hulking wrecks within the abandoned repair shop, the voice of temporally displaced mad genius Nikola Tesla rose up in response, "Don't call me Nicky, else I'll rig this contraption to eject you the next time you say dude!" Omega's face twisted into his trademark half-baked half grin at the empty threat and he shook his head, "Dude! Not cool!" Jay yelled back, then glanced over at Darkmaw, standing on the opposite side of the dilapidated bay's makeshift entrance. The assassin paused in the midst of swapping Harbulary batteries in her gear and nodded in his direction.

  "I assure you, I am almost finished! If I did not require Miss Erin's aid with the interface, I would have already sent her to help. Just a few more minutes!" Omega risked another look through the ragged hole in the wall and counted a full dozen Doom Rats mercenaries in heavy armor advancing on his position. One of the mercs raised an arm and Jay pulled his head back behind cover, the following plasma bolt sending more molten metal spattering to the floor with a bright red flare. ""You've got maybe two minutes before these ugly motherfuckers overrun us, I strongly suggest you hurry!" The Omega Man holstered his Caster, then activated his Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device and selected the communications function. "Whittaker, are you there?" A short burst of static flickered across the small screen of the W.E.I.R.D., then resolved itself into the image of a tawny-haired young man with sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. "Read ya loud and clear, Cap'n," came the response from Whittaker, the sentient digital personality which inhabited the main computer banks of Omega's starship, the Khybaris.

  "Still too much interference from that light show y'all put on yesterday for me to get a fix on yer location. I could prob'ly get a lock on ya if'n I dropped down inna the atmosphere, but those damn aerial defense drones are still online, and there ain't no way the Khybaris is gonna outfly 'em forever." The virtual intelligence's visual avatar gave a defeated shrug at the futility of the situation, but his words rolled off Jay's bravado like water off a duck's back. Omega stole a glance down at his side, locking eyes with his non-human significant other. His piercing blue eyes held the searching look of her amber ones for a moment, then Jay dropped his gaze from the pale lilac face of Ymsyllynt'ash'Andwalu - known informally as Tasha - and sought out the invaluable treasure the exiled princess held carefully within the folds of his omnicoat. Tasha cradled a large, leathery egg in her arms, the color of eggplant shot through with veins of orchid. A steady pulsing came from the top of the egg, and occasional movement within caused the sides to distend just a little.

  "No worries, my dude; Nicky's trying to put together a ride for us, so we'll be out in the open soon. Stay safe for now, but on my signal, I'm gonna need you to break orbit, zip down here quick as you can, and cover our retreat. We've got a pack of Doom Rats breathing down our necks, and I don't need to remind you what's at stake." Whittaker acknowledged the orders and the screen went blank. The Omega Man drew the Caster once more and took a deep breath. "Thumper rounds." The weapon in Omega's hand lit up and gave a soft whirring noise, "Thaumpyrrh rounds." Came the mechanical reply from the sidearm, followed by two clicks to indicate the selected ammunition was ready to fire. Jay nodded to Darkmaw and the pair stepped into the breach as one; the assassin crouching low as she deployed her kinetic barrier, while Omega stood tall, firing the Caster over the top edge of the shimmering blue energy field. Darkmaw then activated her electronic countermeasure module, a gadget designed to interfere with detection and tracking systems.

  Their defenses set up as best they could be, the two humans began to unload in earnest; The Omega Man shooting small orbs containing highly volatile energy which exploded upon impact, while Darkmaw let loose an unending stream of shrapnel from her compact, custom built rifle, which was capable of using any magnetically reactive metal as ammunition. Between the two of them focusing their fire, they were able to take down two of the heavily armored mercenaries before the barrier generator beeped twice in warning, and the duo was forced to retreat once more. "I have no more power units with me, Shiplord," Darkmaw said, tilting her helmeted head in apology, "I'm afraid that was our last offensive measure, it falls to Ser Tesla to save us now." As if to punctuate her words, a small missile streaked between them, heading out through the hole in the wall. There was a loud thump, followed by a roar that shook the building so violently, debris rained down from the ruined roof. From the smoky shadows of the repair bay interior, a large humanoid figure strode out to greet the humans.

  The mechanical construct housing Erin was intimidating to look at due to the sheer variety of weaponry bristling from nearly every inch of the armored torso. The tri-barreled shoulder mounted cannon spun up as Erin braced herself, and the underarm grenade launcher on her right forearm locked into the ready position. "Master Tesla is finishing the final welds now, Pilot Jay; we should be ready for evac in less than two minutes." The situation report ended with a series of loud THOONKs as Erin fired a volley of six grenades at the implacable enemies approaching. The shoulder cannon spewed out a torrent of hot lead while the grenade launcher reloaded, paused briefly while Erin ducked to avoid a plasma bolt, then resumed when she stood up again. Jay turned in order to stick his arm around the corner and fired the Caster blindly, his new angle allowing him to see a distortion in the air beside Tasha ripple and resolve itself into the form of Nikola Tesla, startling the Darrikaan woman. "Apologies, my lady," Tesla said soothingly, extending a hand, "But I do believe it's past time we were away from here, don't you?"

  Once the purple princess was on her feet, Tesla tapped Omega on the shoulder as he passed by, casually strolling across the open ground separating Darkmaw from the rest of the group. With Erin in cover allowing Jay to climb inside the armor, the only target presented to the advancing Doom Rats was an irresistible one, and the remaining seven mercenaries opened fire in unison, though their assault had little effect. The barrage of plasma bolts sputtered to a crackling stop a full three feet from Tesla, the air flaring with orange energy as the superheated projectiles harmlessly impacted against Nikola's starship grade energy shield. Darkmaw finished feeding a piece of scrap metal into her rifle's built-in nanoforge, then took Tesla's proffered hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "Do forgive my forwardness, but you will need to remain close in order to benefit from the protection of my shield." Nikola explained as he slipped an arm around the slim woman's waist and led her back across the gap in cover, to be reunited with the other members of the crew.

  While The Omega Man provided covering fire, the other three retreated to their waiting vehicle; an industrial hover-dolly with a large thruster engine attached to one end with a series of ugly welds, loose wires and cables running from the engine to the dolly's control panel in a crazed tangle. Being the most accomplished pilot of the ground team, Darkmaw took up a position at the head of the conveyance, taking only a moment to familiarize herself with the controls. With the hover pods active and the thruster engine primed, Darkmaw turned to call for Jay to join them, when the armored Omega landed heavily beside the thruster. "Did my best to plug that hole, but it ain't gonna stop those Doom Rats for long. Let's make like a tree and get the fuck out of here!" The assassin at the helm began to accelerate slowly and steadily, gauging the power of the thruster and the strength of the welds before she opened the throttle full bore. Seconds later the crew of the Khybaris was swiftly putting ground between themselves and the hostiles on their tail, leaving a trail of vapor and scorched soil in their wake.

  With the abandoned repair shop rapidly dwindling in the distance, Jay determined it was a good time to call for pick up. "Hey Whittaker," Omega said aloud, trusting Erin to reroute the message through his W.E.I.R.D., not the Suit's external speakers. "Ahoy, Cap'n," Came the male-presenting A.I.'s response. "We're ready for pick up down here, c'mon down and grab us. I'll have Erin broadcast an open signal to make it easier to find us. Let's try and make this quick, I want to be a million miles from here before those drones even realize you've breached the atmosphere, ya dig?" Whittaker acknowledged the request, and in short order, a pair of sonic booms echoed throughout the valley Jay and his crew were traversing. The vaguely insectile starship - somewhat resembling a cross between a wasp and a scorpion flying ass end first - swooped down through the sky to land several hundred meters ahead of her approaching crew, the cargo ramp at the fore of the ship lowering to allow the crew to board without wasting precious seconds disembarking their jerry-rigged hover sled.

  This had been the sixth such attempt to kidnap Omega's still developing offspring in the last thirty-day cycle, and at times it felt as though nowhere was safe. Every starport they had visited, every trade station they'd frequented, there was almost always someone waiting for them, or arriving shortly after they did. Darkmaw had commented that the only refuge would be a dead world or one that had no outside ties to the galactic community, which had immediately sparked an idea in Jay's mind. It just so happened he knew exactly where to find a pre-contact world in a backwater part of the galaxy; a planet that had no ties to the galactic community. With their most recent refueling mission being semi-successful, Jay thought that maybe it was time to settle down and raise his family somewhere safer than hurtling through the cosmos in a tin can. For better or worse, it was time to head home. "Treepis-Tohn, if you'd be so kind as to set a course for Earth, and spin up the Hartnell-Capaldi drive. Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning." The Ylolt pilot hooted in confirmation, and The Omega Man finally relaxed.~

---------------

Independent Support Vessel Khybaris, Maritopia Spaceport, Earth
Tuesday, December 25th, 2018
1325 hrs, Local Time

~"--uck do you mean I don't have any funds available?!?" Jay said loudly, "I'm a Xor-damned billionaire with a private island; I can liquidate enough assets to liquidate your ass, ya feel me?" Omega listened to the response from the bank manager on the other end of the call and rolled his eyes. "Then fuckin' undeclare it, because I'm clearly not dead. ... Well, obviously there's a proce-- ... Three fucking weeks?!? ... No, I don't give a shit if it's the holiday season, I want my fucking money! ... Fuck, fine, whatever. Just get it done pronto. ... Yeah, and 'humbug' to you." Jay ended the call and made a sound that was half frustrated sigh, half furious growl. The trip back to Earth had required a circuitous route, as the most viable jump points were well known, and some made for excellent ambush spots. The first jump the Khybaris had made after leaving Kormoraht had almost been the last, having landed them in the middle of five Duzkhan cruisers. The damage sustained and the extra fuel spent on several random jumps meant the Khybaris needed repairs and refueling.

  This was not Omega's lucky day, however, having just learned that he had been declared legally dead more than a year prior, with all his liquid assets seized by various world governments. As a result, he had no easy access to the cash needed to purchase the raw materials necessary to repair his starship without leaving a paper trail. Thankfully there was still one place The Omega Man knew where he could get some quick cash, though probably not a large amount at first. Reopening the communication function of his W.E.I.R.D., Jay sent a nearby guard scurrying off to bring him a fat blunt while he took care of business. "Erin, connect me to the Dubya See Eff head office; I need to negotiate a match or two with Lerch." Omega waited patiently as Erin did as instructed, though it did seem to take slightly longer than he thought it would. Just as he was starting to get annoyed, the device strapped to his left wrist let out a ringing noise, quickly followed by a gruff voice. "Hello? Who is this? How did you get this number?" Definitely not the voice of Seth Lerch.

  "Corey?" Jay asked in confusion, "Corey Black?" The guard returned with a blunt and a lighter, handing both to Omega, who simply stood there holding them. "Maybe. Who's asking?" Still confused, Jay brought the blunt to his lips and lit up before he replied. "It's your friendly neighbourhood Omega Man, that's who." Instantly the tone of Corey Black's voice changed; still gruff, but slightly more pleasant. "Oh hey, what up, bitch? Seriously though, how did you get this number? It's unlisted." Omega hit the blunt and smirked sardonically, though Corey couldn't see it, "Dude, I hang with Nikola Tesla and two Ay Eyes, there's no such thing as unlisted as far as I'm concerned." Jay exhaled the hit he'd been holding and coughed quietly. "Fair enough. So what do you want? You aren't the kind of guy who calls old friends just to chat, and by no means are we old friends." Omega frowned slightly at that statement; he was pretty sure he'd been on good terms with Corey the last time they'd spoken. Then again, that had been in the alternate universe created by 1he Wav3, so who knew how this Corey felt?

  "Well to be honest, I was trying to get a hold of Lerch. Do you know where he is?" The Omega Man hit his blunt again and tapped the accumulated ash to the concrete floor of the enormous berth built for the Khybaris. "Probably drunk in a ditch somewhere. Who knows, who cares? Why? You got something related to the Dub you want to talk about? If so, you talk to me; I run that bitch now, and have for a while." Jay raised his eyebrows in surprise as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. "No shit? All right, well, I'll put it like this; due to some unforeseen circumstances, I need to get my hands on a bit of cash real quick and I figured what better way than to kick some ass in the ring? Don't suppose you've got an open slot on the next show?" Omega hit the blunt again almost before he finished speaking. "Uh-huh, right. And are you actually gonna show up this time, or is it just my Thirteen events that you flake on?" Jay's face soured at the question, though he really should have expected such a dig. Omega exhaled fully and drew a deep breath before responding, choosing not to give Corey the rise he was looking for.

  "No, I'm serious. I'm not asking for the main event, or a title shot, or anything like that. Just give me someone to jobberkill so I can collect a paycheque." There was a moment of silence from the other end, as Corey thought things through. "You do realize the next show is One, right? Not sure I want to mess with the card just for you." Jay quirked an eyebrow in interest. "One, you say? Don't think I've ever been on the card for that prestigious event. Now you've got to hook me up." Corey snorted derisively at the statement. "I don't have to do shit. And you would have been in the main event of One back in Twenty Fifteen, if you hadn't disappeared." Omega's face soured once more; this conversation wasn't going as he'd hoped, and the reminders of his failings were doing little to improve his mood. "Okay man, you've made your point, now you're just being a dick. Are you gonna give me a match, or not?" The Omega Man hit his blunt once more, waiting somewhat patiently while Corey mulled it over. "Fuck it, I guess I could throw you to the wolves. Or just one Wolf. James Wolf."

  "I don't... I don't know who that is. Am I supposed to laugh, or be insulted, or what?" From the other end, Corey snorted once more. "Hey man, how you react is on you. I did you a favor and put you on the card, but I have to get back to work; Price has a big list of shit he wants for his wedding, and I'm seeing how many things I can say no to. I'm shooting for 'all of them', heh heh heh." That tidbit shocked Jay to his core. "Hold up, Price is getting married?" The disbelief in his voice was palpable, bringing a short chuckle from Black. "I know, right? He used to spend all his time trying to get loose vagina, and now he lives inside the loosest one in the world." Omega didn't quite know how to process that, so he simply shook his head and hit the blunt. "That's some crazy shit. Remember when he was a viable World Champion?" Jay coughed slightly as he finished exhaling his hit. "Yeah. Remember when you were?" Jay winced, but quickly put on a happy face. "HAAA! Fake laugh hiding real pain. See you at One, man." Omega stabbed at the disconnect button, cutting off Corey's obligatory holiday well-wishing.~

==============================
"It's hard to enjoy practical jokes when your whole life feels like one."
-The Last Olympian
==============================

*Welcome back, True Believers! Yeah, that's got some sad connotations now, but it was always meant as a tribute, so we're keeping it. Anywho, let's kick things off with the tried and true classic fade in. Audio comes first; the numerous calls of seagulls, waves crashing, and the crackling of a fire. Our view transitions from a blank, black screen to a picturesque view of a white-sanded beach, crystalline waters, and a bright blue sky, with only a few small, wispy clouds scudding along. The camera pans slightly to our left and sinks down - as though the operator were taking a seat - and we now find ourselves sitting across a cheery campfire from our favourite red-eye Jedi, The Omega Man, Jay Omega. Casually clad in denim cutoffs and a black T-shirt bearing the album cover of Space 1992: Rise of the Chaos Wizards by Gloryhammer, Jay's electric blue eyes are covered by a pair of silver-framed Oakleys with reflective lenses. A burning blunt dangles from the fingers of his right hand, which Omega promptly raises to his mouth in order to draw a deep lungful of smoke.*

Jay Omega: Damn, it's been a whi-- the fuck? Oh no. No no no, this will not do.

*Jay clears his throat, then does so again and spits off to his left.*

Jay Omega: There we go. Making me work for that classic Dub colour scheme.

*Omega hits the blunt in his hand, and clucks his tongue as he exhales.*

Jay Omega: So anyway, it's been a while, and I'll admit I'm a little out of practice with this part of the job. To be honest, I know sweet fuck all about this James Wolf dude I've been matched against at One, which makes talkin' trash about him a bit on the difficult side. But hey, I like a decent challenge, so I'll do what I can with what I've got. Even if that means I have to put more effort into shooting on Jimbo the Wolfman than I put into beating him. And let's face it, we all know I'm going to beat him. Don't get me wrong; I don't think it will be a very easy victory, but I don't expect too much trouble. I mean, we're talking about a guy who has - over the last three months - failed to capture the TeeVee title from whoever Kurt Navarro was, was handily defeated by the current flavour of Theodore Sun Guy, got beat by fucking Night Rider? Dude, come on! Then he got beat so bad in an electrified steel cage match at Helloween, he wasn't booked on the following Slam.

*The Omega Man takes a draw from his burning spliff and gives his head a slight shake.*

Jay Omega: No shame in that; the one time I competed at Helloween, I wound up on the shelf for months after Deuce Murdoch broke my leg. But that's an old story, and we're dealing with more recent history. So, the next time Jimbo the Wolfman was booked, he found himself in the ring with the big boss himself. No, not Solid Snake, I mean Corey Black. And what happened then? Well, really, what do you think happened? Corey demolished Wolf, because that's what Corey do. But Jimbo's career of late hasn't been all losses. Why, just after losing to the world's tallest Viking dwarf, Jimbo bounced back with a victory over Stella Louise, or something like that, which I understand he was very proud of. So proud, he decided to waste his breath yakking at her again the next week, despite being booked against some chumpstain called Vincent Augustine. At a Pay Per View, no less. Of course, his lack of focus wound up costing him that match, though it could just as easily have been his lack of competence. Or lack of skill. Xor knows he's not lacking in the lacking department.

*Jay chuckles at his own lame joke, knocks the ash from the end of his blunt, then leans forward with his forearms on his knees.*

Jay Omega: And then to close out the year, ol' Jimbo got himself two wins - over "Jazzy" John McCarty and Matt Draven - sandwiching a loss to my good friend Alex Richards. I don't have the patience or inclination to go any further back, nor do I really have the need. When you crunch these numbers down, it averages out to mean that the Wolfman only wins about once a month, whereas - when I'm around to kick ass - I tend to achieve victory significantly more often. And this is only talking about the guy's win-loss record, to say nothing of his attitude, intelligence, or self-image. Seriously, "Dubya See Eff's Resident Asshole"? As if Adam Young has gone anywhere in the last five years. And like Adam Young, Jimbo the Wolfman seems to think winning the top prize in shitty little podunk indy feds means anything at all here in the Dub. Congratulations, you've pinned a bunch of people who'd lose to resident curtain jerkers Biohazard and Tyler Walker. Multiple time World Champion? Not here. And if it didn't happen here, it doesn't matter. But unlike Adam Young, at least this guy has a vocabulary, though there's little veracity to his verbosity.

*The thin streamer of smoke wafting from Omega's joint twists with a sudden shift in the wind current, and swirls under the protection of his Oakleys, causing Jay to cry out in mildly surprised pain.*

Jay Omega: GAH! Fuckin' eye-toke!

*Jay pushes up his shades and rubs at his eye, then hits his blunt once he can see again.*

Jay Omega: Where was I? Right; so Jimbo's a real talkative sumbitch, but there ain't a whole lot of substance to what he says, ya feel me? The dude repeats the same old tired cliches so often, he ought to change his name to Zombie McMorris. And when he's not spouting that undead rhetoric, Jimbo likes to just make shit up, as evidenced by... well, pretty much everything he says, really. Take that promotional video he aired regarding my good friend, and current one-off cameraman, Alex Richards. Dude spent more than half his runtime going in circles when he wasn't just spewing bullshit. And at an unreasonable volume, too; did youhear how often he was shouting? But I don't want to waste all my limited time jawing about how James Wolf can't be bothered to learn anything at all about his opponents before he opens his mouth. Seems like a professional athlete in a combat sport would want to familiarize him or herself with the competition, get an idea of how they operate in the ring, but if Jimbo wants to go into every match blind, that's his call.

*Omega shrugs his shoulders, leans back, hits the blunt, then gives a shocked expression when he sees how much of the ganja has burned away.*

Jay Omega: Oh, fuckbunkies! My bad, dude, I didn't even realize I hadn't passed this. Here, just take one for yourself. Why didn't you say anything?

*The Omega Man produces a black cigarette case and opens it up, revealing two rows of pre-rolled joints, each thick as a thumb. A burly arm reaches out from our perspective, the thick-fingered hand retrieves a spliff, and the arm retracts off screen once more.*

Alex Richards(off screen): Because I knew you'd just give me one of my own. Besides, let's be real Jay; neither of us wanted to share.

Jay Omega: That is an excellent point. That is also all the time I can spare for a cameo--

Alex Richards(off screen): Word up!

Jay Omega: I prefer KoRn's cover. But the only cover that's gonna take place Monday night when Jay Omega steps into the ring with James Wolf, is gonna be a lateral press, by which I mean I'm gonna pin ol' Jimbo the Wolfman. I know it, you know it, roughly one quarter of the roster who know who I am knows it, Corey Black knows it... Hell the only person who doesn't know it is James Wolf himself, and that's only because he's likely clueless as to who the fuck I am. Which is just another reason why I'm gonna stomp a mudhole in his ass and walk it dry; I walked into this matchup clueless as to who he was, simply because he's a nobody who has done nothing. But if he steps up being clueless about me? Well, he's gonna get his ass handed to him by someone who's achieved the Triple Crown here in the Dub. I'm a former United States, Hardcore, Trios, Tag Team, and most importantly, World Champion. Plus I won War that one time. James Wolf is... Well, the most I can say about him is that James Wolf is James Wolf. That's not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it necessarily a good thing. It's just a thing that is; a metaphor of mediocrity, much like James himself is.

*Jay knocks the ash off his blunt and takes another lungful before he tosses the remainder into the campfire.*

Jay Omega: I don't want to end on such a lame note though, so let's take a moment to talk about my favourite subject; me. I find myself in a bit of an odd position at the moment; I still have all my tangible assets - my island, my palatial estate, my enormous field of cannabis, all my cool toys - but my cash flow has been strangled. I'm on the card for the most prestigious event of the year, but down near the bottom, booked against some jackhole who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. I'm back on the planet of my birth for the first time in more than a year, but only because it's an out of the way place I can hide while still feeding my ego. I'm married to an alien princess with a hybrid child on the way, but we're constantly on the run from the scum of the galaxy. I'm a founding member of one of the most successful stables in recent memory - the Guardians - but my friends have turned on each other due to unresolvable personal issues.

*Omega shakes his head sadly and stands up, shortly followed by the camera operator(Alex) doing the same.*

Jay Omega: But that is unfortunately not something I can do anything about at this point in time. Focus on the fight in front of you, that's what I always say. All right, well, that's about all the time we have this week. Tune in to Slam Monday night to see your friendly neighbourhood Omega Man back in action, when I turn the canvas into a masterpiece of pain, using James Wolf's blood for paint. Will I have any more matches after that? Who knows? Certainly not me. But what I do know for certain, is that I'm walking out of the Wells Fargo Arena with one more tick in the "Victory" column, while the Wolfman takes another loss. But hey, we should both be used to those outcomes by now, right? Okay, good talk. See ya in the ring, Wolfy.

*Jay smiles broadly and waves at the camera as the scene fades to black.*