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"Poets, like fighters, reap the benefits of roadwork."
-Caged: Memoirs of A Cage-Fighting Poet
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~Unlike mammals, who became lethargic afterwards, Omegadon exited the captain's cabin with a surplus of contented energy, as his blood had been thoroughly warmed by the activities of the preceding hour. Wanting to take advantage of this excess vitality, The Omega Saurian made his way through the ship toward the hologym, where he intended to run a training program against holographic reproductions of the Disintegrators. His tour had been brief, and Omegadon had been distracted throughout most of it by the shapely backside of the incredible woman whose company he had just left, but The Omega Saurian did have some vague notion as to where his destination was. Even still, better cautious than condolent, as the old adage went.

"Erin," Omegadon queried aloud, "Are you lissstening?"

"Always." Came the immediate reply.

"Alwaysss?" Repeated Omegadon with some consternation, "Okay, that'sss only a little creepy."

"Try not to think about it too much," the digital sapient teased, "Now what can I help you with?"

"The hologym isss on deck three, yesss?" Asked the reptilian man as he headed toward the personnel lift.

"That's correct," Erin stated, adding an audible ping! for good measure, "Take a right when you get off the lift and head past Mister Tesla's workshop."

As Omegadon stepped off the lift, however, a delectable aroma tickled his senses as he sampled the air with his forked tongue. Turning left rather than right, The Omega Saurian made his way to the mess hall, where he found a squat, gray little alien hard at work in the ship's galley. Upon his entry, the short alien turned to look at Omegadon and squawked something mostly incomprehensible at him. The reptilian man tilted his head in curiosity, causing the squat alien to slap its thin tail against the deck plating, point at him, and utter a series of squawks and chitters that were clearly meant to convey some sort of information. Or perhaps it was a question? Omegadon felt like it might have been a question, for some reason he couldn't place.

"Uh, hang on a sssecond, pal," Omegadon said to the gray being, "A little help here, Erin? Why isssn't the transsslator, uh, transsslating?"

"I apologize for any inconvenience," Erin replied, "But Grishnag is the first member of his species to leave their homeworld, and as such, his language is not part of the galactic database. I have been attempting to build a referential lexicon, but is has proven exceedingly difficult, as the language is quite complex."

"It sssoundsss kind of familiar," The Omega Saurian noted, "Asss if I heard sssomeone elssse ssspeaking it a long time ago."

Grishnag chitter-squawked again, now brandishing a serrated carving knife which he used to gesticulate at Omegadon. On a hunch, The Omega Saurian switched from English to Kretac; a harsh language of barks and screeches he hadn't spoken since he was a broodling studying for a history exam.

"Understand these words, you can, yes?" Omegadon queried hesitantly, unsure of his pronunciation of the seldom used language. His hunch seemed to pay off, though, as Grishnag drew himself up in surprise and chitter-squawked excitedly before switching to a similar language.

"[I]I can!" The squat alien spoke quickly, his words more chirps and caws than anything else, but Omegadon was able to pick out a few phrases from Grishnag's word vomit, "[ unintelligible ] … a traveller from the stars … [ unintelligible ] … away from my people … [ unintelligible ] … haven't spoken to anyone … years! [ unintelligible ] … so many questions!"

Omegadon raised a clawed hand to halt the torrential flow of speech and did his best to explain his lack of fluency, which clearly disappointed Grishnag. The reptilian man assured the socially isolated alien that he would do something about the communication issue, helped himself to a shank of some roast beast, and exited the galley heading toward the hologym. The Omega Saurian finished his snack before heading in, then looked around, and requested Erin load up the pre-arranged training program. Virtual facsimiles of "Dangerous" Dave Mustang and Johnny "Twisted" Steele coalesced in the middle of a hardlight ring that appeared with equal abruptness, and the two holographic men took up ready positions as an unseen bell rang.

Mustang stepped in looking for a collar and elbow tie up, but Omegadon slipped inside his reach and pushed the man's arms wide before The Omega Saurian's claws tore his throat out in a visceral spray. Omegadon immediately spun into a back kick, the thick claws on his toes raking across Steele's midsection and doubling him over. Omegadon took a handful of Johnny's greasy hair and yanked his head all the way back, exposing the soft flesh of his throat. The Omega Saurian snapped his jaws shut over the struggling man's windpipe, the hunter in him relishing the terrified scream he allowed to escape before he clamped down, and his teeth relieved Steele of his vocal cords with a satisfying crunch. Omegadon spat distastefully as the flesh reverted to motes of energy that made his mouth buzz like he'd bitten a beehive.

"An excellent showing," Erin commented as the training program reset, "But it seems I must remind you this is a non-leth--"

"Non-lethal combat sssport, yeah," Omegadon interrupted, nodding his head, "Inssstinctsss kicked in, and I jussst went with it. Let'sss run it again."

Mustang stepped in looking for a collar and elbow tie up, Omegadon sidestepped and drove the point of his elbow into Dave's skull right in the soft spot behind the ear where the jaw connects. Not so dangerous now, Mustang slumped bonelessly to the mat, and The Omega Saurian leapt over him before Steele could react, landing a spinning heel kick that had Johnny seeing stars. Omegadon kipped up to his feet ready to strike again, saw the sorry state of his opponents, and let his shoulders sag.

"Ugh, can we ressset and try thisss again on a higher difficulty level?" The Omega Saurian asked in mild disgust, "This feelsss like beating up a pair of elderly femalesss."

"Sorry, it doesn't work like that," Erin replied, then launched into an explanation, "This program is designed using all information available on the tag team known as 'the Disintegrators', and is intended to portray them at their absolute best. It is by no means an accurate representation of the skill level of either man, and is quite likely to be much more difficult than an actual match would be."

"But I jussst killed both of them in lesss than five sssecondsss." Omegadon said flatly.

"Again, this is a non-leth--"

"Okay, I jussst jobberkilled both of them in lesss than five sssecondsss," The Omega Saurian conceded, "And you're telling me not only isss thisss asss difficult asss the training getsss, the match itssself isss probably going to be easssier? Then thisss whole endeavor isss a wassste of my consssiderable talentsss! I wanted to do sssomething exhilarating!"

"Well, it's not related to your opponents, or wrestling in any way," Erin began as the faux arena shimmered and shifted, the locale changing to a narrow road at the top of a mountain, "But I do have this driving program Jay calls 'the Bond Experience', and he seems to find quite thrilling; perhaps you'd like to give it a try?"

"Humansss are ssstill usssing internal combussstion enginesss, right?" Omegadon's face split into a wide grin, "I love how thossse crazy monkeysss ussse miniature explosionsss to get around. What kind of program isss thisss, though? Like a leisurely drive, or what?"

"It starts out like that," Erin explained, "But it quickly turns into a chase down the side of the mountain, with several carloads of gunmen attempting to kill you."

"Sssold!" Omegadon's brow ridges lifted in surprise, and his forked tongue flickered out in anticipation. "Ssset me up with a vehicle, and let'sss do thisss!"

At his request, a glossy black 1960 Cadillac DeVille convertible materialized in front of him, the top down and the engine already idling. The Omega Saurian nodded approvingly as he inspected the vehicle, taking a moment to familiarize himself with the controls. Rather than begin the program, however, Omegadon tapped thoughtfully on the steering wheel, then got out of the car.

"I think I would like to cut a promo, asss Jay would sssay," Omegadon announced, "Can I get one of thossse dronesss in here to record? Might asss well get thisss out of the way, and ssspend the ressst of my time here enjoying myssself."

"Certainly, Erin said cheerfully, "Though I must warn you in advance that Jay has asked me to use time delayed digital masking on any video you might record; he wants your appearance to remain as secret as possible in order to shock the crowd. As such, anyone viewing this promotional video before February Sixteenth will see you as fully human; after that date the masking will fade, and the video will show your true appearance."

"Oh, he thinks I'm ugly, does he?" Omegadon snarled, not at all seriously, "Still hot enough to bang his wife, though, y'know?"

"Yes, I do know," Erin replied unnecessarily, "I was there."

"Uhhh… what?"

"Always listening, remember?" the digital sapient said sweetly, "Here's that drone you asked for; break a leg!"~

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"No disintegration."
-Darth Vader
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*Our video fades in on a backdrop of the azure sky unmarred by clouds above, lush greenery and brown rock of mountain road below, and centered we have the scaled features of The Omega Saurian; the reptilian rendition of Jay Omega. Clad in loose black utility pants and a modular tactical harness made of some dark leather, Omegadon leans against the front quarter panel of a sleek, black Cadillac DeVille convertible with a perturbed expression on his ophidian face. He quickly shakes it off, though, and assumes a demeanor of professionalism.*

OMEGADON: I am insssulted by the sheer ignorancsse disssplayed by David Mussstang and John Sssteele. These ssspawnthrusssting cloacasss are well passst their "best before" date, and it'sss beginning to affect their cognitive functionsss. Okay, that'sss an asssumption; it'sss completely posssible they were alwaysss thisss ssspawnthrusssting ssstupid. I don't think they even know who they're facssing, consssidering all their talk of piratesss. It'sss asss if they couldn't be bothered to do more than sssee that they were booked before they opened their mouthsss to exsspel enough hot air to lift a balloon from New York to London. The ssslightest bit of resssearch would have let them know they were facing a very angry dinosssaur man, asss Jay hasss dessscribed me on ssseveral occasionsss. But that would be asssking too much; not only do they not know who Jay Omega'sss tag partner isss thisss week - Hi! - they apparently don't even know Omega'sss name. Now, it'sss posssible they were doing a bit - Jay'sss known for riffing on people'sss namesss for a laugh, after all - but sssomething tellsss me they were jussst usssing all the "J" namesss they could think of in the hopesss of eventually being right.

*Omegadon pulls a small cylindrical device from his pockets, sticks it halfway up a nostril, and inhales deeply.*

OMEGADON: Like the majority of their career, the Disssintegratorsss video was full of sssound and fury, but it sssignifiesss nothing. There wasss lesss sssubssstance to their promo than there wasss to the holographic version of Sssteele whossse throat I ate! Thessse two are mad if they think their sssad little tag team can do anything more than look bad, both in and out of the ring. The only way thessse two are going to beat any asss isss when their Grindr datesss show up to their shared hotel room. I don't mean that as a ssslur by the way; in thessse modern times homosssexuality isss widely accepted, I underssstand. I get that you old timersss are from the passst, back when y'all would get beaten sssenssselesss for admitting your obviousss love of playing Hide the Sssausssage with each other, ssso you feel the need to hide it behind the hypermasssculine image of ssstereotypical badasss bikersss, and I'm sure that foolsss sssome fourteen year oldsss, but I sssee right through that bullshit.

*Omegadon takes another whiff from his vaporizer, rolls his neck to produce a pop from one of his vertebrae, then tilts his head to look at us quizzically.*

OMEGADON: Do the Disssintegaytorsss have any idea what they're up againssst? I don't think they do, basssed on their blussstering bravado. They don't know Jay'sss name, they don't know who I am, they don't know where Omega hailsss from… they don't know anything about the team of Double Trouble other than "it exissstsss" and that they're booked against usss. Part of me feelsss bad for the violence I will unleash againssst these two loversss who are clearly mentally deficient.

*The Omega Saurian grins wickedly, displaying twin rows of razor sharp teeth.*

OMEGADON: But the greater part of me by far truly enjoysss inflicting violence upon thossse who deserve it. And while that may not necesssarily be the cassse here, thessse two men have been ssset againssst me, and I've been told to put them down; that'sss a good enough reason for me, and the only one I need. I can only hope that we rotate through all the prossspective partnersss of Double Trouble fassst enough that I can get another match, hopefully one againssst opponentsss worthy of my ssskillsss, and not bottom feeding flubtrash like the Disssintegaytorsss.

*Omegadon opens the car door and slides into the driver seat, leaving the door open with one foot on the ground.*

OMEGADON: I've wasssted enough time and energy talking about the Disssintegaytorsss, now it's time for a little fun; sssomething Mussstang and Sssteele will not be experiencing at Warfare.

*Omegadon grins wickedly again, then makes the "cut" motion, and the scene fades to black.*

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"What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises—no matter the mood! Mood's a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It's not for fighting."
-Dune
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~Omegadon had scarcely closed the car door when the clear blue sky flashed a deep red for a brief instant.

"Sorry to interrupt " the artificial intelligence said, "But I'm picking up multiple weapons discharges in the establishment where you're supposed to meet with Jay and Corey; it seems someone has instigated a bar fight."

"Oh, that sssoundsss like fun," The Omega Saurian stated, perking up as he did, "A good ssscrap isss sure to ssscratch that exhilaration itch!"

"Hold on," Erin cautioned, "I'm intercepting chatter on several encrypted frequencies; it sounds like there's an old enemy of Jay's making his way through the station, looking to collect the bounty on Jay's head."

"Wait, why isss there a bounty on hisss head?" Omegadon asked in confusion as he made his way to the exit, "Isssn't he sssupposssed to be one of the good guysss?"

"Yes, but life is rarely that simple," the virtual woman explained, "While Jay is a man of morals, we are a band of mercenaries, and not every job we take is strictly legal according to galactic law. Also, as Jay himself frequently points out 'assholes can post bounties too'."

"Fair enough," The Omega Saurian conceded, and began a deck-eating lope toward the personnel lift, "I'll need ssschematicsss of the ssstation sssurrounding the cafe, Erin; I have no desire to throw my life away with a frontal asssault, ssso I'll need another way in."

"There are several ventilation ducts adjacent to the cafe," Erin offered helpfully, "And there's a maintenance hatch leading into the ductwork about two hundred meters from the cafe."

"Perfect," Omegadon said with a grin as he checked the charge on his plasma blades, "Time to go play Big Damn Hero!"~