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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » Warfare Boards » "Wednesday Warfare" RP Board
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Ignorance Is Not Necessarily Blissful
Author Message
Jay Omega Offline
Greco-Roman Han Solo



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

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


Post: #1
01-11-2022 08:33 PM

==============================
"While one may encounter many defeats, one must not be defeated."
-Maya Angelou
==============================
THE KHYBARIS
Lagrange Point L4, Luna, Sol System
30/12/2021, 0357 Hrs, Eastern Standard Time

~It was a few hours removed from his debut match at Warfare, but Jay Omega was still a little sore. Not physically - the ship's automated medical suite had repaired what minor injuries he had sustained in a matter of seconds - but in his heart; it was his pride that was wounded. Not because he had lost to Lycana; truth be told, he held her in a much higher regard than he had let on, but such was the nature of the business. No, it was the fact that he had lost at all; a rather inauspicious debut from an outside viewpoint. Jay had been repeatedly reminding himself that beating Lycana had been a secondary objective; his plans had altered slightly when he had learned he'd be facing someone in the orbit of his targets, turning his debut into something of a recon mission.

But the loss still ate at him, so Omega had spent the last three hours in the hologym, replaying the match over and over; sometimes specific parts, sometimes the whole thing, but the ending most of all. Typically, an Inside Cradle was considered a "basic" move, but Jay recalled a certain man who had perfected a standing leg drop to such a degree that it regularly finished matches; powerful, flashy moves looked great and wowed the crowd, but skill and precision were what won matches. Omega watched yet again as the holographic projection of Lycana snaked an arm around his head, hooked both his legs with one of hers and her other arm. The hardlight combatant's weight shifted, and Jay watched as his illusory doppelganger was rolled up into a small package. Omega froze the playback and circled around the pinning predicament, analyzing every detail his eye could catch; the placement of Lycana's grip behind his knee, the way she wrapped her legs around his other one, even the way she clasped her hands tightly.

"Well fuck me running," Jay said to himself, "That is immaculate technique. Probably would have needed to go Super Saiyan to break out of this, and that still only happens in my dreams."

Privately, Omega admitted to himself that he had been overconfident and underprepared for the match; it seemed the Precepts of the Architects didn't apply in this universe, which both intrigued and worried him. There had been no metaphysical Faraday cage over the arena, his cybernetics and Omega Sense had continued to function even after the opening bell. Which meant Lycana's lupine strength had remained, her ability to tap into magic unchanged. Jay was fairly certain there had been no spells cast, but he wasn't versed in the arcane arts. And on that note, Omega finally rolled out of the ring and ended the program, the facsimile of the Nationwide Arena fading into translucency before the motes of light scattered as the projection systems powered down. Jay headed toward the door, opening the communication function of his Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device and calling Nikola Tesla along the way.

"Ay, Nicky, what's good?" Omega asked as the Serbian scientist's face resolved on his screen, "How's that project I gave you coming along? Any luck reconfiguring the shields?"

"Don't call me Nicky," came the automatic reply, "I'm not a radish farmer. As for the shields… I am loathe to confess that I am unable to configure the delicate harmonics of overlapping energy fields against a metric I do not understand.

C’mon, how hard can it be? I brought you that DNA sample, doesn’t that like, narrow down the spectrum, or something?

Narrow down–?” Tesla sputtered in indignation, “What spectrum?!? Do you have any idea what you’re talking about, you blithering idiot? The very notion of magic is antithetical to the principles I’ve devoted my life to! The realm of science encompasses a precise system of observable, repeatable cause and effect; magic is waving pointy sticks about, wiggling your fingers, and spewing pseudo-Latin to make impossibilities occur! In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an engineer, not a sorcerer!

Sooo, you’re saying you can’t do it?” Jay inquired with a raised eyebrow.

I’m saying you don’t ask a neurosurgeon to examine your prostate; if you want the Khybaris sealed against magical intrusions, perhaps you should find someone who practices magic!” The irate inventor ended the call, and Omega frowned in disappointment, coming to a stop as Erin’s voice reached his ear.

Captain, I’ve been monitoring our guest’s vital signs,” the digital sophont informed him, “I think it would be best if you report to sickbay; I believe he’s about to wake up.

Bangarang, maybe we’ll finally get some answers instead of more questions,” Omega stated as he changed direction, heading for the closest personnel lift, “While I’m playing the good host, I want you to run a search on summoning circles, cross referencing with similar information from Earth Em Four Gee One See, and look into methods of adding an invitation to said summoning.

On it. But I have a few questions, if I may; why do you need to extend an invitation?” queried the curious construct, “Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose of a summoning? How do you intend to cast this spell in the first place?

How is the easy part,” Jay replied with a small smile, “Any schmuck with a scroll can cast a summoning circle; ain’t gotta be magically inclined for that, else there wouldn’t be any warlocks running around. As far as the invitation goes… yeah, if I were trying to pull something relatively simple, like an archdemon or a metatron, I wouldn’t need to bother, but…” Omega’s smile deepened as he stepped into the lift and made a particular memetic gesture, “One does not simply summon Jack of Shadows.~

==============================
"The worst nightmare is the nightmare that continues even when you wake up."
-Mehmet Murat Ildan
==============================

.::He stands frozen at the intersection, heedless of the traffic signal indicating he could cross the street. Bedlam all around him; terrified people running in every direction. He knows he should be running too - he is just as terrified as anyone - but he can’t will himself to tear his eyes away from the walking tank fighting a real, live Kaiju. The tank fires a volley of weaponry that does nothing to the Kaiju’s scales; the monster responds by throwing a bus. In the manner of dreams, the transit vehicle drifts lazily through the air in slow motion as it careens off the tank’s armored carapace, the stress causing the bus to shear in two. In the manner of dreams, things happen too quickly to react to; shrapnel from the shredded bus peppers the street, a piece of the engine crushing a nearby onlooker who had been recording the event on his phone. Half the bus comes bouncing and rolling in his direction, coming to a stop across the street standing upright and wedged between a storefront and a delivery truck::.

.::Screams all around him but he could hear nothing over his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears like a bass drum. He finally breaks into motion, sprinting for all he was worth. He should be running away, should protect himself. He runs to the warped remains of the bus, climbs onto the roof of the delivery truck. Has to know if there are people inside, has to help. He looks down through the windshield, five survivors. The driver, pinned in his seat. A balding, middle aged salaryman bleeding from a gash on his forehead. A 20-something visual kei enthusiast who appeared shaken but unhurt. A young mother cradling a little girl no more than five, the mother’s arm badly broken. He yells for them to cover their heads, though he still can’t hear anything over the hammering of his pulse.::.

.::He places his fingertips against the glass and closes his eyes. An all too brief moment of utter silence as he centers himself and calls forth his ki. The window shatters from the force of his one inch punch and he extends his hand. The salaryman reaches up first and the glam rock reject calls him a coward. Together they lift the woman and her daughter to dubious safety. He glances up at the continuing battle, and his heart lurches again; the Kaiju has the tank pinned down. Up comes the driver next. The giant lizard’s mouth opens, a roiling purple vortex impossibly contained within. The salaryman insists the youth go first, helping lift him up to freedom. The tank’s main cannon spits forth an enormous stream of cerulean fire which bores through the lizard’s chest, leaving a car-sized hole and an expression of bewilderment on the creature’s snout.::.

.::The people profess their gratitude, he has no time to humbly acknowledge. Streaks of blue energy crackle in front of him, and the world momentarily turns white. When he can see again, he's in a heavily damaged room, a multitude of destroyed panels spitting electrical sparks into the smoky air. A body lays on the ground, legs trapped under a broken section of wall, hand reaching out to him. A strange sapphire gem is embedded in the reaching appendage, numerous etchings giving it various features as it catches the light; he can almost make out a face in the crystal. A song he can't quite understand starts up in the back of his mind; he's sure if he can learn to sing the song, the crystal face will open its mouth and sing with him.::.

"You have a righteous heart. Take the Conduit; you must protec…"

.::He knows the words are meant for him, but they don't register; the song fills his thoughts as the gem fills his vision. Unbidden, his hand reaches out, and the crystal begins to glow softly as the song swells in his mind. The etchings in the many facets make it seem as though the crystal face smiles in welcome. His hand closes over the sapphire, and pain consumes his world.::.

==============================
”How a man treats a stranger says more about his character than how he treats his family.”
-Dannika Dark
==============================
THE KHYBARIS
Lagrange Point L4, Luna, Sol System
30/12/2021, 0409 Hrs, Eastern Standard Time

~With a cry of mingled pain and fear, Kazuto Mazikawa sat bolt upright on the bed, the pain fading but the fear heightening, joined by confusion as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. Etched metal and gleaming white tile abounded, interspersed with a variety of control panels and display screens lining the walls, their meaning and usage he could only guess at. On the verge of losing his shit, as any sane person might, Kazuto was joined in the room by a Caucasian man who wasted no time in introducing himself.

Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty, welcome back to the Land of the Living!” Jay announced as he walked into the sickbay, “I’m your magnanimous host, Captain Jay Omega; you can thank me later for saving your life. I’m glad to see you’re done with the Rip van Winkle bit, you were doin’ us a frighten for a while there; it was real touch and go for a few days. But now look at you, up and about, all cognizant and shit!

I…” It was a bit much to absorb, “Thank you for saving me; I am forever in your de– Wait, a few days?!? What happened?’ What indeed. Kazuto cast about in his mind, desperately searching for some memory that would make sense of all this. His rising panic must have been plain on his face, as Omega stepped forward to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Whoa, chill dude; it’ll come to you,” Jay said patiently, no stranger to having his memory scrambled, “Start with something small and simple; what’s your name?

Mazikawa Kazuto.

All right, nice to meet ya, Mazikawa-san; you mind if I call you Kaz? We’re kind of informal on this ship.

I suppose that would be all right,” the newly dubbed Kaz replied uncertainly, “Your Japanese is very strange.

My Japanese is fuckin’ flawless thank you,” Omega stated with a snort, “But we ain’t speakin’ Japanese, we’re speaking English.” The revelation seemed to shock Kaz; his eyes widened and his jaw went slack.

That’s not possible; I don’t know English.

I dunno what to tell ya, man,” Jay said with a half shrug, “For not knowing English, you’re doing a damn fine job of conversatin’ with me. Maybe it’s got something to do with that weird rock fused to your hand.

Kazuto looked down at his hands, and memory came flooding back at the sight of the innumerably faceted blue gemstone now embedded in his left palm. The tank, the Kaiju, the bus; he could taste the acrid smoke, could feel the flames on his skin, as real as if he were back in that destroyed control room. As sharp as those memories were, he could only vaguely recall the words of the dying alien(!) who had previously owned the… “Conduit”, he had called it. The explanation had seemed nonsensical; a fanciful tale of cosmic responsibility, immense power, and personal sacrifice. Now Kazuto wasn’t as sure, considering the highly advanced technology surrounding him seemed strikingly familiar. Mazikawa realized Omega was looking at him expectantly, and shook his head in regret.

I guess so, but I don’t know any more about it than you do.” Kaz tilted his hand this way and that, the crystal catching and scattering the light; no matter how much he twisted and turned it, though, he couldn’t find an angle that made it look like a face. “This is going to sound crazy, but there was a… I guess he was an alien - and he was fighting a monster. Then the monster, uh, ate a coffee shop and grew into a Kaiju, but the alien had a strange, walking tank. The tank killed the Kaiju, and the next thing I knew, I think I was inside the tank somehow, and the alien gave me this dramatic speech about protecting the galaxy, then there was a bright light and a lot of pain. I must have passed out, and then I woke up here, wherever here is, however many days later apparently, and I am not feeling nearly as freaked out about all this as I should be.

Yeeeaaahh…” Jay threw a glance over Kazuto’s shoulder, checked the bioscan display, and cocked an eyebrow in a mix of interest and surprise, “That’s probably because something - my guess is that high profile jewelry of yours - is flooding your nervous system with one Hell of a neurochemical cocktail. Not gonna lie, I was really hopin’ you were the dude driving that tank, and the way you’re talking about him makes me think he didn’t make it–

He did not.

"So I am once again left with more questions than answers; fanfuckingtastic.” the starship captain said with a touch of petulance

I have a few questions of my own," Kazuto interjected, "Like, where the Hell am I?

Oh shit, my bad,” Omega said with some degree of embarrassment; the man was a guest, not a prisoner to be interrogated, “Allow me to be the first to welcome you aboard the Independent Support Vessel Khybaris, currently in orbit around the moon. I can give ya a tour later if you want, but I should warn you in advance that most of my crew ain’t human. Once we’re sure you’re all patched up we’ll drop you off wherever you’d like, but until then–” Jay cut off as a chirrup from the weird device on his forearm alerted him to an incoming text message, writ large enough Kaz could easily read it.

XWF HQ:

12/01/2022
Stade de Frace Stadium
Paris, France

Jay Omega
- vs -
Tommy Wish

Xtreme Rules

Cock smoking son of a whore!” Omega swore loudly, the snarl accompanying the epithet causing Kazuto to blanch. “Sorry, just some work-related bullshit I need to take care of. I’m gonna go do that, and if you’ve got any questions, just ask Erin, the shipboard Artificial Intelligence; she's always listening. It's only a little creepy, don't think about it and you'll be fine. A'ight, I'll check back in a bit, see how you're doing. Later!"

Barely giving Mazikawa time to process, Jay turned on his heel and exited as swiftly as he'd entered. His thoughts racing, Kazuto was sure he'd be in the middle of a panic attack if not for whatever the Conduit was doing to keep him calm. Just a short time ago, he had been on his way to work as a junior associate at a middling business accounting firm; now he was in space(!) with an alien gem stuck in his hand, and no idea what to do next.~

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

~Before the sickbay door had fully closed behind him, Jay Omega's jovial demeanor melted away like butter on a hot griddle, evaporating into a burning rage. He was beginning to feel more than a little disrespected, and that just wouldn't do. Of course, neither would stalking about in a fury, so Jay tamped down on his anger and turned his thoughts to something less aggravating.

"Talk to me, Erin," Omega said aloud, knowing the digital sophont was listening, "How's that invitation coming along?"

"Excellent timing, Captain," responded the synthetic woman, "I believe I've put together a ritual that will invite and subsequently summon the named participant, with a ninety eight point four percent probability of success. Shall I load it in the hologym?"

"Will that work?" Jay asked, quirking an eyebrow, "Kinda thought these things needed that old school touch, y'know? Candles and blood sacrifice and all that shit?"

"Based on all the information I've compiled," Erin began, as the screen of Omega's W.E.I.R.D. lit up with a compendium of arcane knowledge that he barely glanced at, "It's the symbology and phrasing which are important, not the raw materials; that belief likely stems from superstition."

"No shit?" That was good news, at least; not having to leave the ship to get eye of newt and tongue of frog, or whatever disgusting ingredients the ritual might call for, was a bit of a blessing in itself. "Bangarang! Fuck yeah, load it up. And when that's done, I want you to put together a psych profile and training program for a dude named Tommy Wish; seems my intent to go after the XWF tag straps is being quietly ignored. At least this one's a full on hardcore match, more's the pity for Tommy Boy."

"Have you expressed that intent to anyone not on this ship, though?"

"Well, I did have you file that tag team contract," Jay said hesitantly, "And I asked you to finagle me into the tag division--"

"Right," the Artificial Intelligence cut in, interrupting Omega, "But have you personally spoken to anyone involved in setting the direction of XWF?"

"I..." Jay stopped in his tracks as he realized the issue could likely be resolved with a simple phone call. Omega made a mental note to get in contact with General Manager Whatshisface as soon as he was done what he was about to do. "Okay, yeah, this one's on me. Good lookin' out, Erin. Now let's get this magic business out of the way, yeah?"

"Acknowledged, Captain," Erin stated, with a *ping!* inside Jay's skull and a floating green check mark in his peripheral vision for good measure. "The ritual program is loaded, and complete instructions have been transmitted to your W.E.I.R.D.; I hope you know what you're doing."

"Ha!" Omega laughed loudly as he entered the personnel lift, "I don't have a fuckin' clue; there's this one pretty kickass card trick I can do, but that's the extent of my magical knowledge." The lift stopped, and Omega turned toward the hologym.

"That… doesn't inspire confidence."

"Hey now, you're the one who said it would probably work; that inspired confidence in me, so have a little faith in yourself, yeah?"

Jay entered the hologym to find the program already running, and saw that Erin had gone all out with the ambient decor; in one step, Omega went from the high technology of an extraterrestrial starship, to a dank and gloomy dungeon adorned with various implements of torture, and flickering torches which did little to dispel the darkness. Upon reaching the middle of the room, a pillar of flame erupted dramatically, and vanished with similar abruptness. Left behind was a series of glowing symbols unfamiliar to Jay, seemingly scorched into the faux river rock floor in a circular arrangement. Impressed with the set up, Omega gave the ritual instructions a once over and was pleased with the simplicity; he went and knelt at the appropriate symbol, bowed his head, and began the incantation.

"Scio ego oportet cave,
Adhuc ego audeo aliqua locus formidulosus,
Per os daemonium, in cor tempestate,
Per omnia inferna, per omnes caelos,
Ego voco te per verum nomen tuum;
Ego rogamus te, veni ad me, Jack Hampshire!
"


As the final syllable left his throat, a deep, metallic note resonated throughout the chamber, answered by an identical one a few moments later. A second pillar of fire erupted from the summoning circle, this one a spiraling gout resembling a tornado of flame. The column whirled about and vanished toward the ceiling; left standing in the circle was a young black man in his mid twenties, wearing loose beige slacks with a white button up shirt and red tie under a rumpled tan overcoat, his frizzy hair hanging down over his horn rimmed glasses. Jack Hampshire - known in some circles as Jack of Shadows - squinted into the darkness until his eyes adjusted and he caught sight of Jay.

"Fookin' 'ell, bruv!" Jack exclaimed as he pulled a crumpled pack of Chesterfield Red cigarettes from his pocket, shook one out, and brought it to his lips. “Next time just ring me up, and I’ll fookin’ Gate over; that ride was absolutely bonkers! The fook'd you drag me through all the Hells for? D'you even know how many Hells there are, ya git?"

Hey, I didn’t write the fuckin’ spell, asshole,” Omega fired back, rising to his feet, “I ain’t some hoity-toity crafter of mystical linguistics; I don’t even speak Latin. Maybe if you had taken that fuckin’ beacon I tried to give you, I wouldn’t have to drag your whiny ass on some fucked up magic carpet ride!

The two men stood glaring at each other for a moment, until Jack took the unlit cigarette from his mouth and gave a cheeky grin only a fraction of a second before Jay cracked a roguish smile of equal mirth.

Good to see ya, mate.

Been a long time, bud.

Omega extended a fist and Hampshire completed the greeting, the gesture exposing some arcane tattoos around his wrist, leading up his arm. Jack brought the cigarette back to his mouth and snapped his fingers in front of it.

Me magic’s out of sorts.” Hampshire said in consternation when the snap failed to produce the desired effect. Jack tried three more times with the same effect before he looked at Jay with some concern, “Hang on a tick; where are we? Sumfin about this dungeon seems a bit dodgy.

With an impish smile, Omega snapped his own fingers, and the illusory stonework surrounding them faded away, leaving the room matte black with a softly glowing, all-encompassing blue grid slowly powering down.

Oh bollocks,” Hampshire said with an exasperated toss of his head, “Are we in fookin’ space? Well no wonder it’s not fookin’ workin’; I’m tryin’ to use the wrong bloody magic, innit?

Jay watched as his magic-wielding friend made a quick series of gestures consisting of circles and straight lines, resulting in a sphere of fire the size of a gumball appearing in front of Jack. After using the ball to light his smoke, and allowing Omega to get a blunt burning as well, Hampshire disposed of the orb by clapping his hands over it.

So, I’ve got a favour to ask of you,” Jay began, leading the way out of the hologym.

’Course you do,” Jack said amicably, “You ain’t the sort of bloke for social calls.

Right, sorry; I’ll have you over for tea some time,” Omega apologized, making a mental note to call on the few friends he had around the multiverse more often, “For now though, I was hoping you could help me protect my privacy a bit; maybe put up some kind of magic wall to stop people from spying and scrying, yeah? I recently came across someone who had intimate details about my private life that ain't exactly public knowledge on Earth, know what I mean?

Bit of a tall order, that,” Hampshire said with a raised eyebrow, “Be a lot easier to cloak a stationary location; sumfin what moves about is gonna leave ripples of magic in its wake, innit? Not to mention I’ll have to do some scrying meself, find out exactly what kind of magic was used.

But you can do it?” Omega prompted hopefully as they stepped into the personnel lift.

More than likely,” Jack said as he considered the logistics, “It won’t be quick, or easy; you might need to put me up for a night or two. And you’ll have to land somewhere I can get out and walk around the ship, but yeah. It’ll be a pain in the arse, but you let old Jacky Boy worry about that, and you figure out how you’re gonna make it up to me.

Jay nodded in acquiescence, then stepped off the lift and headed toward the quarters previously occupied by his second fiancée; while a little under-decorated, they would do just fine to temporarily house the visiting mage. Once Hampshire had been shown his lodgings, they began a brief tour of the ship, which came to an end on the bridge, where Erin informed Omega that his training program was ready.~

==============================
"He who takes offense when no offense is intended is a fool, and he who takes offense when offense is intended is a greater fool."
-Brigham Young
==============================

*Well what do we have here? A couple of converts, it seems. Not much of a cult yet, but we'll get there. Welcome back, new Believers! Our video begins with a fade in(as most Omega promos do and will), the blank screen gradually becoming not so blank, as images and stuff fill it up. Specifically the image of my favorite Red-Eye Jedi - and yours, it's okay, you can admit it - the incomparable, the unconquerable, the indomitable, the one and only(except no, not really), Lez Homie du Omegique(that's Francese for The Omega Man), he is Jay Omega, and his handsome mug should now be filling your screen. Like, a little too much, let's ease back on the closeup. Perfect! Now we've got a decent shot of his upper body framed by a starry sky. Not the infinite void of space, no; way too much light pollution for that, so we've got to be on a planet somewhere. The sound of water lapping nearby tells us we’re close to a body of water, but which one is anyone’s guess. Well, except mine, because I obviously know we’re situated on the coast of France(hence my earlier Francese), specifically a pretty little town by the name of Honfleur(which I believe means “horny flower”, the Francese word for a lady’s downstairs parts). In concession to the weather, Jay’s wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, bearing a charcoal pencil depiction of the [I]Millenium Falcon's cockpit with the pilot's and co-pilot's seats occupied by Omega and Nikola Tesla respectively; the words "Greco-Roman" above, "Han Solo" below in a stylized font. Three quarters of a thumb-thick blunt already burning in his hand, Omega looks directly at us, quickly hits the blunt, and indicates his new merch.*[/i]

JAY OMEGA: First and foremost, thanks to Lycana for inspiring my new line of merchandising; fifty percent of the revenue is all yours as a token of my appreciation. Congrats on the win, too, it was well earned. But rest assured that we'll meet again, and I won't underestimate you a second time.

*The Omega Man points at the camera with his blunt for emphasis, then waves his hand dismissively.*

JAY OMEGA: That's enough about the last Warfare of Twenty Twenty-One, let's talk about the first Warfare of Twenty Twenty-Two. Initially, I didn’t know whether to be insulted about getting booked in an Xtreme Rules match against Tommy “the Forgotten Guy” Wish, or thankful for the easy win. Then I realized y’all still don’t really know what I’m capable of yet, so it makes sense that I’m being given an opportunity to prove myself, so to speak. And there’s no better match for that than one where I’m not only allowed, but encouraged to go all out with the use of weaponry.

*Another quick draw on the blunt fills Jay’s lungs for a moment, before the cool night air of the river Morelle steals away the exhaled smoke.*

JAY OMEGA: Now, I’ve done a little digging into Tommy Boy’s background, and what I’ve learned doesn’t exactly fill me with dread over the approaching clash. We’re talking about a guy who is well past his prime, and completely out of shape. I caught his last match, against the Latina Submission Machina, and holy shit; I've seen more muscle definition in Sweatin' To the Oldies. I ain't gonna rag on him too much over that, though; don't need to be a bodybuilder to swing a Singapore cane, ya dig? And I also won't give him too much shit for being so far over the hill, he's coming down the other side; after all, I recall this one dude with a Flair for the dramatic who kept racking up wins long after he should have retired. But that ain't Tommy.

*Omega shakes his head in mock sadness, pretending to regret that Tommy Wish does not continue to rack up wins long after he should have retired.*

JAY OMEGA: That's not to say Mister Wish is a perpetual loser - I mean, he is, but that's in the context of life in general - because he can occasionally get it done in the ring; the dude does have two short reigns with the X-treme Championship, and he won the aforementioned match against the young Miss Gonzalez. And from what I can tell, he seems to be a brawler who thrives in the hardcore scene, which makes my heart smile, to be honest; see, I loves me some hardcore action myself. Now, I've been around, fought through an alphabet soup's worth of indie promotions and alternate universe big name shows; over the course of my wrestling career, I've obviously claimed more than a few titles, and you would not believe how many of them include some variation of hardcore or extreme in the nomenclature. But it's crass and pointless to list a bunch of accolades that don't mean two squirts of llama piss here, so I'll just say that once upon a time, I was referred to as "the Hardcore Maniac", and I was known for my ruthless aggression.

*Jay hits the blunt, taps away the accumulated ash, then hits it again before exhaling his double toke. Omega points at the camera with his left hand and makes a "back off" gesture, then begins walking toward us, the drone matching his pace to keep him centered.*

JAY OMEGA: Do I think that's going to intimidate the Wishmaster? Nah, he ain't bright enough to understand that he should be intimidated, but that's okay; don't need to be a rocket scientist to swing a chair, ya dig? Anyways, the more I learned about Tommy's pugilistic inclinations, the more excited I got; been a hot minute since I've had a good scrap with someone who has as little regard for their own well being as I do. But then I came across Wishy-washy's worst weakness; no, not his foot fetish, his self-esteem issues. Promo after promo, dude's talking about how he ain't shit, how he can't hack it against the younger generation. Yet time after time, he still manages to pick up enough wins that he stays on the payroll. He's been floating around the XWF for almost ten years from what I can see, and he's managed to make a name for himself. Sure, that name is "Undercard Schlub", but it beats "Fatty McGee". And speaking of beating fatty, we come back around to how everybody, including Tommy Wish, knows I'm going to beat him.

*Jay takes a few more quick hits from the blunt, and pitches the remainder into the darkness to his right.*

JAY OMEGA: I'm not going to beat him just because he's an overweight, out of shape tub of marshmallow fluff and Mountain Dew, although that definitely works to my advantage. Sumo wrestlers have asses just as wide as Tommy's, and you'd best believe them big boys can throw down, so I expect him to pack a bigger punch than his flab implies. And of course, all that padding means he can soak up the hits like syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. I'm gonna poke him in the gut, see if he giggles like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Then I'm gonna cave in his face when I Bring the Thunder.

*The camera banks to the side as Omega turns right and leaves the orange-lit sidewalk behind, crossing into a pitch dark park; the camera switching to night vision without missing a frame.*

JAY OMEGA: I'm not gonna beat Tommy just because he's pushing forty-five in a sport that favours the young and the fit; some people would say the same thing about me, since Wishy-washy's only five years older than me. But those people would be wrong, since my age is kind of hard to determine at this point, what with me being reconstituted from the ashes of a dude who was cloned from the brain matter of a guy who fought a war against a time god which spanned an incalculable number of years. So yeah, chronologically speaking, Jay Omega was born in Nineteen Eighty-One, making me forty. Biologically speaking, this body's less than six years old, and was in perfect health when I incarnated. Technically speaking, thanks to a bunch of space-time shenanigans, I've experienced somewhere in the neighbourhood of sixty or seventy years, the vast majority of that being combat of some form or another. But if I'm almost seventy and still kicking ass and taking names, then it stands to reason that a forty-five year old whippersnapper like Tommy should be able to keep up.

*Jay comes to a stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere, then inputs a few commands on the device strapped to his left forearm. A strip of light appears on the ground just behind Omega, lengthening enough to illuminate the surrounding area, and forcing the camera to switch back to true color. The Omega Man points at the camera again and sweeps his arm to the side and back, directing the drone behind him as he ascends the cargo ramp of a small luxury spaceship. Backlit by intensely bright light, Jay is now nothing more than a silhouette and a voice.*

JAY OMEGA: I'm not going to beat Tommy just because he has no faith in himself. A man who doesn't believe he can win is capable of astonishing feats of desperation; when you have no reason to preserve yourself, why not throw everything into each attack? Nah, despite his size, age, and self deprecation, I think this Tomcat still has a hell of a lot of fight left in him, and I'm looking forward to roughin' it up with him.

*Omega hits a button on the wall beside him, and the cargo ramp begins to slowly retract.*

JAY OMEGA: I'm not going to beat Tommy just because I'm younger, fitter, much better looking, and more confident, though all those aspects will definitely help. I'm going to beat Tommy because I'm a better fighter than he is. I'm willing to bet I can take more punishment than he can dish out, and vice versa. It'll be interesting to see where your limits lie, Tommy. See ya in the ring.

*The cargo ramp shuts with a metallic clang, followed by the hiss of pressurization, and the scene fades to black.*

Official List of XWF Achievements and Accomplishments

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