Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
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"The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it."
-Gillian Flynn
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*We fade in on a dimly-lit Jay Omega, dressed in his usual attire of loose black utility pants and a gray T-shirt under a black vest with red accents, sitting in a wingback leather chair in a darkened room, looking down at a black leather mask held tightly in his hands; as though it were some dangerous - yet disgusting - beast that might attack at any moment.*

JAY OMEGA: I like to think I’m a good person. Like I told Isaiah before War Games, I’m the kind of guy you can count on to do the right thing when the chips are down. But the “right” thing ain’t always “nice”, ya feel me? For example, during my time away from Earth, while I was out hotdoggin’ in front of the rest of the galaxy, one particular event was interrupted by an attempted invasion. I'm a pretty decent fighter pilot, so I lent my aid to the defense efforts. Now there’s a long story in there involving some badass dogfighting, but I can’t claim all the credit for the heroics; I was just one ship in a small fleet, not counting my larger starship, which was also part of the battle. Anyway, long story short, the only option for victory involved destroying a huge, ancient piece of tech called a jumpgate; the destruction of which doomed the nearby space station colony.

*Jay lifts his gaze from the mask, his eyes both mournful and determined. A slight digital distortion drops the quality of the video for a moment, and for a few frames it almost seems as though someone is standing behind Omega's chair.*

JAY OMEGA: I made that call. I sacrificed millions of lives - innocent families - because it was the right thing to do. Not one of my prouder moments, but I’ll be damned if I live through something like that, and then let someone like Isaiah King - whose hardest call has been which direction to bend over for the Yakuza - call me a coward. Y’know, Isaiah, I am a fairly capable mercenary, and my crew includes an assassin, a wizard, and a badass alien warrior chick who’s twice as strong as any human; you could have hired us to get your girl back, and it would have been done in an hour. Instead, you’ve been pussyfoooting around, being a good little errand boy for a bunch of fucking criminals, and you have the gall to call me a coward? Motherfucker, if someone were capable of kidnapping one of my wives, there would be no negotiation; that earns a scorched earth response, no questions. But you? You bitched right out because you’re afraid of what they might do to someone you couldn’t protect.

*Omega’s now-smoldering eyes drop back down to the mask in his hands, his expression becoming more considering the longer he stares at it.*

JAY OMEGA: I’ve killed things that would leave you a sobbing mess in a puddle of your own fear-piss at first sight, boy; don’t ever call me a fucking coward, when the most dangerous thing you’ve faced so far is a couple of angry Japanese dudes with blades. I say “so far” because, come Saturday, July Fifteenth, the most dangerous thing you’ll have faced is a pissed off Jay Omega. Up ‘til now, I’ve been a laid back dude; all fun and games because I had no reason to take any of this seriously. And for the crime of trying to have a good time, I’ve been met with mockery, derision, and insults. Well, no more.

*The shot slowly zooms in, tightening up on Jay’s torso. Once more, digital distortion gives Jay's voice a momentary autotune effect, while dropping our resolution to 360p for a few frames. For just a fraction of a second, it almost looks as though a shadowy figure is standing beside Omega's chair*

JAY OMEGA: You’re about to find out what happens when the class clown gets pushed one time too many, and I can’t say either of us is going to enjoy it, Isaiah. I’m not like some of the sociopaths on the roster who get off on hurting people, but make no mistake, I am going to hurt you. But before anyone starts thinking I’m hung up King and overlooking Bourbon, I haven’t forgotten about Bobby.

*The camera comes in closer, until Omega’s head fills our screens. The Omega Man raises his eyes from the mask to the camera; his electric blue irises now glittering like chips of frozen malice.*

JAY OMEGA: Any other time, I might have offered to buy some plutonium off you, Bobby; my buddy Nicky has, like, a thousand and one uses for the stuff. But, and I mean absolutely no disrespect to my engineer, who gives a shit what the smartest man alive can do with some glowy rocks? It’s not like I’m selling any of the stuff he makes; it’s all personal use. No, unlike Bourbon, the only product I’m peddling is pugilism; that’s fisticuffs for those of you with a stunted vocabulary, I know ain’t everybody talk good like I do. If people want to buy various merchandise bearing my likeness, cool, but it makes no difference to me; when I came back, my intention was nothing more than some lighthearted fun; duking it out with the best wrestlers in the industry. In that time, I’ve heard the word “directionless” more times than I care to count.

*Jay’s gaze falls back to the mask held off screen, his expression becoming one of determination.*

JAY OMEGA: The only direction worth choosing is “up”. As to your question, Bobby; do I want to chase the tag titles, or be in the Leap of Faith match? Well, can’t it be both? Though, if I were forced to choose… much as I love tagging with Alex, we don’t need to be a tag team in order to get into shenanigans. To put it bluntly, if I have to focus on a singles career, or tag run, I’ll choose the former; I’ve always worked best as a solo act anyway. What this means, is that the days of your happy-go-lucky, friendly neighbourhood Omega Man are drawing to a close. I don’t like all of the history associated with my Hardcore Maniac moniker, but I’ve never been one to shy away from the past.

*Omega’s hands come up, and slip the mask into place over his face; a shudder runs the length of Jay’s body as the leather settles on him like a second skin. When he speaks, his voice is now cold and hard as frost upon a steel blade.*

JAY OMEGA: In days of yore, this mask was a conduit for an otherworldly entity of untold evil; an incorporeal nightmare thing that would use my body to further its goals here on the physical plane. Typically those goals involved breaking and humbling those who drew its ire. That entity has long since been exorcised; I no longer lose my sense of self, or become another person. No, I’m still Jay Omega, and the mask is simply symbolic these days. But symbols can be a very powerful thing, and I want the meaning of this one to be clear; play time is over. Trying to have a good time didn’t seem to be working out, and so many people have looked down on me for even trying. Well, Bobby, Isaiah, when you’re finished receiving your medical attention, dragging yourselves back to your hotel rooms, and wondering where your night went wrong, just remember; you all wanted this.

*The lights come up as the sound of a door sliding open comes from off screen; Omega turns his head to his right to see who has intruded upon his promo.*

ALEX RICHARDS(off screen): Hey Jay, I was about to teach little Frank how to make homemade bottle rockets, and was wondering if you wanted to… oh.

*The camera pulls back as Alex cuts off, entering the frame from the left of the screen. As the shot widens, we see the cause of his consternation; the Hardcore Maniac sitting in the leather wingback chair, in his full crimson regalia. A black T-shirt bearing the album cover of Powerwolf’s “Return In Blood Red”, loose pants and a hooded vest made of an unknown material, a deep, glossy red in hue; like leather that had been dipped in fresh blood. And of course, the mask.*

ALEX RICHARDS: I see; it’s one of those weeks. King or Bourbon?

JAY OMEGA: Both have earned this, but only one dared besmirch my integrity as a warrior.

ALEX RICHARDS: Ah, King, then.

*Richards turns slightly and gestures vaguely toward the camera.*

ALEX RICHARDS: Welp, good luck, Isaiah. I’m sure it would have been nice knowing you. All right, I can see you’re busy, Jay, so I’ll leave you to it; now’s probably not the best time for you to be playing with explosives anyway.

*Alex retreats the way he came, and Jay returns his attention to us.*

JAY OMEGA: Don’t get me wrong, Bobby, I’m not too happy with you, either. I could accept your dismissiveness if this were the first time we were facing each other, but to have you write me off as nothing - barely sparing any attention my way - when I’ve already denied you something you wanted? Unacceptable. You will pay for your hubris in this matter, Bourbon, and the cost will be high. Perhaps you can take some solace in the knowledge that what I do to you will be considered gentle in comparison to the treatment Isaiah has ahead of him.

*Omega rises, clasps his hands behind his back, and begins to slowly pace the length of the sparsely decorated sitting room.*

JAY OMEGA: I know such threats ring hollow in Isaiah’s ears; he’s bested me each time we’ve met between the ropes. I didn’t take the opportunity seriously the first time, only looking forward to the thrill of the fight. The second time, I was saddled with the least cohesive team ever assembled. This time, I am laser-focused on my objective, deadly serious, and all by myself; no expectation of aid, and no one to get in my way. Keep in mind, Isaiah, I’m a twenty-plus year veteran of this sport; I know exactly how far I can bend the rules, particularly in a Triple Threat match, where disqualifications don’t typically apply.

*Again, some digital distortion plays havoc with our visuals; for the briefest of moments there seem to be two Jay Omegas, one superimposed over the other.*

JAY OMEGA: You liken yourself to a hunter, Isaiah, you name me easy prey. But I am no frightened rabbit for you to snare; I am Man, the most dangerous game of all. Hunt me at your peril, for the ring is my den.

*The shot tightens up on Omega’s head again; his masked face filling our screens.*

JAY OMEGA: Gentlemen, the time for words is past; the time for actions will soon be upon us. I take no responsibility for mine; that’s all on you.

*As the scene begins to fade out, the image flickers and freezes with a ghostly image of Jay’s face overlaid on top of the mask; a snarl of cruel laughter. The image then cuts to static for a second, before it cuts to black.*