Post by Jay Omega on Sept 8, 2023 14:12:10 GMT -5
Welcome To the Party
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"We'll bring light to darkness, so that all might see."
"We'll bring justice to evil, so that all might be free."
"We'll defend with our lives, this new reality."
"And so it shall be, say we Guardians three."
-Jay Omega, Bonnie Blue, & the Polar Phantasm
==============================
"We'll bring light to darkness, so that all might see."
"We'll bring justice to evil, so that all might be free."
"We'll defend with our lives, this new reality."
"And so it shall be, say we Guardians three."
-Jay Omega, Bonnie Blue, & the Polar Phantasm
==============================
UNIVERSE WGWF2
Guardians Compound, Colorado Rockies, Earth
29/8/2023, 1528 Hrs, Local Time
Guardians Compound, Colorado Rockies, Earth
29/8/2023, 1528 Hrs, Local Time
~Dressed in his usual attire and additionally adorned with a ludicrously tall chef’s hat, an oversized spatula shaped to resemble Excalibur, and a novelty apron advertising the Roadkill Cafe(you kill it, we grill it!),The Omega Man, Jay Omega busied himself in the center of a massive barbecue pit, alternating between nearly a dozen different grills and smokers, ensuring the variety of meats were cooking to perfection. Ordinarily, the weapons officer aboard the Khybaris handled the cooking, but Grishnag didn’t like spending too much time on (relatively) low-gravity planets; his own homeworld’s mass and gravity were more than double Earth’s, and he claimed he felt like he was going to float away in a light breeze.
Jay was more than happy to take over grilling duties, and had been careful to make sure he did so before Alex Richards volunteered; the Doctor of Mass Confusion meant well, but anyone who believed chicken tartare and well-done steak were acceptable meal choices should be kept as far from all kitchens as possible. As Omega thought of Alex, the man himself appeared, bearing a boot in either hand. As Richards approached, Jay waved him off as he turned a few sausages and flipped a couple of burgers.
“Sorry, pal, no ZimQuila while I’m cooking,” Omega said, tossing the spatula over his shoulder from behind his back and catching it with his left hand before lifting a thick slab of beef onto another grill, “Gotta keep the senses clear to perform all the completely necessary arcane motions of the meat mage.”
“Oh, these are both for me,” replied Alex, proving his words by draining first one, then the other boot, “I was just coming to see if you wanted a beer; they sell Whoop Ass in this universe.”
“Bangarang!” Jay cried with some small measure of glee; an extremely rare brew across the multiverse, any opportunity to open a can of Whoop Ass was a good time in his experience, “I assume you already got some, then? Hopefully enough to share with our guests.”
“I think I got enough,” Richards said with a small smile as he replaced one of the boots in his doctor’s bag, and produced a tall boy for The Omega Man, “Let’s just say there are a couple of bars in Colorado that won’t be getting their shipments this week, and leave it at that.”
Knowing Alex, that was probably the wisest course of action; it was equally likely he had either simply purchased a large amount of the alcohol, or potentially done something more drastic, like hijack an entire convoy’s worth of delivery trucks. The less said about the matter, the fewer incriminating details Omega was privy to.
“Works for me,” Jay said with a shrug, as he cracked open the frosty can, “Motion cams at the roadside access point picked up our visitors about forty minutes ago, so we should have company any time now.”
“Are you sure they’re gonna be able to find the place?” queried the Doctor of Mass Confusion, refilling his XXL steel toed boot with his proprietary blend of booze, “It’s not like the address is painted on the mountainside; the whole point of a secret base is that it’s hard to find.”
“I should hope Frank remembers how to get here,” Omega replied with a wry grin, “He used to live here, after all; back when he was part of Polar’s black ops team, Cryogenix. You’ve actually been using his chair during meetings in the conference room.”
“So if you’ve been using Polar’s chair, designated C-Prime,” mused Richards as he sipped experimentally at the hooch in his boot, “Then Frank was designated C-4? That had to be on purpose.”
“Heh, yeah, he was the demo expert on the team,” Jay said with a nod, then set his beer down in order to twirl his spatula like a baton, even tossing it into the air and spinning on his heel before catching it in the other hand, “And you know Cam’s sense of humour; sometimes he wasn’t quite as clever as he thought he was being.”
Omega stoked his grills and tended to his meats, while Alex added a generous dollop of maple whiskey barbecue sauce to his drink, because it was “missing something”. It wasn’t much longer before the Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device strapped to Jay’s left forearm chirruped in an odd cadence, informing him that Frank Patrick Venable and Joule Ortiz had arrived at the hidden entrance to the compound. Omega and Richards had debated on whether to ease Joule in to the weirdness of their everyday life, but had quickly opted to just throw her into the deep end; as such, she and FPV were being greeted at the entrance by Nikola Tesla and Jay’s alien wife Tasha.
Flourishing his oversized spatula like the sword it resembled, Jay did one last round of turning and glazing before he began shutting down the barbecue pit; his timing so impeccable, he was plating the last half rack of back ribs as the guests walked into the open hangar. Alex met them halfway across the enormous empty space, a can of Whoop Ass beer in each hand, then directed them over to the series of picnic tables that had been set up for the occasion. Omega began trekking the meats over to the table, while Tasha and Tesla helped out by grabbing the side dishes. To her credit, Joule adjusted quickly to the presence of the time-displaced mad scientist and purple-skinned extraterrestrial ex-princess expatriate, asking a variety of questions about their places of origin.
Having broken bread in a symbolic gesture of putting the past behind them, the four members of the WGWF roster settled in to discuss the “business” side of the visit, now that the “pleasure” aspect had concluded. Very little time was wasted assuring Frank that not only was the offer to fully restore his injured ankle genuine, but completely possible as well. Once everyone was finished eating, Richards and Tasha remained behind to clean up, while Jay and Tesla led FPV and Ortiz deeper into the compound, toward a very specific elevator. Inside, Tesla produced a golden, triangular key, slid it into a waiting receptacle, then pressed and held an unmarked button while he turned the key.
A warm tingle passed through the elevator car’s occupants, but the doors slid open silently before Frank or Joule could remark on it; the vast space of unfathomable mechanical wonders on the other side was enough to awe them into silence. Tesla preened to himself just a little at their stunned expressions, while Omega - ever the showman - stepped out of the elevator and cast a sweeping gesture about the room.
“Lady and gentleman,” Jay said in a grand voice, as though heralding royalty, “Welcome to the scientific wonderland of a mad genius. Likely one of the most technologically advanced pocket dimensions in existence, around here, we just call it Nicky’s Workshop.”
“Don’t call me Nicky,” Tesla immediately replied in response to the despised nickname, “I am your intellectual superior, and I deserve respect.”
“Hey, I totally respect you, Nicky,” Omega stated, laying a hand on the scientist’s shoulder, “That’s why you get a cool nickname, instead of something derogatory. Now, if y’all will just follow me, I’ll lead the way to the, uh, Prototype Ankle… Injecting… the P.A.I.N.K.I.L.L.E.R.”
“I swear, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose,” the mad engineer mumbled to himself, then raised his voice to correct Jay, “It’s the Prototype Accelerated Infusing Neuro-Kinetic Integrated Lost Limb Enhancement and Replacer, and it would revolutionize the medical industry, if my patents weren’t being blocked!”
“No, they’re being rejected” Omega clarified as the group entered a small enclosure that contained what looked like a dentist’s chair under a 3D printer, “Because you keep submitting the patents under your name, and as far as history is concerned, you died eighty years ago. If you would just let me make you a fake identity–”
“I will not have my creations accredited to someone else!” Tesla cried defiantly, “Would you be so accepting if history believed that Master Richards fathered your children, hmm?”
“The way these two go on,” Joule said quietly to Frank, “Kind of reminds me of an old married couple.”
Frank’s ensuing snicker snapped Tesla’s mouth closed and drew his attention, and the Serbian scientist drew a deep breath through his nose, releasing it slowly before he assumed a more pleasant expression.
“Forgive me, that was most unprofessional,” Nikola stated, inclining his head in acknowledgement of his poor behavior, “As I’m sure you’re aware, Master Omega can be quite… well, to be perfectly honest, the man is irritating. Now, with the exceptions of myself and the patient, anyone who doesn’t have a medical license should leave the room, while we prep the patient for surgery.”
“Wait, surgery?” asked FPV, his eyebrows trying to climb into his hairline, “Hold on, I didn’t sign up for fucking surgery! I can’t spare the recovery time this early into my contract! I thought you were going to inject me with some weird science juice, or stick me in one of those Star Wars healing-goo tanks, or something!”
“Don’t be preposterous,” Tesla said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “Such notions are the realm of poorly-written fiction. No, I’m going to remove the damaged joint completely, use it to grow synthetic materials so life-like your own DNA won’t be able to tell the difference, then seamlessly graft the improved section into its proper place.”
“Keep working on those salesman skills,” Frank said, backing away from Tesla slowly, “That was not a great pitch, and it’s still a hard pass.”
Unknown to Frank, there was a fifth occupant in the room, and the digital entity Erin took control of a mechanical arm, stuck a hypodermic needle in Venable’s neck and sedated him. Jay moved forward to catch FPV as he went limp, and gently laid him in the reclining chair, catching sight of Ortiz’s worried expression.
“Hey, don’t worry, kid,” Omega said in a soft tone, “This ain’t the first time we’ve done something like this; I guarantee Frankie’s gonna be up and walkin’ around in no time. Provided we vamoose, and let Nicky do his job, that is.”
Ushering Joule to the door, Jay closed it behind them, then tucked his thumbs in his belt and rocked on his heels.
“And just like that, I’m bored.” Omega stated, then quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head at Ortiz inquisitively, “Hey, you wanna see my starship? No, on second thought, I wouldn’t have enough time to show you more than the mess hall and, like, the corridor of the next deck before we’d have to be back down here. Oh, wanna play Guess the Whatsit?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what that is,” Joule replied with no small measure of apprehension, “This has been a pretty weird day so far.”
“Maybe for you,” Jay said with a shrug, “But for the Guardians, it’s Tuesday. As for the game, it’s easy; we just wander around the Workshop, and try to guess what some of these crazy ass machines are supposed to do. For instance, that thing that looks like an arcade cabinet had a baby with a bidet, what do you think that does?”
“Hopefully not what a bidet is supposed to,” Ortiz responded with a shudder as she eyed the odd tech, “And what’s an arcade cabinet?”
“Well fuckbunkies, now I feel old.” The Omega Man said with a sour twist of his mouth, “It’s how kids played video games before consoles were a thing.”
The game did indeed pass the time, and also allowed Omega to observe Joule’s personality and gauge her critical thinking, reactions, and creativity. Overall, he found himself charmed by her quirky sense of humor, and impressed with her ability to think quickly on her feet. Ortiz was just wrapping up an explanation of how a machine that resembled a cross between a microwave and a fire extinguisher was clearly Tesla’s coffeemaker, when the W.E.I.R.D. strapped to Jay’s left forearm chirruped at him, letting the pair know that the surgery was complete, and they were cleared to return to the “operating room”.
“So, about how long would you say Frank’s recovery is going to take?” Joule asked as they made their way back, “We only have two weeks until the next show; maybe a little more if we don’t get booked.”
“Girl, I’ve got the smartest man alive working with alien technology at least a millennia ahead of anything on Earth,” Omega said in amusement as he pushed open the door to the so-called operating room, “For something this small, there isn’t any recovery time; believe it or not, Frankie’s already good to go. Don’t say anything, let’s see how long it takes him to figure it out.”
Noting the mischievous twinkle in his eye, Ortiz nodded with the beginnings of a small smile, then schooled her face to stillness as her tag partner began to stir. Venable opened his eyes groggily at first, but the sedative he had been administered wore off as quickly as it took effect, and the adrenalin spike as memory returned had him quickly rolling off the reclining chair, keeping it between himself and Tesla. Despite herself, Joule let out a low chuckle.
“This isn’t funny, Joule!” Frank sniped in a testy voice, “This guy wants to cut my fucking foot off!”
“Well,” Tesla said with a smug smirk, casually walking away from the P.A.I.N.K.I.L.L.E.R., “Not anymore I don’t.”
FPV stood confused for a moment; between Tesla’s nonchalant behavior, and the amused expressions of Ortiz and Omega, Frank was clearly missing something. Recalling a slight prick in his neck what seemed like only a moment ago, it dawned on Venable that what he was missing was the dull but persistent ache in his ankle that he had simply learned to live with. Experimentally, FPV stood on one foot, and rotated his “bad” ankle in every direction, then switched feet and hopped up and down a few times.
“That’s amazing!” Frank cried in amazement, “I don’t know what to say!”
“A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice,” Tesla responded humbly, “I don’t require anything more than that.”
“Yeah, thank you, definitely; thank you so much!” Venable said earnestly, “That just feels kind of inadequate, you know? There’s got to be something I can do to repay you.”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Jay piped up from beside the door, “Nicky might not want anything, but Alex and I have a favour-slash-proposition to ask-slash-...propose. Let’s put those new ligaments to use, and go find him so we can all discuss this as a group.”
“Whoa!” FPV exclaimed at his first step, finding himself springing further forward than he had anticipated, “What the Hell? Who turned down the gravity?”
“Oh yes, about that!” Tesla replied, lightly bopping himself on the forehead, “The synthetic materials your new joint is constructed of would have destroyed the connective tissue, so I had to reinforce most of the ligaments and musculature in your leg to compensate. You are not superhuman, but one leg is noticeably more powerful than the other, and it will take some time to get used to that.”
Frank spent the walk back to the elevator continually adjusting his gait, finding a smooth and natural rhythm just as the group reached the polished doors. Upon exiting the elevator and returning to the barbecue area only a short time later, the two members of Team Pride were perplexed to find Alex and Tasha still in the midst of clearing the tables. When Ortiz mentioned the apparent temporal discrepancy - namely that they had been gone for nearly an hour - Omega simply shrugged in response.
“Time runs… differently in the Workshop,” Tesla explained vaguely, “An unexpected, but often beneficial, side effect of the manner in which the Workshop was created. Hopefully I shall be able to provide further demonstrations.”
The engineer walked off and took Richards’ place in helping with the cleanup, while the Doctor of Mass Confusion made his way over to the picnic table, producing another round of Whoop Ass for everyone and a boot of ZimQuila for himself. Jay, meanwhile, took the opportunity to spark up a blunt and take a few hits.
“Here’s the thing,” Omega began, passing the blunt off to Alex, “Alex and I have been doing semi-heroic mercenary work while we’re planet bound thanks to my pregnant wives, but most of my crew is either alien or lazy, so it’s been just the two of us, and we were wondering if you’d like to give us a hand.”
“What my motor-mouthed friend is trying to say is,” Richards translated as he filled his lungs, “Is that we’d like to invite you both to join the Guardians. We’ve got a lot of common background, and there’s strength in numbers. What do you say”
Alex extended the blunt in Frank’s direction, the question hanging in the air as Venable and Joule had a brief and silent exchange. At Ortiz’s uncertain gesture of acceptance, FPV reached out and took the blunt from Richards’ grasp.
“We’re in.”~