Post by Jay Omega on Aug 26, 2023 22:30:22 GMT -5
Dream A Little Dream of Me
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"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
-Edgar Allan Poe
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"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."
-Edgar Allan Poe
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.::The grass beneath him was soft. The sun was warm on his skin. The breeze cool as it flitted about, waving locks of someone else's hair in his face like strands of golden corn silk. He turned and smiled at the sight of his first love, Carol Quinn; heart lurching at her expression of profound sadness and loss. The gently rolling meadow behind her fell away, replaced with a charred and blackened forest; a stone altar a few feet in the background. A dull roaring sound assaulted his ears, as though a deafening cacophony were a great distance away and swiftly approaching. He tried to take a step toward her, but at her upraised hand he found his progress halted.::.
”It’s too late for me, Jimmy, but not for you. He’s coming for them; you have to stop him. You have to stop him, or the world will burn.”
.::She turned and walked toward the altar, only sparing a single forlorn look over her shoulder before she laid upon the stone table. He found his motion restored and tried to rush toward her, but the twisted forest erupted in flames at his first step; the heat searing his skin even from this distance. Still he pressed on, driven by the sounds of her shrieks that somehow carried over the din of the roaring inferno. The blistering heat continued to grow until he felt his skin should crack and peel, but the burning forest receded further with every step.::.
”You were ever the fool; you’ll never enter my domain that way.”
.::The voice froze him in his tracks; it shouldn’t be possible. His mind was supposed to be shielded from such intrusions, and yet…::.
”Come to me, fool; try to save her, if you dare. Or accept your fate, give yourself to me, and take your place with her inside the fire.”
.::The fetid stench of death wafted over his shoulder as the icy voice whispered in his ear. He spun about to face the being who haunted his past, and found himself standing at the familiar T-intersection of an arena hallway; the cinderblock walls painted a generic beige. To his left the hall stretched off into infinite darkness; an orange glow flared weakly and inconsistently, and the barely audible clanging of steel on steel floated to him across an unimaginable distance. The calling of the metal was a summoning of sorts, but he knew it wasn’t meant for him.::.
.::To his right, the hall was much the same, if better lit. The muted strains of Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For A Hero” drifted to his ears, and filled him with a sense of mild vexation; the music was also a summons and meant for him, but its source was an endless font of aggravation. He didn’t turn and walk down the hall; there was no motion here. Instead, the hallway flowed around him, until he found himself standing in front of a polished oak door. He reached for the latch, and the door swung inward before his hand touched the knob.::.
.::He stood in the center of the dimly-lit room, the black carpet thick and plush beneath his feet. The first two walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, lined with titles both familiar and alien. The third wall, where the door should be, was smooth and eggshell white. The fourth wall had been painted long ago, but the paint was peeling and the wall itself was cracked. A simple brass light fixture adorned the wall, its checkered lampshade hung askew. He knew that was significant somehow, but couldn’t quite place it.::.
.::As he watched, the multihued swirls of colour began to ripple and flow, painting the fourth wall anew in a myriad of shades in a crazed jumble. The kaleidoscopic shapes outlined a doorway, and a mirror image of himself stepped through, dressed in a very impressive set of mottled black and green body armour. The doppelganger strode confidently into the middle of the room, and sat down in an odd-looking, narrow recliner that appeared just in time to catch him. A conference table filled the space between them, strewn with snacks and foodstuffs, with a golden, triangular emblem etched into the surface. His counterpart took a slice from the coffee cake, and indicated that he should sit as well.::.
.::To his right, the hall was much the same, if better lit. The muted strains of Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For A Hero” drifted to his ears, and filled him with a sense of mild vexation; the music was also a summons and meant for him, but its source was an endless font of aggravation. He didn’t turn and walk down the hall; there was no motion here. Instead, the hallway flowed around him, until he found himself standing in front of a polished oak door. He reached for the latch, and the door swung inward before his hand touched the knob.::.
.::He stood in the center of the dimly-lit room, the black carpet thick and plush beneath his feet. The first two walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, lined with titles both familiar and alien. The third wall, where the door should be, was smooth and eggshell white. The fourth wall had been painted long ago, but the paint was peeling and the wall itself was cracked. A simple brass light fixture adorned the wall, its checkered lampshade hung askew. He knew that was significant somehow, but couldn’t quite place it.::.
.::As he watched, the multihued swirls of colour began to ripple and flow, painting the fourth wall anew in a myriad of shades in a crazed jumble. The kaleidoscopic shapes outlined a doorway, and a mirror image of himself stepped through, dressed in a very impressive set of mottled black and green body armour. The doppelganger strode confidently into the middle of the room, and sat down in an odd-looking, narrow recliner that appeared just in time to catch him. A conference table filled the space between them, strewn with snacks and foodstuffs, with a golden, triangular emblem etched into the surface. His counterpart took a slice from the coffee cake, and indicated that he should sit as well.::.
”You shouldn’t be here; you shouldn’t exist anymore.”
”But I do exist, because I haven’t been a paradox since you died the second time; the other me got merged with you, and I’ve been left to my own devices for a while now. Which gets boring. And you generally don’t sleep deeply enough to reach this layer, but something’s different today.”
”I’ve been beta testing some different weed strains, looking for the perfect one to enter in the Cannabis Cup. I guess the Tyjhan Tripleberry Tropichronic kicked my ass.”
”But I do exist, because I haven’t been a paradox since you died the second time; the other me got merged with you, and I’ve been left to my own devices for a while now. Which gets boring. And you generally don’t sleep deeply enough to reach this layer, but something’s different today.”
”I’ve been beta testing some different weed strains, looking for the perfect one to enter in the Cannabis Cup. I guess the Tyjhan Tripleberry Tropichronic kicked my ass.”
.::He willed a leather wingback chair into existence and sat down, a tin of shortbread cookies appearing on the table as he reached for them, despite having no need to eat in this place. Knowing he had been brought here for a reason, but not interested in playing his assigned part and asking what that reason was, he kicked up his heels, and munched on a cookie, remaining otherwise silent while he waited for his host to break first.::.
”Ah, there’s that attitude I haven’t missed at all! Okay, we don’t have much time, because you’re not really asleep enough for this, but the past doesn’t stay where you think you left it, and if you don’t remain present you won’t have a future.”
”Oh, fantastic; we have limited time, so you’re going to be as cryptic as possible, rather than speak plainly so I understand what you want me to do.”
”I want you to shut up, so I can finish talking. Old enemies walk the world once more, and they’re looking to destroy you and your allies. You’re going to need more than just Alex and a fancy boat if you’re going to have a hope of weathering the storm on the horizon. You will know what you must do when the time comes.”
”Oh, fantastic; we have limited time, so you’re going to be as cryptic as possible, rather than speak plainly so I understand what you want me to do.”
”I want you to shut up, so I can finish talking. Old enemies walk the world once more, and they’re looking to destroy you and your allies. You’re going to need more than just Alex and a fancy boat if you’re going to have a hope of weathering the storm on the horizon. You will know what you must do when the time comes.”
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~Gravity gave one final tug, and Jay Omega’s lolling head rolled forward, causing him to jerk awake with a snort. Jay sat up in his chair and looked around his empty cabin aboard the Khybaris, surreptitiously wiping away some drool as he stifled a yawn. Omega glanced at the half-burned blunt in his other hand and quickly shook his head, resolving to only smoke that particular strain before bed from now on. And preferably not alone; it was too potent not to share. While still coming to his senses, Jay’s eyes fell upon one of his wives’ various skin care products, whose shape and iridescent shade of green made him think of a glowstick, and a moment of inspiration came to him.~
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"Deflect, co-opt, absorb or annihilate. It doesn't matter if you're in a sword fight or conducting a worldwide military campaign, these are the options for dealing with your opposition."
-The Day Guard
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"Deflect, co-opt, absorb or annihilate. It doesn't matter if you're in a sword fight or conducting a worldwide military campaign, these are the options for dealing with your opposition."
-The Day Guard
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*Welcome back, True Beli– wait, where are the True Believers? Who the Hell are you people? Stranger danger! Stranger danger! I need an adult! I need an adu-huh-hult!*
*Every fucking time.*
*Heh heh, yeah, ain’t it fun?*
*No! Now shut up and let me get this promo going!*
*Let us get this promo going!*
*Oh for fuck’s sake. We fade in on what is clearly a weapons workshop, judging by the bullet presses in a variety of sizes, the numerous firearms in varying states of disassembly, and the paint-splattered workbench laden with ingredients for all manner of explosives and incendiaries. Jay Omega–*
*Everyone’s favorite Red Eye Jedi!*
*-- enters the frame, tossing and catching a small orb that looks like a standard frag grenade, but has a faint green glow to it that intensifies slightly with each bounce in Omega’s palm. Jay leans back against the workbench, and looks fondly at the grenade for a moment, before raising his gaze to the camera.*
JAY OMEGA: Fuck yeah, Frank the Tank! I’m hella excited to finally get to scrap with you, dude! I’ve heard so many stories - from your brother Vic, from your boy Da Funk that time I unknowingly hired him to DJ this party I threw, from our mutual friend Cam, from Alex after he beat you for the AW World Championship and Da Funk DJ’ed the party I threw for him - and now I finally get to live the stories firsthand! Speaking of Alex beating you, I imagine you’re probably gonna be a little more focused on him than me, and I get that, that’s cool. All I ask is that you don’t hold back on me, just ‘cause I ain’t Alex.
*Jay sets the glowpaint grenade on the workbench behind him, and pulls out his ever-present black joint case and gold Zippo lighter. If you’re new here, get used to seeing those. Once he’s got a blunt burning, Los Hombre Omeguloso continues.*
JAY OMEGA: See, Frank, any friend of Cam’s is a friend of mine, and I don’t ask much from my friends. Help when I need it, loyalty when I deserve it, and respect when I’ve earned it, and I generously offer the same. I respect you, Frank, and I ask that you respect me enough to come at me with everything you’ve got. And that goes for you too, Jow-lee.
E.R.I.N.(off screen): No, Captain, it’s pronounced “Joule”.
JAY OMEGA: I like Jow-lee better. But out of respect, I’ll use the name she chose. So Joule, first off, welcome to the big time; I understand you’re relatively new to the industry, so you might be feeling a little overwhelmed at being in the ring with three near-mythical men in the sport of wrestling. Sure, we’re all ostensibly on equal footing, just starting out here in the WGWF, but everyone knows that between Alex, myself, and FPV, there’s nearly a hundred years of wrestling experience combined, and that has got to weigh heavily on your mind. Can you live up to the potential Frank sees in you, or will you go the way of Cryogenix? You should ask Frank about that, and if he doesn’t want to talk about that cringey memory, just ask me later, and I’ll happily embarrass him.
*Omega takes a haul from his blunt, his eyes flicking up and to his left just as a timer appears in the upper right corner of the screen, counting down from 30.*
JAY OMEGA: Looks like I’m already almost out of time, so let me quickly wrap this up with the sentiment that while I expect a good, clean fight from the Pride, I do still expect a fight. They say that Pride comes before a fall; well, Alex and I aren’t going to make you come, but we are going to make you fall. That… that sounded better in my head. Note to self, edit that out. Okay, that should cover all the bases; Frank, Joule, sorry about beating your asses this weekend, but in consolation, you are totally invited to the after-party; it's gonna be fun on a bun! A limitless supply of space-weed, endless boots of ZimQuila, hologym laser tag, alien barbecue you've never tasted before; trust me, it'll be great! A’ight, I’m out, later, peeps!
*Omega makes the “cut” motion, and the scene fades to black.*