Old Dogs, New Tricks
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"This is the gateway to Hell, baby… Welcome to The Underworld!"
-Black Magic
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~The natives of Tarhasim had a generational tradition that stretched back to the dawn of their recorded history. Every twenty of their years, a grand celebration was held during the midsummer Week of Two Moons. There would be feasting, games, contests of skill, and the central attraction, the Abominable Hunt; the greatest warriors in the surrounding lands would gather to test their mettle against a legendary creature that inhabited a cursed marsh. Twelve generations ago, when Tarhasim joined the galactic community, that invitation had been extended to any capable combatant who sought fame, glory, and riches.

  The Omega Man, Jay Omega, didn't much care for fame and glory - his name was known well enough - but riches were always nice. He had to keep reminding himself of that as he squelched miserably through the swampy terrain. If he had known this hunt was going to be such a shitshow, Jay might have skipped this event, untold riches be damned. But he was here now, and there was nothing to do but make the best of it. Not that he had much to go on, besides vague legends passed down from days of yore; myths so old no one today even knew their origins, let alone believed in them.

  Jay believed, though; prior to his stint as a starship captain, Omega had encountered a wide variety of supernatural entities, and he was quite certain he was hunting some sort of vampire. Jay couldn't think of any other creature which extended its own lifespan by draining the vitality of others. As such, he had kitted himself out with classic vampire hunter tools, courtesy of Jack of Shadows; a few ash stakes, a silver dagger, and a handaxe engraved with arcane symbols. Not that a close range fight with a vampire was ideal, but most of his projectile weapons would be useless against such a foe.

  A warm tingling sensation crawled up The Omega Man's spine and pulsed into his brain, and he immediately dropped into a crouch, drawing the silver dagger from his hip as he did so. Head on a swivel, Jay crept toward the sparse cover of a moss-covered fallen tree, scanning his surroundings for the source of danger. An unnatural stillness settled over the marsh, and Omega steeled himself for combat, wary of every step as he inched his way further into the bog. A silvery mist began to rise from the sodden ground, and Jay sighed heavily; why had he ever thought this was a good idea? ~

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"Age and treachery will overcome youth and skill."
-Fausto Coppi
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*Welcome back, True Believers! I see you've come to join us on the next leg of our journey toward the crowning of the next King of the XWF, L'Uomo Omegissi - that's Italese for The Omega Man.*

*No it isn't.*

*Good point, don't care. Our video starts with a clock wipe into a starry sky, then barn wipes to a shot of a wrestling ring, before dissolving into a… ah, who am I kidding? You know these things always start with a fade in.*

*We fade in on a sight slightly different from the last few weeks; rather than observing The Omega Man perusing his collection of extraterrestrial trinkets, we find him standing in the ring of a holographic arena, off-center from where a hardlight representation of Sidney Grey stands frozen mid-struggle in an unwanted liplock, courtesy of Tommy Wish.*

JAY OMEGA: I've been opening these promos by showing off the trophies I've received for kicking ass around the galaxy, and expounding on the similarities between the matches in this tournament, and some of the fights I've had on other planets. Sadly, I didn't get anything resembling a trophy for winning the bout Old Yeller reminds me of. I did receive a tidy sum of space money, though, so that was nice.

*Jay steps over to the corner and leans against the turnbuckle, then pulls out his ever-present black cigarette case and gold Zippo, and sparks up a spliff, releasing a cloud of soft violet smoke.*

JAY OMEGA: Mmm, haven't tried this strain yet; tastes like cherry pie. Anyway, I understand the knees are the first thing to go when you get older - and yours clearly ain't doing too good, Sid - so maybe you should take a seat for the duration of this video. Sit, Sidney. Good girl.

*Omega sticks the doobie in his mouth, then hoists himself into a seated position on the top rope before he hits the joint again.*

JAY OMEGA: So yeah, this ain't the first time I've come up against an ancient and treacherous foe, though I highly doubt Old Yeller is any sort of vampire; she lacks the inherent class creatures of the night usually possess. Granted, it's a rarity to find someone with a high class life and a low class personality, so that does make Sid stand out a bit. And boy does she ever feel the need to stand out, eh? Just look at all her failed careers; she took a bump from the high rent district back in Seventy-Two, or some shit, and left the wonderful world of combat sports to focus on acting and modeling. I understand things were going good at first; the history books claim she had a "well-turned calf", whatever that means.

*Jay shrugs to show his incomprehension, then puffs at his pot some more, blowing purple smoke in our direction.*

JAY OMEGA: But, as seems to be a trend for Old Yeller, just when things were going good, she shit the bed. I'm all for wild parties myself, but I always use protection when getting some strange; Sid was not as wise, and got herself knocked up. Which ain't a bad thing, in and of itself, but Old Yeller is just as much a failure as a parent as she is at anything else. But hey, plenty of kids in show biz grow up without their parents; it's not like Sid abandoned her child to get high and drunk, right? Oh, wait.

*Omega shifts his eyes back and forth, then shrugs and takes a toke from the blunt.*

JAY OMEGA: So there went fame and fortune yet again, until reality TV came along, and spoiled wretches who threw massive tantrums like toddlers were suddenly en vogue, and Old Yeller finally got her chance to shine, exploiting society's sick fascination with the dregs of humanity. And she didn't even have to debase or degrade herself! Well, not any more than she usually does, at least. Now Sid's got all she ever wanted; pity ratings on a daytime trash TV show, a tin-plated title from XWF's B-show, and yet another chance to garner some of that sweet recognition she's found so elusive.

*Another lungful of purple smoke, and The Omega Man sways slightly on his perch. Jay regards the blunt warily, then stubs it out against the sole of his boot, and puts the remaining half back in his case.*

JAY OMEGA: You'd think that, with all her years and years and years of experience, Old Yeller would finally be due for that breakthrough success. But Sid should know damn well that history repeats itself, she's lived through enough of it to see it firsthand. And she ain't the type to learn from her mistakes; I guess it's true what they say, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Every time Sidney Grey has stood on the cusp of glory, she inevitably falters, fumbles, and fails. She now has a shot at making it into the Final Four, but too bad for her, she's up against the baddest ass in the galaxy.

*Omega slips down from his seat, leans back against the turnbuckle, and crosses his arms over his chest.*

JAY OMEGA: Unlike Sidney, my career has had a singular focus; kicking ass. And I'm pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself. Throughout the course of her stints in various industries, Old Yeller has proven that she's quite adept at laying down and rolling over, and she certainly has no trouble speaking. I don't know anything about her ability to shake, but that's irrelevant. Come March 11th, in El Paso, we're gonna find out if I can teach her to play dead.

*The Omega Man makes the universal "cut" motion, and the scene fades to black.*

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"Sticks and stones will break your bones, but failure will get you killed."
-Narcissus In Chains
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~Almost twenty minutes in this Xor-damned fog, and Jay wasn't sure if he'd made any progress at all; he might have been going in a circle for all he could tell. A chirrup from the Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device strapped to his left forearm drew Omega's attention, and he stopped his slow march to check the incoming message.

Biomass detected, 30 degrees left, 114 feet

  Technically speaking, having the Khybarisscan the planet's surface from low orbit was cheating. But the rules said he could use whatever tools he could carry, and whatever abilities his body possessed; one of his abilities was using his artificial synapses to remotely communicate with whatever dataspace Erin was inhabiting at the time. Pinging the sensors from this distance put a Hell of a strain on him, so Jay didn't plan to rely on it, but at least now he knew where he was going.

  Omega wished he'd been allowed to bring his armor, but since it was the point of origin of Erin's consciousness, the adjudicator had declared the Suit to be a separate living entity, and thus not allowed. Which was bullshit; the Suit was more like a second skin to The Omega Man. It had taken him a long time to get used to being a cyborg, but now, when he and Erin achieved symbiosis, it just felt natural. Jay felt he had grown quite a bit as a person these last few years; most of his personal life had been about chasing tail and partying it up. It still was, it was just that now Omega also maintained the responsibility of captaining a starship, and managed the delicate balance of having two wives.

  A timely warning from the Omega Sense caused Jay to drop prone on the sodden grassland, and a faint whistle caught his ear as something flashed through the mist above him. Damned rookie mistake, letting his mind wander like that; if it hadn't been for the Director's gift warning him of impending combat, Omega would likely be dead several times over. Come to think of it, he had died twice already, so perhaps– no, this was a time to focus, if ever there was one, else he was likely to join the generations of unlucky hunters who had fallen to this mythical prey.

  An unearthly shriek pierced the silvery silence and The Omega Man pushed himself up into a crouch, holding the silver dagger in a white-knuckled grip. The splashing patter of running footsteps alerted him to a swiftly moving person rushing him from the side, and at the last possible second, Jay threw himself backward, turning a somersault as he hit the ground to come back to a vertical base. The fog was swept away with another primal scream, and Omega finally got a glimpse of what he had been hunting.

  Stringy, matted hair. Pallid flesh like parchment drawn too tight over the skull. A mouth filled with needle-like teeth. Razor sharp talons nearly a foot long, caked with blackened blood. Sunken yellow eyes that stared with a feverish hunger. The stench of death and decay permeated the air.

"You are one ugly motherfucker." was all he had time to say before the battle was joined.~