Post by The Polar Phantasm on Jun 5, 2016 13:30:48 GMT -6
Hello, Guardians fans! Welcome to Guardians: A Day at the Fair. This is part two of four; as always, I must warn you that the recommended viewing order of these pieces is recommended for a reason. So, you know- if you dig, peep these shits out at your leisure:
Guardians: A Day at the Fair
Part 1 - A Fairly Good Time
Episode written by Bonnie Blue
Part 2 - Life Isn't Fair
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
Part 3 - An Unfair Advantage
Episode written by Jay Omega
Part 4 - All's Fair In War
Episode written by Nathan von Liebert
We Guardians thank you for your viewership... we do this for a reason, friends, and that reason is you*. Thanks for the support. Much love. Bring an umbrella.
(* - And, of course, soul-crushing boredom. -B.)
-B.
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[Scene: the Renaissance Fair, continued. Our heroes, the Guardians (plus Crystal Bankston aka Nightmare, and Jeffrey 'Jeffy' Bankston, age 3) sit amongst the crowd in the stands, watching as a swordplay demonstration unfolds before them. Two men dressed as midevil knights duel with era-authentic broadswords; their sparring is intense, though obviously well-coordinated. It's an oddly familiar sight to our heroes; strip the armor and exchange the weapon of choice with wristlocks or dropkicks and they'd be right at home. It's a pleasant day at the fair, for the most part... something begins itching Polar, though, giving him pause. It's an itch he can't scratch. It's an itch at the back of his brain. Moments later, an aura of darkness appears in the middle of the 'arena'; reality itself seems to swell briefly, then belches out the form of a human man. A man with a familiar face, no less; the form of Johnny Reb stretches out its arms before them, causing Polar to freak out.]
Phantasm: Holy shit, guys- it's Reb! Bonnie, did you know about this?
[Polar looks to his teammate with excitement; the reaction begins to fade from his face, however, as he sees the utter terror on the face of Bonnie Blue.]
Bonnie: Not Reb!
[Polar notices that Omega is also amidst a very serious negative reaction to what is unfolding before them, and though he's not sure why yet he feels the need to join in.]
Phantasm: We're fucked, aren't we.
[Polar looks back just in time to see 'Not-Reb' incinerate roughly a dozen people in the stands with a bolt of dark fire.]
Phantasm: Ok, Guardians- we're totally fucked, but we've gotta do something- whatever the hell this is, these are innocent people getting mowed down!
[Nightmare picks up Jeffy Bankston, cradling him close to her breast.]
Nightmare: Forget that, Cameron- cover me, I'm getting Jeffrey out of here.
[Polar pats his bare thighs, acting like he's fixing to draw his absent pistols.]
Phantasm: Cover you with what, precisely?
[Bonnie pulls her 'stun-gun' out of an authentic-looking sheepskin satchel slung across her back. She reaches in and grabs a nifty-looking blaster, pitching it to Omega.]
Omega: We're all getting out of here, now. I've been here before, and trust me- this isn't somewhere we want to be.
[Nightmare glares at Bonnie.]
Nightmare: You could've offered to hide our guns.
Bonnie: You carry a scattergun, Crystal- this ain't a magic bag of holdin' or anything. They wanted three hundr'd dollars for that- can you believe it?
[Polar cautions the ladies to hold for a second... they both look at him with annoyance, as if to say 'Just get on with it, already.']
Phantasm: What's up, Jay?
Omega: If I remember right, it's gonna be a weird one.
Phantasm: You've been here before?
Omega: Oh, yeah. Once, then again in nightmares...
[Jay stares off at the field wistfully, as if looking upon a dream.]
Omega: ...this is the day I killed the Dark Timekeeper.
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"Nothing ever becomes real 'til it is experienced." -John Keats
"Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near." -Revelation 1:3
"Fire
is the outcome of hypocrisy
Darkest potency
In the exit of humanity
Color our world blackened." -Metallica, Blackened
Born in the future, destined for glory in the past; her entire culture was wiped from existence in the blink of an eye. As a founding member of the Guardians, and with the aid of a wisecracking humanoid cat and a cybernetic Hank Brown, she uses her time traveling Ranchero to help defend the Metaverse and the UCI, the importance of which is as yet unknown. Time waits for no man, but it obeys one woman... THE DAUGHTER OF TIME, BONNIE BLUE!
Some would call him unconventional. Some would say eccentric. Still others would prefer the term insane. But one word they would all agree on is dangerous. How else would you describe a man who claims to have traveled through time, across dimensions, fought literal gods, and lived to tell the tale? Such may sound like utter nonsense, but that's just another day in the absurd life of future UCI World Champion, and founding Guardians member... THE OMEGA MAN, JAY OMEGA!
Introduced to one another in a deathmatch, they became a team both in combat and in life. He, the Polar Phantasm, calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent... she, Nightmare, virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... they are THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
[In another time- a few of them, actually, as well as a few other places- Guardian Jay Omega has put/is putting/will be putting his life on the line to slay the evil fourth-dimensional entity known as the Dark Timekeeper. One of those times (?) is now, and one of those places (??) is here, apparently... who would've guessed that this battle would take place in the makeshift arena at the local Renaissance Faire? Jousting competition, this ain't... today the Guardians will confront the greatest evil(s) they've yet to know.]
[What would've been a cheery day out for the Bankston family and their good friends Jay Omega and Bonnie Blue (ok, well... Crystal's not the biggest fan of Bonnie it seems, but that's neither here nor there) has become a full-on extinction level threat. When you're Guardians, you're hardly afforded a day off... and even then, life's no picnic. It's certainly not easy... and no matter your historically-themed entertainment venue of choice, life's certainly not fair.]
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POLAR PHANTASM #5: Life Isn't Fair
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[Scene: Renaissance Fair, continued. We see Polar, facial expression revealing his utter confusion; before Polar can ask for an explanation as to what Omega's talking about, two other portals open; from these portals emerge... Jay Omega? Correction- Jay Omegas(?!) Two Jay Omegas appear, both clad in powered armor suits; one is wearing a black and green slimline suit, likely built for speed and mobility... the other is wearing a hefty metal shell, obviously armored against anything short of nuclear fire. At this point, any questions regarding Jay's knowledge of the future (become present) were buried in questions regarding the alternate Omegas suddenly amongst them. Those questions, pressing as they were in Polar's mind, were buried beneath an irresistable wave of flight instinct.]
Phantasm: Ok, so- new plan. Run.
[The Guardians make a break for it, dashing toward Ye Olde Parking Lotte.]
Omega: So what's the plan?
Phantasm: That is the plan, Jay - run!
[The Guardians dash toward the parking lots, getting lost in the crowd... Polar looks back to see a firefight, both literally and figuratively, going full-blast between two alternate Omegas and one seriously sour alternate Reb. Light Armor Omega fires a half-dozen smallish missiles, which slightly spread but fly in formation; they connect with their target, staggering (but not felling) the entity. Heavy Armor Omega fires some sort of a missile that explodes a glowing translucent ooze all over Dark Reb (a Reb doppleganger possessed by the Dark Timekeeper entity? That's likely the best way to describe the inhuman being fighting off Jay Omega in triplicate); he spins the ooze off of him just as it begins eating through the earth around him.]
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[Scene: Renaissance Fair parking lot. We see the ARCTIC (Advanced Reconnaissance Combat Tactical Insertion Capsule, if you're trying to find it on Facebook), space-worthy supersonic uber-snowmobile and 'company car' of the Polar Phantasm... in the background, we hear the crackle of laser fire and the echoing blast of explosions in the distance. Nightmare approaches the vehicle in a rush, son Jeffy clinging to her out of uncertainty more than fear. Crystal Bankston opens the hatch of the ARCTIC, stashing young Jeffrey inside; he releases his mother with slight reluctance.]
Nightmare: Promise mommy you won't touch anything on the control panel.
[He sighs.]
Jeffy: Promise.
Nightmare: I mean it, Jeffy- Daddy's car is really dangerous if you don't know how to drive it, and you're still a dozen years away from even a learner's permit. Say it with me- Daddy's car is not a toy.
Jeffy: Daddy's car is not a toy.
[He giggles slightly, forcing his nervous mother to crack a smile. She exhales slightly, feeling the adrenaline kicking in.]
Nightmare: Just be a good boy for Mommy and Daddy, ok?
[He nods, smiling- she can't help but shed a tear, knowing in the back of her mind that these may well be her final seconds. She chokes back the tears, rubbing her face... she kisses her son, perhaps for the last time. She then grabs a shotgun and a pair of pistols from the interior of the vehicle, waving goodbye to her son as he seals himself away in air-conditioned comfort. Nightmare turns to her husband, headed towards her with a look of concern; she pitches her shotgun over her shoulder for a moment, exhaling in her adrenaline rush. Polar reaches his woman, mother of his child... she hands him his new issue, oh so recently acquired from Guardians Tech Wizard and legit mad scientist Nikola Tesla. She retrieves her custom 'boomstick' from her shoulder... he wields his pistols, inspecting them once more and smiling with approval. They look briefly at one another, faces bent into anxious smiles... one would think these two are glad they're being given a chance to use their new toys.]
[And one would likely be correct to think that. If you'd been given a Dragon's Breath spreadgun or a matching pair of cryopistols mere hours before, wouldn't some part of you be glad a firefight erupted during the course of your afternoon?]
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, Colorado; more specifically, the living quarters of the Unstable Elements. Polar sits on the floor playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with young Jeffrey Bankston; they're both using two hippos, and Jeffy is practically jumping up and down trying to out-chomp his father. There is a single tone from the speaker; without ceasing his dual-wield hippo stomp versus young Jeffy, Polar addresses his digital offspring.]
Phantasm: What's up, Eye-Seven?
Iceberg-Seven: User 'Polar Phantasm', this is your pre-set reminder to begin preparations for upcoming event 'UCI Overload'.
Phantasm: Oh, yeah- thanks, Eye-Seven. Hey Jeffy- you think you can give your ol' Pop a few minutes to talk to Eye-Seven?
[Jeffy nods, rolling over to play with a vintage 80's Starscream toy (straight out of the attic at Antarctica, a favorite of its second generation of Bankston boys).]
Jeffy: When you're done come play with me and Starscream! Hi Eye-Seven!
Iceberg-Seven: Hello, user 'Jeffrey Bankston'. I trust you are in good health.
[Jeffy pauses his play for a moment.]
Jeffy: Umm... I'm fine...
[Young Jeffy Bankston looks up toward the overhead speaker with an adorable confused look on his face.]
Jeffy: How are you?
Iceberg-Seven: This unit is functioning at an optimal level; all systems operating within nominal parameters. Storage capacity is currently at 4.6%; ten million, seven hundred forty-seven thousand-
Phantasm: I don't think Jeffy needs a full status report, Eye-Seven, but thanks anyway. It's the thought that counts, right?
[There are a few low beeping tones.]
Iceberg-Seven: Accessing... ah. Affirmative; files indicate modern global worldview and accepted human morality dictate that it is the thought that counts.
[Polar sits on his marital bed, watching his son rock out (as only the unleashed imagination of a small child can allow) with his old orange and white friend. He delves into his memory, digging into two 'profiles' already tucked neatly into his brain-meats.]
Phantasm: Teddy and Andre. I'm not sure how much you've got on them, Eye-Seven, but it can't be that far from what I've got in my head... I've been keeping tabs on these two fellas for a while, as you already know.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; user-created profiles on opponents 'Teddy Sol' and 'Andre Jenson' created three months four days sixteen hours ago, last edited eight days nine hours fourteen minutes ago. Both files flagged in connection with project 'Bluebonnet'.
[Polar nods slowly, remembering another time and another place.]
Phantasm: Yeah, they were on a short list... and once we started the Guardians, I kept tabs on Teddy and Andre thinking that we'd eventually cross paths. Worst case scenario, it's a 'know your enemy' thing... best case, I've got an inside track at befriending two powerful potential allies. Separately they're dangerous and capable fighters... together they're a well-oiled machine made up of creative genius and crackerjack timing. As far as in-ring competition goes, this is the hardest fight Bonnie and I have had yet since the dawn of United Championship Infinite.
Iceberg-Seven: Analysis of opponents' fighting styles has proven unable to predict effective strategy; opponent 'Teddy Sol' extremely unpredictable, opponent 'Andre Jenson' requires calculating twenty possible outcomes for each sequence of each simulation ran.
Phantasm: Yeah, don't even bother trying to calculate life times 1d20 times time; that's an impossible equation to solve, much less fucking comprehend for those of us that aren't made of math. Talking to you, buddy.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; user 'Polar Phantasm' has engaged this unit in conversation regarding pending event 'UCI Overload'.
[Polar shakes his head. From the floor across the room, the far-too-clever-for-his-age Jeffrey Bankston shows shades of his mother.]
Jeffy: We know that, Eye-Seven. Jeez!
[He continues mimicking a dive bombing raid on a platoon of green plastic army men, wickedly laughing as his Decepticon weapon of choice wreaks imaginary havoc. Polar chuckles contentedly.]
Phantasm: Yeah, Eye-Seven- what he said. To be completely honest, I don't think there's ever going to be a master-lock quick-fix strategy to beat Teddy or Andre, much less in tandem. They're a great match for us in power, speed, technical ability... the only real question I'm still hung up on answering is whether I should even bother making a 'Plan A'.
Iceberg-Seven: Query- what are parameters of project 'Plan A'?
Phantasm: Well, you know... usually when I'm headed into a match I nail down at least some basic plays, stuff to look for as an opening to try move A, spot B, hold C. Non-verbal tells wrestlers have, most of the time unknowingly, that give away what they're doing and how they're going to do it... that's the kind of stuff I've got in my head. For your purposes, consider that a project 'Plan A'.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; files updated. Creation of project 'Plan A' forecasts creation of project 'Plan B'. Query- what are parameters of project 'Plan B'?
Phantasm: You mean my prospective strategy when strategy fails? Hell, my strategy when strategy fails in any phase of my life... honestly, my likely strategy for this week's contest, even- come on, Eye-Seven. You know what 'Plan B' is.
Iceberg-Seven: Accessing- negative. No predefined parameters for project 'Plan B'.
Phantasm: One word, Eye-Seven: improv. When strategy goes out the window, the plan is to rock the improv harder than anything since Whose Line Is It Anyway? went off the air. Actually, Whose Line... is an effective comparison to this match- take four beloved television personalities who can't really help being entertaining, stick them in awkward situations and let them fight it out to see whose gags get the loudest pops from the crowd. As far as wrestling matches go, it's gonna be great... but as far as improv competitions go, Guardians vs. Sol/Jenson is an Ali vs. Frazier kinda situation.
Iceberg-Seven: Attention, user 'Polar Phantasm'; incoming call, video in nature. Source Laboratory 2, Level 3.
[Polar's train of thought derails, his upcoming tag match violently tumbling end over end out of his mind in the wake of questions regarding just what Tesla - or someone in Tesla's workshop - wants with him at this moment. Cam Bankston's curiosity peaked, he shrugs off his weekly match breakdown and prepares to embrace whatever awaits him on the other side of this message.]
Phantasm: Patch it through, Eye-Seven; project on the far wall, you know the score.
[As a projection lens descends from the ceiling, it aims and fires its images at the wall above young Jeffy and his sinister yet sniveling transforming jet plane toy. The young boy looks up and gets very excited by what he sees; two of his favorite things greet his young and inexperienced eyes, causing him to freak out as only an excitable young child can. There on the screen in the background is the laboratory of Nikola Tesla, a partially covered (by a massive tarp) and partially obscured (unintentionally, by the caller's presence in the foreground) red-and-black toned floating assault vehicle can be seen... perhaps due to this development, Jeffy's mother stares out excitedly (in a manner that seems almost demented, even) in the foreground.]
Nightmare: Cam... Cam, I don't know if Jeffy's down for his nap right now or not... hell, bring him. Come and see this. Come and see this now.
[She looks behind herself at the hovering tank in the background; when she looks back toward the viewscreen, her face is even further twisted in shock and demented glee.]
Nightmare: I'm marking. Baby, I'm marking so hard that I might have a fucking stroke.
[Never missing his cue, young Jeffy shouts in celebration.]
Jeffy: Mommy cursing! Mommy-
Phantasm: I think we can let her slide on a few 'F' bombs today, son. Looks like Mr. Tesla has reeled in a big one. Crys, be up in a sec...
Jeffy: Daddy- can I go see Mommy and Uncle Nicky? I wanna go see what makes Mommy say effboms.
[Polar just laughs, standing and reaching out to his son.]
Phantasm: Of course, son. If we're going to be terrible parents and corrupt you forever with our foul language, we might as well go the whole nine and instill a love for ridiculous adventure and super-science in you early. Plus, I think Tesla likes you. I didn't know he could actually like people- he's Tesla, the guy's more Machiavellian than Machiavelli was.
Jeffy: Mock a who?
[Polar sighs, leading his son through the door and into the common area.]
Phantasm: Sorry, son. I forget sometimes that you're only three. You're really smart for a boy your age, you know that?
[Jeffy nods.]
Jeffy: Mommy tells me all the time that I'm probably smarter than she is.
[They approach the lifts; Polar snickers, giving his son a cautioning gesture.]
Phantasm: You're a smart cookie, maybe even smarter than me... but here's a bit of wisdom from your old Dad anyway. Son, no matter what the situation; never, ever underestimate the intelligence of your mother. She knows. Whatever it is, she always knows. She knows stuff I've never told her... she knows stuff you can't even find with Google. She... just... knows.
[Polar makes a goofy scared face, then rolls his eyes much to his son's amusement. The lift door opens; from within its 70's military-industrial capsule comes a smiling Bonnie Blue. At sight of Jeffy, she gives a wink and a cute little wave... at sight of Bonnie, Jeffy becomes quite agitated.]
Jeffy: Bonnie! Hi! We're going to see Mommy and Uncle Nicky!
[He rushes to the youngest Guardian, embracing her at the knee and thigh. She looks down, shrugging as she gives Polar an awkward grin.]
Bonnie: Eh, he's fine. I'm just gonna grab a coupla things before we head to the fair... still got a few hours, right?
[Polar heads toward the elevator, Jeffy reluctantly releasing his quarry to follow his father.]
Phantasm: I'm not sure if I should answer with the 'yes' I mean to answer with or the question 'If time wasn't on the level, wouldn't you be the one to tell me?'
[Walking slowly away, Bonnie gives Polar an exaggerated eye-roll.]
Bonnie: Forget I asked- see you in a few.
[The elevator doors close on Cameron and Jeffy; they begin their ascent from Project: Antarctica's residential 9th Level to its wilder, less domesticated 3rd Level.]
Jeffy: Daddy, I like living at the mountain base. It's so big and full of cool stuff, and Uncle Nicky, and Uncle Jay... and Bonnie is here, and this place is fun.
[Polar considers his son's opinion, offered somewhat unexpectedly; its timing and syntax give father a clue to his son's emotions.]
Phantasm: You really like Bonnie, don't you?
[He nods excitedly.]
Jeffy: She's nice and she smells good and when she talks it makes me happy.
[Polar nods sharply.]
Phantasm: All valid points.
Jeffy: She's even prettier than Mommy.
[Polar makes a pained face, sucking air slightly through his teeth.]
Phantasm: Jeff, remember how I said that your Mommy just knows things? I never heard you say that Bonnie's prettier than your mother, because you never said it. Ok?
[Already embarrassed by his frank confession to his father, Jeffy clasps his palm over his mouth and turns a bit red.]
Phantasm: You're fine, son. Even if she knows that's how you feel she won't take it out on you... she loves you too much. We both do. But man, would she take it out on Bonnie-
[The doors open at Level 3; the sign painted on the far wall reads "LABORATORY 1 <----", "LABORATORY 2 ---->". Phantasm Big and Phantasm Small make a right turn, meeting Mrs. Phantasm not even fifteen feet into their trip down the hallway. Specifically, Phantasm Small met the legs of Mrs. Phantasm at roughly .75 Warp; for Crystal Bankston, this is not an uncommon occurance after spending a few hours apart from her son. She stoops slightly; Jeff jumps up, clutching his mother as she strains slightly to lift his weight (primarily with her neck... like a boss).]
Phantasm: So... we made it.
Nightmare: I see that. Jeffy's all excited; I'm excited. Are you excited, Cam?
[He shrugs.]
Phantasm: I'm not not excited.
[She sighs, heading back toward the laboratory in a huff.]
Nightmare: Oh ye of little faith- this is the smile of the week, husband of mine. Get your ass in here and look at it.
[Before breaching the lab, she sweetens her speech for a moment.]
Nightmare: Are you ready to see Mommy's new toy, Jeffy?
[She recoils in advance as her neck/chest mounted son shouts his response.]
Jeffy: YEEEAHHH!!!
[With the glowing recommendation of their son, the Unstable Elements proceed to enter Nikola Tesla's workshop and inspect what is most certainly the object Nightmare described as 'mommy's new toy'. Before they can take much of a self-guided tour (perhaps to ensure the curious lot of Bankstons don't touch anything?) the young family is approached by a frazzled-looking Tesla.]
Tesla: Ah, yes, Master Bankston- and young Master Bankston, greetings. You've caught me at an interesting time-
[With his usual levels of enthusiasm and tact, Jeffrey Bankston squeals with joy at the sight of his recent-favorite 'Uncle'.]
Jeffy: Uncle Nicky! Mommy likes her new toy!
[Polar laughs; Nightmare smiles with embarrassment. Tesla gives a satisfied nod.]
Tesla: And Mistress Bankston has yet to even glimpse what lies beneath that exterior- its true beauty lies inside.
Phantasm: Of course.
[Nightmare shrugs, still clutching her son (steadily becoming more cumbersome by the moment though he is).]
Nightmare: So I'm kinda shallow- whatever. This thing gives me a raging lady boner.
[Tesla looks confused for a second; Polar gives him a gesture as if to say 'never mind that, do your thing'. Tesla clears his throat.]
Tesla: Yes, well then- that sounds alright to me. At first, my intent was to design something more feminine, but Master Bankston vetoed my original concept and suggested something more combat-centric. He then assured me that "bitches love hovertanks", and that black and red were the colors of choice.
[Nightmare looks to her husband, who shrugs.]
Phantasm: Bitches do, in fact, love hovertanks.
Nightmare: I feel a need to argue with you, though it would be hypocritical of me... this bitch is pretty psyched about this hovertank. But Cam-
Phantasm: Yeah?
Nightmare: Just because you're right doesn't mean you should, you know, say it out loud.
Phantasm: What, that bitches love hovertanks?
[Nightmare sighs, looking to Jeffy with sadness on her face.]
Nightmare: Son, don't grow up to be like your father.
Jeffy: But I love Daddy... he's funny and he smells like root beer and Mommy's crooked cigarettes.
[Polar shakes his head. Nightmare can't help but laugh; even ol' Nicky Tesla cracks a smile at Jeffy's description of his father's 'weed and soda' aroma.]
Phantasm: I love you, son, though you hurt me so. Do I really smell like root beer?
[Tesla leans in to sniff the Phantasm; Polar takes a half-step back, holding up a hand.]
Phantasm: Rhetorically speaking, Mr. Tesla; I probably do smell like root beer, considering I wrecked a twelve-pack of A&W this morning.
Nightmare: You drank that whole- fuck, Cam, you're farming diabetes. You're not gonna be much good to us when they're cutting off your deadened legs, baby.
[As she used the 'f' word, Crystal automatically reached over to cover her son's mouth; he thankfully gets the message, relaying his usual announcement that he'd caught his mother's potty-mouth at work.]
Tesla: If I may continue-
[Both Unstable Elements stifle themselves.]
Tesla: Beyond that recommendation, I was given very little guidance; I do hope the following presentation is to your liking, madam. The Depleted Radioactive Element Electro Magnetic* Hovertank relies on an internal micro-fusion reactor for power. I must admit that some of the chemistry involved is experimental, but the reaction chamber was designed to handle any... hiccups. Now, while in combat mode, the primary weapon is of course, the dual electromagnetic rail guns. I may not be given to lazing about watching motion pictures, but I have seen a few starring that delightful Austrian fellow, what was his name? Ronald Schwartzgrubber? Regardless, I liked the idea of using electromagnets to propel an aluminum slug at a high velocity, and as I'm certain you are aware by now, I seem to have a tendency to end up with something larger than I had originally intended. As you can see, the tank is equipped with a variety of anti-personnel weaponry as well, and should some brave soul make it past the outer gauntlet of defenses, the armor plating is capable of conducting an anti-intruder charge of fifty thousand volts.
(* - D.R.E.E.M., for all the acronym marks out there. -B.)
Nightmare: I'm sorry, you lost me at dual railguns.
Phantasm: ...and the armor plating has a shockshield.
Nightmare: I'm not sure if I just peed a little or came a little. Let's just say both, and that I should change panties before we hit the fair.
[After all these years, Cameron Bankston is still somehow both surprised and entertained as his wife's occasional complete lack of tact or filter... at her admission, he loses his straight face and can't find it anywhere (despite an active search).]
Phantasm: Jesus, Crystal- Mr. Tesla, continue. Just... damn, baby, if I'd been drinking milk I'd be a dairy sprinkler system right now.
Tesla: Now, I feel it unnecessary to detail the repulsorlift technology used to give the vehicle its maneuverability, as it is the same technology found in the other Guardians' vehicles. I will say that the tank has an automatic stabilizing system, which will synchronize with Earth's geomagnetic pull to lock you in place when firing the main cannon; paired with the advanced targeting system and muzzle-drift compensators, you could fire indefinitely, and not have your aim shift by more than a few nanometers. Of course, I don't recommend such behavior; continuous firing of the main cannons can cause the electromagnets to overheat, and should that happen, you'll find yourself unable to utilize the hovertank's flight capabilities until they've cooled sufficiently.
Phantasm: He means pump the brakes on your trigger finger sometimes.
Nightmare: I know what he means! It's... ugh, alright. Note taken. Will do, Mr. Tesla.
Tesla: Prudence demands I inform you beforehand that when the vehicle converts to flight mode, the entire pilot's seating area will rotate as the systems reconfigure. As I said, you can only engage flight mode if the main cannons are below a specific temperature, as they convert to repulsor engines for forward thrust. The same electromagnets used to propel your ammunition are used to charge the power coils of your engines, so you'll have to take care to allow them time to cool before converting back to combat mode, else you could damage the thrusters. I have included a few options for air to air combat, though your armor plating and superior maneuverability should make aerial combat unnecessary. Your airspeed would be similar to that of the others, roughly one thousand miles per hour, and you have the same space flight capabilities, of course. If you find anything to be unsatisfactory, please inform me immediately, and I shall endeavor to correct the problem.
[Though she tries her hardest, Crystal Bankston cannot come up with a specific question regarding the specs on the DREEM. In fact, she can't think of much past a desire to squeal at the top of her lungs and jump up and down like a winner on a game show. Half a second later, her instincts win out; she pushes Jeffrey into his father's arms, squealing and hopping like a Let's Make a Deal contestant (which could've only looked funnier on her if she'd been in costume for it).]
Nightmare (squealing): I HAVE A HOVERTANK! BITCHES LOVE HOVERTANKS AND BITCHES LOVE SPACE!
[Gently shaking his head, Polar locks eyes with his son; the already-too-smart Jeffrey Bankston awkwardly smiles at his father and giggles at his mother in a low enough volume to avoid her notice.]
Phantasm: She is right, though. Bitches do love space.
[Something off to the side of our view catches Jeffy's interest; he reaches for the device, causing Polar to look over at a rifle-grip weapon in a similar red/black color scheme to the DREEM.]
Jeffy: Uncle Nicky, can I play with the firestick?
Tesla: Absolutely not- that duty falls on Mistress Bankston, once she finishes her primal shouting session.
[Her attention suddenly (finally?) refocused, Nightmare glances over to see a long gun with flame detail work lying on a workstation... she squeals again, this time almost inquisitively. Shortly, though, it becomes a squeal of celebration- as Polar turns the gun over, we can clearly see 'KATRINA 2.0' etched into the underside of the weapon's barrel.]
Tesla: Ah, yes. When Master Bankston informed me of your propensity for flame, and that you favored a shotgun as your personal weapon, I devised this little creation. For medium and short range encounters, it can act as one of the most fearsome handheld weapon in mankind's history; a flamethrower. See here, there is a dial which will allow you to select anything from a long jet, good for incinerating a single target at medium range, to a short, but wide cloud of fire, making you especially effective and terrifying at close range. Of course, such a weapon isn't much use at longer distances. Of course, should you find yourself needing to breach a building, or if your target is hiding behind anything less than three feet of tungsten, simply toggle this switch from the "Dragon's Breath" setting over to the "Hellstorm" setting.
[Readying the weapon for a demonstration, Tesla aims the business end of the weapon at a practice dummy about sixty feet from his location. He fires off the weapon to demonstrate, the Elements watching the scattergun's surprisingly curt recoil... Tesla hits the dummy with a cloud of tiny needles that burst into little flames. The licks of flame then flare out and solidify into one large, solid flame... which quickly melts the dummy.]
Tesla: As you can see, rather than a burst of flame, the Hellstorm setting fires a spread of auto-igniting thermite flechettes that pierce even the most advanced military body army, then burn at a temperature of over two thousand degrees Celsius. It was quite difficult to manufacture this particular type of ammunition, so please use it sparingly. When fully loaded, the weapon holds six of these cartridges you see on either side, each one good for roughly seventy shots. However, keep in mind that the Dragon's Breath setting consumes fuel from this reserve as well, and the rate varies depending on the size of the stream.
[He hands the weapon to Nightmare, who is visibly near tears.]
Nightmare: Mr. Tesla... thank you. Thank you so much. I am going to kill the hell out of things with this, and we've got you to thank for that.
[Polar coughs a bit.]
Phantasm: ...no matter how ominous that sounded, she meant it. Thank you so much, Mr. Tesla.
[Tesla picks up two 'pistols', handing them to the Phantasm.]
Tesla: For you, Master Bankston... everything is calibrated but the pistol grips.
[Polar grips his new sidearms, noticing that they have 'BETSY 2.0' and 'CAMILLE 2.0' etched into the underside of their barrels... and where there would be a safety, there is instead a small dial on each gun reading 'SOLID', 'LIQUID', 'GAS'.]
Tesla: In honor of your shall we say 'icy' persona, Master Bankston, I have developed these cryopistols. Far more efficient and versatile than your .45 antiques, your new sidearms should give you a fighting chance in any battle and will likely last well beyond any of our lifetimes, perhaps even young Master Bankston's.
[Polar closes his eyes, feeling the weight of the weapons in his hands... he caresses the grips with his palms as if trying on a pair of gloves.]
Phantasm: I love the grips, even. These are perfect. Should I even ask what the dial's for, Mr. Tesla?
Tesla: Oh, yes- you'd likely figure the settings out yourself quickly, but I'd be remiss if I didn't at least give you the 'owner's manual' rundown. The 'SOLID' setting freezes the target solid, the 'LIQUID' setting flash-freezes and then melts the target and 'GAS' flash-freezes and then detonates the target to smithereens. Pretty straight-forward, yes?
[Polar twists a dial on the pistol in his left hand, nodding to Tesla.]
Phantasm: Not just yes, but fuck yes.
[Polar sets one pistol to 'GAS', firing at a practice dummy; it ices over quickly, shattering into tiny pieces with an implosion. He sets the other pistol to 'LIQUID', firing at another practice dummy; it ices quickly, then begins pooling to the floor with a sudden but violent endothermic reaction. Polar smirks, resisting the urge to blow 'smoke' from the barrels of his customized hand cannons.]
Phantasm: That's some hot ice, Mr. Tesla.
Tesla: You like them, yes?
Phantasm: Sir, you have no idea. This is the coolest thing I've seen since Jeffy learned to walk.
Nightmare: Mr. Tesla, would you watch Jeffrey for us for a few minutes? An hour, tops.
[He has learned by now not to ask his wife what emergency has suddenly arisen; in fact, after a display such as the one the Bankstons experienced he would be concerned if his wife didn't switch directions mid-stream and drag him to bed.]
Jeffy: Yay, Uncle Nicky! You like Transformers?
[Jeffy excitedly produces his Starscream toy, offering it to Tesla. After dismissing the toy with his first glance, Tesla examines the plastic and metal creation with some fascination.]
Tesla: Hmm... an interesting concept.
[Jeffy and 'Uncle Nicky' occupied, Crystal seizes the opportunity- and her husband- and makes a beeline for the lift.]
Nightmare: I'm serious, Cameron- do your worst. Whatever you want. If I can sit down after this I'm going to be upset with you.
[Almost completely out of sight now, we see the Phantasm grin a mischevious grin.]
Phantasm: Wow, I'm surprised- I'd have put money on you wanting to play with your new 'spread gun' before dragging me off to jump on mine.
[Even Crystal's giggly laugh at her husband's joke sounds vaguely menacing (and somewhat aroused).]
Nightmare: Jokes later, Cam. You've got your work cut out for you...
[As the elevator closes on them, Polar sighs in faux desperation.]
Phantasm: ...but what will become of the Phantasm?
-----------------------------------------------
[Scene: Renaissance Fair parking lot, continued. We pop back into 'real time' (though for purposes of this or any other Guardians promo it's likely best to just give up on figuring out what's up with the timestream; the amount of Bonnie Blue in these promos alone precludes spacetime being bent on its ear, and that's not even considering that at this moment there are three Jay Omegas fighting a dark god impersonating Johnny Reb) to see the Unstable Elements ready their weapons; they look out into the parking lot to see a large man with a thick but cropped beard pick up a Mini Cooper and toss it into a crowd of fleeing fair-goers. The car crushes two people like bugs. At this sight, paternal instinct kicks in; the Phantasm turns and sharply addresses his wife.]
Phantasm: Crystal, take Jeffy and bug out. Now. Please.
[Whether his 'please' was intended to sugar-coat the direct order he gave to his independent spirit of a wife or reinforce how insistent of a statement it was meant to be, she ignores his sensible sentiment. She dismisses him with a head shake, cocking her space-age shotgun.]
Nightmare: Cam, I'm not leaving you to die. Plus, I really want to use this thing...
[Nightmare surveys the scene for targets, quickly locking in on the massive car-tossing gentleman roughly thirty-five yards from their position... as she sizes the brute up, Crystal sees Bonnie Blue approach the man and call out to him... by name.]
Bonnie (shouting): SCATHE! You're like a bad penny, you know that?
Phantasm: Crystal, please- I can't lose you two. Let the Guardians handle this, whatever it is-
Nightmare: -what, so you can save little miss Time Witch all by your heroic lonesome? No way, Cam, I'm trying this flame-shooter on Scathe or whatever his name is.
Phantasm: ...so that's Scathe. Shit, they weren't lying- homeboy is super scary. I thought celebrities were always supposed to appear smaller in person.
Nightmare: You said to let the Guardians handle this... well, come the fuck on then. We're the Guardians. Let's handle this!
[Though it might not be the time or place to argue the point with his wife, Polar considers contending her claim to Guardianship... the thought meets quick dismissal. Even if they weren't charging into battle at that moment, Cameron Bankston would've found himself hard-pressed to do much of anything but agree with her. His wife was essentially a Guardian in all but name, and any argument to the contrary would quickly have a pin put in it- before his eyes, Crystal Bankston charges toward a woman she seems outwardly hateful toward at best intent upon (if at all possible) saving her from certain death. Fifty yards or so away, Bonnie Blue fires a short volley of 'stun gun' shots at the towering behemoth Scathe... she scores a pair of direct hits, impacting at Scathe's shoulder and hip respectively. The stun blasts, more than enough to drop an average man (about as much charge as you'd need to knock an African elephant out for a transcontinental flight, in fact), simply stagger the brute. He recoils briefly, then swipes a hand and tosses Bonnie fifteen feet with an off-kilter smack. Her hangtime is fairly impressive... she lands in a heap next to a mini-van.]
Phantasm: Hey, fuckface-
[Scathe turns, seething... he sees the Bankstons closing on his position, staring down the white-haired man who dares address him in such a manner.]
Phantasm: -nobody tosses my team around like that. Nobody.
[Polar unloads a flurry of shots, four between his paired cryopistols; the pseudoprojectiles it spurts pass harmlessly through a shadow where Scathe had stood mere microseconds before. Nightmare spots Scathe a few feet behind the Phantasm, somehow in the shade of a nearby tree... she blasts with her flame cannon, the shot passing through shadow yet again (this time shredding and then burning an oak with great fervor) as Scathe shadow-jumps ten feet away. He rips a branch from a tree, tossing it at Nightmare; she cartwheels out of its path just in time, feeling the branch crack and splinter against the ground in the rush of wind past her face. Polar aims once more and fires, hitting the tree behind Scathe... part of it explodes a moment later, though the impressive cloud of flora shrapnel merely passes through another shadow. Polar and Nightmare catch a glimpse of Scathe to their right; they turn quickly, seeing Scathe materializing in slow-motion. Nightmare gapes with confusion; Polar looks behind them toward the parking lot, seeing a dinged but intact Bonnie Blue concentrating on Scathe with a strained glare on her face. Not looking this gift horse in its proverbial mouth, Polar aims and fires twice landing a shot in Scathe's thigh and a shot in Scathe's right shoulder; as the shots begin to ice over, Scathe shouts in pain and begins to disappear.]
-------------------------------------------
[Meanwhile, across the parking lot... the battle between three Jay Omegas and Dark Reb continues, the Omegas having Dark Reb pinned down with combined laser fire. Dark Reb throws back the lasers with a grand gesture, stumbling a bit from the piled on damage... he gestures again, this time drawing forth shadow-people from the fairgrounds around him. The shadow people step forward, two dimensions becoming three before Omega's eyes.]
Dark Reb: Kill the Time Witch!
[Just then, a single shot rings out- it bursts through evil Reb's forehead, causing the back of his head to explode outward with the force of the blast. We see Jay Omega - our Jay Omega, accept no imitations (and only quality variations) - looking down the sight of his steaming blaster.]
Omega: Not on my watch.
[The shadow-people disappear... evil Reb collapses, a dark cloud fleeing the body at mach speed. Across the parking lot, Scathe takes two shots from the Phantasm; as he begins to dematerialize, the dark cloud envelops him. Scathe disappears, as shown previously... past that, though, we see the aftermath. Polar runs to check on Bonnie, Nightmare following a few paces back and at half-speed.]
Phantasm: Bonnie-
[Wrinkling her brow and rubbing her temple, Bonnie shakes off the incident.]
Bonnie: I'm fine. Van broke my fall.
[Nightmare comes over to see how Bonnie fared for herself. At sight of his wife, Polar turns to her and once again presses the issue.]
Phantasm: Crystal, seriously- take Jeffy and get out of here, now. We've got this.
Bonnie: It'll be alright, Crystal.
[Sighing in frustration (and resignation), Nightmare dusts herself off at the two of them.]
Nightmare: Yeah, sure looks like you've got it all handled, Bonnie...
Phantasm: Now, Crystal. We'll radio you when we're on the other side of this, whatever it is-
[She grumbles, not even bothering to listen to his promises as she heads for the ARCTIC. As the ship rises and leaves their view, Bonnie asks a pertinent question.]
Bonnie: Where's Scathe?
--------------------------------------
[Scene: the Rock of Ages. As Scathe reforms before us, light becomes dark... in the shadows, we see his arms stretch out and his eyes grow dark. He howls in pain... it becomes a cackle. The Dark Timekeeper lives on.]
---------------------------------------------------
A DAY AT THE FAIR
Episode Two: Life Isn't Fair
Series conceived by Bonnie Blue and Jay Omega
Series directed by Jay Omega
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]
Guardians: A Day at the Fair
Part 1 - A Fairly Good Time
Episode written by Bonnie Blue
Part 2 - Life Isn't Fair
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
Part 3 - An Unfair Advantage
Episode written by Jay Omega
Part 4 - All's Fair In War
Episode written by Nathan von Liebert
We Guardians thank you for your viewership... we do this for a reason, friends, and that reason is you*. Thanks for the support. Much love. Bring an umbrella.
(* - And, of course, soul-crushing boredom. -B.)
-B.
-------------------------------------
[Scene: the Renaissance Fair, continued. Our heroes, the Guardians (plus Crystal Bankston aka Nightmare, and Jeffrey 'Jeffy' Bankston, age 3) sit amongst the crowd in the stands, watching as a swordplay demonstration unfolds before them. Two men dressed as midevil knights duel with era-authentic broadswords; their sparring is intense, though obviously well-coordinated. It's an oddly familiar sight to our heroes; strip the armor and exchange the weapon of choice with wristlocks or dropkicks and they'd be right at home. It's a pleasant day at the fair, for the most part... something begins itching Polar, though, giving him pause. It's an itch he can't scratch. It's an itch at the back of his brain. Moments later, an aura of darkness appears in the middle of the 'arena'; reality itself seems to swell briefly, then belches out the form of a human man. A man with a familiar face, no less; the form of Johnny Reb stretches out its arms before them, causing Polar to freak out.]
Phantasm: Holy shit, guys- it's Reb! Bonnie, did you know about this?
[Polar looks to his teammate with excitement; the reaction begins to fade from his face, however, as he sees the utter terror on the face of Bonnie Blue.]
Bonnie: Not Reb!
[Polar notices that Omega is also amidst a very serious negative reaction to what is unfolding before them, and though he's not sure why yet he feels the need to join in.]
Phantasm: We're fucked, aren't we.
[Polar looks back just in time to see 'Not-Reb' incinerate roughly a dozen people in the stands with a bolt of dark fire.]
Phantasm: Ok, Guardians- we're totally fucked, but we've gotta do something- whatever the hell this is, these are innocent people getting mowed down!
[Nightmare picks up Jeffy Bankston, cradling him close to her breast.]
Nightmare: Forget that, Cameron- cover me, I'm getting Jeffrey out of here.
[Polar pats his bare thighs, acting like he's fixing to draw his absent pistols.]
Phantasm: Cover you with what, precisely?
[Bonnie pulls her 'stun-gun' out of an authentic-looking sheepskin satchel slung across her back. She reaches in and grabs a nifty-looking blaster, pitching it to Omega.]
Omega: We're all getting out of here, now. I've been here before, and trust me- this isn't somewhere we want to be.
[Nightmare glares at Bonnie.]
Nightmare: You could've offered to hide our guns.
Bonnie: You carry a scattergun, Crystal- this ain't a magic bag of holdin' or anything. They wanted three hundr'd dollars for that- can you believe it?
[Polar cautions the ladies to hold for a second... they both look at him with annoyance, as if to say 'Just get on with it, already.']
Phantasm: What's up, Jay?
Omega: If I remember right, it's gonna be a weird one.
Phantasm: You've been here before?
Omega: Oh, yeah. Once, then again in nightmares...
[Jay stares off at the field wistfully, as if looking upon a dream.]
Omega: ...this is the day I killed the Dark Timekeeper.
--------------------------------------------------
"Nothing ever becomes real 'til it is experienced." -John Keats
"Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near." -Revelation 1:3
"Fire
is the outcome of hypocrisy
Darkest potency
In the exit of humanity
Color our world blackened." -Metallica, Blackened
Born in the future, destined for glory in the past; her entire culture was wiped from existence in the blink of an eye. As a founding member of the Guardians, and with the aid of a wisecracking humanoid cat and a cybernetic Hank Brown, she uses her time traveling Ranchero to help defend the Metaverse and the UCI, the importance of which is as yet unknown. Time waits for no man, but it obeys one woman... THE DAUGHTER OF TIME, BONNIE BLUE!
Some would call him unconventional. Some would say eccentric. Still others would prefer the term insane. But one word they would all agree on is dangerous. How else would you describe a man who claims to have traveled through time, across dimensions, fought literal gods, and lived to tell the tale? Such may sound like utter nonsense, but that's just another day in the absurd life of future UCI World Champion, and founding Guardians member... THE OMEGA MAN, JAY OMEGA!
Introduced to one another in a deathmatch, they became a team both in combat and in life. He, the Polar Phantasm, calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent... she, Nightmare, virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... they are THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
[In another time- a few of them, actually, as well as a few other places- Guardian Jay Omega has put/is putting/will be putting his life on the line to slay the evil fourth-dimensional entity known as the Dark Timekeeper. One of those times (?) is now, and one of those places (??) is here, apparently... who would've guessed that this battle would take place in the makeshift arena at the local Renaissance Faire? Jousting competition, this ain't... today the Guardians will confront the greatest evil(s) they've yet to know.]
[What would've been a cheery day out for the Bankston family and their good friends Jay Omega and Bonnie Blue (ok, well... Crystal's not the biggest fan of Bonnie it seems, but that's neither here nor there) has become a full-on extinction level threat. When you're Guardians, you're hardly afforded a day off... and even then, life's no picnic. It's certainly not easy... and no matter your historically-themed entertainment venue of choice, life's certainly not fair.]
-------------------------------------------------------
POLAR PHANTASM #5: Life Isn't Fair
-------------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Renaissance Fair, continued. We see Polar, facial expression revealing his utter confusion; before Polar can ask for an explanation as to what Omega's talking about, two other portals open; from these portals emerge... Jay Omega? Correction- Jay Omegas(?!) Two Jay Omegas appear, both clad in powered armor suits; one is wearing a black and green slimline suit, likely built for speed and mobility... the other is wearing a hefty metal shell, obviously armored against anything short of nuclear fire. At this point, any questions regarding Jay's knowledge of the future (become present) were buried in questions regarding the alternate Omegas suddenly amongst them. Those questions, pressing as they were in Polar's mind, were buried beneath an irresistable wave of flight instinct.]
Phantasm: Ok, so- new plan. Run.
[The Guardians make a break for it, dashing toward Ye Olde Parking Lotte.]
Omega: So what's the plan?
Phantasm: That is the plan, Jay - run!
[The Guardians dash toward the parking lots, getting lost in the crowd... Polar looks back to see a firefight, both literally and figuratively, going full-blast between two alternate Omegas and one seriously sour alternate Reb. Light Armor Omega fires a half-dozen smallish missiles, which slightly spread but fly in formation; they connect with their target, staggering (but not felling) the entity. Heavy Armor Omega fires some sort of a missile that explodes a glowing translucent ooze all over Dark Reb (a Reb doppleganger possessed by the Dark Timekeeper entity? That's likely the best way to describe the inhuman being fighting off Jay Omega in triplicate); he spins the ooze off of him just as it begins eating through the earth around him.]
----------------------------------------------
[Scene: Renaissance Fair parking lot. We see the ARCTIC (Advanced Reconnaissance Combat Tactical Insertion Capsule, if you're trying to find it on Facebook), space-worthy supersonic uber-snowmobile and 'company car' of the Polar Phantasm... in the background, we hear the crackle of laser fire and the echoing blast of explosions in the distance. Nightmare approaches the vehicle in a rush, son Jeffy clinging to her out of uncertainty more than fear. Crystal Bankston opens the hatch of the ARCTIC, stashing young Jeffrey inside; he releases his mother with slight reluctance.]
Nightmare: Promise mommy you won't touch anything on the control panel.
[He sighs.]
Jeffy: Promise.
Nightmare: I mean it, Jeffy- Daddy's car is really dangerous if you don't know how to drive it, and you're still a dozen years away from even a learner's permit. Say it with me- Daddy's car is not a toy.
Jeffy: Daddy's car is not a toy.
[He giggles slightly, forcing his nervous mother to crack a smile. She exhales slightly, feeling the adrenaline kicking in.]
Nightmare: Just be a good boy for Mommy and Daddy, ok?
[He nods, smiling- she can't help but shed a tear, knowing in the back of her mind that these may well be her final seconds. She chokes back the tears, rubbing her face... she kisses her son, perhaps for the last time. She then grabs a shotgun and a pair of pistols from the interior of the vehicle, waving goodbye to her son as he seals himself away in air-conditioned comfort. Nightmare turns to her husband, headed towards her with a look of concern; she pitches her shotgun over her shoulder for a moment, exhaling in her adrenaline rush. Polar reaches his woman, mother of his child... she hands him his new issue, oh so recently acquired from Guardians Tech Wizard and legit mad scientist Nikola Tesla. She retrieves her custom 'boomstick' from her shoulder... he wields his pistols, inspecting them once more and smiling with approval. They look briefly at one another, faces bent into anxious smiles... one would think these two are glad they're being given a chance to use their new toys.]
[And one would likely be correct to think that. If you'd been given a Dragon's Breath spreadgun or a matching pair of cryopistols mere hours before, wouldn't some part of you be glad a firefight erupted during the course of your afternoon?]
--------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica, Colorado; more specifically, the living quarters of the Unstable Elements. Polar sits on the floor playing Hungry Hungry Hippos with young Jeffrey Bankston; they're both using two hippos, and Jeffy is practically jumping up and down trying to out-chomp his father. There is a single tone from the speaker; without ceasing his dual-wield hippo stomp versus young Jeffy, Polar addresses his digital offspring.]
Phantasm: What's up, Eye-Seven?
Iceberg-Seven: User 'Polar Phantasm', this is your pre-set reminder to begin preparations for upcoming event 'UCI Overload'.
Phantasm: Oh, yeah- thanks, Eye-Seven. Hey Jeffy- you think you can give your ol' Pop a few minutes to talk to Eye-Seven?
[Jeffy nods, rolling over to play with a vintage 80's Starscream toy (straight out of the attic at Antarctica, a favorite of its second generation of Bankston boys).]
Jeffy: When you're done come play with me and Starscream! Hi Eye-Seven!
Iceberg-Seven: Hello, user 'Jeffrey Bankston'. I trust you are in good health.
[Jeffy pauses his play for a moment.]
Jeffy: Umm... I'm fine...
[Young Jeffy Bankston looks up toward the overhead speaker with an adorable confused look on his face.]
Jeffy: How are you?
Iceberg-Seven: This unit is functioning at an optimal level; all systems operating within nominal parameters. Storage capacity is currently at 4.6%; ten million, seven hundred forty-seven thousand-
Phantasm: I don't think Jeffy needs a full status report, Eye-Seven, but thanks anyway. It's the thought that counts, right?
[There are a few low beeping tones.]
Iceberg-Seven: Accessing... ah. Affirmative; files indicate modern global worldview and accepted human morality dictate that it is the thought that counts.
[Polar sits on his marital bed, watching his son rock out (as only the unleashed imagination of a small child can allow) with his old orange and white friend. He delves into his memory, digging into two 'profiles' already tucked neatly into his brain-meats.]
Phantasm: Teddy and Andre. I'm not sure how much you've got on them, Eye-Seven, but it can't be that far from what I've got in my head... I've been keeping tabs on these two fellas for a while, as you already know.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; user-created profiles on opponents 'Teddy Sol' and 'Andre Jenson' created three months four days sixteen hours ago, last edited eight days nine hours fourteen minutes ago. Both files flagged in connection with project 'Bluebonnet'.
[Polar nods slowly, remembering another time and another place.]
Phantasm: Yeah, they were on a short list... and once we started the Guardians, I kept tabs on Teddy and Andre thinking that we'd eventually cross paths. Worst case scenario, it's a 'know your enemy' thing... best case, I've got an inside track at befriending two powerful potential allies. Separately they're dangerous and capable fighters... together they're a well-oiled machine made up of creative genius and crackerjack timing. As far as in-ring competition goes, this is the hardest fight Bonnie and I have had yet since the dawn of United Championship Infinite.
Iceberg-Seven: Analysis of opponents' fighting styles has proven unable to predict effective strategy; opponent 'Teddy Sol' extremely unpredictable, opponent 'Andre Jenson' requires calculating twenty possible outcomes for each sequence of each simulation ran.
Phantasm: Yeah, don't even bother trying to calculate life times 1d20 times time; that's an impossible equation to solve, much less fucking comprehend for those of us that aren't made of math. Talking to you, buddy.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; user 'Polar Phantasm' has engaged this unit in conversation regarding pending event 'UCI Overload'.
[Polar shakes his head. From the floor across the room, the far-too-clever-for-his-age Jeffrey Bankston shows shades of his mother.]
Jeffy: We know that, Eye-Seven. Jeez!
[He continues mimicking a dive bombing raid on a platoon of green plastic army men, wickedly laughing as his Decepticon weapon of choice wreaks imaginary havoc. Polar chuckles contentedly.]
Phantasm: Yeah, Eye-Seven- what he said. To be completely honest, I don't think there's ever going to be a master-lock quick-fix strategy to beat Teddy or Andre, much less in tandem. They're a great match for us in power, speed, technical ability... the only real question I'm still hung up on answering is whether I should even bother making a 'Plan A'.
Iceberg-Seven: Query- what are parameters of project 'Plan A'?
Phantasm: Well, you know... usually when I'm headed into a match I nail down at least some basic plays, stuff to look for as an opening to try move A, spot B, hold C. Non-verbal tells wrestlers have, most of the time unknowingly, that give away what they're doing and how they're going to do it... that's the kind of stuff I've got in my head. For your purposes, consider that a project 'Plan A'.
Iceberg-Seven: Affirmative; files updated. Creation of project 'Plan A' forecasts creation of project 'Plan B'. Query- what are parameters of project 'Plan B'?
Phantasm: You mean my prospective strategy when strategy fails? Hell, my strategy when strategy fails in any phase of my life... honestly, my likely strategy for this week's contest, even- come on, Eye-Seven. You know what 'Plan B' is.
Iceberg-Seven: Accessing- negative. No predefined parameters for project 'Plan B'.
Phantasm: One word, Eye-Seven: improv. When strategy goes out the window, the plan is to rock the improv harder than anything since Whose Line Is It Anyway? went off the air. Actually, Whose Line... is an effective comparison to this match- take four beloved television personalities who can't really help being entertaining, stick them in awkward situations and let them fight it out to see whose gags get the loudest pops from the crowd. As far as wrestling matches go, it's gonna be great... but as far as improv competitions go, Guardians vs. Sol/Jenson is an Ali vs. Frazier kinda situation.
Iceberg-Seven: Attention, user 'Polar Phantasm'; incoming call, video in nature. Source Laboratory 2, Level 3.
[Polar's train of thought derails, his upcoming tag match violently tumbling end over end out of his mind in the wake of questions regarding just what Tesla - or someone in Tesla's workshop - wants with him at this moment. Cam Bankston's curiosity peaked, he shrugs off his weekly match breakdown and prepares to embrace whatever awaits him on the other side of this message.]
Phantasm: Patch it through, Eye-Seven; project on the far wall, you know the score.
[As a projection lens descends from the ceiling, it aims and fires its images at the wall above young Jeffy and his sinister yet sniveling transforming jet plane toy. The young boy looks up and gets very excited by what he sees; two of his favorite things greet his young and inexperienced eyes, causing him to freak out as only an excitable young child can. There on the screen in the background is the laboratory of Nikola Tesla, a partially covered (by a massive tarp) and partially obscured (unintentionally, by the caller's presence in the foreground) red-and-black toned floating assault vehicle can be seen... perhaps due to this development, Jeffy's mother stares out excitedly (in a manner that seems almost demented, even) in the foreground.]
Nightmare: Cam... Cam, I don't know if Jeffy's down for his nap right now or not... hell, bring him. Come and see this. Come and see this now.
[She looks behind herself at the hovering tank in the background; when she looks back toward the viewscreen, her face is even further twisted in shock and demented glee.]
Nightmare: I'm marking. Baby, I'm marking so hard that I might have a fucking stroke.
[Never missing his cue, young Jeffy shouts in celebration.]
Jeffy: Mommy cursing! Mommy-
Phantasm: I think we can let her slide on a few 'F' bombs today, son. Looks like Mr. Tesla has reeled in a big one. Crys, be up in a sec...
Jeffy: Daddy- can I go see Mommy and Uncle Nicky? I wanna go see what makes Mommy say effboms.
[Polar just laughs, standing and reaching out to his son.]
Phantasm: Of course, son. If we're going to be terrible parents and corrupt you forever with our foul language, we might as well go the whole nine and instill a love for ridiculous adventure and super-science in you early. Plus, I think Tesla likes you. I didn't know he could actually like people- he's Tesla, the guy's more Machiavellian than Machiavelli was.
Jeffy: Mock a who?
[Polar sighs, leading his son through the door and into the common area.]
Phantasm: Sorry, son. I forget sometimes that you're only three. You're really smart for a boy your age, you know that?
[Jeffy nods.]
Jeffy: Mommy tells me all the time that I'm probably smarter than she is.
[They approach the lifts; Polar snickers, giving his son a cautioning gesture.]
Phantasm: You're a smart cookie, maybe even smarter than me... but here's a bit of wisdom from your old Dad anyway. Son, no matter what the situation; never, ever underestimate the intelligence of your mother. She knows. Whatever it is, she always knows. She knows stuff I've never told her... she knows stuff you can't even find with Google. She... just... knows.
[Polar makes a goofy scared face, then rolls his eyes much to his son's amusement. The lift door opens; from within its 70's military-industrial capsule comes a smiling Bonnie Blue. At sight of Jeffy, she gives a wink and a cute little wave... at sight of Bonnie, Jeffy becomes quite agitated.]
Jeffy: Bonnie! Hi! We're going to see Mommy and Uncle Nicky!
[He rushes to the youngest Guardian, embracing her at the knee and thigh. She looks down, shrugging as she gives Polar an awkward grin.]
Bonnie: Eh, he's fine. I'm just gonna grab a coupla things before we head to the fair... still got a few hours, right?
[Polar heads toward the elevator, Jeffy reluctantly releasing his quarry to follow his father.]
Phantasm: I'm not sure if I should answer with the 'yes' I mean to answer with or the question 'If time wasn't on the level, wouldn't you be the one to tell me?'
[Walking slowly away, Bonnie gives Polar an exaggerated eye-roll.]
Bonnie: Forget I asked- see you in a few.
[The elevator doors close on Cameron and Jeffy; they begin their ascent from Project: Antarctica's residential 9th Level to its wilder, less domesticated 3rd Level.]
Jeffy: Daddy, I like living at the mountain base. It's so big and full of cool stuff, and Uncle Nicky, and Uncle Jay... and Bonnie is here, and this place is fun.
[Polar considers his son's opinion, offered somewhat unexpectedly; its timing and syntax give father a clue to his son's emotions.]
Phantasm: You really like Bonnie, don't you?
[He nods excitedly.]
Jeffy: She's nice and she smells good and when she talks it makes me happy.
[Polar nods sharply.]
Phantasm: All valid points.
Jeffy: She's even prettier than Mommy.
[Polar makes a pained face, sucking air slightly through his teeth.]
Phantasm: Jeff, remember how I said that your Mommy just knows things? I never heard you say that Bonnie's prettier than your mother, because you never said it. Ok?
[Already embarrassed by his frank confession to his father, Jeffy clasps his palm over his mouth and turns a bit red.]
Phantasm: You're fine, son. Even if she knows that's how you feel she won't take it out on you... she loves you too much. We both do. But man, would she take it out on Bonnie-
[The doors open at Level 3; the sign painted on the far wall reads "LABORATORY 1 <----", "LABORATORY 2 ---->". Phantasm Big and Phantasm Small make a right turn, meeting Mrs. Phantasm not even fifteen feet into their trip down the hallway. Specifically, Phantasm Small met the legs of Mrs. Phantasm at roughly .75 Warp; for Crystal Bankston, this is not an uncommon occurance after spending a few hours apart from her son. She stoops slightly; Jeff jumps up, clutching his mother as she strains slightly to lift his weight (primarily with her neck... like a boss).]
Phantasm: So... we made it.
Nightmare: I see that. Jeffy's all excited; I'm excited. Are you excited, Cam?
[He shrugs.]
Phantasm: I'm not not excited.
[She sighs, heading back toward the laboratory in a huff.]
Nightmare: Oh ye of little faith- this is the smile of the week, husband of mine. Get your ass in here and look at it.
[Before breaching the lab, she sweetens her speech for a moment.]
Nightmare: Are you ready to see Mommy's new toy, Jeffy?
[She recoils in advance as her neck/chest mounted son shouts his response.]
Jeffy: YEEEAHHH!!!
[With the glowing recommendation of their son, the Unstable Elements proceed to enter Nikola Tesla's workshop and inspect what is most certainly the object Nightmare described as 'mommy's new toy'. Before they can take much of a self-guided tour (perhaps to ensure the curious lot of Bankstons don't touch anything?) the young family is approached by a frazzled-looking Tesla.]
Tesla: Ah, yes, Master Bankston- and young Master Bankston, greetings. You've caught me at an interesting time-
[With his usual levels of enthusiasm and tact, Jeffrey Bankston squeals with joy at the sight of his recent-favorite 'Uncle'.]
Jeffy: Uncle Nicky! Mommy likes her new toy!
[Polar laughs; Nightmare smiles with embarrassment. Tesla gives a satisfied nod.]
Tesla: And Mistress Bankston has yet to even glimpse what lies beneath that exterior- its true beauty lies inside.
Phantasm: Of course.
[Nightmare shrugs, still clutching her son (steadily becoming more cumbersome by the moment though he is).]
Nightmare: So I'm kinda shallow- whatever. This thing gives me a raging lady boner.
[Tesla looks confused for a second; Polar gives him a gesture as if to say 'never mind that, do your thing'. Tesla clears his throat.]
Tesla: Yes, well then- that sounds alright to me. At first, my intent was to design something more feminine, but Master Bankston vetoed my original concept and suggested something more combat-centric. He then assured me that "bitches love hovertanks", and that black and red were the colors of choice.
[Nightmare looks to her husband, who shrugs.]
Phantasm: Bitches do, in fact, love hovertanks.
Nightmare: I feel a need to argue with you, though it would be hypocritical of me... this bitch is pretty psyched about this hovertank. But Cam-
Phantasm: Yeah?
Nightmare: Just because you're right doesn't mean you should, you know, say it out loud.
Phantasm: What, that bitches love hovertanks?
[Nightmare sighs, looking to Jeffy with sadness on her face.]
Nightmare: Son, don't grow up to be like your father.
Jeffy: But I love Daddy... he's funny and he smells like root beer and Mommy's crooked cigarettes.
[Polar shakes his head. Nightmare can't help but laugh; even ol' Nicky Tesla cracks a smile at Jeffy's description of his father's 'weed and soda' aroma.]
Phantasm: I love you, son, though you hurt me so. Do I really smell like root beer?
[Tesla leans in to sniff the Phantasm; Polar takes a half-step back, holding up a hand.]
Phantasm: Rhetorically speaking, Mr. Tesla; I probably do smell like root beer, considering I wrecked a twelve-pack of A&W this morning.
Nightmare: You drank that whole- fuck, Cam, you're farming diabetes. You're not gonna be much good to us when they're cutting off your deadened legs, baby.
[As she used the 'f' word, Crystal automatically reached over to cover her son's mouth; he thankfully gets the message, relaying his usual announcement that he'd caught his mother's potty-mouth at work.]
Tesla: If I may continue-
[Both Unstable Elements stifle themselves.]
Tesla: Beyond that recommendation, I was given very little guidance; I do hope the following presentation is to your liking, madam. The Depleted Radioactive Element Electro Magnetic* Hovertank relies on an internal micro-fusion reactor for power. I must admit that some of the chemistry involved is experimental, but the reaction chamber was designed to handle any... hiccups. Now, while in combat mode, the primary weapon is of course, the dual electromagnetic rail guns. I may not be given to lazing about watching motion pictures, but I have seen a few starring that delightful Austrian fellow, what was his name? Ronald Schwartzgrubber? Regardless, I liked the idea of using electromagnets to propel an aluminum slug at a high velocity, and as I'm certain you are aware by now, I seem to have a tendency to end up with something larger than I had originally intended. As you can see, the tank is equipped with a variety of anti-personnel weaponry as well, and should some brave soul make it past the outer gauntlet of defenses, the armor plating is capable of conducting an anti-intruder charge of fifty thousand volts.
(* - D.R.E.E.M., for all the acronym marks out there. -B.)
Nightmare: I'm sorry, you lost me at dual railguns.
Phantasm: ...and the armor plating has a shockshield.
Nightmare: I'm not sure if I just peed a little or came a little. Let's just say both, and that I should change panties before we hit the fair.
[After all these years, Cameron Bankston is still somehow both surprised and entertained as his wife's occasional complete lack of tact or filter... at her admission, he loses his straight face and can't find it anywhere (despite an active search).]
Phantasm: Jesus, Crystal- Mr. Tesla, continue. Just... damn, baby, if I'd been drinking milk I'd be a dairy sprinkler system right now.
Tesla: Now, I feel it unnecessary to detail the repulsorlift technology used to give the vehicle its maneuverability, as it is the same technology found in the other Guardians' vehicles. I will say that the tank has an automatic stabilizing system, which will synchronize with Earth's geomagnetic pull to lock you in place when firing the main cannon; paired with the advanced targeting system and muzzle-drift compensators, you could fire indefinitely, and not have your aim shift by more than a few nanometers. Of course, I don't recommend such behavior; continuous firing of the main cannons can cause the electromagnets to overheat, and should that happen, you'll find yourself unable to utilize the hovertank's flight capabilities until they've cooled sufficiently.
Phantasm: He means pump the brakes on your trigger finger sometimes.
Nightmare: I know what he means! It's... ugh, alright. Note taken. Will do, Mr. Tesla.
Tesla: Prudence demands I inform you beforehand that when the vehicle converts to flight mode, the entire pilot's seating area will rotate as the systems reconfigure. As I said, you can only engage flight mode if the main cannons are below a specific temperature, as they convert to repulsor engines for forward thrust. The same electromagnets used to propel your ammunition are used to charge the power coils of your engines, so you'll have to take care to allow them time to cool before converting back to combat mode, else you could damage the thrusters. I have included a few options for air to air combat, though your armor plating and superior maneuverability should make aerial combat unnecessary. Your airspeed would be similar to that of the others, roughly one thousand miles per hour, and you have the same space flight capabilities, of course. If you find anything to be unsatisfactory, please inform me immediately, and I shall endeavor to correct the problem.
[Though she tries her hardest, Crystal Bankston cannot come up with a specific question regarding the specs on the DREEM. In fact, she can't think of much past a desire to squeal at the top of her lungs and jump up and down like a winner on a game show. Half a second later, her instincts win out; she pushes Jeffrey into his father's arms, squealing and hopping like a Let's Make a Deal contestant (which could've only looked funnier on her if she'd been in costume for it).]
Nightmare (squealing): I HAVE A HOVERTANK! BITCHES LOVE HOVERTANKS AND BITCHES LOVE SPACE!
[Gently shaking his head, Polar locks eyes with his son; the already-too-smart Jeffrey Bankston awkwardly smiles at his father and giggles at his mother in a low enough volume to avoid her notice.]
Phantasm: She is right, though. Bitches do love space.
[Something off to the side of our view catches Jeffy's interest; he reaches for the device, causing Polar to look over at a rifle-grip weapon in a similar red/black color scheme to the DREEM.]
Jeffy: Uncle Nicky, can I play with the firestick?
Tesla: Absolutely not- that duty falls on Mistress Bankston, once she finishes her primal shouting session.
[Her attention suddenly (finally?) refocused, Nightmare glances over to see a long gun with flame detail work lying on a workstation... she squeals again, this time almost inquisitively. Shortly, though, it becomes a squeal of celebration- as Polar turns the gun over, we can clearly see 'KATRINA 2.0' etched into the underside of the weapon's barrel.]
Tesla: Ah, yes. When Master Bankston informed me of your propensity for flame, and that you favored a shotgun as your personal weapon, I devised this little creation. For medium and short range encounters, it can act as one of the most fearsome handheld weapon in mankind's history; a flamethrower. See here, there is a dial which will allow you to select anything from a long jet, good for incinerating a single target at medium range, to a short, but wide cloud of fire, making you especially effective and terrifying at close range. Of course, such a weapon isn't much use at longer distances. Of course, should you find yourself needing to breach a building, or if your target is hiding behind anything less than three feet of tungsten, simply toggle this switch from the "Dragon's Breath" setting over to the "Hellstorm" setting.
[Readying the weapon for a demonstration, Tesla aims the business end of the weapon at a practice dummy about sixty feet from his location. He fires off the weapon to demonstrate, the Elements watching the scattergun's surprisingly curt recoil... Tesla hits the dummy with a cloud of tiny needles that burst into little flames. The licks of flame then flare out and solidify into one large, solid flame... which quickly melts the dummy.]
Tesla: As you can see, rather than a burst of flame, the Hellstorm setting fires a spread of auto-igniting thermite flechettes that pierce even the most advanced military body army, then burn at a temperature of over two thousand degrees Celsius. It was quite difficult to manufacture this particular type of ammunition, so please use it sparingly. When fully loaded, the weapon holds six of these cartridges you see on either side, each one good for roughly seventy shots. However, keep in mind that the Dragon's Breath setting consumes fuel from this reserve as well, and the rate varies depending on the size of the stream.
[He hands the weapon to Nightmare, who is visibly near tears.]
Nightmare: Mr. Tesla... thank you. Thank you so much. I am going to kill the hell out of things with this, and we've got you to thank for that.
[Polar coughs a bit.]
Phantasm: ...no matter how ominous that sounded, she meant it. Thank you so much, Mr. Tesla.
[Tesla picks up two 'pistols', handing them to the Phantasm.]
Tesla: For you, Master Bankston... everything is calibrated but the pistol grips.
[Polar grips his new sidearms, noticing that they have 'BETSY 2.0' and 'CAMILLE 2.0' etched into the underside of their barrels... and where there would be a safety, there is instead a small dial on each gun reading 'SOLID', 'LIQUID', 'GAS'.]
Tesla: In honor of your shall we say 'icy' persona, Master Bankston, I have developed these cryopistols. Far more efficient and versatile than your .45 antiques, your new sidearms should give you a fighting chance in any battle and will likely last well beyond any of our lifetimes, perhaps even young Master Bankston's.
[Polar closes his eyes, feeling the weight of the weapons in his hands... he caresses the grips with his palms as if trying on a pair of gloves.]
Phantasm: I love the grips, even. These are perfect. Should I even ask what the dial's for, Mr. Tesla?
Tesla: Oh, yes- you'd likely figure the settings out yourself quickly, but I'd be remiss if I didn't at least give you the 'owner's manual' rundown. The 'SOLID' setting freezes the target solid, the 'LIQUID' setting flash-freezes and then melts the target and 'GAS' flash-freezes and then detonates the target to smithereens. Pretty straight-forward, yes?
[Polar twists a dial on the pistol in his left hand, nodding to Tesla.]
Phantasm: Not just yes, but fuck yes.
[Polar sets one pistol to 'GAS', firing at a practice dummy; it ices over quickly, shattering into tiny pieces with an implosion. He sets the other pistol to 'LIQUID', firing at another practice dummy; it ices quickly, then begins pooling to the floor with a sudden but violent endothermic reaction. Polar smirks, resisting the urge to blow 'smoke' from the barrels of his customized hand cannons.]
Phantasm: That's some hot ice, Mr. Tesla.
Tesla: You like them, yes?
Phantasm: Sir, you have no idea. This is the coolest thing I've seen since Jeffy learned to walk.
Nightmare: Mr. Tesla, would you watch Jeffrey for us for a few minutes? An hour, tops.
[He has learned by now not to ask his wife what emergency has suddenly arisen; in fact, after a display such as the one the Bankstons experienced he would be concerned if his wife didn't switch directions mid-stream and drag him to bed.]
Jeffy: Yay, Uncle Nicky! You like Transformers?
[Jeffy excitedly produces his Starscream toy, offering it to Tesla. After dismissing the toy with his first glance, Tesla examines the plastic and metal creation with some fascination.]
Tesla: Hmm... an interesting concept.
[Jeffy and 'Uncle Nicky' occupied, Crystal seizes the opportunity- and her husband- and makes a beeline for the lift.]
Nightmare: I'm serious, Cameron- do your worst. Whatever you want. If I can sit down after this I'm going to be upset with you.
[Almost completely out of sight now, we see the Phantasm grin a mischevious grin.]
Phantasm: Wow, I'm surprised- I'd have put money on you wanting to play with your new 'spread gun' before dragging me off to jump on mine.
[Even Crystal's giggly laugh at her husband's joke sounds vaguely menacing (and somewhat aroused).]
Nightmare: Jokes later, Cam. You've got your work cut out for you...
[As the elevator closes on them, Polar sighs in faux desperation.]
Phantasm: ...but what will become of the Phantasm?
-----------------------------------------------
[Scene: Renaissance Fair parking lot, continued. We pop back into 'real time' (though for purposes of this or any other Guardians promo it's likely best to just give up on figuring out what's up with the timestream; the amount of Bonnie Blue in these promos alone precludes spacetime being bent on its ear, and that's not even considering that at this moment there are three Jay Omegas fighting a dark god impersonating Johnny Reb) to see the Unstable Elements ready their weapons; they look out into the parking lot to see a large man with a thick but cropped beard pick up a Mini Cooper and toss it into a crowd of fleeing fair-goers. The car crushes two people like bugs. At this sight, paternal instinct kicks in; the Phantasm turns and sharply addresses his wife.]
Phantasm: Crystal, take Jeffy and bug out. Now. Please.
[Whether his 'please' was intended to sugar-coat the direct order he gave to his independent spirit of a wife or reinforce how insistent of a statement it was meant to be, she ignores his sensible sentiment. She dismisses him with a head shake, cocking her space-age shotgun.]
Nightmare: Cam, I'm not leaving you to die. Plus, I really want to use this thing...
[Nightmare surveys the scene for targets, quickly locking in on the massive car-tossing gentleman roughly thirty-five yards from their position... as she sizes the brute up, Crystal sees Bonnie Blue approach the man and call out to him... by name.]
Bonnie (shouting): SCATHE! You're like a bad penny, you know that?
Phantasm: Crystal, please- I can't lose you two. Let the Guardians handle this, whatever it is-
Nightmare: -what, so you can save little miss Time Witch all by your heroic lonesome? No way, Cam, I'm trying this flame-shooter on Scathe or whatever his name is.
Phantasm: ...so that's Scathe. Shit, they weren't lying- homeboy is super scary. I thought celebrities were always supposed to appear smaller in person.
Nightmare: You said to let the Guardians handle this... well, come the fuck on then. We're the Guardians. Let's handle this!
[Though it might not be the time or place to argue the point with his wife, Polar considers contending her claim to Guardianship... the thought meets quick dismissal. Even if they weren't charging into battle at that moment, Cameron Bankston would've found himself hard-pressed to do much of anything but agree with her. His wife was essentially a Guardian in all but name, and any argument to the contrary would quickly have a pin put in it- before his eyes, Crystal Bankston charges toward a woman she seems outwardly hateful toward at best intent upon (if at all possible) saving her from certain death. Fifty yards or so away, Bonnie Blue fires a short volley of 'stun gun' shots at the towering behemoth Scathe... she scores a pair of direct hits, impacting at Scathe's shoulder and hip respectively. The stun blasts, more than enough to drop an average man (about as much charge as you'd need to knock an African elephant out for a transcontinental flight, in fact), simply stagger the brute. He recoils briefly, then swipes a hand and tosses Bonnie fifteen feet with an off-kilter smack. Her hangtime is fairly impressive... she lands in a heap next to a mini-van.]
Phantasm: Hey, fuckface-
[Scathe turns, seething... he sees the Bankstons closing on his position, staring down the white-haired man who dares address him in such a manner.]
Phantasm: -nobody tosses my team around like that. Nobody.
[Polar unloads a flurry of shots, four between his paired cryopistols; the pseudoprojectiles it spurts pass harmlessly through a shadow where Scathe had stood mere microseconds before. Nightmare spots Scathe a few feet behind the Phantasm, somehow in the shade of a nearby tree... she blasts with her flame cannon, the shot passing through shadow yet again (this time shredding and then burning an oak with great fervor) as Scathe shadow-jumps ten feet away. He rips a branch from a tree, tossing it at Nightmare; she cartwheels out of its path just in time, feeling the branch crack and splinter against the ground in the rush of wind past her face. Polar aims once more and fires, hitting the tree behind Scathe... part of it explodes a moment later, though the impressive cloud of flora shrapnel merely passes through another shadow. Polar and Nightmare catch a glimpse of Scathe to their right; they turn quickly, seeing Scathe materializing in slow-motion. Nightmare gapes with confusion; Polar looks behind them toward the parking lot, seeing a dinged but intact Bonnie Blue concentrating on Scathe with a strained glare on her face. Not looking this gift horse in its proverbial mouth, Polar aims and fires twice landing a shot in Scathe's thigh and a shot in Scathe's right shoulder; as the shots begin to ice over, Scathe shouts in pain and begins to disappear.]
-------------------------------------------
[Meanwhile, across the parking lot... the battle between three Jay Omegas and Dark Reb continues, the Omegas having Dark Reb pinned down with combined laser fire. Dark Reb throws back the lasers with a grand gesture, stumbling a bit from the piled on damage... he gestures again, this time drawing forth shadow-people from the fairgrounds around him. The shadow people step forward, two dimensions becoming three before Omega's eyes.]
Dark Reb: Kill the Time Witch!
[Just then, a single shot rings out- it bursts through evil Reb's forehead, causing the back of his head to explode outward with the force of the blast. We see Jay Omega - our Jay Omega, accept no imitations (and only quality variations) - looking down the sight of his steaming blaster.]
Omega: Not on my watch.
[The shadow-people disappear... evil Reb collapses, a dark cloud fleeing the body at mach speed. Across the parking lot, Scathe takes two shots from the Phantasm; as he begins to dematerialize, the dark cloud envelops him. Scathe disappears, as shown previously... past that, though, we see the aftermath. Polar runs to check on Bonnie, Nightmare following a few paces back and at half-speed.]
Phantasm: Bonnie-
[Wrinkling her brow and rubbing her temple, Bonnie shakes off the incident.]
Bonnie: I'm fine. Van broke my fall.
[Nightmare comes over to see how Bonnie fared for herself. At sight of his wife, Polar turns to her and once again presses the issue.]
Phantasm: Crystal, seriously- take Jeffy and get out of here, now. We've got this.
Bonnie: It'll be alright, Crystal.
[Sighing in frustration (and resignation), Nightmare dusts herself off at the two of them.]
Nightmare: Yeah, sure looks like you've got it all handled, Bonnie...
Phantasm: Now, Crystal. We'll radio you when we're on the other side of this, whatever it is-
[She grumbles, not even bothering to listen to his promises as she heads for the ARCTIC. As the ship rises and leaves their view, Bonnie asks a pertinent question.]
Bonnie: Where's Scathe?
--------------------------------------
[Scene: the Rock of Ages. As Scathe reforms before us, light becomes dark... in the shadows, we see his arms stretch out and his eyes grow dark. He howls in pain... it becomes a cackle. The Dark Timekeeper lives on.]
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A DAY AT THE FAIR
Episode Two: Life Isn't Fair
Series conceived by Bonnie Blue and Jay Omega
Series directed by Jay Omega
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]
