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Guardians Protection Services (Act 1.5)
Author Message
Jay Omega Offline
Galactic Gladiator



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

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


#1
05-17-2023, 07:43 PM

To Sail the Seven Seas

=============================
"Hark, now hear the sailors cry,
Smell the sea, and feel the sky,
Let your soul & spirit fly, into the mystic."

-Van Morrison
==============================

UNIVERSE XWF99
15 Nautical Miles Off the Coast of Florida, Mera Liberum, Earth
10/5/2023, 1147 Hrs, Local Time
~In order to collect payment from their first contract in the protection business, Jay Omega and Alex Richards had needed to charter a ship to take them out to sea, where Fister Mantastic and the Seaman waited for them aboard the Seaman's decrepit looking fishing boat, the Bass 2 Mouth.

  "Welcome aboard, guys," Fister greeted them, offering a handshake to Jay, "Thanks again for taking care of those problems."

  "None of it was really a problem for us," Alex replied, declining a handshake as he watched Omega wipe his now sticky palm on his shorts, "It was the easiest boat full of weed we've made in our whole career."

  "Speaking of which," Jay said with a smile, "Let's take a look at that weed, and assess the value."

  "It's down in a secret compartment," the Seaman explained, motioning below decks, "If you'd like to go down to my booty hole?"

  "Gross way to phrase that," Omega replied with some discomfort, "Just show me the bud, bud."

  The portly man adjusted his adult-sized sailor onesie, then led the way down into the hold. At the rear of the ship's cargo area, the Seaman took a prybar and stuck into an innocuous looking groove in the floor. With a grunt of effort, a section of the floor was levered up, revealing a secondary cargo area below the first. Jay reached down into the smuggling compartment to retrieve a tightly wrapped brick of cannabis, and tore it open. Immediately, the musty smell of mold wafted loose in the air, and Omega simply shook his head, tossed the brick aside, and reached for another one.

  It took nearly half an hour to open each brick, and at the end of the elapsed time, the mound of discarded marijuana was much greater than the pile Jay deemed acceptable. Omega surveyed the situation with a sour twist of the mouth, then turned his attention to the Seaman.

  "Seems you've got another problem on your hands, skipper," said Jay as he indicated the hill of rotten reefer, "Most of this shit wasn't properly packaged, and what little is salvageable ain't fit to sell to high school kids. Uh, not that I do that."

  "Oh no," the Seaman said in concern, "So what does that mean?"

  "That should be obvious," Richards responded, "It means you still owe us for the job, numbnuts."

  "Amazing!" exclaimed the Seaman in surprise, turning to Mantastic, "How did he know I can't feel my balls?"

  "Considering your outfit is at least three sizes too small," interjected Omega, "It's a wonder you have any circulation at all. But to get down to brass tacks, what my large, potentially angry friend here is trying to say is… we'll be taking the boat as payment."

  "We will be?" asked Alex, then grunted as Jay elbowed him in the ribs, "I mean, yeah, we will be."

  "What? Wait a minute," the Seaman sputtered, "That wasn't part of the deal!"

  "I have altered the deal," replied Omega sternly, jabbing his index finger in the Seaman's general direction, "Pray I do not alter it further."

  "You can't just take the man's boat," said Fister Mantastic timidly, "How's he supposed to earn his living?"

  "I dunno, something other than smuggling drugs?" Jay answered flippantly, "Dude's a criminal; y'all are lucky we even took this job! If it hadn't been for the need to get our collective foot in the door, this being our first contract in the protection rack– industry, we probably wouldn't have given you the time of day! Going forward, Alex, I'd like you to be a little more discerning when selecting clientele."

  "You're the one who wanted to work for the weak and downtrodden," Richards reminded Omega, "I was just trying to keep it interesting."

  "Okay, well pick some normal people from time to time," said Jay with a hint of exasperation, "Give me a break from all the monotony. All right, Seaman, you can sign the pink slip, or whatever, over to me an' Alex, then that other boat over there will take you back to shore."

  "You know what, fine," the Seaman said, throwing up his hands in frustration, "I'll give you Bass 2 Mouth, take it! Just know that you'll never get all of the Seaman out; I've been riding the Bass for years!"

  Soon enough, the ownership of the Bass 2 Mouth changed hands, with Alex and Omega left standing on the aft deck of their newest acquisition.

  "Well, first things first," Richards said after a moment of enjoying the sea breeze, "As funny as Bass 2 Mouth is for a fishing boat, we are definitely changing the name."

  "While I absolutely agree about changing the name," The Omega Man replied, heading in the direction of the cargo hold, "The first order of business is to smoke enough of this shit weed to catch a buzz, then we'll rename the ship."

  Alex followed Jay belowdecks once more, where Omega set about rolling up a fistful of blunts, which he divided equally between himself and the Doctor of Mass Confusion. Forty minutes later, with all the blunts reduced to nubs, the two members of the Guardians Protection Services were lightly toasted, and in a better frame of mind for some creative name generating.

  "Fuck me," Jay said, smacking his lips, "I got cotton mouth something fierce. I wonder if there's anything to drink on this tub?"

  "I've always got Zim-Quila," Richards said helpfully, "You're more than welcome to have a boot."

  "I'd almost rather take my chances with seawater," Omega replied wryly, "It's probably less likely to kill me. Fuck it, I'm too stoned to go up top anyway; gimme a boot."

  "Hmm, what would be fitting footwear? Alex mused to himself as he rummaged through his old timey doctor's bag, "No, you probably couldn't handle a hip-wader, uh, let's see… Ah! Perfect! This boot was worn by an extra in the third Pirates of the Caribbean movie!"

  Taking the offered boot, Jay choked down the potent liquor, grimacing as he finished.

 "Smooth," Omega rasped, "Like drinking liquid sandpaper."

  "Maybe you should have another," said Richards, refilling Jay's boot, "I find the second one always goes down easier."

  "Why not?" Omega said with a shrug, "In for a penny, in for a pound."

  "That's the spirit!" declared the Doctor of Mass Confusion with enthusiasm, "Hang on, I think I have a penny loafer in here we can pound, too!"

  After two boots- worth and a pair of penny loafer shots each, both Jay and Alex turned their inebriated attention toward the second most pressing task ahead of them, renaming their ship.

  "Keep in mind," Omega began, "I plan to let Nicky loose on this thing; make it a superboat. So just start throwing names out there; there are no bad suggestions."

  "How about Thunder?" Richards suggested first.

  "Okay, that was a bad suggestion." Jay replied, "I'll give you a Mulligan; go again."

"All right then, let's see..." Alex thought aloud, "Ah! Tropic Thunder!"

  "You're fired." Omega deadpanned as he retrieved his black case and lit up a higher grade blunt; Jay filled his lungs to the brim, then passed the bud off to Richards, exhaling his toke before continuing, "What about Knight Boat?"

  "Lame," answered Alex, "The Minnow?"

  "Not a chance, Gilligan," Omega said with a shake of his head, "The S.S. More Powerful Than Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, and the Incredible Hulk Put Together!"

  "Oh, well if we're just ripping stuff off," Richards mused, "Why not the Dawn Treader?"

  "You're right, we should try to be more original," Jay responded, "Ooh! We're On A Boat Bitch!"

  "Zim-Quila Express!" Alex offered.

  "We're naming a boat," Omega reminded his friend, "Not weed strains."

  "Fair enough," said Richards with a nonchalant shrug, "In that case, the Titanic 3."

  "1he Wav3 Rider," Jay suggested, sliding his hand through the air.

  "The Rabid Deception!" was Alex's next recommendation.

  "Boooo!" cried Omega in mock anger, "Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

  "Joke's on you," said Richards with a chuckle, "You're the Gryffindor; believe it or not, I'm a Ravenclaw!"

  "Well fuckbunkies," said The Omega Man, hanging his head, "Oh, I know! What's Up, Dock!"

  "The Razzle Dazzle!" came Alex's proposal right on the heels of Jay's suggestion.

  "The Nauti-est Oarhouse!" exclaimed Omega.

  "I'm Shipfaced Again!" cried Richards.

  "Wet Aft T'Sea!" shouted Jay, too drunk to regulate the volume of his voice. 

  "Pukin' He On the Bounty!" came Alex's next idea.

  "The Latitude Adjustment!" Omega giggled, "No, that's terrible."

  "Aquaholics Anonymous?" asked Richards.

  "Maybe Smoke On the Water?" was Jay's response.

  "Sea-Rossis of the River!" declared Alex with a grin.

  "Is that your suggestion, or the results from your latest physical?" Omega said with a laugh, then weathered the playful punch to the shoulder Richards laid on him, "OW! Fucker! Okay, okay, New Kids On the Dock!"

  "The Liquid Asset!" Alex said, before Jay sat up with a snap of his fingers.

  "I've got it!" Omega said with glee, "The Joint Venture!"

  "That's not half bad," Richards said, stroking his chin in consideration, "I like the wordplay. Yeah, that works for me; the Joint Venture."

  "Bangarang!" Jay said as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "Now let's get this baby to Nicky, and have 'im load it up with bells 'n' whistles!"

  "I'd rather have some cool gadgets," Alex said with a shrug, "But a bunch of noisemakers could be fun, too."

  "No, thass what I meant," Omega explained, "We're gonna Batmobile the fuck outta this thing!"

  "Oh, sweet! There's just one problem," Richards said, vaguely indicating the boat around them, "I don't know how to sail."

  "Iss got an engine, dude," said Jay, levering himself to a vertical base, "Iss just like drivin', 'cept the whole sea is a road."

  "Okay, I get that," Alex replied, pushing himself to his feet to follow Omega up to the top deck, "But I'm way too drunk to drive, which means you're plastered."

  "I don't think we're gonna run into a R.I.D.E. program out here, dude," The Omega Man said sarcastically, "And iss not like there's anythin' to crash into."

  "Don't make me stop you, Jay," Richards said seriously, "I'm all for having a good time, but nobody drives drunk when I'm around, got it?"

  "Yeah, man, iss all good, I get ya," Jay replied soothingly, "I know how seriously you take that kinna thing. No worries, I'm gonna call Erin, have her bring the Khybaris in from orbit and pick us up."

  True to his word, Omega activated the communication function of his Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device, and summoned his starship. A few moments passed in silence, save for the incessant calls of the flock of seagulls flying past off starboard. At length, the double crack-and-boom of a supersonic vessel breaching the atmosphere shook the boat, and the Khybaris descended from the sky, shedding speed to come to a hovering halt scant inches above the water's surface.

  The forward cargo ramp lowered into the water, and Jay (with Alex's permission) steered the newly-named Joint Venture toward its waiting berth. As the boat approached the starship, a loading arm extended from within the cavernous space of the cargo bay, gripped the ship by the bow and pulled it inward; simultaneously stabilizing the sea vessel as it left the water with a deafening screech that ended abruptly as the boat reached the hold's gravity plates. A few moments later, the Joint Venture was secured within the Khybaris, the starship already burning sky on a trajectory back to the asteroid bunker known as the Danktuary.

  Once the two men had clambered unsteadily down the rope ladder - after Richards tried unsuccessfully to slide down it - Omega pulled up the comms on his W.E.I.R.D. once more, this time reaching out to the resident temporally displaced refugee, history's most brilliant engineer, inventor of all manner of gizmos, gadgets and technological delights, and all-around badass mad scientist, Nikola Tesla.

  "Ayo, Nicky, whass good, my dude!" Jay said happily, "Listen, man, drop what you're doin' an' get down t'the cargo bay; I got a new projeck for ya!"

  "Don't call me Nicky; I'm your intellectual superior," came Tesla's automatic reply to the despised nickname, "How inebriated are you? I can practically smell the alcohol from here!"

  "So I've had a few, so what?" Omega said, then belched quietly, "I'm a respons'ble adult."

  "Personal experience says otherwise," Nikola said drily, "As does the fact that it's barely past midday."

  "Hey, iss five o'clock somewhere," Jay slurred, then motioned with his hand for Tesla to join them, "Now c'mon an' get your ass down here; ya gotta check out our new boat an' Bammo-bile the shit outta it!"

  "I have no desire to do any such thing," Nikola stated, then twitched slightly to give himself the lie; a quick duck of the head, and he amended his statement, "Not while you and Master Richards are intoxicated, anyway."

  "But thass when we has our bess ideas!" Omega cried, looking to Alex for a nod of confirmation, "C'mooooon, juss get down here an' start pokin' around, okay? I promise we'll leave you alone an' let you do whatever you want with the boat as long as you put in at lease summa the stuff we're gonna ask for."

  It really didn't take much to convince Tesla to tinker, especially with the added challenge of retrofitting older technology. In short order, the Serbian scientist found his way down to the hold as requested, and looked over his task with the air of a man asked to polish a cow pie to a golden shine.

 "And what, precisely, did you want me to do with this…" despite his vast vocabulary, Nikola struggled to conjure an adequate description of his feelings on the matter, "This?"

  "Iss gotta have armour," The Omega Man said, ticking items off on his fingers, "An' guns; lotsa guns, an' missiles, an' shit! An' a turbo booster!"

  "And a racing stripe," chimed in Richards, "It has to have a racing stripe."

  "I swear to the machine gods," Tesla began threateningly, "If you say 'to make it go faster', I will inject you with nanomachines that will prevent you from ever even thinking about imbibing alcohol!"

  "Give me some credit; I know you can make this thing go twice the speed of sound," Alex said defensively, "But how are other people supposed to know it's fast?"

  "You can leave now," Nikola said flatly, then turned to Jay, "Do you have any actual guidelines aside from 'Batmobile', or shall I get to work?"

  "Iss gotta be pimptastic, an' essstreme to th' max!" Omega answered with a nod, "Can I stay an' watch you work if I promise to be quiet?"

  "I doubt your ability to keep such a promise," Tesla said wryly, "I also doubt your ability to follow my work; do you even know what a quark is?"

  "Oh, thass easy," Jay said with a wave of his hand, "He's the bartender on Deep Space Nine."

  "Get out," Tesla said, turning away, "Both of you. You will be informed in the unlikely event I require your input."

  Thus evicted from the cargo bay, Omega and Richards wandered their way to the personnel lift, heading to the mess hall on the third deck. Along the way, Alex raised an excellent point.

  "You know, that boat's not gonna be much use to us in space," Richards said, "We should get ourselves someplace to operate from on Earth."

  "I mean, Nicky could prob'ly make it withstand a orbital drop," mused Jay, "But I catch your drift; we need some kinda fancy base of operations our p'tential clients can call without needin' gov'ment sat'lites. But iss gotta be somethin' classy; I don't wanna run this gig outta some dive bar or nothin'. No offense."

  "Some taken," Alex replied, "What's wrong with the Drunken Dragon?"

  "Nothin', chillax," Omega said hastily, "It juss doesn't have th' right vibe. Also, iss in th' middle of Chicago; which - Lake Michigan aside - is not th' greatest place for boat related adventures. We should get, like, a resort, or somethin'."

  "I guess that could work," Richards said thoughtfully, "Don't you worry about a thing, Jay; I'll find us the perfect spot! And I know you think I'm going to do something crazy, but trust me; you'll love it!"

  Still far too inebriated to recognize a bad decision when it slapped him in the face, The Omega Man agreed to let the Doctor of Mass Confusion handle the details concerning the acquisition of a resort; thoughts of nautical real estate being driven from his head by the heavenly scent that greeted the duo as they entered the mess hall. It had been a fairly productive day, thus far, and it was barely half over; as he sat down with a plate of the alien chef's latest culinary concoction, Jay planned out how best to relax before his shift on the bridge started later that evening.~

Official List of XWF Achievements and Accomplishments

I ain't done shit.

Yet.
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