Supershow Collection, Volume 2: Summer Madness (GPS Collab)
Aug 10, 2023 20:55:25 GMT -5
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Post by Jay Omega on Aug 10, 2023 20:55:25 GMT -5
Once More Unto the Breach
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"What is considered impossible is someone else’s opinion. What is possible is my decision."
-Idowu Koyenikan
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"What is considered impossible is someone else’s opinion. What is possible is my decision."
-Idowu Koyenikan
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UNIVERSE XWF99
Republic of Maldives, Earth, Sol System
23/7/2023, 1908 Hrs, Local Time
Republic of Maldives, Earth, Sol System
23/7/2023, 1908 Hrs, Local Time
~Barely a week removed from their final matches under the auspices of the XWF, The Omega Man, Jay Omega and the Doctor of Mass Confusion, Alex Richards were relaxing after the completion of their most recent mercenary contract; rescuing a wealthy trophy hunter’s wife and child from Somalian slavers. Leaning against the railing of the lower aft deck of the Joint Venture - a highly technologically advanced warship that only looked like a decrepit fishing boat - the two men were sharing a thumb-thick blunt, and regaling each other with tales of their separate heroics during their latest mission.
"Now, the room was just packed with dudes with AK's; what Erin would call a target rich environment," Jay was saying as he passed the blunt to Alex, "Obviously a frontal assault was out of the question."
"Obviously," Alex agreed, filling his lungs, "He–"
An unnatural stillness settled over the world; the waves ceased slapping against the hull, the constant screeching of the gulls silenced. With a heavy sigh, Omega shifted his gaze from the horizon to his friend and partner, only to find him frozen in place, hand extending the blunt toward him; the smoke from the blunt a curved line freestanding in the air, as though drawn onto reality with a painter's brush.
“Oh, fuck me running,” Jay said to himself miserably, “Neither Johnny or Bonnie would bother to stop time around Alex, which can only mean…”
“Yes, it’s me,” replied the Director in a bemused tone, as he stepped from a fold in the air to the deck of the ship, “You always sound so displeased at my arrival.”
“That’s probably because every time you arrive,” Omega began, plucking the blunt from Alex’s static grip, “My life turns to shit. The Obryssian Conflict, the Depowered Comedian, Timastenzi, the Xyklosian Hegemony… What universe-shattering and-slash-or reality warping threat would you have me deal with this time, O Great and Powerful Cosmic Asshole?”
“Something quite simple compared to all that,” the Director answered then quirked an eyebrow as he gave a significant glance at the blunt in Jay’s hand, “I need you to acquire some championship gold for me.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna start by pointing out that Alex and I quit working for the XWF a little while ago,” Omega replied, passing the burning bud off the the cosmic demigod who seemed to delight in putting him through Hell - sometimes literally, “And while I don’t speak for Alex, I have no plans on going back anytime soon, no matter what you say.”
“What? Oh. No, not here,” the Director chuckled, then took an impressively large toke; somehow the blunt seemed longer when he passed it back to Jay, as though his hit had added to the joint rather than take from it, “I actually can’t believe you fell for Timastenzi’s obvious trick, and apparently still haven’t figured it out. He was never here; this whole universe was just a trap for you. A trap that you walked right into. And while I’m ordinarily content to watch you blunder your way from one catastrophe to another, I’ve detected an odd… signal, I guess you could call it. I need you to pop over to the appropriate universe, and pick up one of the title belts of the top wrestling company, so I can study it. Doesn’t matter which title, just get me something to work with. I’ve already put the transmedium coordinates into your QMTS, so you probably shouldn’t waste any time. Feel free to take Alex with you; I’m sure he’d enjoy the experience. Okay, now that that’s settled, I’ve got to plan how to woo a certain ginger lady this weekend. Take care then, bye-bye now.”
Before Omega could manage to get in the edgewise word he’d been trying to slide into the Director’s exhaustive flow of speech, the being slipped between a crack in the fourth wall, and vanished from Jay’s reality once more. Time resumed its inexorable march, and to cap Omega’s mood perfectly, a seagull shat on his shoulder.
“--Ere. Oh fuck! I dropped it!” Richards cried, as he realized he no longer held the blunt, then saw it in Jay’s hand, a full three feet from where he had been standing a moment ago, and said what he felt was the most apt remark, “Wha-huh?”
It was at that moment that the Director reappeared, only momentarily startling Alex, who had seen far stranger things in his time.
“Y’know what, I just remembered your wives are pregnant, and I have no idea what a metaspatial transmedium jump would do to the little ones, so…” the otherworldly entity snapped his fingers, and suddenly the Joint Venture was dry-docked in its berth aboard the Khybaris.~
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"Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew."
-Lauren DeStefano
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"Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew."
-Lauren DeStefano
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UNIVERSE WGWF2
5.5 Miles Above the Colorado Rockies, Earth, Sol System
23/7/2023, 0809 Hrs, Local Time
5.5 Miles Above the Colorado Rockies, Earth, Sol System
23/7/2023, 0809 Hrs, Local Time
~”I’ll just take you there myself,” finished the Director, “Take some time to settle in, scope the place out. You might run into a familiar face or two, and yes, I’ve set off a BK-class Reality Emendation Wave this time, so people will know you. You too, Alex. Right! Alex! You have no idea what’s going on! Jay, bring him up to speed, like I said, I’ve got a likely fruitless romantic gesture to plot, so you’re gonna be on your own for a bit. All right, I’m out for real this time; later, ‘gator!”
Once the Director had spiraled in on himself and vanished with an audible “POP!”, Richards turned to Omega expectantly, awaiting the promised explanation. In response, Jay shrugged with an expression that made it clear he didn’t have a fucking clue.
“Let’s go win some belts, I guess?” Omega offered.
Surprisingly, not their least detailed plan.~
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"In the art of war, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the approaching battles. But if you know only yourself and not the enemy, for every victory, there will also be defeat."
-Emily Thorne
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"In the art of war, if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the approaching battles. But if you know only yourself and not the enemy, for every victory, there will also be defeat."
-Emily Thorne
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*Alex Richards and Jay Omega walk into a bar. Wait... that's totally hacky and cliché. We fade in on Alex Richards and Jay Omega walking into a Chinese buffet ten minutes after closing, embroiled in a minor argument.*
ALEX: I'm sorry man. Do you know how hard it is to find a good Chinese Buffet in Colorado?
JAY: Not that hard, except when you let your vehicle do the driving.
ALEX: The Strange Rover is an excellent driver! Besides I was way too drunk to drive. It was the only responsible thing to do.
JAY: Okay, but did you have to let it navigate too? You know I can do that right? Or Erin could for that matter.
*Alex snorts.*
ALEX: As if your navigation skills compare to the Rover.
JAY: It took us to China and you refused to stop there because you wanted American-Chinese food! You know how much weed I smoked...
*The two men are barely past the door when they're met by the owner, Mr. Shen, according to his nametag. The buffet owner, rather than being angry, embraces Alex in a tight bear hug!*
MR. SHEN: The rumors are true! I thought you like Santa Claus, but Mister Big Happy Boot real! You have buffet all to yourself for one hour! I even let you use my karaoke machine!
JAY: Aw, fuck me sideways, I know what this means...
*Jay immediately lights up a massive joint; Mr. Shen doesn't bat an eye. Alex reaches into his trademark doctor's bag and pulls out his trademark boot the owner was just referring to; a massive size 18 steel toed boot. He immediately fills it with his trademark liquor and downs it before looking at Jay.*
ALEX: It appears our reputation precedes us here.
*Jay grins broadly.*
JAY: When you pay triple for the food and any damages you cause, people tend to appreciate your presence.
ALEX: Think we'll get this warm of a welcome in the WGWF?
JAY: Alex, my man... you made your reputation in Chinese buffets and became legendary. We'll have to do the same in the WGWF. We could make our reputation going to show after show after show kicking ass one team at a time. But we're the GPS; we're busy people. We can become legends our first night; all we gotta do is the win the largest tag team clusterfuck I've ever seen.
*Alex immediately climbs onto a table grabbing himself a platter of kung pao chicken and a pot of sweet and sour soup. He dips a few pieces of chicken eating them as Jay looks pointedly at his wrist where in the 90s a watch would have been. Technology, amirite?*
ALEX: I am the Doctor of Mass Confusion, Alex Richards! I brew my own alcohol ZimQuila which is a proprietary blend of Zima, Tequila, and whatever loose pills I find in my pockets. I once recorded a number one hit song about Spencer Adams' mom. I have a self driving, sometimes flying vehicle that not only runs on ZimQuila, but appears to be more self-aware than half the teams getting into the ring with us at Summer Madness. Also I have the ability to switch genders and make myself invisible!
JAY: All that alcohol has pickled your brain! None of that is true you drunken fat lush!
*Jay gets up onto the table and pushes Alex off who falls head first through the wall,
JAY: Allow me to introduce myself. I'm The Omega Man, Jay Omega, and I have travelled through space and time. I am not just world famous, but multiple-galaxy famous! It is a close contest between the number of bounties the GPS have collected, and the amount of interstellar bounties that are on my head! I am in a polygamous marriage with an alien princess and a Japanese space assassin that none of you are man enough to handle. Also I own a small dinosaur named Little Corey.
*Alex shoulders the table over.*
ALEX: You must be smoking the supercrack if you believe all that! Weed alone can't explain all that unreal bullshit.
*Jay gets up, the GPS look at each other, and burst out laughing.*
JAY: I bet you're wondering why we just did that. Every time the GPS shows up anywhere, some unoriginal jackholes immediately say exactly that. The laziest, simplest, lamest possible response to us.
ALEX: We welcome that. People that narrow minded? They don't got a chance against the GPS.
JAY: We verbally just took away their ammo, the same way we are physically going to do so in that ring. Most people don't have the imagination to hang with the Guardians Protection Services. That's not their fault... we have been battle tested against truly all comers. We've taken down corrupt mayors, and corrupt alien civilizations alike.
ALEX: What my partner is trying to say is that while all wrestlers are looking for a fight, we look for adventure and a fight.. against the weirdest foes possible!
JAY: Enh, the weird is really more your thing. Our point is, we have just proven we're already several steps ahead of all them unoriginal bastards.
ALEX: But maybe the WGWF is different. To be honest I hope so; the GPS came here because we believe we're the greatest team in the universe. Sure, lots of people have said that. What makes us different is that we know that actions speak louder. Winning any old tag team championship match simply wouldn't do. I mean I'm still UCI tag team champion for over three years and that don't mean nothing to most people around here. Means something to me though. Bonnie Blue and myself represented the UCI with honor. I want to do the same here with Jay Omega. We're here to build a new legacy. But we don't want anything handed to us. We want to earn it. That's why we showed up in the WGWF; where nine tag teams want to be champions. We show up as underdogs, outsiders, complete unknowns to most of the people in WGWF. But if we beat eight teams in one night? We are instantly immortalized as an iconic tag team.
*Alex shrugs.*
ALEX: We already know we are but after Summer Madness, the rest of the roster will too. Tonight we pre-drink, pre-smoke, and pre-celebrate our victory. I know just how... Mister Shen's karaoke machine!
JAY: No thanks; I only sing songs I write myself. I strongly suggest you also avoid the--
ALEX: More singing for me!
*Alex stampedes the stage like a tone deaf buffalo, which incidentally also describes his singing ability. Jay groans as the song "80s Baby" by the New Kids On the Block starts to play; the song somehow made worse by Alex's gravelly, yet still off key singing voice.*
ALEX: You're still my 80s baby! You're still my 80s girl! You got big ears like Alf girl. I'm gonna eat your cat! Fuck those stoned washed jeans got chains like Mister T!
JAY: Okay, it's bad enough you can't sing but couldn't you at least read the lyrics? I mean they are on the screen!
ALEX: You kidding? I made that song awesome! The New Kids are the ones with the wrong lyrics, not me! Besides, I was just making a point about the Cassette Collective; like them, I had to google those 80s references because we're not actually 80s kids. You know how I know they aren't? For starters because they aren't in their 50s which they would actually have to be to have spent their childhood in the 80s. How are they supposed to be the new tag team champions when they can't even be honest about who they really are? Pax, KC how do you expect anyone to take you seriously when everything about you is as fake as your acid wash jeans? People who don't know who they really are ain't beating the Guardians. At Summer Madness we're killing your chances of being champions like Hasbro killed the OG Transformers.
JAY: Okay the non-singing part wasn't half bad. Also, sidebar, I'm totally an 80s kid; I was born in '81.
*Not listening, Alex fires up a another song, and begins butchering Sarah McLachlan's "Building a Mystery". Jay hangs his head, and speaks solemnly to himself.*
JAY: I know what I must do...
*Then produces the Sword of Omens! He approaches the stage as Alex mangles the song.*
JAY: Sword of Omens, give me strength beyond strength!
*Jay drives the sword right through the machine, but it only makes Alex's singing distorted and (somehow) worse. Thinking quickly Jay slashes the mic cord. While Mr. Shen quietly celebrates getting a new karaoke machine, Alex sulks.*
ALEX: It was just starting to get good.
JAY: I contend that no good could come of that.
ALEX: That was my tribute to the mystery team. It was supposed to be terrible, because I have zero respect for them. We joined the WGWF right before the turmoil and immediately let everyone know we wanted those straps. These two pussies are hiding because they don't have any confidence in their own abilities. They know the only way they could possibly win is using the element of surprise. That ain't gonna get it done against the Guardians. We dared everyone to stop us. They tried to steal a win. We are not the same.
JAY: Nope, still not worth that godawful song. Also I should remind you we're running out of time.
ALEX: We should talk about the champions then; the so-called "Alliance of Ultra-Violence". I'm sorry, I would be more impressed, but I once faced a sadist who literally cut off his own hand. After that, everyone else who claims to be "ultraviolent" just pales in comparison. FYI, I defended the tag titles against that man. Mac Miller is literally going to have to kill us in that ring to take us out, and quite frankly I don't think they are up to the task.
JAY: Secondary sidebar, I once decapitated someone with this sword; just saying. Also didn't these guys win the tag titles with help from someone with flowers? That hardly seems like the work of hardcore freaks to me. Just a quick warning guys; perfume is not gonna be enough to help you retain the titles. Now as for some of the other challengers; the previous champions, the Show Stealers, lost because of said floral delivery, so no way are they getting them back in the Turmoil. If you let someone get you so flustered with a flower delivery, how are you gonna handle what eight other teams can throw at you? The Young Lions spent months playing mind games with the Show Stealers, only to cost them the tag titles during their big reveal, so clearly they are too stupid to be champions. Being try-hards messing with the champions only works if you actually get a match against the champions instead of getting the right to be smashed by the GPS or one of seven other teams.
ALEX: Terry Marshall is our kinda guy though. Dude is teaming with an alien!
JAY: Nah, more likely the alien found himself a sucker to do his bidding for him.
ALEX: Especially since this alien is claiming that Terry alone is worthy of him. Terry better hope he doesn't win... if that alien gets his tentacles on those tag titles he'll have no further use for Terry...
JAY: We'll just have to ensure that doesn't happen, then. Sorry Terry... we're saving your life by taking those championships.
ALEX: Makes sense, we are heroes after all.
JAY: For fun and profit. Joe Montouri and Atara Raven... J-Mont, dude, where do you get your Molly? Because I ain't ever tripped like that while ridin' high on MDMA. Seriously, your little adventure reminded me more of a 2-CI trip; are you even sure it was actually Molly? I can't really blame you for making stupid mistakes, though; after all, you thought teaming with someone who hates you was a good idea. Clearly critical thought isn't your strong suit. But at least that's something you have in common with your partner, so you might actually make an effective team. Heh. Now, Joe-Joe, you might not fear guys named Jay and Alex, but come Night One of Summer Madness, I'mma make damn sure you respect us.
ALEX: We saved the best for last. I love FPV. Frankie, we've been friends, we've been rivals and to be honest I'd rather we were on the same side. But as far as this week goes history is about to repeat itself. The last time we were in the ring together I was pinning you to become the Action Wrestling World Champion. You might be looking for redemption, but you brought a promising rookie to a war against two of the most accomplished wrestlers on the planet. Sorry Joule Ortiz, I've seen you; you're good, but this is not your time. There's only room for one team to come outta nowhere and snatch those tag belts and you ain't it.
*A small timer appears in the corner, counting down from 10. When it reaches 0, the scene fades to black. *
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"Talent wins games, but teamwork and intelligence wins championships."
-Michael Jordan
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"Talent wins games, but teamwork and intelligence wins championships."
-Michael Jordan
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UNIVERSE WGWF2
Laporte, Colorado, Earth
07/8/2023, 2315 Hrs, Local Time
Laporte, Colorado, Earth
07/8/2023, 2315 Hrs, Local Time
~Both men several sheets to the winds, Jay and Alex stumbled out of the Chinese buffet in high spirits, despite Richards sporting a bloodied nose and swollen lip, while Omega’s left eye was bruised and puffy; souvenirs from their fist fight over the last dish of shrimp lo mein. As they wandered unsteadily into the empty parking lot, Alex peered about, and blinked his bleary eyes uncertainly.
“That’s strange,” Richards said in mild confusion, “Could’ve sworn we parked the Rover beside that lamp post.”
“Maybe it *hic* wandereded off agin,” Jay replied, considerably more inebriated than his companion, due to lacking an apparently superhuman liver, “You could try callin’ it.”
“Good idea,” agreed the Doctor of Mass Confusion, cupping his hands to his mouth, “ROVER! HERE BOY! COME ON, STRANGE ROVER, COME TO PAPA!”
“GAH! Right in my fuckin’ ear!” Omega cried, covering his ears far too late, and glaring at Alex, “I meant on your W.E.I.R.D., fucknuts!”
“Oh, yeah, that makes more sense,” Richards said with a nod, then rummaged through his doctor’s bag in search of the device, “I keep forgetting I have the thing.”
At length, Alex produced his Wearable Espionage and Information Retrieval Device, fired it up, and activated the Strange Rover’s remote recall. A large rectangle of vantablack appeared for the briefest of moments, like an antiflash that ate light rather than produced it, and when it vanished, before the mercenary tag team duo was the strangest vehicle on six wheels; the Strange Rover. Richards took stock of the enormous sombrero perched atop the truck, and the maracas hanging from the wing mirrors, and grew upset.
“You went to Mexico without me?” Alex declared in indignation, “And you didn’t even bring me anything? Bad Rover! Bad!”
Somehow, the truck managed to look chastised, which mollified Richards somewhat. The Doctor grunted, then waved for Jay to follow him as he circled around to a man-sized door in the driver’s side of the rear compartment. Rather than entering an ostensibly 20 foot space, the duo stepped into a tastefully, if oddly, decorated apartment, and were immediately greeted by what sounded like Japanese pornography coming from deeper in Alex’s abode. The Guardians entered Richards’ living room unsure of what they’d find, but neither expected to see their long-time friend Steven Osbourne stretched out on Alex’s couch, watching Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma.
“STEVE!” Omega cried in excitement, “Dude! How and when did you get here?”
“Hell if I know,” answered the Sexual Superman with a shrug, “I was at a strip club in Mexico and ducked into the bathroom to jer– take a leak. When I came out of the bathroom, I was in the hallway here. Figured out where I was when I found Alex’s boot collection, so I thought I’d chill out and wait for him to get back. Didn’t expect you too, Jay.”
“Yeah, Alex an’ me are doin’ the tag thing,” Jay said with an overly enthusiastic nod, “We gotta big mash comin’ up soon, where we getta run a gonlet of, like, almoss a dozen teams, an’ we’re gonna win the Tag Team Champinchips!”
“Sweet!” Osbourne said, happy for his friends, “There gonna be any babes worth scopin’ in this match, or just a bunch of fugly dudes like you two?”
“Hey, fuck you!” Omega said in mock anger, “I’m pretty! My wives say so!”
“You’re married?” Steven sputtered in disbelief, before a smile spread across his face, “Awesome! More tail for me! But to repeat myself; any hot babes?”
“Well, you thought that Starbucks barista was a seven when she was clearly a four,” Richards responded, “So by your standards, yes, absolutely. I’m sure you’d call Atara Raven an easy eight.”
“Nice!” Osbourne said with a lecherous grin, “I do like ‘em easy.”
“It was great seein’ ya, Steve,” Jay said abruptly, “But I gotta go crash; we’ll catch up in th’ mornin’. Night, guys.”
Omega trudged toward the stairs, and the waiting comfort of his guest room, leaving Steven and Alex to talk long into the night, in the manner of old friends reuniting, and reminiscing about their time apart.~