Heir Raid
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"Sometimes it's easy to forget how much you miss people until you see them again."
-Colleen Hoover
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~With nearly all the medical information available on Earth's Internet archived in the ship's memory banks, Erin had immediately confirmed the diagnosis of Evelyn's pregnancy. In an unsurprising show of stubbornness, Evelyn had refused Jay Omega's suggestion of receiving prenatal care on Earth, insisting on traveling to the planet Skaarbirro to see a doctor with Terran experience she had dug up during Jay's stint in the GCL, in case he had needed emergency care; some eccentric the locals referred to as the Ahzhdoog.

  Jay wasn't sure what exactly Evelyn's problem was with accepting her heritage, but it seemed every time he tried to get her to adjust to Earth culture, she invariably pushed back with some alien habit she'd learned while growing up in space. It hadn't helped that the first time she'd set foot on the planet since she was three years old, the two of them had been attacked by a malicious AI in command of some sophisticated security measures. Whatever her reasons, Omega had been unsuccessful in his attempts to sway her, and now they were halfway across the galaxy from where he wanted to be.

  Jay tried not to let his irritation show as he descended the boarding ramp of the Starlight Lost with Evelyn and Tasha; he had to be back on Earth in less than a week, and even hauling ass, it would take around three days to get there from the closest jumpgate. And here they were, wasting time on a relatively backwater colony world, going to see some alien quack who probably knew less about human anatomy than Zoidberg. At the first sign of incompetence, Omega was taking Evelyn back to Earth no matter what she said, even if he had to tie her up in the cargo bay.

  The trio was greeted at the bottom of the ramp by the starport docking official, and more time was wasted with declaring the purpose of their visit and filing for the necessary permits. After what felt like an hour - in reality less than two minutes- the appropriate paperwork had been processed, and they were waved on. A quick stop to convert some galactic funds into local currency - oddly shaped bits of a brightly colored plastic-like material - and they were released out into the city of Aginkort proper, where the agrarian nature of the colony was readily apparent as the locals used a blend of modern technologies alongside more primitive methods.

  For instance, the "taxi" Jay hired was a carriage drawn by a pair of reptilian quadrupeds called "sorbos", which actually turned out to be a pleasant experience due to Skaarbirro's spring weather. It wasn't a long trip to the outlying building that served as the Ahzhdoog's medical clinic, and all too soon, Omega was ushering his wives into what he was sure was going to be a disaster. The trio weren't kept waiting long, as this doctor gave high priority to human patients, and less than twenty minutes after landing at the starport, they were being called in to the doctor's office.

  When the doctor turned around and looked up from his clipboard, The Omega Man reeled from the shock of recognition; this was the last man he had ever expected to encounter, here or anywhere else.

  "Alex?!?" Jay cried in disbelief, "What in Xor's name are you doing here?"

  Indeed, the bald-headed, craggy-faced, burly bruiser known as Alex Richards, the Archduke of Mass Confusion, might be known for many things - most of them drunken brawls - but space adventures wasn't one of them.

  "By His Noodliness; Jay?" replied Alex in equal surprise, then double checked his clipboard, "You, uh, you don't look pregnant."

  "I'm not" said Omega, too flabbergasted to think of something witty, "My wife is."

  "Oh, so you and Tasha tied the knot? Congratulations!" Alex beamed at Tasha and clapped a meaty paw on Jay's shoulder, "Sorry I missed the wedding, but I'm even more sorry I missed the reception!"

  "Yes, but no," Omega replied, putting his hands on Evelyn's shoulders, "I meant my other wife, Evelyn."

  "Other wife? You have two?" asked Alex, quirking an eyebrow, "And people call me crazy! Whatever, I don't judge; come in, come in, let's get this exam over with, so we can go get a drink!"~

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"But there were worse things than disappointment, and I'd lived through several of them already."
-Ultraviolet
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*Welcome back, True Believers! You got your peepers peeled for another Epic Jay Omega Promo(trademark pending)? Well, too bad, all we have in stock is B-roll footage of Los Hombre Omeguloso doing his morning grooming routine. I don't suppose we can interest you in fifteen minutes of Jay brushing his teeth and combing his hair?*

*Why do you have to be like this?*

*Uh, because it's fun? Duh. Don't forget, they hired me because you're boring.*

*No, you broke in here one day, and haven't let either of us leave since.*

*Potato, po-taht-o. So we fade in on a softly colored white and gold room, where Jay Omega is sitting at a small white table, with a variety of pre-packaged foodstuffs laid out before him, the labels all an incomprehensible jumble of angular script.*

JAY OMEGA: Okay, I get that Star Wars is a huge part of pop culture, and yes, I am married to a rebel princess - or at least, she was a rebel princess when I married her. Personally, I've always been more of a Battlestar Galactica kind of guy, myself. But hey, people are lazy, and why bother coming up with something original when you can make hackneyed attempts at rippi--, parodying your betters, right, Isaiah?

*Jay takes a package off the table, tears open the lavender foil, and bites into the unwrapped caramel-brown square with a crunch.*

JAY OMEGA: I had such high hopes for you when I got the alert that your first promo had aired. Then I watched it, and… Well, let's just say I imagine I know how your father must feel. If that's not clear enough, I am greatly disappointed.

*Omega takes another crunchy bite and chews for a moment, before he sets the snack on the table and grabs a crinkly, green, circular package.*

JAY OMEGA: I'll admit, I'm not up to date on the latest entries in the Star Wars franchise; I enjoyed The Force Awakens well enough, but I haven't seen any of the newer stuff. So I don't quite get what direction you were going in with that Dollar Store cosplay, Isaiah. At first I thought that throne bit was supposed to liken you to ol' Emperor Lightning Hands, but then you put on a Boba Fett helmet, and completely lost me. I do know Fett's a bounty hunter, and you're talking about hunting me, making me your prey, so I can see the connection you were trying to make there, but it just didn't fit with the imagery you were presenting. Pick a lane, dude.

*Jay tears open the bright green package and removes a pale, flaky, seafoam green cake ball, then shoves nearly half of it in his mouth at once. A moment of silence passes while Omega chews, his face vividly describing the near-orgasmic pleasure of the taste.*

JAY OMEGA: Honestly, you'd have been better served if you had spoofed Dog the Bounty Hunter; at least then I would have been more familiar with your premise. Instead I got a confused mess of mixed metaphors and inaccuracies. If that's the level of focus and effort you regularly put forth in the ring, Isaiah, well, it's no wonder you've been in a bit of a slump lately, is it? I'm certain that series of defeats has made you hungry for the taste of victory; surely the scraps of Barney Green and Calypso aren't enough to keep you fed. March Madness is a feast or famine situation for you, Isaiah, and I know you need this win more than I do.

*Jay pulls a small piece off the cake ball and pops it in his mouth, then reaches for a packet of silvery foil.*

JAY OMEGA: But do you want it more than I do? Actually, come to think of it, you probably do; I don't really care who wins, as long as you come at me with everything you've got. See, I don't get hung up on streaks, or titles, or momentum; it's all just fluff to pad promos. And I don't get any fun outta jobberkilling curtain jerkers; no easy wins for me, please and thank you. When I win, I want it to be by the skin of my teeth; I want the ref holding my arm up in victory to be the only thing keeping me on my feet. I don't want to waltz into March Madness and slap Isaiah around like my name was Will Smith. When that final bell rings, I want to be able to think to myself "fuck yeah; that was a good fight".

*Omega tears open the package and spills a few chocolate colored lumps into his hand, then tosses one into the air and catches it in his mouth.*

JAY OMEGA: By the same token, I see no shame in losing a match well-fought. Should the gods favour Isaiah come Sunday night, and bless him with a victory? Shit, I'll be the first to shake his hand and congratulate him, because if Isaiah beats me, it will be because he rolled up to that ring and went harder than he ever has before. And he's gonna have to do that anyway, if he wants to.make it out of Arlington in one piece, because The Omega Man only has one speed: Full throttle.

*Jay launches another choco-thingy into the air, but his aim is a little off, and the bite-sized snack bounces off his nose, clattering along the floor out of sight.*

JAY OMEGA: Clearly I make plenty of mistakes, too; something a skilled tactician can take advantage of, if they have the wherewithal to capitalize on presented opportunities. Or, as was the case with Sidney Grey, if they have the in-ring savvy to create opportunities to take advantage of. But it wouldn't make a difference if I was perfect in every way; it's entirely possible to commit no mistakes, and still lose. That's not a failing, that's just life. Speaking of making mistakes, trying to get into my headspace is the biggest one you could make.

*Omega pops the last confection in his mouth, and pulls a hot pink vape pen from within his vest. A quick haul on the vape is followed by Jay blowing several consecutively smaller vape rings, creating a hazy target over his face from our perspective.*

JAY OMEGA: Not just because what you'd find there would likely drive you mad, but also because you should be trying to get into your headspace, Isaiah. Don't try to figure me out, 'cause even I ain't managed to do that yet. You wanna beat me, Isaiah? You gotta look inside yourself, find that burning core of passion - whatever it may be for - and forge it into the tools you need to succeed. If you want to walk away from March Madness with a check mark in the Dubya column, you must proclaim thy warrior's soul; drop the bullshit attempts at mind games, figure out who the fuck you are, and rock into the AT&T Stadium with the focus and precision of a sniper. Anything less, and you're gonna get got.

*Omega takes a small hit from the vape pen, and blasts a single streak of vapor dead center through the nearly-dissipated bullseye.*

JAY OMEGA: You might be wondering why I'm sitting here, trying to build you up, Isaiah, when this part of the job typically involves tearing one another down. It's because I can see you drifting. You have the talent to make it big in this business, and you've got the drive of a fighter who just doesn't know when to stay down. But you lack focus, Isaiah. Sure, you've ostensibly got your sights set on the TeeVee title - a dangerous idea to look past someone like me, by the by - but then what? Where does the new King of the Midcard go from there? Resting on your laurels doesn't seem like your style, so the only real option is to climb higher, go bigger.

*Another draw on the vape, and Jay exhales off to the side, so as to not obscure our view.*

JAY OMEGA: So I'mma do you a favour, Isaiah; when we meet in that ring, I will put you through the crucible. It won't be a pleasant experience, but it will shape you, help forge you into a Universal Championship caliber competitor. When I'm done with you, you won't be fond of me, but you will be grateful. And make no mistake, I'm not going to go so hard on you just to be a dick; you should take this as a sign of respect. You might have noticed I've been calling you by name this whole time; I haven't given you some sort of insulting nickname, like I did with Whiskey Dick and Stargirl. And Sidney Grey, initially, but she's proven herself deserving of the respect of using her proper name.

*Omega reaches for an open blue box covered in red swirls and pulls out a pale blue cookie with red spots.*

JAY OMEGA: You got the chance to prove yourself worthy of the respect I'm showing you, Isaiah; don't disappoint me further.

*The Omega Man takes a bite of the cookie, and the scene fades to black while he chews.*

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"You can start anew at any given moment. Life is just the passage of time and it’s up to you to pass it as you please."
-Charlotte Eriksson
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~"Yeah, no, sorry," said Jay, stopping Alex in his tracks, "Slight change of plans; we're gonna see a doctor on Earth."

  "What?" Alex asked in confusion, "Why? You're already here."

  "Because you're not a real doctor, Alex," Omega said patiently, "You don't have a medical license."

  "But I do have a liquor license and a doctor's bag," countered the Archduke, "As long as I only practice medicine while drinking, everything is on the up and up."

  "That's not how it works!" Jay cried in exasperation.

  "It's worked out pretty well so far," Alex replied, "Most of the patients I've lost were dying anyway, and you Canadians are really forgiving."

  "Wait, what do you mean 'Canadians'?" Omega asked, "We're not in Canada; we're not even on Earth!"

  "We're not?" queried the Archduke, scratching his bald head, "You mean I've been doctoring on an alien planet for the last year? Cool!"

  "How could you not know that?!?" Jay sputtered in disbelief, "How did you not figure it out on the first day?"

  "I dunno," Alex answered with a shrug, "Everybody is so polite, and their money is so colorful, I just assumed I was in Canada."

  "I'm Canadian! These people don't look anything like me!" Omega was incredulous at the guileless nature of his oldest friend, "For Xor's sake, they're bright green and have four arms!"

  "Hey man, I'm not racist!" Alex declared defensively, "I don't judge a person by the color of their skin, or how many limbs they have!"

  "They're not even the same species!" exclaimed The Omega Man.

  "You're just making yourself sound worse, dude." said Alex with a disappointed shake of his head, "And your wife is starting to look worse; you all right there, little lady?"

  "I apologize," answered Evelyn, clutching her stomach, "I'm just trying not to vomit."

  "No! Try not!" Alex stated emphatically, "Spew! Or spew not; there is no try."

  "Oh, for fuck's sake," said Jay with a sigh, "You're sauced right now, aren't you?"

  "Hi, I'm Alex, since we're apparently meeting for the first time," said the Archduke, before taking a nip from a silver flask, "You should know the only times I'm ever sober are those rare occasions I manage to sleep it off. I tell ya, those fifteen minute stretches of sobriety are Hell!"

  "And that's the other reason we're getting a real doctor," Omega said with a significant look at Evelyn, "I don't want my kid being born with contact Fetal Alcohol Syndrome."

  "Harsh, but fair," said Alex, ducking his head in acknowledgement, "Well, if you're heading to Earth, mind if I hitch a ride? Doctoring is fun and all, but the brothels here suck."

  "Fuck yeah," replied Jay in a tone that made the question seem ridiculous, "You're always welcome aboard my ship, dude; plenty of room if you wanna stay, too."

  A chirrup from the Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device on Omega's left arm drew his attention, causing him to curse when he read the missive.

  "Fuck, I gotta go," said Jay as he activated the W.E.I.R.D.'s communication function, "Erin, bring the Khybaris down; we're picking up a passenger."

  Omega then turned and gave each of his wives an apologetic look that garnered him little sympathy.

  "I hate to bail like this," The Omega Man said sincerely, "But I made a commitment to help Sidney on Anarchy, and if I don't leave right now, I'll be late."

  Matters of honor were of great personal importance to both women, so of course they understood. With hugs and kisses for the women and a handshake-hug for Alex, Jay said his goodbyes and departed for the starport where the Starlight Lost awaited. He was going to have to haul ass to make it in time; he just hoped his piloting skills were up to snuff.~