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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Here I Go Again On My Own
Author Message
Jay Omega Offline
Galactic Gladiator



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
12-28-2021, 09:25 PM

==============================
"There is at least one thing worse than fighting with allies - And that is to fight without them."
-Winston Churchill
==============================
THE KHYBARIS
Orbiting Madivar(Kepler-186f), Kwdanis System
17/12/2021, 1516 Hrs, Shipboard Time

~The hangar of the Khybaris accounted for almost one sixth of the ship's total volume, and contained a limited selection of smaller craft, ranging from single-occupant fighters to the opulent pleasure cruiser preparing for takeoff. Standing at the foot of the loading ramp of the space yacht Starlight Lost, Jay Omega conversed with his wife - Ymsyllynt'ash'Andwalu, known informally as Tasha - relaying information vital to the success of the impending mission.

"I know you know what you're doing, Tasha, I'm just saying that Seddipin's butcher shop in the Kuriboh district has the best skarcha in the city, and if you want top quality tacos for dinner, you want some of Seddipin's skarcha." The exiled princess turned ship's quartermaster crossed her arms over her chest, tilted her head slightly to the right, and arched an aquamarine eyebrow; giving him a Look that a great many number of women across a variety of species seemed to have perfected.

"I was responsible for the logistics of keeping an army fed," the xenowarrior princess reminded him, an amused glint to her eyes making them shine like burnished gold, "I think I can handle a simple grocery run. Although, I will admit I am unsure what an appropriate gift for Evelyn would be; I have never been in such a situation."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jay said with a thoughtful nod, "There are some polygamous cultures on Earth, but they're all religion based, and I don't think any of us are gonna convert to Mormonism any time soon. This would be a lot easier if I could go with you; damn xenophobic speciesists. Like, how they gonna ban all humans on account of one country’s fuck ups? It’s some bullshit, is what it is.”

"Before Evelyn moved into our cabin, her quarters were furnished with darker colors," Tasha began, seeking inspiration in her few memories of her lover's utilitarian stateroom, "Madivar's plant life has a wide range of deep shades; perhaps an arrangement of flowers could be used--"

"Flowers? Tasha, we're asking her to marry us, not welcoming her to the neighbourhood!" Exasperated, Omega shook his head and blew out a sigh, his hands dropping to his pockets of their own accord to retrieve a black plastic cigarette case and a gold Zippo. A thumb-thick blunt made its way to Jay's mouth; a spark, a flare, a puff, and Omega exhaled a heady cloud of off white smoke, the dangers of smoking in a pressurized container be damned. They were about to vent the hangar anyway; the Khybaris didn't have atmospheric containment fields like in Star Trek, so they pumped the air in and out whenever the launch doors opened. "No, Tasha, we've got to give her something that lets her know we appreciate her for who and what she is; a beautiful, deadly assassin who has filled a hole in our lives we didn't know was there."

"You speak sense," agreed Tasha, whose gaze turned thoughtfully inward, "Perhaps a new module for her combat harness, or an engraved weapon?"

"Perfect!" Jay snapped his fingers and favored Tasha with a bright smile, "Get her a fuckin' cannon! Bitches love cannons!"

"You know," Tasha stated, her voice containing an icy edge that hadn't been there a moment ago, "Erin has educated me as to the meaning of that word on Earth; would you so callously refer to Evelyn as such?"

"No," Omega refrained from attempting to explain the reference, and opted to go with damage control instead, "I misspoke; what I meant was that our lethally lovely lass is lacking large caliber weaponry, and maybe she'd enjoy something that makes a big boom, ya dig?"

"Apology accepted," Tasha said with a gracious nod, then turned serious as she considered Jay's suggestion, "Loud weaponry is rarely the hallmark of a skilled assassin, my love; I think something more easily concealed or suppressed would be better."

"Bangarang!" Omega stated with an emphatic nod, "Something small and stabby would probably tickle her pink; that's usin' the old noodle, babe!"

"..." speechless, the Darrikaan expat's jaw hung slack for a moment as she puzzled over Jay's meaning, "I think I understand that she would be pleased, yes? The idioms of your language are as odd as they are plentiful." Tasha then reached over and hit a button, causing the ramp to slowly start raising.

"Enh, English isn't so much a language as it is a loose collection of words that goes around shanking other languages in the dark, and rifling through their pockets for spare vocabulary!" Omega called out just before that hatch sealed and pressurized. Jay turned and headed for the safety of the control booth as the launch sequence initiated; it was about to get very cold in here, and the blunt wouldn't burn well without oxygen. Omega watched through the viewport as the lighting took on a cerulean hue to indicate the atmosphere was being sucked out, then changed to red when it was all gone. The hangar doors at the far end began to trundle open, and the Starlight Lost lifted up off its landing struts, coming about to face the swiftly widening opening. Gliding along silently, the space yacht departed the larger ship, and left Jay in solitude.

He wasn't truly alone - there were still several crew members aboard, and an AI sharing space in his skull - but in a metaphorical sense. After all, not only was he a unique individual in his own right, but in the here and now, there was no one like him at all. He couldn't even really relate to the other two humans on the ship; more than a century of cultural shift separated him from Tesla, and Evelyn had been abducted from Earth as a small child, she had grown up a slave in a mining colony before being bought and turned into a ruthless killer.

While he had no allies aside from the meager handful of sapients who made up his crew, Omega wasn't exactly uncomfortable with the situation; during the vast majority of his wrestling career he had often been the odd man out. Rarely part of a functioning team, Jay had found he was often at his best when he stood alone, surrounded by enemies on all sides; multi-man melees had become something of a speciality of his. Over the course of years he had learned to read the ebb and flow of a battle, and could almost sense when momentum was shifting. It wasn't a unique skill, but those who mastered it tended to remain solo acts; when two such people came together, they became a promoter's wet dream and worst nightmare all in one. An effective tag team could rouse the crowd like no singles action could, inspiring awe as two combatants worked in tandem like a well oiled machine. But such teams were often too effective, and wound up dominating whatever paltry competition was available in the division; with no worthy opponents, the crowds would swiftly lose interest. Omega wondered which was the case in the XWF Tag division, specifically Apex?

There had been precious little progress with that investigation; beyond a contract signing nearly a week gone, Jay hadn't heard anything back from his new employer. As if his thoughts were somehow able to alter reality, the Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device on his left forearm chirruped to inform him of an incoming text.

XWF HQ:

29/12/2021
Nationwide Arena
Columbus, Ohio

Jay Omega
- vs -
Lycana
- vs -
Mercy


"The fuck is this?!?" Omega exclaimed in indignation, "Erin, I thought I was pretty clear about the whole tag team thing, why am I booked in a Triple Threat match?" The screen of his W.E.I.R.D. transitioned from the text message to Erin's alphanumeric features, and the digital woman shook her virtual head.

"I filed the contract like you asked, Captain, but I don't book the matches," Erin shrugged her shoulders, as mystified as he was, "Maybe they didn't take your tag team concept seriously. Or maybe they just want to gauge your in-ring ability in order to book you where you best fit. Who knows; maybe they misunderstood the tag team clause of your contract, and want to showcase you for potential partners."

"Yeah, those are all pretty solid reasons, I guess," Jay acquiesced with a duck of the head, "Well, whatever; I ain't backed down from a fight yet, and I ain't about to start now. I'm heading to the hologym; put together a full psych workup on both of them and ship it to my W.E.I.R.D., then pull all the footage you can find of them and use it to set up a training program." A soft *ping!* at the back of his mind indicated the AI's acknowledgement, and Omega made his way to the hologym on the deck above.

The entirety of the room was matte black, with criss crossed lines a soft, glowing blue forming a grid which covered every surface. Jay stepped over the omnidirectional treadmill circumnavigating the room and stood just inside the entryway; a few commands input through his W.E.I.R.D., and the room came to life. With a shimmer of hardlight coalescing, a standard wrestling ring appeared in the center of the room, which Omega entered without hesitation; rolling under the bottom rope and rising to his feet in one smooth motion. Another command entered, and the remainder of the room was suddenly filled with a roaring crowd, frozen mid-roar; the ring now occupied by a holographic referee. Jay took a sweeping look about the room, and nodded to himself in self-satisfaction.

"A'ight, this looks good," Omega began, consulting the device on his forearm. Jay scrolled through the available information on his upcoming opponents, waiting for something to catch his eye. After a few moments he shrugged and went with his gut. "I guess let's start off with this Mercy person, see what their deal is."

The image of a woman materialized in front of Omega, only a few inches from his face. This alone would have been startling enough, but Jay's surprise was compounded further by Mercy's frightful appearance; her mouth a ragged slit beneath a pair of wide, crazed eyes, her clothing a leather patchwork catsuit that hugged her form tightly, her upraised right hand bearing a collection of scalpels and syringes affixed to a glove, poised to strike. Omega threw himself backward with a shout, stumbling into the hardlight turnbuckle behind him.

"Sweet, merciful Cthulhu!" Jay cried, clutching at his chest, "What the ever loving fuck, Erin?!? Warn a guy before you drop that kind of nightmare fuel!"

"Apologies," came the artificial intelligence's disembodied voice, "I didn't think you would react that strongly, considering some of the things we've fought."

"Nah, it was just the sudden appearance of Freddy Krueger's lovechild with Jonathan Crane all up in my grill," Omega composed himself and stepped out of the corner, circling around the holographic projection and sizing her up. "She's tall, looks pretty lean; probably not a lot of raw power, but I bet she's quick. I'd say keep her at arm's length, but it looks like she's got about the same reach as me. Could be a good scrap, but I can't make that call just yet. Okay, let's bring in contestant number two, and load up Lycana."

"Per your request, I should inform you that you might also find this person's appearance… striking."

The air shimmered and coalesced to Mercy's left, resolving into a lifelike image of Lycana standing in a ready position, her hands open and tensed. Her long blue hair flowed over her bare shoulders like a cobalt waterfall, and her leather clothing was as tight as Mercy's, leaving very little to the imagination. Jay walked a circle around this hologram as well, arching an eyebrow appreciatively.

"Damn!" Omega said earnestly, letting out a low whistle, "I think fifteen year old me is in love. What have we got here? Average height and build, decent muscle tone. Probably even faster than Mercy, but also less powerful. On the surface she looks like a pushover, so she's probably tough as coffin nails. Okay, let's do this; Erin, begin training simulation." An unseen bell rung out three times, and all the still images came suddenly and violently to life; the thunderous crowd decrying their thirst for blood, the referee demanding a clean match, the projections of Mercy and Lycana simultaneously surging forward. The battle was joined, and in moments Jay was too caught up in the fray to spare a thought about superficialities.~

==============================
"Recognizing power in another does not diminish your own."
-Joss Whedon
==============================

*Welcome back, True Belie-- Wait, where are the True Believers? Who the Hell are you people? Stranger Danger! Stranger Danger! I need an adult!*

*Ugh, do you have to do this every time?*

*Of course I don't have to do it; that's why it stays fun!*

*Gods, I wish I could fire you.*

*Out of a cannon! Wait, that's not better.*

*Can we dispense with the bits and get--*

*No time for bits, old chum, we've got a video to narrate! All righty, hello there, non-Believers, welcome to the greatest show on this Earth, or any other! Our video begins by fading in from a black screen, to a half bird's eye, half worm's eye, five eighths spider's eye view of my favorite Red-Eye Jedi(and soon to be yours), the ever amazing Emperor of Entertainment; the Maharajah of Marijuana; the Potent Pot Potentate; the Man, the Myth, the Mummy, the Mummy Returns, George of the Jungle… man I miss Brendan Fraser. What was I saying?*

*For fuck's sake. We fade in on a three-quarter profile view of a Caucasian man with light brown hair standing in the midground, his gaze directed toward the starry void on the other side of the transparent wall before him, and his hands clasped behind his back. Garbed in black boots, loose fitting black utility pants, a snug gray T-shirt, and a black vest with red accents, he is further adorned by a gun belt slung low on his hips, with an empty holster strapped to each thigh. The reflection of his electric blue eyes darts in our direction, and the man known as Jay Omega speaks without breaking his survey of the stellar field.*


JAY OMEGA: Space; the final frontier.

*I hate this job.*

JAY OMEGA: But really, there's still unexplored territory all around us, isn't there? For me, that unexplored territory is the X-treme Wrestling Federation as a whole. For Lycana, it's the unique experience of going from headlining Bad Medicine against Alias in an almost successful bid for the top title, to losing against me in the opening act of Warfare. For Mercy, it's the singular sensation of setting foot in the squared circle with someone who shares her shame; once upon a time, I was also the broken plaything of a demented dickweed, so I don't just understand Mercy's position, I also pity her.

*Jay turns away from the window and takes two steps toward us, the camera backing off an equal distance to keep him centered in the shot, which in turn expands our view of the surroundings. The floor is lined with a black carpet that appears soft without being thick, the walls and ceiling made of some unknown metal, patterned with gleaming white tiles, and the end of a couch made of a strange, spotted leather intrudes on the left of the frame.*

JAY OMEGA: See, I watched Mercy's promotional work for Bad Medicine to get a sense of how she sees herself, and I was more than a little disappointed to learn that she's barely more than a meat puppet at this point. Not a lot of personality conveyed in the repetitive refrain of "kIlL mArTiNa McBrIdE", y'know? I mean, I hate country music as much as anyone, but c'mon, that's a little excessive. So yeah, clearly Mercy ain't given to sesquipedalian loquaciousness, and that's just fine, 'cause we'll get to Lycana in a minute. So Mercy's not the greatest conversationalist, which is kind of a problem in an industry that requires us competitors to promote ourselves with outlandish trash talk. But, as is usually the case with the broken, silent types, Mercy's got herself a mouthpiece; some depraved little douchecanoe who calls himself "Razors". I'm sure he thinks that's edgy, but personally, I find it kind of dull.

*The pinpricks of light in the inky black backdrop shift, implying an angled descent based on their motion, corroborated by Omega shifting his balance against the new momentum.*

JAY OMEGA: Now, I've dealt with enough quote unquote "monsters" in my time to have a pretty good idea of the things Razors might say to me. It's likely to be the standard fare of claiming to be some kind of artist, promising me the most exquisite pain, warning me about how Mercy is a tool he wields with surgical precision, and borderline threatening my life. But here's some bad news for Razors; I don't give a shit what he has to say. See, I'm a straightforward kind of guy; I handle my business directly. I don't deal with intermediaries, middlemen, secretaries, assistants, managers, or mouthpieces. Razors can go take a flying fuck at the moon, because I'm here to talk to Mercy, and I know she's capable of understanding what I have to say, even if she can't articulate a response beyond "kIlL jAy OmEgA".

*In the window behind Jay, Earth rises into view, the lack of visible borders making it near impossible to discern which landmass is swiftly rotating beneath us. The window automatically tints as the friction of entering the atmosphere creates a blinding corona of flame.*

JAY OMEGA: So, Mercy, let's dispense with the niceties now, 'cause there ain't gonna be any once that bell rings Wednesday night. I understand that being a thrall is relatively new to you, so you probably haven’t quite had enough time to adjust; you’re probably still in a state of mental shock. I get it; it takes a bit for the brain to figure itself out again after a lobotomy. I can sympathize with the internal struggle of trying to regain some control of self, while simultaneously being powerless to stop yourself from the atrocities committed, because I too was once under the control of a murderous psychopath. But that's where the similarities end, because unlike you, I didn’t enjoy any of the… well, most of the… okay, some of the things I was made to do. What can I say? I’ve always had a bit of a penchant for violence.

Jay shrugs haplessly, and the darkened window behind him becomes translucent again; the endless black of space replaced with the cloud-wisped azure of a mostly clear sky, the city skyline before us bisected by an enormous broadcast tower a discerning eye would identify as the Skytree, placing us some several hundred meters above Tokyo, Japan. A plume of smoke rises in the distance, slightly to the right of the screen, and we begin to slowly approach it.*

JAY OMEGA: I understand you were already the kind of twisted person who enjoyed spreading pain and suffering, snuffing out lives as easily as most people snuff out candles, and with less regard for those lives than the candles. There was a time I would have declared it my solemn duty to put a stop to such antics, but not only do I have bigger fish to fry, I also don’t have the inclination. See, I tried the whole ‘hero for justice’ gig, and while I consider myself a good guy, my crew don’t work for free, and justice doesn’t pay shit. What this means is that I don’t really care what you get up to outside the ring, because it’s not relevant to me. Only thing about you I’m concerned with is whether or not I should get some booster shots before Wednesday; don’t want to catch tetanus or some shit from a freaky-deaky bite. Besides, who am I to judge anyone for murder, when I’ve ended more than a few lives myself? Granted, most of my kills made the worlds better places, but killing is killing. And chances are pretty good that I’m better at it than Mercy, much as I’m definitely better at wrestling.

*A scene of mild carnage is displayed through the window behind Jay; a city street strewn with rubble, some overturned vehicles, and a gaping hole in the surrounding architecture speaks of a vanished building. Most prominent, however, is the hexapedal walking tank standing two stories tall in the middle of the street, half a block away from an enormous reptilian creature laying half in a ruined skyscraper, a thick, sludgy gray liquid oozing from a hole the size of a Volkswagen Beetle in its chest.*

JAY OMEGA: But where Mercy is an untrained, undisciplined, untalented example of exactly how easy it is to take a life, I’m more of a highly skilled, hypercompetent, laser focused warrior; a prime example of what happens when violence is distilled into its purest form. Now, I ain’t infallible; Xor knows I’ve had my ass handed to me more times than I can count, and I ain’t the absolute best at any one thing, but a Jack of all trades, master of none, is better than a master of one, and that’s all you are, Mercy, is a one trick pony. You’ve already been broken to the saddle though, so there’s not much left for me to do to you, again, not that I have any inclination to. You’re certainly not the kind of person I’d tolerate on my ship, but beyond that, you’re just the first in a long line of losers here in the XWF. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have something important I need to take care of, but I’ll be back in a moment to address Lycana.

*Omega makes the universal “cut” motion, and the scene fades to black.*

*For about half a second. Okay, that’s enough play-by-play; let’s get some color commentary up in here! So we fade back in on Los Hombres Omeguloso - that’s Espainoli for “The Omega Man”--*

*No it isn’t.*

*Hey! It’s my turn! So we fade back in on Jay Omega, now sitting on that weird-ass spotted leather couch in his quarters, left ankle hooked over his right knee, right arm stretched along the back of the couch, and a thumb-thick blunt burning away in his left hand, which rests in his lap.*

JAY OMEGA: Sorry ‘bout that; personal business that turned out to be unrelated to my goals here in XWF. So I’ve blathered on a bit about Mercy, enough that I feel my contractual obligations have been fulfilled; as such, I’ll put her out of my mind until Wednesday night, and shift my focus to the third party in this shindig, Lycana.

*Jay brings the burning bud up to his lips, inhales a hefty toke, and blows an off white, blue-tinged cloud our way, momentarily obscuring him behind the wall of dankness.*

JAY OMEGA: You’re something of a mystery to me, Lycana. There’s plenty of information available about you, sure, but that’s not what I mean. So much power residing in such a compact frame; I was definitely right when I thought to myself “this lass looks like a pushover, but I bet she’s tough as coffin nails”. That match with Alias was something else, to say the least. Haven’t seen shit like that since Bonnie Blue freed Wade Moor’s body and soul from the Leviathan, not that those names mean anything here. Regardless, I look at you, Lycana, and I see someone who’s wasting her time and talents by being a middling wrestler. I mean, I know a lot about some of your activities outside the ring, and I have to wonder why you can’t manage to claw your way to the top of the heap. As I said, that match against Alias was something else, but so was your match with Alias for the X-Treme Championship back at Leap of Faith. Sidenote: totally bummed I missed out on a show held on the moon. Anyways, the double cage match in question was pretty lit, as was the way it ended. I haven’t bothered looking into how Alias rose from the ashes, but I’m not too concerned with it; I'm no stranger to resurrection. Shit, I ain't even the original Jay Omega; he was shot in the head, and I was cloned from his brain matter. Then I was shot into a star for my part in the Obryssian Conflict, and reconstituted by a trenchcoat-wearing demigod who needed help with an invasion of cybernetic spider crabs. So I'm not too surprised by Alias coming back from the dead. I am a little surprised y'all got away with murdering him on Pay Per View; I guess the FCC is a bit more lax in this universe.

*Another hit from the blunt, and Jay drops his foot to the floor, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs like a pair of - aw, dammit, now I'm thinking about dongs.*

JAY OMEGA: Course, ain't none of that important right now; what's important is that we're both main event talent working the opening match on the last Warfare of the year. This is my debut, so I'm obviously not going to be very high on the card - though I am indeed very high, heh heh - but you’ve got to wonder why you're going from headlining a Pay Per View in a balls-to-the-wall battle worthy of a shonen anime season finale, to warming up the crowd with yours truly. And Mercy, but let’s be real; she’s an afterthought in this match. You and me, Lycana? We’re the stars of this show. Just watching tape of your performances, I can feel your warrior’s soul driving you forward, pushing you to excel. You’d make one Hell of an ally in my crusade, but you’ve already got your hands pretty full, plus I’m sort of gunning for the titles held by your buddy Jim Caedus and his pal Rob Main; not really conducive to a good work relationship.

*Jay stands up and saunters off to our left, the camera panning to keep him in view as he walks to the sliding door of his cabin. Omega stubs out the blunt, then two finger points at the camera with his left hand and makes a sweeping gesture out the door. Our view moves to follow his moves, zipping close by his handsome mug as the tiny drone flits out into the brightly lit, hexagonal hall. Jay holds up his left hand, palm out, and the camera stops moving for a moment, until Omega waves it back and steps out after it, the drone now keeping pace with him as he takes us for a little stroll.*

JAY OMEGA: Okay, so I've established that you're a high degree badass, and on the surface, it doesn't make sense that someone like you would be thrown into such a low profile bout with an unproven newcomer; some would consider it an insult. Shit, some people would consider it an insult to be booked against two women in their debut, but I've got enough experience to know that women are typically more dangerous than men. As such, I won't feel any shame on the off chance I lose this contest of ours. I'm still far more likely to win though; not because you're a woman, and I'm a manly man with a penis…

*C'mon, I just stopped thinking about dongs!*

JAY OMEGA: But because, for all your immense power and raw talent, you're still largely untrained in the art of war. I'm fully expecting a metric fuckton of savagery from both you and Mercy, but I ain't too worried, because I've faced down savages before. I won't discount your combat ability, Lycana, because I've seen a good deal of what you can do; some of it I've even seen before. But compared to me, you're just a pup who's been rough housing up until now. And again, I don't mean that to diminish everything you've been through and accomplished; it's just that, in some form or another, I've been fighting various wars for more than twenty-five years. Think about that for a moment; I've been fighting your whole life, and most of that was before I had any armor or weapons. If I were to describe the gulf between your combat discipline and mine in terms of weaponry, you're using flintlock pistols, and I've got a phase-induced plasma rifle. You're powerful and dangerous at close range, but you're kind of unwieldy and inaccurate. Me, I'll take you out with professional precision, and you'll never see it coming.

*Jay makes a hand signal with his left arm, and the camera dips to the side as the drone banks around a corner just ahead of Omega.*

JAY OMEGA: I made some pretty vague predictions about what Mercy's mouthpiece might have to say, and I'll do the same for Lycana, though I'll have to be a little more vague, because she could go one of two ways, unlike Mercy, who as I stated, is a one trick pony. But Lycana… well, is she going to be respectful? Welcome me to the fold and promise me a good, clean fight? Acknowledge the possibility that this untested upstart might best her? Or is she arrogantly going to assure us all that I'll be easily steamrolled like some flash in the pan rookie? Will she dismiss me because I haven't done anything of note, and focus more on Mercy, the known quantity? I couldn't tell ya, I'm no soothsayer. But I've stood in enough rings with enough people like Lycana to hazard a guess. She seems the type of person who will acknowledge that she could lose, then declare her victory predestined in the same breath.

*That doesn't sound like anyone I know. CoughJayOmegaCough.*

JAY OMEGA: That's not arrogance, it's confidence. I'm sure she'll offer a clean fight, with the caveat that she'll fight dirty if she has to, which is great; typically speaking a Triple Threat match is No DQ, so you can expect some crazy shit from Mercy. Hell, you can expect some crazy shit from me; if the rules of engagement allow for it, I'd have to be stupid not to use every advantage available to me. And even then, there's every chance it might not be enough. I might be one of the finest warriors in the galaxy, but nobody wins all the time. Lycana could see this as the impetus that sets her back on the path to the top, and pull out all the stops to pick up the dubya. Shit, Mercy could surprise us all and pick up a blindside victory; even a blind squirrel finds a pair of nuts now and then.

*Great, my whole day is just gonna be dicks, isn't it? We come to a stop, Jay points at the camera and pivots 180 degrees, our view swinging around with him to show an open sliding door behind him, leading to what looks like an elevator.*

JAY OMEGA: All jokes aside, this is gonna be a great match, regardless of who winds up with their hand raised at the end. I'm not going to go all out just yet because I don't think I need to - nobody really knows what I'm capable of just yet - so let this first match serve as an amuse-bouche of sorts; a deliciously tempting showcase of things to come, just short and sweet enough to leave you wanting more. Though I suspect both Mercy and Lycana will have their fill Wednesday night. Until then, I've got plenty of other shit to keep me occupied, so I'm gonna bring this promotional package to an end. See y'all in the ring!

*Omega gives us the "cut" signal again, and this time the scene fades to black for realsies.*

==============================
"Never was anything great achieved without danger."
-Niccolo Machiavelli
==============================
THE KHYBARIS
Interstellar Medium Between Gliese 876 and Sol, ~5ly From Earth
26/12/2021, 0635 Hrs, Shipboard Time

~Jay Omega was relaxing on the bridge of his starship as they cruised back toward Earth from the jumpgate orbiting the star known as Gliese 876; legs swung up over the arm of his captain's chair making him seem the picture of idle frivolity. A warning hoot from the Ylolt pilot, Treepis-Tohn the Grasping, perked Omega’s ears up half a second before Erin’s simulated voice came over the bridge’s audio system.

“Blue shift detected!” warned the Artificial Intelligence, “Incoming superluminal object! Brace for emergency evasive maneuvers!” The words were still registering in Jay’s brain when the ship lurched heavily to the side, throwing him ass over tea kettle out of the chair. The ship rocked violently back and forth in the wake of a massive energy disturbance, and Omega hauled himself back to his feet with whatever dignity he could muster, and threw a glance at his wife, Tasha, who was manning the sensor and surveillance station.

“Report!” Jay called out to her, syncing the chair’s readout screen with her station, “What the Hell was that? Is somebody shooting at us?”

“Negative,” Tasha replied breathlessly, having narrowly avoided being thrown to the floor herself, “Sensor data suggests it was a small ship, but that can’t be right; the object was travelling at more than fifty Megalights, and I’ve never heard of a ship that fast!”

“What?” Jay’s eyes bugged out at the information; his ship was considered pretty fast, but that was an order of magnitude faster than the Khybaris’ top speed, “Well, whoever it was, there’s no way we’re gonna catch up and ask where they got their engines, so we might as well–”

“About that,” Erin interrupted, something about her tone causing the fine hairs on Omega’s neck to raise, “Based on the trajectory and velocity, I estimate a ninety-four point two eight percent chance that who or whatever just passed us is also heading to Earth.”

“And I don’t believe in coincidence,” Omega stated, more to himself than anyone else, “Treepis-Tohn, increase the gravimetric displacement field to maximum; I want us pushing the red line in the next three seconds. Tasha, spike the long range sensors, see if you can pick up any broadcast signals from Earth; we want to know what’s going on before we get there. Erin, if you could get Nicky up here from Engineering that’d be great, I want his opinion on those sensor scans.”

The shimmering view of the stars on the forward viewscreen rippled as the ship’s propulsion systems warped the fabric of space-time around the ship, hurtling them through the cosmos at roughly a million times the speed of light. Even at that brain-melting velocity, it would still take more than an hour to reach Earth, and whatever that thing had been, it would get there long before they did; there was nothing to do but wait, which meant that Jay’s presence wasn't required on the bridge.

“A’ight, I’mma head down to my cabin and take a nap, somebody wake me up when we get to Jupiter, and I’ll decide if we need to stop at the Danktuary or not. Tasha, you have the bridge.” Turning words to deeds, Omega stepped through the sliding door leading to the personnel lift, and headed to his quarters for a short rest.~
---------------

Captain,” the voice in his head jolted The Omega Man awake; it was always jarring to have another person’s thoughts in his head, “There’s some intercepted telemetry that will be of interest to you.

“Thanks, Erin,” Jay said as he sat up, reaching for his W.E.I.R.D. on the nightstand, “But next time, use the intercom, would ya? I’m not the biggest fan of you popping into my dreams like that.”

Don’t worry, Captain,” the synthetic voice in his mind took on a conspiratorial tone, “I won’t tell Tasha what you’d like to do to me if I had a physical form.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Omega admonished the artificial woman, “Now what’s this intel you have for me?”

The screen of his W.E.I.R.D. flickered to life, showing a poor resolution video clearly shot from a cell phone. In the video, a humanoid wearing some sort of glowing blue energy armor fought hand to hand with a red-scaled, three-eyed lizard man. The blue-armored humanoid seemed to be gaining the upper hand, when the lizard man darted over to what looked like a small cafe and produced a roiling purple energy vortex from its mouth. Jay watched in disbelief as the entirety of the structure was rapidly converted into energy, which was absorbed into the vortex. The lizard man’s hide began to ripple and pulsate, and to Omega’s horror, the beast swiftly grew in size until it stood over five stories tall. Meanwhile, the blue-armored humanoid raised its left arm to the sky, and held that pose for a few moments; until the giant monster caught sight of him again. The humanoid flickered about the scene of carnage, moving too fast for Jay’s eye, or the camera’s lens, to follow; more importantly, to fast for the enormous lizard man to crush him underfoot, as it was trying to do. Every time the stranger stopped moving for more than a second, his hand was raised to the sky, and at length, Omega finally understood why.

The video became wildly distorted as an impact crater appeared in the street, and the armored humanoid appeared at the edge before disappearing inside. A moment later, a six-legged, heavily armed and armored tank walked up out of the crater and opened fire on the scaly monstrosity, launching missiles and laser blasts that seemed to have little effect. The giant lizard man lifted a city bus from the street and hurled it at the tank, with similar results, though a piece of wreckage from the impact came pinwheeling at the screen, and the video abruptly ended.

“Okay, so what the fuck was that?” Jay asked, not really expecting an answer, “How old is this, where is it from?”

“This video was uploaded from an internet cafe in Tokyo, Japan, four minutes ago.” Erin promptly replied, “And before you ask, we’re still about ten minutes away, since we don’t want to alert anyone watching the skies for a living.”

“All right, in that case, I think I’ll cut a promo, then head back up to the bridge. We need to assess this situation, but from the look of things, we probably want to give that blue guy a hand, and maybe ask him a few questions. Prep the away team for me while I handle this video deal.* It wasn’t likely this stranger was connected to Jay’s task of stopping Timastenzi from tearing apart reality, but that just made his appearance here all the more confusing; as Omega said, he didn’t believe in coincidence.~

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