An Unfair Advantage (RP 3 of 4)

Author's Note: Standard disclaimer about how this here is the third part of a four part series. Y'all know how the Guardians roll by now. Go check out "A Fairly Good Time" by Bonnie Blue, and "Life Isn't Fair" by the Polar Phantasm, then come back to this one. It'll be worth it, trust me.



~None of this was right at all. And not just the extensive property damage all around Jay Omega and the two armored men standing nearby. "Smooth Bond one-liner, but when did we become a three man band?" Asked the one in the slimmer of the two suits; a streamlined set of power armor sporting a glossy black and neon green color scheme. He reached up to touch a control node at the base of his helmet - just behind the right ear - and the highly-advanced nano-mesh armor retreated from his head; revealing the exact replica face worn by The Omega Man. The third man - in a bulkier set of power armor bristling with weaponry - reached for his helmet as well, and with a hiss of depressurization, removed the armored mask to reveal yet another identical face; this one belonging to Jay Omega. The latter looked from his armored companion to the unarmored doppelganger, and narrowed his eyes. "I know I say this a lot, but... The fuck is going on?"

  The confusion in his voice was mirrored on The Omega Man's borrowed face, but the current Jay - Prime, for clarity's sake - showed only worry. "Did you go and replicate yourself again, man? Me, I mean; did you make another time remnant of me, or us, or what-the-fuck-ever?" Omega asked, and T.O.M. shook his head with an appropriately confounded innocent expression. "I was just about to ask you the same thing, dudeski. Though I would have used the phrase 'chrono-clone', personally." Was his flippant response. Prime cast about, looking for another uninvited guest, then addressed the two past versions of himself. "Neither, actually." He told the two, "In fact, you're both my time remnants. But you shouldn't be here. Especially not now. Where's the Xor-damned Timekeeper when you need him?" As if speaking his name had been a summons - and in a way, it was - the original Timekeeper appeared in a flare of blinding light. Garbed in the attire he generally chose when dealing with modern mortals - a crisp, slate grey, three-piece suit - the Timekeeper looked down at the still-smoking corpse of what had once been Johnny Reb sadly.

  "And so ends this long and bloody conflict," Declared the Timekeeper; an ancient, immortal being tasked with the preservation of the Prime Timeline by the Architects of the Metaverse. The conflict to which he referred was and would be known as the Timekeeper Wars; a seemingly endless string of battles that had raged across centuries. A conflict which wouldn't begin for another 700 years. Omega Prime spoke up, drawing a third set of eyes his way. "Yeah, I ended it almost a year ago, relative to my experience," Prime said, tucking his Caster sidearm inside his plaid vest. "But it didn't happen like this. I remember Yii'Ohm being the one to take the shot, and it sure as fuck didn't happen at a Renaissance Fair." The Timekeeper smiled placidly, and gave a slight shrug. "Can you be certain?" The ancient one asked in amusement, "What is memory, other than a set of encoded neural connections?" The amusement disappeared from the Timekeeper's face, replaced with a grimace of pain as he clutched at his chest. "Time is... shorter than I had thought," He gasped, and the two armored Omegas moved to support him as his knees gave out.

  "Your mind... has been altered," He told Prime in between ragged breaths. The Timekeeper straightened himself, and reached out a hand toward the corpse of the Dark Timekeeper. A golden light began to emanate from the torso, and moments later an intricately carved, golden timekeeper's bell burst from Not-Reb's chest, and flew toward the Timekeeper's outstretched hand. A sigh eased from the Timekeeper's throat as he clutched the bell, and his placid smile returned. "I can help you find the answers you surely seek, but not here." The Timekeeper turned to the two armored Omegas, and beckoned them closer. "Come, gentlemen; we must be going. Steady yourselves; this may feel a little... disorienting. And you," He turned back to Prime with this, and gave him a measuring look from crown to toes. "Come to the Rock of Ages, and we will discuss the alterations I mentioned." With a small golden hammer, the Timekeeper struck the bell, and the trio vanished before Jay's eyes in a flare of light.

  "Wait! The Rock is--" It was no good, they had already dispersed into motes of light. "Closed off. Fuck my life, this is not going to end well." Omega turned to search for his fellow Guardians, and found the parking lot to be a scene of carnage as well; several cars laying in shattered heaps, strewn about at random. Jay jogged briskly in that direction; his fight with the Dark Timekeeper hadn't extended nearly this far, so what had caused all the damage? He watched the A.R.C.T.I.C. lift off and soar away some meters distant, then from between two parked cars a few rows ahead of him emerged Cameron Bankston, Junior - AKA Guardians mastermind the Polar Phantasm - half-supporting a sore, but mostly uninjured Bonnie Blue. Omega immediately rushed to provide support on Bonnie's other side, though she tried to fend him off. "I'm all right, dammit; I ain't made of spun glass!" She chastised him, though the slight limp in her step said she wasn't as all right as she claimed.

  "What the hell happened over here? I thought you guys were bugging out?" Bonnie tilted her head and laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, well, that didn't work out; ran into my old pal Scathe, and he seemed a little miffed." Jay stopped dead, his face going pale as his blood ran cold. "Please tell me I didn't hear that right." He said quietly, the tinge of fear in his voice catching the attention of Polar and Blue. The duo turned to face him, worry plain on their faces. "Please tell me we don't have to deal with two motherfuckers I've already put in the ground once each." Cameron recalled that last instant in which he'd had eyes on Scathe; when the being had been in the midst of dematerializing. When he had been swallowed by a dark cloud that had swept in from the direction of Omega's battle. A horrid sinking sensation filled Polar's chest with dread as the implications clicked in his mind. "I, uh, I don't think that's going to be a problem, per se." He replied, his tone and phrasing causing Omega's worry to rise.

  "This Dark Timekeeper; he can possess people, yeah?" Cam asked. Jay's eyes widened, and he began shaking his head emphatically. "Don't. Do not say what I think you're about to say." Horror filled Bonnie's eyes as she took in the conversation. "Oh gods," The Daughter of Time whispered, the only one of them with any inkling of the true power wielded by both amoral entities. The thought of them combined was almost enough to reduce her to a gibbering, terrified mess. Almost. "Oh fuck me running. Are we like a shitstorm lightning rod, or something?" It was a rhetorical question, but Omega looked to the other two as if expecting an answer. Bonnie looked back at him fearfully. "Jay, with their powers combined..." Blue trailed off, unsure how to finish. It didn't matter, Jay understood. "Okay, we need to nip this shit in the bud. Let's head back to base and gear up; come Hell or high water, we're gonna bust into the Rock of Ages, find and free Reb, and kill this evil motherfucker again. For good this time." Polar nodded in assent. "Sounds good to me; saving Rebs is what Polars do."


~It seemed that when it rained, it poured. That was the impression Jay Omega had gotten once the Guardians had returned to their mountain complex. After having learned that both the Dark Timekeeper and Scathe still drew breath, and that there was a frighteningly good possibility they had become one entity, the Guardians had made their way to Nikola Tesla's lab, only to find the vast majority of the mechanical wonders he had constructed had been reduced to their component parts, and the engineer himself nowhere to be seen. "The fuck? Nicky?!?" Jay shouted as the trio entered the cavernous room. "Don't tell me the bastard's been here!" Bonnie said, assuming the worst. "Eye-Seven, where are my wife and son?" Polar asked in a hushed voice; the possibility of a visit from either of the two beings that had attacked earlier bringing the safety of his family to the forefront of his concerns. "Users Nightmare and Jeffrey Bankston are located on sub-level two, sections See-Two and See-Three respectively. Current vital signs suggest it is 'nap time'." Responded the sentient computer, Iceberg-7.

  Cameron heaved a sigh of relief, and placed a hand over his heart. "That's good to hear," Omega said genuinely, "Means Scathe hasn't been here. So what about Nicky then, Eye-Seven?" Jay asked of the all-seeing digital consciousness, "Where's he at, and why does this place look like Magneto came in and stole all the screws?" A projection lens rose up out of the floor, focused on a bare patch of wall, then displayed a map of the compound, with a blinking red dot in the missile silo. "Error regarding subject 'Magneto'; insufficient data. User Nikola Tesla is located in the missile silo. Elevated vital signs suggest he is engaged in intercourse." The Guardians exchanged a bevy of odd looks. "That doesn't sound like Nicky at all," Omega said in confusion, "Not to be a perv, but I gotta see this. Can you show us what's going on down there?" The image displayed on the wall changed, giving a flickering 3/4 bird's eye view of the Guardians' resident tech wizard standing with his back to a control console and his hands tightly gripping the safety rail, on a platform roughly halfway up the silo's length.

A great deal of the image was taken up by the scaly, metallic hide of Grimmauld, the living starship, and the image itself continuously flickered, making it somewhat annoying to watch. The flickering of the image was caused by the enormous swirl of ion particles raging throughout the silo in a cyclonic energy storm. And in the midst of it all stood Nikola, his clearly maniacal laughter rising unheard with the particle bath inundating Grimmauld; the wild look in his eye, his disheveled hair, and the lab coat whipping about behind him all served to make him the very picture of the stereotypical mad scientist. "See, that makes much more sense." Jay declared, bringing murmurs of agreement from Bonnie and Polar. Their destination set, the Guardians made their way through the labyrinthine compound toward the silo-cum-docking bay. Once they had arrived at the express elevator that allowed access to the various floors of the silo they encountered a small problem; namely that the blast door presented to them when they arrived at the appropriate level refused to open so long as the ion maelstrom was in progress on the other side.

  Using the intercom built into the wall beside the door, Omega tried to make himself heard over the all-encompassing roar that issued from the speaker when he held down the button marked "listen". When he found it to be no use, he pounded a fist against the wall in frustration. "There's gotta be a way in." Jay muttered, then turned to look at Cameron. "You're a genius, ain't ya? Can't you override this shit, or something? Don't hold out on us, man." Polar raised an eyebrow in surprise, and gave Omega a quizzical look. "You... you want me to override the Cold War-era mechanical lock on this decommissioned nuclear missile silo?" Jay shrugged, and gestured toward the door half-heartedly. "Please?" Cam threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll get right on that. Any other impossible things you'd like me to do? Divide by zero? Invent a toothpaste that tastes good combined with orange juice? Bring someone back from the dead, perhaps?" Omega raised his hands in defense, then shrugged and ducked his head. "Well, I mean, I have kind of died twice already. And vodka flavour, obviously." Even Bonnie chuckled at that one.

  "If'n y'all are done, I got an idea as to how we might reach ol' Mister Tesla." Blue said, placing two fingers against her temple. An expression of intense concentration settled over her features, but lasted only a moment before it was replaced with a dazzling smile. Shortly thereafter came a crackling from the intercom, followed by Tesla's voice coming from the speaker. "Hello? Is someone there?" Said the disembodied voice in confusion; the roar of the particle storm lessened but still present. Jay and Polar looked at Bonnie in amazement, "What did you do? Are you psychic now?" Asked Cam, only half joking. Bonnie rolled her eyes in response. "Hardly. Just asked Grimmauld to let Mister Tesla know he had company is all." Omega nodded in understanding. "So you are psychic, but you can only talk to space dragons." Jay paused as his mind processed what he had just said. "Yep, it's official; the addition of the phrase 'space dragon' makes just about any sentence ten times cooler." Omega then jabbed at the intercom with a thumb.

  "Yo, Nicky; it's mission time! We need you to get the Quantum Micro-Tunnel Stabilizer fired up. Some pretty rough shit just went down, and we need to get to the Rock of Ages." A moment passed before Tesla's voice crackled through the speaker again. "Erm, yes. About that... There may or may not be some slight difficulty in granting that request, Master James." Jay closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, which he held for a slow count of ten before he released it. "Nicky, I'm havin' a real bad day out here, so I'm gonna pretend that you're not making it worse, okay? Now, what's the problem with the Cue Em Tee Ess?" Once the scientist began to explain, the excitement in his voice continued to rise. "Well, I had finished building the Ion Particle Osmosis Delivery Dock in my laboratory, when I came to the realization that I would be unable to transfer the device here under my own power." Omega knew the engineer well enough that he could practically hear the other man shrug. "I requested assistance from Master Grimmauld, and things became somewhat complicated after that."

  Jay wanted to reach through the intercom and throttle the scientist, weary as he was of Tesla long-winded manner of speech. He knew that to interrupt would only drag out the explanation, though. "Once we had loaded the device via the vehicle bay and I was on board, I made a rather remarkable discovery; were you aware that Master Grimmauld has complete control over his interior cellular structure?" The excitement was rising in Nicky's voice again; the man was clearly fascinated by the advanced biotechnology possessed by their living starship. "He can rearrage his innards to create nearly any sort of facility his passengers might require or desire! I am strongly considering moving my operations on board." Enough was enough; Omega had hoped Tesla would get to the point, but it was clear he'd need some prodding. "Nicky," Jay interrupted quietly, "I think it's great that you and Grimmauld are making friends. But what does this have to do with us not being able to use the stabilizer to get to the Rock?"

  "Yes, of course! My apologies. While we were at my laboratory Master Grimmauld apparently got hungry, and seems to have 'eaten' a good deal of my inventions. I can only assume he required the raw materials for his own purposes, but he has been unable to adequately explain to me what those purposes are." Omega and Polar exchanged a look; Jay seriously reconsidering the Guardians' offer of aid to the starship. Both men then turned to look at Bonnie, who once more had her fingers placed alongside her temple, brow furrowed in concentration. Once more, a dazzling smile broke out on her face as she finished communicating with Grimmauld. "It's all right, guys; the situation ain't as bad as y'all think." Bonnie tapped the side of her head. "Grim tells me he doesn't 'eat' technology, he integrates it." Being the genius that he was, Cameron arrived at the logical conclusion in a heartbeat, while Jay took a little longer. "Okay, and that helps us how?" He asked, prompting Polar to answer.

  "I think what she's trying to say is that this Cue Em Tee Ess thing isn't gone," Blue nodded with another smile, pleased that Cam caught on so quickly, "Furthermore, if she's implying what I think she is... Bonnie, how in-depth of 'integration' are we talking about?" Bonnie took a moment to silently converse with their alien friend, then chuckled before she replied aloud. "Grim says the stabilizer is now a part of his translight engines. Says he's looking forward to abusing the shit out of the Hartnell-Capaldi Effect, now that he's got the proper tech to manipulate the nec'sary energy fields." An expression of wonder crossed Bonnie's features. "Heh, he's so damned excited he's fit to burst. But speakin' of burstin' energy fields, don't suppose this process is gonna take much longer, is it?" Omega repeated the question through the intercom, and a moment passed while Tesla checked his instruments. "I can't be certain, but I estimate no more than twenty minutes. You can amuse yourselves that long, I'm sure." With plans to reconvene with the Guardians in 20 minutes, Jay headed off to the hologym.~


*Welcome back, True Believers! To absolutely nobody's surprise, Los Hombre Omega has made his way to the semi-finals, but that's where this tournament thing gets really interesting. In that vein, our video opens with the standard fare fade in on the matte black wall, floor, and ceiling lined with many cross-hatching strips of blue in a glowy grid. I'm sure y'all are familiar with what the Guardians' hologym looks like by now. And as you're likely expecting to hear, the sound of soft-soled shoes approaching from the right of the screen drifts to our ears, and soon enough, good ol' Jay Omega is standing front and center. Today his shorts are black denim, and his deep blue T-shirt is designed to look like an architect's blueprint of a wrestling ring, with a bisected image of Jay Omega standing in the center. The right half of the likeness is seemingly made of gold, criss-crossed by a wireframe grid that leaks into the other half; Jay dressed for competition. Above the image is the word "Championship", and below is the word "Material". Yes, Omega's already shilling merch. Available now at many fine retailers, and the trunk of some shady dude's car.*

Jay Omega: Mmm, semi-finals. Can you feel it? That growing sense of anticipation? The swelling of emotionally charged energy? Oh baby, this shit's gonna be tight! And I'm back home in the spotlight, too, that's the best part about Sunday night. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited at the prospect of taking on this Chase Jackson kid - his wrestling talent and athletic ability are exemplary - but this match just wouldn't feel as awesome as it's going to be, if we were buried halfway down the card like I was last week. Of course, despite all the nice shit I said about him, I was only facing Occulo, so it's understandable that we wouldn't be given the main event slot. This week's different, though. Chase Jackson might be a new body, but he ain't a nobody; homeboy's created some waves these last couple of weeks. Granted, he's as green a rookie as they come, and he hasn't beaten anyone worth mentioning, but every legend starts out that way. Once upon a time, we were all in Jackson's position; in over our heads in a sink-or-swim situation, against a foe we couldn't truly prepare for.

*Jay gazes wistfully up and to the left, probably reminiscing about some meaningful match from his past. Maybe not, though; shitloads of head trauma have kind of made memories of the early years of his career hazy and unreliable. Oh buddy, could I tell you some stories about the shit he's gotten up to. Like the time he-- Whoops; that disapproving look he just shot at the camera was meant for me. Sorry; less exposition, more description. Omega's hands disappear into his pockets, then reappear holding his black cigarette case and gold Zippo. I don't know why I'm still referring to it as a "cigarette" case; we all know it ain't tobacco inside the hand-rolled puffin' stuff he pulls out and lights up.*

Jay Omega: That's actually a good position to be in, though, because you don't actually have to win. You just have to try, and that's what people will remember; whether or not you gave in, or fought to the bitter end against insurmountable odds. On the flip side, I also enjoy a rather comfortable position, because I don't necessarily have to win either. The advantages of being a well-established household name. If Chase Jackson wins this match - a distinct possibility, don't get me wrong - then he's got a win over the Jay Omega; Vegas' odds-on favourite to win this tournament, and world-renowned badass motherfucker. Moving on to the finals of the tournament is just icing on the cake; the only career highlight that could top so early a victory over someone like me, is if Chase does in fact manage to win the whole tournament. But hey, even if he got bumped out in the final round, having a win over yours truly would not be something to turn one's nose up at.

*Jay hits the doobie like it owes him money, and snort-coughs out a cloud of smoke so thick, it obscures the lower part of his jaw for a moment before it dissipates.*

Jay Omega: Holy fuckbunkies, that's some good shit. Now, by the same token, if Chase loses to me this Sunday night - a very high probability - then no harm done to his growing reputation. So he lost to Jay Omega, big deal. At this point, who hasn't? No really, that's a legitimate question; when you've been through so many independent promotions as to make a year's worth of alphabet soup from their acronyms, the names and faces of people you've beaten tend to blur together. So many places use "Championship Federation", it isn't even funny anymore. But yeah, if Chase loses, big whoop. People are absolutely hoping for him to win, but nobody really expects him to, you feel me? I mean, this is the classic underdog story, and if this were a movie, I'm sure we'd get a great montage set to some upbeat Eighties music, while we watched Chase train for his big match - which would be an incredibly gripping contest that saw him overcome some sort of mid-match crisis of faith - and ultimately come out on top after a hard-fought battle, in which he earns my respect, and the admiration of the locker room.

*Omega takes a smaller puff on his joint, careful to not overdo it again, and shakes his head at us sadly.*

Jay Omega: But this ain't a movie, Jackson. And in the real world, all too often the plucky underdog gets stomped to shit. This is gonna be a life lesson for you, and in the manner of life lessons, it's gonna be a rough one. Youth and talent are fantastic, but they are no substitute for age and experience. Fuck, I ain't even that old - I'll be thirty-five in a couple of months - but that fifteen years I have on you, boy? The entirety of that time was spent in the ring. Sure, you're being trained by Chris Avery - who makes for a pretty good trainer as far as former wrestlers go - and you've got the gumption to leave everything you have out there in the ring. But I'm Jay Omega, and I do not give one solitary fuck about who I have to go through, or what I have to do, in order to be You See Eye's first World Champion, do you understand me? I'm not going to just be the biggest challenge you've faced to date, my friend; no, this match is going to be something you remember for the remainder of your career, as the most grueling experience you'll have ever had in the ring. I'm so goddamn excited at the prospect of facing somebody who can actually give me a decent fuckin' scrap that it makes my dick hard.

*Di-did you seriously just check his crotch to see if he really is hard? Perv. And just in case you didn't, he isn't; that's just a turn of phrase.*

Jay Omega: When - sorry, if - I win, that's nothing to write home about. I'm certain Chase will fight to the best of his ability, and really make me work for it, but picking up a victory over some untested rookie is just your average Sunday night for me. Now, if I lose this match? Well, no harm done to me, either. I'm still gonna be Jay Omega, which puts me several tiers above most people on this roster by default. Not once have I ever claimed to be unbeatable, or unstoppable, or that I'm some sort of wrestling god. I make mistakes, just like everybody else, and I've lost my fair share of matches. I'd be out of the tournament, but oh well; I'll earn myself a title shot at some point, that's a given. Of course, this is all unlikely to happen; I ain't gonna lose Sunday night. Because there's one thing most people seem to fixate on, and I'm gonna tell you right now just how wrong it is. See, Chase, just like Occulo before you, and probably somebody amongst Teddy Sol, Wendy Updegraff, and Shadowlove, you just had to mention that I'm "just a man". And that, my young friend, is where you are mistaken. I'm not just a man, I'm THE man, you dig?

*Jay sticks his spliff in his mouth, and gives us a heroic fists-on-hips pose for a moment, his head tilted up and to the right. His right, I should say, which is our left, I guess. Omega puffs at his pot as he relaxes, and pulls the joint from his mouth.*

Jay Omega: From high flying to hardcore, from suplexes to submissions, and from grappling to groundwork, Jay Omega does it all. Am I the best at any of them? Sure, one or two, but definitely not all. Don't need to be, though, since I'm good enough in almost every category of fighting to counter the best in any one specific field. Shit, I'm so multi-talented, my ass-kicking abilities extend outside the ring. Not only do I dominate fools in the ring with my deep repertoire of fighting moves, but I also dominate fools on the charts, with my wide variety of musical talent. Much like how I can bring the heat in the ring in a dozen different ways, so too can I spit hot fiyah on the mic in a cornucopia of style. Yes, that's right; it's time for another song and dance number. Eye-Seven, run program "Darth Brooks".

*The background shimmers, then comes life, giving us a view of several hay bales stacked in a pyramid, within a weathered old barn. Jay's black denim shorts have become tight-fitting black jeans tucked into black and green snakeskin cowboy boots. His chest is now adorned with a sleeveless white T-shirt under a green plaid button up, a black leather Stetson now rests on his head, and his joint has become a long strand of wheat. So basically, he's now wearing a hillbilly version of his wrestling gear. An acoustic guitar appears in Omega's hands, and though he does strum at the strings, the opening chords of "Friends In Low Places" by Garth Brooks are clearly being piped in over unseen speakers.*


*Jay pulls the "wheat" from his mouth, which makes the ensuing cloud of smoke he exhales seem strange.*

*The shot pulls out a little and on Omega's left we see the familiar holographic representation of UCI backstage interviewer, Frank Patrick Venable, wearing overalls and a red plaid button up. On Jay's right stands a hologram perfectly mimicking Frank's younger sibling Vic Venable; dressed much like his brother, though his plaid shirt is blue, and he wears a straw hat. As further instruments accompany the guitar, Lara Croft - of Tomb Raider fame - walks into view, followed by Chell from Portal, Evie Frye of Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, and Bayonetta from the game of the same name. The four women line up in alternating fashion with the menfolk, with the roster being Lara, HFPV, Chell, Omega, Evie, HVV, and Bayonetta from left to right.*

*As one, the six holograms and one Jay all begin line dancing; I believe this particular technique is called "Slapping Leather". Everybody taps a heel on the dirt floor of the barn twice in front of them, then taps their toe twice behind. Another heel, another toe, a third heel tap, and then everyone taps the toe of their boots off to the side, before raising their feet to slap at both sides of the boot heel, both behind and in front, and turning 90 degrees to the left as they do so.*

*The line of holographic characters move in lockstep with Omega, everyone taking three short steps to their right, moving them away from us, and all raise their left foot behind them to slap at the heel with their right hands. The group retraces their path, and repeats the heel slap on the opposite side.*


*Everyone in the line turns slightly to their right, and takes two shuffling steps back with their hands gripped on either side of their belt buckles. With a click of their heels, the HoloVenables and Gamer Girls change direction, and take two shuffling steps back the way they came, ending with a small hop into place. Everyone rises up on their toes and flares their heels out twice, followed by alternating heel flares; right then left, right then left.*


*At this point the dance pattern begins to repeat itself; and everyone taps their right heel twice on the barn's dirt floor in front of them, then their toe twice behind them. Heel, toe, heel, toe off to the side. A quartet of slaps at the boot heel, and now everyone is facing away from us; putting a string of pleasant backsides on display. No need to be shy; they're there to enjoy, regardless of your orientation. I ain't here to judge.*


*The HoloVenables and the Gamer Girls join in on the next refrain of the chorus, and continue to sing along for the remainder of the song, whilst continuing to keep up with the previously established dance moves.*


*Jay breaks away from the group, coming front and center with a complicated series of steps that don't seem to fit in with the country theme. With arms crossed over his chest, Omega begins to stomp, kick, and hop in pla-- oh for fuck's sake, he's Riverdancing.*


*Yeah, no; not happening. I know there's, like, another chorus of this, but Riverdance AND country? Fuck that noise, ya feel me, playa? So forgive me if I forcibly end the holoprogram. The HoloVenables and Gamer Girls shimmer and dissipate, the barnyard background fades back to the matte black wall with the glowy strips of light, and Omega's hard-light cowboy getup fades as well.*

Jay Omega: Boo-tista! I was almost done!

*Don't care; ears bleeding. We should wrap this up anyway; Time is of the essence.*

Jay Omega: Yeah, you're right. Never thought I'd say that.

Iceberg-7: To whom is user Jay Omega speaking?

Jay Omega: Don't worry about it, Eye-Seven; you might blow a logic circuit, or something important. Just assume I'm delusional, and talking to myself; that's what everyone else seems to think. All right, I guess I'm out of here. Chase, I hope you enjoyed my little music video, because I didn't exactly enjoy making it. Learning that stupid line dance was pure torture; I only pulled it off because I set the tutorial program to have Mystique teaching me. By which I mean the Rebecca Romijn-Stamos version, not Jennifer Lawrence. Heh, that's not the only program that I-- ahem, yes, well. That's all for now. See you in the ring, Chase.

*Jay gives a mock salute to the camera, then turns to his left - our right - and strides off screen. The sound of his soft-soled shoes recedes to nothingness, and the scene then fades to black.*


~With one last visual check of his Caster sidearm, Jay Omega holstered the pistol-like weapon, and joined fellow Guardians Bonnie Blue, and the Polar Phantasm at the base of the fleshy ramp extending from the platform on which they stood, to the belly of the beast in which they were about ride, as they attempted to breach the barriers of Time and Space. Bonnie's infrasonic stun gun had been recharged, and the sights on Polar's cryopistols had been tweaked ever so slightly; the Guardians were as combat-ready as they were going to get, short of somehow collecting some snazzy power armor like the suits worn by the two past incarnations of Omega that had been involved in the fight with the Dark Timekeeper. Thoughts of the familiar-looking power armor tickled at Jay's memory, but he couldn't figure out why. As prepared as they could be for the unknown adventure ahead, the Guardians boarded the living starship housed in their missile silo.

  The chamber they found themselves in was comprised of a spongy material, a dull brown in color, which quickly lit up under a soft orange glow once the wall had sealed behind them. The sensation of motion caused Omega's stomach to lurch momentarily, but it quickly settled as he adjusted. "Grimmauld says we're gonna have to leave the planet in order to use the new Hartnell-Capaldi Drive; we don't want to accidentally invert the flow of astroparticles in the mesosphere." Cam and Jay gave her an almost identical pair of blank looks, and Blue shrugged her shoulders at them. "Hey, I don't understand it either, I'm just tellin' y'all what he told me." Polar and Omega seemed to accept that, and Jay turned in Cam's direction. "All right, Mister Strategist, what's the play?" Omega asked, causing Polar to blink at him in surprise. "You're asking me that now?" Cam said in disbelief.

  "Shit, I thought this was your op; you're telling me you don't have a plan?" Jay quickly glanced at Bonnie in search of support, then shrugged at Polar. "Well, kind of. Get in, find Scathe, kill him dead, double-tap to be sure, find Reb, head home, party like only the Guardians can. There's an elegance to its simplicity, but it's kind of lacking on details. I was hoping you'd fill in the blanks as we go." Cam facepalmed, then ran a hand through his white hair. "Fuck's sake. All right, I'll see what I can come up with as we go." Polar turned to Bonnie. "How long unti--" Blue cut him off with an upraised hand, her eyes taking on a faraway look. A moment later she blinked, and answered Cam's unfinished question. "Leavin' the upper reaches of the atmosphere now, 'bout to engage the transdimensional sequencers for the first time." She told him. Though Omega didn't fully understand the last half of that, he took it to mean they were about to make the jump to the Rock of Ages.

  For the briefest of moments, everything Jay looked at tasted purple, and an instant later, the trio of Guardians found themselves standing in the shadowy confines of a massive throne room. Clearly decorated by someone with a predilection toward death and suffering, judging from the numerous manacles dangling from spiked chains, wrought-iron cages suspended over pits of flame, and the long, intricate series of steel runnels containing streams of steadily flowing blood that stretched from the floor, up and out of view, lost to the shadows long before they reached the ceiling. The intricate brooks continued along the floor, spreading out and around a massive, gleaming throne; a wicked construction of jagged spikes, razor-sharp blades, and pitted bones. All in all, the very aesthetic of the room was meant to convey intimidation to anyone who stood where the Guardians found themselves now. But is was the creature who occupied the throne that evoked the most dread.

  Cloaked in a robe of shifting shadows, and cradling a bladed scepter in the crook of his right arm, the bearded face belonged to Scathe without a doubt. But the black wells instead of eyes, and the malicious smile were surely those of the Dark Timekeeper. The entity stood up as they appeared, and descended the three wide steps leading down from the dais his throne rested on. "At last!" His deep bass voice reverberated throughout the chamber as he greeted the Guardians, "'Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly'! I have been expecting you for some time now." The casual manner in which they were greeted worried Jay far more than if they had suddenly found themselves under fire. How had they come to be here in the throne room? Surely they would have arrived with Grimmauld, and not separately. "A most interesting beast you bring with you, as well. It shall be of great use to me, in conquering the Metaverse."

  "You ain't conquering shit, Scathe!" Omega drew his Caster with the speed of a Wild West quickdraw artist, and leveled it at the approaching darkness. The .50 caliber slug ejected from the barrel seemed to crawl through the air toward the Dark Timekeeper, who smiled condescendingly as the bullet shattered against his cheek. "You'll find your weapons are quite useless against me here, and now." The shadows all around them seemed to swell, and a pair of black flames that ate light rather than produced it danced above the Dark Timekeeper's palms. "The power contained within this body was remarkable to begin with. When added to my own, as well as what I took from Johnny Reb..." He trailed off with a dark laugh that sent a chill down Jay's spine "I have ascended to a level beyond the scope of your limited comprehension. There is nothing you can do now to stop me from realizing my goal. If I was a god before, a new word will have to be created to describe what I have become."

  "Pilot detected; remote systems coming online." Said a quiet voice in Jay's ear; synthesized, but feminine. "Hello, Pilot Jay. It has been too long since our last joining. Would you like to achieve symbiosis now?" Dozens of memories flashed through Omega's head as the synthetic synapses that had lain dormant for the past month reactivated. Erin? Jay thought, projecting the question toward the artificial intelligence that shared space in his head. Blabberin' blatherskite! Fuck yes, I want to achieve symbiosis! A soft "ping" came in response, sounding as though it had come from inside Jay's skull. "Tracking systems and autopilot engaged; see you soon, sweetie." Omega smiled to himself, more confident now that he knew they had some back up on the way. The whole exchange had taken a fraction of a second, and Jay's attention returned to the matter at hand.

  "I got one," Bonnie exclaimed, her face painted with a deep-seated rage, "How 'bout 'cadaver-iffic'? 'Cause behind all this is just a dead man, Scathe!" The Dark Timekeeper threw back his head and laughed uproariously, the sound echoing around the chamber in a haunting manner. "First of all, dear child, I have taken a new name, in accordance with my new power. I am Timastenzi now, though what you call me makes little difference. And secondly," All the amusement faded from his voice, leaving nothing but pure, cold malice. "You can't begin to comprehend the number of dead men behind me." Blue didn't give him the chance to act on his implied threat. Though she was unsure exactly how she did so, Bonnie rushed forward so fast that she was nothing more than a blonde-streaked blue blur to Polar and Omega. Several shots leaped from the end of her stun gun, though the ones that found their marks simply dissipated on impact.

  The shots were merely a distraction anyway; the true attack came in the form of a leaping uppercut. The speed with which Bonnie moved through Time caused impossible amounts of friction to build around her fist as it traveled up toward the underside of Timastenzi's jaw. The very air ignited, Blue's fist trailing a stream of burning oxygen molecules, and she connected with the new Dark Timekeeper's jaw hard enough to tear it away. For a moment, at least. A swirl of blackness rose from the shifting cloak, and solidified into a perfect facsimile of the bearded chin that had just been destroyed. Timastenzi dabbed at the rivulet of thick black liquid that streamed from his left nostril, and licked it off his thumb. Bonnie's left fist balled up, and the Dark Timekeeper repelled the trio of Guardians back several feet by simply thrusting his palm at them. "You don't seem to understand. I hold all the cards. In this place, I have an unfair advantage over you." He told them, as though explaining to a group of rather stupid children.

  With a malevolent grin, the new Dark Timekeeper stepped back behind his throne, and waved a dismissive hand in their direction. "So you've learned a few new tricks; good for you," He said, his grin becoming a sneer, "You're still fools to think you stand a chance against me here! I could have slain you all the instant you entered my domain, then resurrected you and killed you again! However... Such a trifling matter is far below me, now, and I would gain little pleasure from destroying you myself." The grin returned, somehow more threatening than before. Timastenzi withdrew further, gathering the darkness about him like a shroud. "But there is someone here who would greatly enjoy the opportunity to torment you to the point of insanity. I will leave you to his tender mercies." The Dark Timekeeper melted into the shadows, and disappeared completely. Then, with the sound of trillions of souls screaming out in agony, a ragged-edged hole was torn in the very fabric of reality.

  From within that gaping wound in existence stepped a pale-skinned, thick-bodied man, with a wild mane of unruly black hair. "Oh fuuuuuuck!" Exclaimed Polar, instantly recognizing the face that had haunted his nightmares for years; the face of Nathan von Liebert. The Phantasm didn't waste any more breath, and brought both his cryopistols to bear. Twin streams of super-cooled liquid blasted toward NvL, only to be swallowed by another hole torn in the fabric of reality. "New plan! Fucking run!" Polar put actions to his words, and took off at a dead sprint as von Liebert hefted the sharpened scepter resting on the throne's arm, and hurled it like a spear in Omega's direction. Once more Bonnie saved Jay's life by pushing him out of the way, then snapped off a quick shot at NvL with her stun gun. The Devil's Red Right Hand convulsed as the infrasonic pulse wreaked havoc on his nervous system, but with a snarl, he shook the effect off.

 Baby Blue's baby blues went wide in surprise, and she grabbed Omega's arm. "Runnin' sounds good to me!" She cried, and Jay couldn't agree more. Within moments, they had caught up to Polar, who had come to a stop at an intersection. "If one of you fantastic people who have been here before would kindly lead us back to Grimmauld before the scary psychopath catches up to us, I would love you forever." Bonnie immediately set off down the left corridor, then stopped after a few steps when she realized the other two weren't following. Blue turned back, and saw that Omega had started down the corridor to the right at the same time, leaving Polar right where he had been, looking slightly more worried than he had before. "One of you does know how to get us back to Grimmauld, right?" Bonnie nodded emphatically, and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Yeah, it'd be down this way. Bit of a trek, though." Before she even finished, Jay was shaking his head.

  "Trust me." Omega said confidently, "I've been through here when the Dark Timekeeper was in control before. He likes to change things around. We need to go this way." Blue opened her mouth to argue when existence shrieked in pain as Nathan von Liebert tore another hole, appearing behind Bonnie. He took a swipe at her as he stepped out of the wound, but quick reflexes sent the Daughter of Time into a forward roll. "Jay's way it is!" Polar declared as Bonnie came to her feet beside him, her momentum already carrying her into a run. Jay fired off a few .45 rounds, only to watch von Liebert catch each one individually in that unholy hand of his, the metal turning to slag at his caustic touch. "Note to self; never high-five En vee Ell." Omega said, as he too turned to run.~


---------------------------------------------------

Scathe, the Dark Timekeeper, AND Nathan von Liebert? Today is not a good day to be a Guardian, friends. Will our intrepid heroes manage to escape the trap laid for them by their most dangerous foe to date? To find out, you'll have to tune in to episode four: "All's Fair In War", by Nathan von Liebert!

---------------------------------------------------

A DAY AT THE FAIR
Episode Three: An Unfair Advantage
Series conceived by Bonnie Blue and Jay Omega
Series directed by Jay Omega
Episode written by Jay Omega

[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]