Cameron Bankston's Day Off (Guardians RP #2)
Jul 10, 2016 0:01:43 GMT -6
Spencer Adams, Jay Omega, and 3 more like this
Post by The Polar Phantasm on Jul 10, 2016 0:01:43 GMT -6
Hello again, Guardians fans; welcome to another exciting adventure! We're super excited about this one; special guest stars, ridiculous pixelated battle scenes... the introduction of 8-BIT! Holy crap, you guys... I won't lie, I've been excited about this one for a while. And here we go- oh man, I hope you guys have anywhere near as much fun reading this story as we've had writing it (and mad props to my teammates, who all had to do some homework to wrap their heads around this one... apparently I am the nerdiest nerd to ever nerd).
As always, we urge you to read these pieces in the order in which they occur (and not necessarily the order they're posted- our bad on that, but y'all know how it goes). In fact, I'll go ahead and run down a table of contents for ya!
Guardians: Two Bits, Four Bits, 8-Bit, Disaster
Episode One: The Crystal Method
Written by: Bonnie Blue
Episode Two: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
Written by: Frank Patrick Venable and the Polar Phantasm
(big props to Frank for holding it down for the old Cryogenix gang... and the interview!)
Episode Three: Guardians Entertainment System
Written by: Jay Omega
Episode Four: Cryogenix Rides Again
Written by: Alex Richards
We, the Guardians, truly hope you enjoy Two Bits, Four Bits, 8-Bit, Disaster... this guy, though, not so much.
-B.
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, Colorado; more specifically, the bedroom of the Unstable Elements. We watch as Cameron Bankston, the Polar Phantasm, sleeps comfortably in his bed... the silence is deafening. Camera cuts to various locations in the compound... conference room, empty. Foyer, empty; we notice that where once there was a haiku painted on a wall there is now a limerick (though unreadable at this distance). Common area, living quarters... empty, table still covered in empty bottles, playing cards and an ashtray containing enough roaches to fuel production of a James Franco film. We cut back to Polar, who slowly opens his eyes... he rises, squinting one eye and cupping one ear as he strains to hear the distant rumbling of people. Suddenly, he blinks... and smiles a smile of surprise and joy.]
Phantasm: They bought it!
[...a sly smile crosses his face.]
Phantasm: One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Just 'cause the Kid done grown up don't mean I ain't still the Kid. Eye-Seven, do it.
["We Care a Lot" by Faith No More begins playing; the lights in the room come on, door to the hallway opening... lights come on in the common area, bringing it from comfortable homey glow to full-on daylight sun in a half-second. Polar looks through the door into his underground bunker's 'living room'...]
Phantasm: What a beautiful day!
[He turns away from the doorway, looking right into the 'camera'.]
Phantasm: Wives always fall for the clammy hands. It's physical evidence of illness, and it's a good non-specific symptom. And way easy to pull off when you just have to feel 'cold' and you just kinda do that anyway... bonus points. There's ways to go for non-Phantasms, too- if you're throwing up chunks of stuff, you might get an easy pass. Nobody wants to take a guy who's blowing chunks on the regular out into the field with them, dig? But there's always the chance you have the kinda teammates that are worrisome- not a bad thing, per se, unless they're convinced you're dying of food poisoning or something. That shit could get you a quick trip to the hospital... and if you're in Chicago, you'd better go Northside. The Southside's got like one hospital for nine hundred thousand people, and a quarter of them have sucking chest wounds at any given time. Just saying, you may be there a while. For the rest of you, what with your still having heat signatures, fever's always a quick go-to. But that plan can go sideways quick, especially if you're a guy like me with a wife like her... far as Nightmare's concerned, if you're not dying of something, you'd better get your ass up and fight. You'd pretty much have to have a melting forehead to get out of that. Same thing goes for sex; you know what, I'll save that conversation for later.
[We cut to Cameron in a hallway, headed toward the bathroom... as we enter, we see that the bathroom is littered with Crystal's various 'products'. Cam begins stripping as the 'camera' focuses on him from about chest-up.]
Phantasm: Ahh. So this is like... I don't know, if you count being out of wrestling for like most of the last three years... my 299th sick day? Shit. If I go for 300 I'm gonna have to barf up a lung or something, so I'd better make this one count.
[He turns on the shower, testing the water a bit with his hand... from the lack of steam coming up from the blast, we can assume he's got the water nice and chilly.]
Phantasm: I don't care if you're fifty-five or seven, everybody needs a day off now and then. How can I be expected to handle being a Guardian on a day like this?
[Camera cuts to outside Project: Antarctica's blast door, panning across the beautiful Rocky Mountains. When we cut back, Polar is soaping himself in the shower.]
Phantasm: I mean, don't get me wrong- being a Guardian is the most important thing in my life after being father to my son and husband to my wife. This team is family by choice, but... they're still family. That's part of why I knew they'd be fine without me for this one, whatever it ends up being... there's nothing big on the radar, we haven't heard from von Liebert in a while-
[He covers the 'camera' as he washes his nethers. As he finishes up, he uncovers the camera and takes a twirl through the shower blast.]
Phantasm: -so I figure they can handle having Crystal run point for a gig, at least the once*. You know?
(* - Oh, Polar, you ignorant fool... check out Part One of this series, Bonnie Blue's The Crystal Method, for the hot little slice of madness Polar called in sick to... -B.)
[We cut to the hallway again; Polar is wearing a towel on his head, as well as around his waist. He heads back towards his quarters, continuing his monologue.]
Phantasm: Not that I don't want to lead my team- I love being the Guardians' mastermind the same way I love being alive and the Polar Phantasm. It's just... I mean, even God took a day off, right? You know, the theoretical one, not that guy in the trenchcoat. He's taken way more days off than that... haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?!
[He looks around, pausing for a moment... he snickers.]
Phantasm: See? He's taking one now.
[Cut to Polar, dressed casually in a white t-shirt reading "DEFEND NEW ORLEANS" and a pair of blue sweatpants... he is attempting to dress young Jeffy Bankston, still groggy from his slumber.]
Phantasm: I'm not a religious person; that should be obvious, really, as I've mentioned before that I went to Catholic school. That's basically a factory for atheists. I just... anytime I think I'm done with this whole 'god and creator' thing, guy who looks like Lucien shows up like "Hey, here's a bunch more shit you should know that'll melt your brain like it's crammed in a microwave. Love you, bye!"
Jeffy: Daddy, what's an 'athiest'?
Phantasm: I would say your mom and I, but... it's hard to say there is no god when you keep tripping over him on missions.
Iceberg-Seven: Your pardon, user 'Polar Phantasm', but this unit has information for you. Guests have arrived at location 'Project: Antarctica'.
Phantasm: Mornin' Eye-Seven; you're not gonna rat me out to the team, are you?
Iceberg-Seven: Users 'Jay Omega', 'Nightmare' and 'Bonnie Blue' are off-site; will omit visual and auditory records of this afternoon on your orders. User 'Alex Richards' is unconscious somewhere on Level 2.
Phantasm: Eh, he'll wake up eventually- he's probably gonna love this. Who we got at the front door, Eye-Seven?
Iceberg-Seven: Scanners are indicating three life-forms; all three showing as registered users of location 'Project: Antarctica'. Defensive systems are idle; awaiting command.
Phantasm: Come on, Jeffy- let's go say hi to your Uncles. Don't just idle there, Eye-Seven; get your Sunday best on, we've got company!
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"Life moves pretty fast sometimes... if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it." -Ferris Bueller's Day Off
"(We care a lot) about the Garbage Pail Kids, they never lie
(We care a lot) about Transformers 'cause they're more than meets the eye
(We care a lot) about the little things, the bigger things we top
(We care a lot) about you people, yeah you bet we care a lot-
Yeah!" - Faith No More, We Care A Lot
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!
Offbeat. Outlandish. Bizarre. These are just some of the words used to describe him, though they barely scratch the surface. The surreal is commonplace in his world, and random chance seems to be either his best friend or his guardian angel. Mimsy were the borogroves, and flubbity-wub-wub, flubbity-flubba-wub. What you see as gibberish makes perfect sense to... THE ARCHDUKE OF MASS CONFUSION, ALEX RICHARDS!
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 time, crossed dimensions, fought 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 is the Polar Phantasm; calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent. She is Nightmare; virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... and somehow raise their young son Jeffrey along the way! They are... THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
Achieving greatness first as a BMX champion and then as a professional wrestler, he is a man many would say conquered apprehension and fear; those would be people, of course, who haven't met the obsessive compulsive young father. He's a germophobe. He's a daredevil. He's a legend of the past and a hero of the present; he is THE FUTURE, JEFF PURSE!
By day, he masquerades as Creeping Death, fighter in the Yakuza-run Chicago Puroresu League... by night, he stalks the rooftops of Chicago looking for weak points in their organization and earning a reputation as the bane of Japanese pimps city-wide. Behave, Windy City... you're being watched by THE AVENGER, COREY BLACK!
He was a terror of the squared circle, known worldwide as a man who could snap at any moment and become a whirlwind of 'Headshots'... after one more run in Japan, he hung up his boots and took on a career as an interviewer. The jury is still out as to whether or not being on the other side of things has at all curbed his pension for punting as puncutation. He's over there; oh, yeah, and he's over there, and... you know, it's best not to ask too many questions when talking about FRANK PATRICK VENABLE!
[Accidents do happen, don't they? We can all agree; sometimes things happen that nobody could've foreseen, and sometimes the consequences are impossibly grievous. I mean, not all accidents are unhappy ones; Viagra, for instance, failed as a blood pressure medication... but it sure worked wonders for erectile dysfunction, didn't it? But then there are those accidents we can all agree are pretty unhappy ones; for instance, Bayer Pharmaceuticals thought they'd created a wonder drug to cure morphine addiction when they'd invented heroin. Yep... as the saying goes, you break a few eggs every time you make an omelet. That said... what, pray tell, would happen if one of those eggs' shells happened to somehow then go on to try and kill your family and friends? Have I gone too far off the mark here? Already? Well, damn. Let me backtrack a bit.]
[It was... perhaps a month or so ago, I believe, when the Guardians made first contact with the Darrikaan Empire**. During their introductions, the Darrikaan scout ship fired on the team and was blasted in the fracas... a decent-sized chunk of the alien (deludium) metal based craft crashed into a power station slightly over a mile from the Kanady family residence in St. Paul, Nebraska. At the time, young (ok, 30-something) Christian Kanady was working on a pet project, an experimental multi-platform homebrew gaming console; he took the brunt of the shockwave, being blasted across his basement apartment and spending much of three weeks in a coma. Upon waking, he sought out just who was responsible for his 'condition' - a gift with retro-technological gadgetry the world has never before seen - and swore revenge on them. That was the day that 8-Bit was born; on that day, a bullet was fired that has just now struck at the heart of our heroes' unit.]
(** - Guardians Story Arc #5, Rising Daran - check it out, it was a doozy! -B.)
[At this moment, Guardian Nightmare is headed back to headquarters to admit she was out of her league at field command and beg her husband (that she believes to be quite ill) and their friend Alex (who she knows may well have finally died of any number of alcohol-related reasons) to save her ass by saving their friends. At Project: Antarctica, however, Polar prepares for a party that's been a long time in coming... for once upon a time***, Guardians Terran Headquarters was the HQ for another team, and today they're having a reunion. Well, most of them... wherever you are out there, Jay Price, we hope you're staying out of trouble. (And wherever you are out there, Steve Orbit... we miss you. We all miss the living hell out of you, man. We'll be here when you get back home, friend- believe that. The universe ain't the same without ya.) For Nightmare, this is a day from hell. But for her husband, it's just...]
(*** - 2013, in a faraway land only whispered of by those brave enough to tell the tales. Or people who feel like making Adam Young jokes. -B.)
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POLAR PHANTASM #10: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, outside. If wearing a t-shirt with your own face emblazoned on it is considered tacky, then no one ever told Frank Patrick Venable. The UCI Backstage Interview Champion of the World stood waiting at the entrance to a place he had not been in in a long time: "Project Antarctica." He stood there, dressed in some moderately distressed black denim pants and a red t-shirt from his days as World Champion. He was busy catching up with an old friend, one Mr. Jeff Purse. His BMX Bike parked outside in the yard, Purse was dressed for maximum comfort in the summer heat. White tank top and shorts. Dude looked suave as always. Both were summoned by their friend Polar to this place, the old Cryogenix hangout, only being told to "dress for a houseparty."]
FPV: How's Kari and the little one?
Purse: Can't complain. Sure Patrick can get...messy...
FPV: Oh I know how much you hate being messy, hehe.
Purse: ...otherwise it's a dream, man. You should find yourself a nice girl and settle down yourself now that you're retired and shit.
FPV: Hehe, good one Jeff. Still as funny as you've always been.
Purse: I'm serious though! Don't you ever think about how good the domestic life can be for you?
FPV: Nah man, after what I've been through these past few years, I think a wife and kid is most certainly out of the question for me.
Purse: Damn shame. I'd think you'd make a good dad.
FPV: Get outta here, that's a lie a lie and you know it!
[The two friends laugh for a moment. From the looks of things they haven't seen each other in quite some time, but the bond between the two former teammates has not been weakened at all. Their laughter is punctuated by the sounds of a roaring '72 Dodge Challenger pulling up to the two men.]
Purse: I'll be. The guy finally showed up.
[The Challenger parks, and out of it steps the immaculate Corey Black. Leaving the door open, we can hear the 90's beats of "Bye Bye Bye" by NSYNC from inside. Purse grimaces while a cheeky little grin appears on Black.]
Black: Together Again, eh boys?
Purse: Seriously, dude?
FPV: Here We Go.
Purse: I get it, I look like Timberlake, that's all yabba dabba, but c'mon, these jokes got old years ago****.
(**** - No, Jeff. No, they didn't. -B.)
Corey Black: Purse my man, you're really Tearin' Up My Heart with this attitude. I mean, I know I Drive Myself Crazy with these jokes and all, but have a little sense of humor man.
Purse: Please stop.
Black: I'll Never Stop. This I Promise You.
[Despite this claim, Black does indeed stop when he sees his old comrade The Polar Phantasm emerge from the entrance to P:A. Tagging along with him is his young son Jeffrey Bankston.]
Phantasm: Welcome back to Cryogenix HQ, guys- been a while, hasn't it?
Purse: Ahh, Cryogenix. That name brings back memories. Of you throwing me out of a plane.
Phantasm: You loved that shit and you know it.
Jeffy: Uncle Jeff! Uncle Frank! Uncle Corey!
FPV: Waddup little man! Been playin that copy of Super Mario World I sent ya?
Jeffy: Yes!
Phantasm: He finally managed to beat Iggy bout two nights ago.
FPV: WOW! Proud of you Jeffy, you're doin great.
Jeffy: Daddy says you used to have Koopa Kid hair.
[Purse and Black snicker; Polar just smiles and shakes his head.]
FPV: That's... really? No way. I did? When?
Black: When we were on this team.
Purse: Yeah, dude. On and off for like, two years. It was kinda your thing.
FPV: Eh... guess I grew out of it.
Phantasm: That's All Right. That Brain Stew of yours probably found the information Redundant.
Purse: No One Knows.
Black: It's not like you're an American Idiot or something.
Phantasm: Yeah, man, don't be a Basket Case. In The End...?
[He puts a hand on Frank's shoulder.]
Phantasm: ...we hope you have the Time of Your Life.
[They all have a laugh except Jeffy (who's completely lost) and Frank (who seems to have missed something).]
FPV: ...is that... Green Day?
[Polar just shakes his head.]
Phantasm: Just fucking around, man. It's all good- none of us remember 2013 that well either. Right guys?
Black: I remember plenty. ...wait... 13. That number's starting to bug me-
Purse: Yeah, odd numbers fuck with me, too.
Black: No, like... the 13th maybe? I was supposed to do something on the 13th. Of... something...
[Polar looks around cursively, just on the off chance this gathering has drawn attention; suddenly he waves the visitors inside exuberantly.]
Phantasm: I'm sure you've all been enjoying the scenery, but it's time to get y'all inside. It's time to party it up like only Cryo can!
Purse: Yeah, Frank- Welcome to Paradise!
[For the first time in far too long, the three old friends heard (the unicorn that is) a laugh out of Corey Black.]
FPV: Green Day? Seriously? What's up with- and Corey started the N'Sync jokes, yet you're picking on me? That's not fair.
Phantasm: Neither is what happens to people when they pick on Corey Black.
[On their way into the elevator bay on Level 1, Jeff Purse stops for a second to reflect on a limerick painted on the wall.]
When dangerous villains arrive
With schemes they are hoping will thrive
Their plans go kaput
As they're crushed under foot
Of the vigilant Guardians five
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[Scene: Howard County, Nebraska; more specifically, an undisclosed location somewhere Farwell, NE. In what appears to be a barn or perhaps factory farm warehouse of some sort, we see a series of oversized plexiglass coffin-like 'pods' lined in rows against a wall. One of these pods contains Bonnie Blue, suspended in some kind of field... in another pod just down the row, Jay Omega suffers the same fate. Both appear to be breathing and even twitching a bit, but are unconscious... or, at least, not conscious in this world. A man in a technician's whites approaches, removing the 'helmet' to reveal his angry bespectacled countenance. He opens a large metal strongbox, flipping through... cartridges? Yup, those are video game cartridges.]
8-Bit: Kid Icarus...? That'd be pretty funny to see. Bad Dudes? Nah, not this time. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, ugh! How the fuck did this get in there? I mean, I'm evil and all, but that's just fuckin' wrong. I hate these two assholes and I wouldn't even threaten them with that fuckin' game. This has some promise, though... ooh, and that. Fuck yeah. You Guardians think you're so bad... let's see how you like fuckin' around with Lord Slick and the Mother Brain.
[He walks over to a bank of NES consoles worked together as a mainframe; he pops open the door of two of them, blowing a bit of dust from the cartridges before inserting them into the slots. He pushes the cartridges down, each clicking slightly as if bread fully inserted into a toaster. He closes the doors... he presses the power buttons, both lighting red lights on their systems dramatically. One of the lights blinks on and off for a second...]
8-Bit: Ah, what is this shit- hold on.
[He presses POWER off, holds the RESET button and presses POWER back on. The light stays on this time.]
8-Bit: Piece of fuckin' 80s bullshit- you better not fuck up. You saw what we did to all those E.T. cartridges, right? Let that be a fuckin' lesson to you.
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[Scene: River City, pixelated state of America; well, sort of. I'd imagine things look a lot more... well, 8-bit on that end... but from in here, things look pretty convincing. At least at first... for instance, the background seems very... flat. There's only a couple of signs and they repeat. Yep- welcome to video game reality, Jay Omega! And this place was programmed in Japan, too- it's gonna get weird. At least you're not in Earthbound or something, right? Waking up in Onett would be a little too much, even for this narrator.]
Omega: If you'd played less video games in high school, you probably would've gotten laid more. You know that, narrator?
[Omega comes to in front of a walled courtyard, a sign reading "CROSSTOWN H.S." before him... and yeah, I know, Megs. Did you know if we spent less time writing this crap we'd probably both get laid more?]
Omega: I'm sad now. I think everybody is sad now. Wow. You're way worse than my usual narrator.
[Your usual narrator gets better pot than I do.]
Omega: Yeah you right.
[...and now you're all stealing my shtick. Christ, I love this team. Oh, yeah, forgot- a couple of stereotypical 'beat-em-up' game thugs come out of nowhere (or, from our pixelated POV, from off-screen) and address Omega as their mouths randomly move up and down.]
Cody: Hey, Ryan! Slick has kidnapped your girlfriend, he's holding her on top of River City High- good luck gettin' her back... you're in for the fight of your life!
[They charge toward Omega haphazardly, giving him plenty of options on how to dispense with them.]
Omega: Oh, shit, thanks man!
[Jay ducks a wild windmill punch, plugging the first thug with two heavy kicks to the gut. A huge left cross spins Jay about 90 degrees, but knocks another thug into a wall... they both get up and lope towards him once more.]
Omega: Bring it on, you pseudo-manga humonculoids!
[Omega leaps in with a jumpkick, flooring the first thug; the second thug leaps onto his back, but gets smacked twice into a wall before being laid out with a pretty sweet looking Diamond Cutter.]
Cody: AWOURG!
Dirk: BARF!
[The two thugs blink a few times, then turn into piles of change that bounce on the street and roll around. About eighty-four cents lies at Omega's feet as he laughs, shaking his head.]
Omega: I hadn't played this game for so long I totally forgot they say "BARF" when they die.
[And then they turn into change.]
Omega: And they turn into change.
[Yeah, it's some serious Japanese video game shit. Just go with it.]
Omega: Of course. I might've forgotten a few things in my life, but... no matter where I end up, Jay Omega never forgets how to kick ass.
[Now do one of those 'huge anime smile with the fingers in a V' poses.]
Omega: No!
[Well fine then. No more scene for you, buddy.]
Omega: Fine! I'm gonna go punch dudes until they turn into like, twenty or thirty bucks, and then I'm going to the mall!
[You should get a couple more bucks and find a bookstore, get a fight manual.]
Omega: Oh yeah?! I mean... yeah. That's a good idea, actually. Uh... which one should-
[The scene fades to black.]
Omega: -wait, what? Hey!
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, spare room. Though it's only heard faintly in this spare bedroom, once FPV and Polar open the door and enter, loud and powerful metal music playing from the hologym threatens to permanently damage both men's eardrums. Both men take a moment to decompress and cover their ears.]
FPV: Gawd damn, I had forgotten how loud it was in there.
Phantasm: I know man, Corey and his Dethfort Metal Concert Power Fantasies ain't no place a young Jeffy belongs.
FPV: But if it's a metal concert then why was Taylor Swift there?
Phantasm: Don't ask me, that's all Corey.
FPV: Uh huh. Well actually, now that I have you to myself, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.
Phantasm: You want an interview? I mean sure, I wouldn't mind doin' one right now.
FPV: Well I mean I do want an interview, but legit though, there's this...odd feeling I've been having lately, and I was hoping you could clear it up.
Phantasm: Uhh, I'm a little spooked, but go on.
[Frank takes a seat on the twin bed in the room while Polar remains standing, looking down curiously at his friend.]
FPV: So I know we've been friends for a feww years now, but a few months ago, shortly before UCI opened, I got this odd feeling about you, dig? Like, I feel you just kinda vanished for a hot second then came back, and from where, I don't know. But something seems off, some slight little minute detail feels different about you, and to be quite Frank, I can't put my finger on it.
Phantasm: Huh. So that's your question?
FPV: I'm hoping you may have an answer?
Phantasm: I may, but it's a long story.
FPV: Gimme the Cliffnotes version then.
[Polar takes in a deep sigh, and then quickly explains to his friend what the deal is.]
Phantasm: Okay so I'll be completely honest and say that I'm not originally from this Universe we're in right now. I'm from another place way way out in the cosmos or some shit like that, I don't know. I left it for reasons I don't really wanna go into right now, but suffice to say this place is my home now. I figured there was a Cameron Bankston in this universe somewhere, I dunno what happened to him though. He must be dead, cause if he wasn't he'd have shown up by now, so I guess I'm glad Bonnie, Jay and showed up when we did. So yeah, if that's why you were feeling off about me, that's why. As crazy as it may sound, it's the truth.
FPV: OH. Okay, that makes perfect sense then.
[There's a slightly awkward pause.]
Phantasm: Wait...you really believe me?
FPV: Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?
Phantasm: I was expecting a more...animated reaction I guess.
FPV: It's exciting for sure, and maybe some day when we're not interviewing each other you can elaborate for me.
Phantasm: Oh damn, that's right, you need an interview. Wanna try out that..."style" of promo I've been talking about?
FPV: Damn straight. Good practice for when we get back the Hologym from Corey.
[Frank gets up off the bed and reaches into his front pocket, taking his cellphone out to begin a new voice memo.]
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FPV: This is 'Dank' Frank Venable, and I'm here with America's sweetheart the Polar Phantasm... Polar, you've got a big tag match this week, tell us about it!
Phantasm: Well, you know, Dank Frank - Bonnie and I have been hittin' the gym, brother, takin' our vitamins, drinking lots of milk to keep our bones nice and strong... all you kids out there, if you wanna be big and tough like the Polarmaniac, you gotta stay off the drugs and get eight hours sleep every night!
FPV: Shit- Cam, there's no way I'm keeping a straight face for this. You telling people to stay off drugs and get sleep... shit, how can YOU keep a straight face for this?
Phantasm: Oh man, you have no idea how hard that was to pull off. Shit, maybe we try this again later when we can get Alex to be the Macho Man.
FPV: Should we keep going?
Phantasm: Fuck yeah, we keep going. If I don't include a certain amount of obligatory trash-talk into promos the pro wrestling gods will kill my first-born child.
FPV: Wait, really?!
Phantasm: Of course not. You just end up losing to someone who shows up three hours before the match and blathers for twenty minutes about how great they are. Kinda makes you wonder why we put so much work into the business, doesn't it?
FPV: Yeah, that is pretty f'ed up, man. I've been around a long time, and I don't think I've ever seen a team as devastating as your crew, Polar...
Phantasm: ...there is not a team in this company that can even come close to the level of teamwork you see in the Guardians. Seriously, Frank- name me one team. Hell, name me one legit tag team in this company! ...you can't do it, can you?
FPV: Well, there's your opponents this week-
Phantasm: Yeah, they're a team... for this week... either by attrition or by poor planning, one or the other. I don't even see them being able to act as a cohesive unit... then again, I just always assume one-note shit-heels are always one second away from turning on each other in desperate hope someone will pay attention to them. It's fuckin' pitiful, Frank. I mean, these guys aren't even Kyle Cameron-level bitch-heels, you know? They're real green, they're real hungry... but that doesn't mean shit when it comes to being a tag team.
FPV: The best teams are the ones who think alike.
Phantasm: Exactly; it's all about being on the same page. Bonnie Blue and I? We've been living in the same compound, eating meals together, training together, fighting battles together in the ring and out of the ring- sometimes way, way out of the ring- and it shows. Then there's her intuition; it's like she knows what's happening next, Frank. It's amazing shit.
FPV: I've heard that about her, yeah...
Phantasm: Throw in my usual manner, dissecting opponents before- and during- matches... boom, you've got a team that knows what you're gonna do before you do it and already have six strategies on how to counter it. It's not even fair, Franky- seriously, even when Crystal and I were teaming up we didn't click like this. And don't ever tell her I said that; she would never forgive me for that, no matter how true it is.
FPV: So let's get into it then... you got any strategy planned for dealing with Mercury and Fausse?
Phantasm: Mercury...? I wasn't even sure that guy still worked here 'til I saw the card. Seriously, did he just get re-hired or something? I haven't seen that guy around in a minute, and I've been all over the place. He wasn't even in space, man. That guy's just...gone. At least, that's what I thought- what does it tell you about the tag team competition in this company that Management has to scrape up this jobber?
FPV: At least they're trying...?
Phantasm: Don't get me wrong, the guy's got the basics down; he's definitely a worker, though he's probably not ready for the UCI environment. He could probably use a tour of Japan or something; does a body good, right Frank?
FPV: Shit, I've been back for months now and I'm still feeling those knife-edged chops, man.
Phantasm: See? That's the kinda shit this kid needs in his life. He's just out of his depth. I mean, what's his deal? What is he, an assassin or something? Haven't we already had like, three of those? Haven't we already had a tag team of assassins? Come on, kid- I liked the Hitman games as much as anybody, but you're not even Asher Bradley.
FPV: Wow. I completely forgot about that guy-
Phantasm: Pretty sad that we lost that guy and still have Julian fuckin' Mercury riding the bench. And Fausse... man, don't even get me started.
FPV: G'head, Cam- get down wit' yo bad self.
Phantasm: Yeah you right. Look, there's overrated and then there's overrated with an exclamation point... and then there's Erin Fausse.
FPV: Ouch.
Phantasm: I'm just being real, man- isn't that what a 'shoot' is? Christ, as much as that word gets tossed around in this company you'd think someone might actually, you know, fucking say something useful when they're 'shooting'.
FPV: Church.
Phantasm: Back to Fausse, unfortunately. Again, not a bad worker, but... Christ, who are you fucking?
FPV: Not me- no way I'm getting near that.
Phantasm: Seriously, my guess? Any push she's gotten in this company has likely started on her back. Fausse... you have shown me absolutely nothing I haven't seen five dozen times before. Your promos sound like you're an emo teen girl Oblivion. They sound like LiveJournal entries from 1998. You are absolutely the worst; I am not exaggerating. I honestly hope I don't have to deal with you again for at least the next few years of my wrestling career, if only because it will keep me from having to sit through the whiny dreck that comes out of your mouth.
[Polar shakes his head as if shaming someone; we can only guess who he is ashamed of.]
Phantasm: No, it's no mystery- I'm ashamed of being in this match, because I'm gonna be mentioned all week in the same breath as Erin Fausse. See this look? This look of extreme disappointment? It's probably a look you've gotten from your parents regularly throughout your life, and it's a look you'll get from every wrestling promoter you work for soon as they get tired of fucking you. It's a look that says 'oh. yuck.' There've been maybe five or six people in my entire career I've felt like this about, tops. Seriously, Bonnie and I would have a better match against Mercury and a broom. And that's saying something- Mercury barely rates higher than a broom, so theoretically the UCI fans would get more out of Bonnie and I wrestling aisle 8 at ACE Hardware. I mean, I already had you figured out, as far as ring-work goes... both you and your enhancement-talent partner are less challenging to solve than a sudoku puzzle.
FPV: We talking a Sunday New York Times here, or-
Phantasm: The dime-a-dozen kind you find in one of those dollar store puzzle books.
FPV: Oof. Old ladies solve those on the bus.
Phantasm: What I can't figure out is what you're playing at being; what, are you supposed to be a lunatic? A prophet? A zealot? An apostle? The antichrist? I've dealt with all of that shit before at one time or another; seriously, you would've fit right in where I came from. There were four or five cookie-cutter spooky kids who all sound exactly like you; none of them were girls, though, so you'd be a shoe-in so long as you don't mind being the token female member of the grumbly ghoul's heel chorus.
FPV: ...where did you come from, anyway?
Phantasm: Frank, stop fucking with me- I'm on a roll here.
FPV: Heard that; roll with it.
Phantasm: At least you're tagged up with another one-trick pony; between your two tricks you've at least got a shot at making this match look interesting on something other than paper. Honestly, Fausse, if you want some advice- and we both know you could use some- take a couple months and figure out just what you're supposed to be. It's obvious you don't have a clue... which is forgiveable. You're young, you're 'unhinged' or whatever... you've got a lot of growing into yourself to do, and I hope you do it. Maybe find someone worth a fuck you could latch onto, get some direction. And, you know, sponge heat off of. But you're going nowhere fast right now, and you're gonna sink like an anchor with your dead weight partner tied to your fuckin' ankle.
FPV: I've already forgotten who she's tagging with. Asher Bradley, right?
Phantasm: He fucking wishes. So go ahead; get to your grumbly emo bullshit promo. Take twenty, hell, thirty minutes of our viewers' lives away from them with the auditory skidmarks you call 'promotional segments'. But when you do, know this; there is not a thing that you can say that will scare me. My wife tried to stab me the day we met, and she was aiming to kill... I've dealt with crazy women, and not just in passing. In the last four years I've gotten so good at that shit I'm like a fuckin' bomb squad technician by now. You wanna talk scary, Fausse? I cut my teeth in this business fending off Nathan von Liebert. You're a fucking Muppet Baby compared to that bastard. You'd better sell your soul to Satan in a televised promo if you even want to raise my eyebrow slightly, and even then he'll probably think twice about helping you once you tell him you're going up against the Phantasm. We've got old business to take care of, and he's really not gonna want to fuck with me now that I could freeze him right out of house and home.
FPV: Anything else, man?
Phantasm: Nah, I think I'm good. Could use a shower, though... took one this morning, but... I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to wash those Fausse promos off me.
FPV: How many did you watch?
Phantasm: All of them. It was like sitting through every goth I dated in high school's poetry... all four years' worth, all in one sitting.
FPV: The shit we put up with for professional wrestling, eh?
Phantasm: And I didn't even get to tie a chick to her radiator with her own clothes afterwards.
[Frank looks at Polar with a smirk.]
Phantasm: Alright, so I surprised the hell out of Crystal when I did it; not that she complained, mind you-
FPV: Yeah, I figured this story would get there, eventually...
---------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Upper Brinstar, Planet Zebes. The terrain is rocky all around; it appears that we are in some sort of an underground cavern, though one could guess we're near the planet's surface judging by the (sparse, but still) alien foliage growing up from the stony outcroppings everywhere. Upon what appears to be the platform for some sort of alien elevator, Bonnie Blue stands from a kneel... when she gives herself a once-over, she finds that she's wearing some sort of a power suit (for which she's holding a helmet) and that one of her arms is a blaster cannon of some sort.]
Bonnie: Either this is serious overkill... or I have no earthly idea how underarmed I am for this place. Where the heck am I, anyhow? It ain't Earth, for one- or Aja Darrik, either, or no part of it we've seen.
[She puts on the helmet, its display popping up with directional readouts and the like... she hops down from the platform, feeling the spring in her boots. On a lark, she jumps and her boots assist her into an extra-high front-flip jump... and then a second, at the peak of her jump. She bounds into a stalactite, but her suit insulates her from the impact... and the subsequent fall. She picks herself up and checks herself again, seeing no damage.]
Bonnie: Guess I'm not goin' out of here up, anyway. Maybe there's somethin' down this embankment.
[She flips down a high wall, looking back up and realizing she's not getting back up there without help of some kind. She heads through two massive caverns filled with these reptilian-looking bats with very sharp-looking wings; as she approaches they begin to dive at her, two striking and drilling a bit into the ground before exploding and throwing her back about five feet. She checks herself again, noticing how little damage she took from the exploding bladed lizard bat things... upon hearing a 'skreeee' from above, she looks up to see two more incoming.]
Bonnie: Not this time, you turkeys!
[She lets forth a volley of shots, vaporizing one 'bat' and causing the second to crash into a rock and splatter across the terrain. She leaps over a pit of what appears to be acid, landing against what seems like one solid block wall. Upon further inspection, she sees a hole less than a foot and a half in height; as she attempts to crawl into the hole, her suit transforms her into a dense sphere and she finds herself rolling through the hole at speed. Dizzily, she drops something; wondering what she could've possibly been holding, she begins to head back toward the object just in time to be thrown even faster forward by its explosion.]
Bonnie: Whhhaa---eeeeeee!!!!!!
[She comes flying out of the tube at serious speed, dropping a few more bombs in her wake. Their explosions alert something to her presence; a growling, insectoid sound greets Bonnie as she unfurls herself and reaches a vertical base.]
Bonnie: Sounds like I'm about to make some new friends.
[She looks down at her arm cannon inquistively.]
Bonnie: Wonder what this button does...?
Space Pirate (in an insectoid hiss): No one ssssurvivesss the planet Zzzssebesss!
[...a pair of green insectoid warriors attack, entering suddenly from a pipe-like opening in the ceiling; Bonnie aims her arm cannon, now gleaming with light energy that seems to be bending into the cannon's barrel as if it possessed the gravity of a black hole. She fires a tremendous blast from her right arm, bursting a space pirate at the midsection and causing fragments of him to hit the ceiling. The second pirate lands about three feet from Bonnie, who is still slightly reeling from just how damn cool the Charge Beam is; the pirate whacks her with a claw-like arm, knocking her slightly backwards and to one knee. Rebounding quickly, she pushes a button on her arm-cannon... its barrel opens like a claw, launching a missile into the space pirate's chest carrying it about twenty-five feet before blasting it to smithereens. Climbing up from a kneel yet again, this time without the confusion, Bonnie can't help but indulge a cowboy fantasy. She lifts her visor and blows a bit of 'smoke' from her arm cannon, giving a wink.]
Bonnie: You know... a girl could get used to this.
------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica, outside. As she makes her way to the entrance of her home, Crystal Bankston begins panicking even harder then before. How is she going to explain to her husband, who she believes is currently sleeping without a care in the world, that she fucked up the one mission he let her be on? Shee hasn't got the time to answer that question, as she frantically enters the base.]
Nightmare: Cameron? Alex? It's me, Crystal. I need to talk to you guys, some real shit's going down-
[Her plea for help is drowned out into an ocean of 90's party music, which she can hear coming from within the hologym. She once again calls out Cameron's name, but this time in a more confused tone.]
Nightmare: Cameron? Alex? Are you fuckers pulling a fast one on me?
[As she steps into the hologym, she finds not only her husband Cameron, her son Jeffy, and one Alex Richards, but also Frank Patrick Venable, Jeff Purse, and Corey Black, all getting down to the FUNNNNNNKKKYYYYY beats of House of Pain's classic "Jump Around." The first thing she hears upon entering is her son singing along to the chorus.]
Jeffy: Jump! Jump! Jump! Everybody jump!
[Despite all being grown ass adults, the rest of the party obey the young three year old's commands and jump around like fuckin' crazy. Cameron stops, however, when he sees his wife looking at him dead on.]
Phantasm: OH. Uhhh...hi honey! I'm all better now! Hi!
Nightmare: Cameron, normally I'd be royally P.O'd at you for pulling a fast one on me, but not tonight. I fucked up royally, and luckily it looks like the calvary's already here to help us out.
[Glad his wife is not angry at him for a change, the Polar Phantasm immediately springs into action.]
Phantasm: What happened babe?
Nightmare: We went to investigate the signals, when all of a sudden we got attacked by space invaders. Literal space invaders, like the video game.
Phantasm: So like giant floating Atari sprites?
Nightmare: Mmmhmm. I was the only one to escape, they took Bonnie and Jay to god knows where.
Phantasm: Oh man, that's heavy. Nothing we can't handle though. Who's with me guys? We're gonna need a team for this one!
[The music comes to a screeching halt as the hologym goes from the party atmosphere back to it's default state. Purse steps up, looking confused.]
Purse: I thought you said we were just hanging out today, Cam! What's all this "space invader" nonsense about?
Phantasm: Come on, Jeff- what's a Cryogenix party without a life or death mission involved?
Black: What, Purse, you got rusty or something?
FPV: Exactly, duderino. It wouldn't be a Polar party without us having to get into some shit, you know this.
Richards: Am I coming on this mission too?
Phantasm: Of course, man; Cryogenix was a six-man team, you're gonna have to take Steve's spot.
Black: Wait, he's our Orbit for this mission?! Cam, you gotta be fuckin' with me.
Purse: Took the words out of my mouth, Corey.
Phantasm: Actually, he's perfect... for this mission, we're not gonna need a flamboyant mouthpiece so much as clever motherfuckers that think outside the box. And that's Alex to a tee...
[In the middle of his speech, Cameron (and the rest of the team) seem to have...misplaced Alex, as he's suddenly no longer around. However, knowing his invisibility powers will come in handy, no one seems to be worried. Polar then smirks before making his way out of the Hologym.]
Phantasm: C'mon guys, we've got some Guardians to save.
-------------------------------------------------
TWO BITS, FOUR BITS, 8-BIT, DISASTER
Series conceived by the Polar Phantasm
Series directed by the Polar Phantasm
Episode Two: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
Episode written by Frank Patrick Venable and the Polar Phantasm
'The Guardians' created by Bonnie Blue, Jay Omega and the Polar Phantasm
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. Jeff Purse and Corey Black appear courtesy of us being huge marks. All rights reserved.]
As always, we urge you to read these pieces in the order in which they occur (and not necessarily the order they're posted- our bad on that, but y'all know how it goes). In fact, I'll go ahead and run down a table of contents for ya!
Guardians: Two Bits, Four Bits, 8-Bit, Disaster
Episode One: The Crystal Method
Written by: Bonnie Blue
Episode Two: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
Written by: Frank Patrick Venable and the Polar Phantasm
(big props to Frank for holding it down for the old Cryogenix gang... and the interview!)
Episode Three: Guardians Entertainment System
Written by: Jay Omega
Episode Four: Cryogenix Rides Again
Written by: Alex Richards
We, the Guardians, truly hope you enjoy Two Bits, Four Bits, 8-Bit, Disaster... this guy, though, not so much.
-B.
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, Colorado; more specifically, the bedroom of the Unstable Elements. We watch as Cameron Bankston, the Polar Phantasm, sleeps comfortably in his bed... the silence is deafening. Camera cuts to various locations in the compound... conference room, empty. Foyer, empty; we notice that where once there was a haiku painted on a wall there is now a limerick (though unreadable at this distance). Common area, living quarters... empty, table still covered in empty bottles, playing cards and an ashtray containing enough roaches to fuel production of a James Franco film. We cut back to Polar, who slowly opens his eyes... he rises, squinting one eye and cupping one ear as he strains to hear the distant rumbling of people. Suddenly, he blinks... and smiles a smile of surprise and joy.]
Phantasm: They bought it!
[...a sly smile crosses his face.]
Phantasm: One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Just 'cause the Kid done grown up don't mean I ain't still the Kid. Eye-Seven, do it.
["We Care a Lot" by Faith No More begins playing; the lights in the room come on, door to the hallway opening... lights come on in the common area, bringing it from comfortable homey glow to full-on daylight sun in a half-second. Polar looks through the door into his underground bunker's 'living room'...]
Phantasm: What a beautiful day!
[He turns away from the doorway, looking right into the 'camera'.]
Phantasm: Wives always fall for the clammy hands. It's physical evidence of illness, and it's a good non-specific symptom. And way easy to pull off when you just have to feel 'cold' and you just kinda do that anyway... bonus points. There's ways to go for non-Phantasms, too- if you're throwing up chunks of stuff, you might get an easy pass. Nobody wants to take a guy who's blowing chunks on the regular out into the field with them, dig? But there's always the chance you have the kinda teammates that are worrisome- not a bad thing, per se, unless they're convinced you're dying of food poisoning or something. That shit could get you a quick trip to the hospital... and if you're in Chicago, you'd better go Northside. The Southside's got like one hospital for nine hundred thousand people, and a quarter of them have sucking chest wounds at any given time. Just saying, you may be there a while. For the rest of you, what with your still having heat signatures, fever's always a quick go-to. But that plan can go sideways quick, especially if you're a guy like me with a wife like her... far as Nightmare's concerned, if you're not dying of something, you'd better get your ass up and fight. You'd pretty much have to have a melting forehead to get out of that. Same thing goes for sex; you know what, I'll save that conversation for later.
[We cut to Cameron in a hallway, headed toward the bathroom... as we enter, we see that the bathroom is littered with Crystal's various 'products'. Cam begins stripping as the 'camera' focuses on him from about chest-up.]
Phantasm: Ahh. So this is like... I don't know, if you count being out of wrestling for like most of the last three years... my 299th sick day? Shit. If I go for 300 I'm gonna have to barf up a lung or something, so I'd better make this one count.
[He turns on the shower, testing the water a bit with his hand... from the lack of steam coming up from the blast, we can assume he's got the water nice and chilly.]
Phantasm: I don't care if you're fifty-five or seven, everybody needs a day off now and then. How can I be expected to handle being a Guardian on a day like this?
[Camera cuts to outside Project: Antarctica's blast door, panning across the beautiful Rocky Mountains. When we cut back, Polar is soaping himself in the shower.]
Phantasm: I mean, don't get me wrong- being a Guardian is the most important thing in my life after being father to my son and husband to my wife. This team is family by choice, but... they're still family. That's part of why I knew they'd be fine without me for this one, whatever it ends up being... there's nothing big on the radar, we haven't heard from von Liebert in a while-
[He covers the 'camera' as he washes his nethers. As he finishes up, he uncovers the camera and takes a twirl through the shower blast.]
Phantasm: -so I figure they can handle having Crystal run point for a gig, at least the once*. You know?
(* - Oh, Polar, you ignorant fool... check out Part One of this series, Bonnie Blue's The Crystal Method, for the hot little slice of madness Polar called in sick to... -B.)
[We cut to the hallway again; Polar is wearing a towel on his head, as well as around his waist. He heads back towards his quarters, continuing his monologue.]
Phantasm: Not that I don't want to lead my team- I love being the Guardians' mastermind the same way I love being alive and the Polar Phantasm. It's just... I mean, even God took a day off, right? You know, the theoretical one, not that guy in the trenchcoat. He's taken way more days off than that... haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?!
[He looks around, pausing for a moment... he snickers.]
Phantasm: See? He's taking one now.
[Cut to Polar, dressed casually in a white t-shirt reading "DEFEND NEW ORLEANS" and a pair of blue sweatpants... he is attempting to dress young Jeffy Bankston, still groggy from his slumber.]
Phantasm: I'm not a religious person; that should be obvious, really, as I've mentioned before that I went to Catholic school. That's basically a factory for atheists. I just... anytime I think I'm done with this whole 'god and creator' thing, guy who looks like Lucien shows up like "Hey, here's a bunch more shit you should know that'll melt your brain like it's crammed in a microwave. Love you, bye!"
Jeffy: Daddy, what's an 'athiest'?
Phantasm: I would say your mom and I, but... it's hard to say there is no god when you keep tripping over him on missions.
Iceberg-Seven: Your pardon, user 'Polar Phantasm', but this unit has information for you. Guests have arrived at location 'Project: Antarctica'.
Phantasm: Mornin' Eye-Seven; you're not gonna rat me out to the team, are you?
Iceberg-Seven: Users 'Jay Omega', 'Nightmare' and 'Bonnie Blue' are off-site; will omit visual and auditory records of this afternoon on your orders. User 'Alex Richards' is unconscious somewhere on Level 2.
Phantasm: Eh, he'll wake up eventually- he's probably gonna love this. Who we got at the front door, Eye-Seven?
Iceberg-Seven: Scanners are indicating three life-forms; all three showing as registered users of location 'Project: Antarctica'. Defensive systems are idle; awaiting command.
Phantasm: Come on, Jeffy- let's go say hi to your Uncles. Don't just idle there, Eye-Seven; get your Sunday best on, we've got company!
--------------------------------------------
"Life moves pretty fast sometimes... if you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it." -Ferris Bueller's Day Off
"(We care a lot) about the Garbage Pail Kids, they never lie
(We care a lot) about Transformers 'cause they're more than meets the eye
(We care a lot) about the little things, the bigger things we top
(We care a lot) about you people, yeah you bet we care a lot-
Yeah!" - Faith No More, We Care A Lot
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!
Offbeat. Outlandish. Bizarre. These are just some of the words used to describe him, though they barely scratch the surface. The surreal is commonplace in his world, and random chance seems to be either his best friend or his guardian angel. Mimsy were the borogroves, and flubbity-wub-wub, flubbity-flubba-wub. What you see as gibberish makes perfect sense to... THE ARCHDUKE OF MASS CONFUSION, ALEX RICHARDS!
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 time, crossed dimensions, fought 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 is the Polar Phantasm; calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent. She is Nightmare; virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... and somehow raise their young son Jeffrey along the way! They are... THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
Achieving greatness first as a BMX champion and then as a professional wrestler, he is a man many would say conquered apprehension and fear; those would be people, of course, who haven't met the obsessive compulsive young father. He's a germophobe. He's a daredevil. He's a legend of the past and a hero of the present; he is THE FUTURE, JEFF PURSE!
By day, he masquerades as Creeping Death, fighter in the Yakuza-run Chicago Puroresu League... by night, he stalks the rooftops of Chicago looking for weak points in their organization and earning a reputation as the bane of Japanese pimps city-wide. Behave, Windy City... you're being watched by THE AVENGER, COREY BLACK!
He was a terror of the squared circle, known worldwide as a man who could snap at any moment and become a whirlwind of 'Headshots'... after one more run in Japan, he hung up his boots and took on a career as an interviewer. The jury is still out as to whether or not being on the other side of things has at all curbed his pension for punting as puncutation. He's over there; oh, yeah, and he's over there, and... you know, it's best not to ask too many questions when talking about FRANK PATRICK VENABLE!
[Accidents do happen, don't they? We can all agree; sometimes things happen that nobody could've foreseen, and sometimes the consequences are impossibly grievous. I mean, not all accidents are unhappy ones; Viagra, for instance, failed as a blood pressure medication... but it sure worked wonders for erectile dysfunction, didn't it? But then there are those accidents we can all agree are pretty unhappy ones; for instance, Bayer Pharmaceuticals thought they'd created a wonder drug to cure morphine addiction when they'd invented heroin. Yep... as the saying goes, you break a few eggs every time you make an omelet. That said... what, pray tell, would happen if one of those eggs' shells happened to somehow then go on to try and kill your family and friends? Have I gone too far off the mark here? Already? Well, damn. Let me backtrack a bit.]
[It was... perhaps a month or so ago, I believe, when the Guardians made first contact with the Darrikaan Empire**. During their introductions, the Darrikaan scout ship fired on the team and was blasted in the fracas... a decent-sized chunk of the alien (deludium) metal based craft crashed into a power station slightly over a mile from the Kanady family residence in St. Paul, Nebraska. At the time, young (ok, 30-something) Christian Kanady was working on a pet project, an experimental multi-platform homebrew gaming console; he took the brunt of the shockwave, being blasted across his basement apartment and spending much of three weeks in a coma. Upon waking, he sought out just who was responsible for his 'condition' - a gift with retro-technological gadgetry the world has never before seen - and swore revenge on them. That was the day that 8-Bit was born; on that day, a bullet was fired that has just now struck at the heart of our heroes' unit.]
(** - Guardians Story Arc #5, Rising Daran - check it out, it was a doozy! -B.)
[At this moment, Guardian Nightmare is headed back to headquarters to admit she was out of her league at field command and beg her husband (that she believes to be quite ill) and their friend Alex (who she knows may well have finally died of any number of alcohol-related reasons) to save her ass by saving their friends. At Project: Antarctica, however, Polar prepares for a party that's been a long time in coming... for once upon a time***, Guardians Terran Headquarters was the HQ for another team, and today they're having a reunion. Well, most of them... wherever you are out there, Jay Price, we hope you're staying out of trouble. (And wherever you are out there, Steve Orbit... we miss you. We all miss the living hell out of you, man. We'll be here when you get back home, friend- believe that. The universe ain't the same without ya.) For Nightmare, this is a day from hell. But for her husband, it's just...]
(*** - 2013, in a faraway land only whispered of by those brave enough to tell the tales. Or people who feel like making Adam Young jokes. -B.)
------------------------------------------------------
POLAR PHANTASM #10: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
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[Scene: Project: Antarctica, outside. If wearing a t-shirt with your own face emblazoned on it is considered tacky, then no one ever told Frank Patrick Venable. The UCI Backstage Interview Champion of the World stood waiting at the entrance to a place he had not been in in a long time: "Project Antarctica." He stood there, dressed in some moderately distressed black denim pants and a red t-shirt from his days as World Champion. He was busy catching up with an old friend, one Mr. Jeff Purse. His BMX Bike parked outside in the yard, Purse was dressed for maximum comfort in the summer heat. White tank top and shorts. Dude looked suave as always. Both were summoned by their friend Polar to this place, the old Cryogenix hangout, only being told to "dress for a houseparty."]
FPV: How's Kari and the little one?
Purse: Can't complain. Sure Patrick can get...messy...
FPV: Oh I know how much you hate being messy, hehe.
Purse: ...otherwise it's a dream, man. You should find yourself a nice girl and settle down yourself now that you're retired and shit.
FPV: Hehe, good one Jeff. Still as funny as you've always been.
Purse: I'm serious though! Don't you ever think about how good the domestic life can be for you?
FPV: Nah man, after what I've been through these past few years, I think a wife and kid is most certainly out of the question for me.
Purse: Damn shame. I'd think you'd make a good dad.
FPV: Get outta here, that's a lie a lie and you know it!
[The two friends laugh for a moment. From the looks of things they haven't seen each other in quite some time, but the bond between the two former teammates has not been weakened at all. Their laughter is punctuated by the sounds of a roaring '72 Dodge Challenger pulling up to the two men.]
Purse: I'll be. The guy finally showed up.
[The Challenger parks, and out of it steps the immaculate Corey Black. Leaving the door open, we can hear the 90's beats of "Bye Bye Bye" by NSYNC from inside. Purse grimaces while a cheeky little grin appears on Black.]
Black: Together Again, eh boys?
Purse: Seriously, dude?
FPV: Here We Go.
Purse: I get it, I look like Timberlake, that's all yabba dabba, but c'mon, these jokes got old years ago****.
(**** - No, Jeff. No, they didn't. -B.)
Corey Black: Purse my man, you're really Tearin' Up My Heart with this attitude. I mean, I know I Drive Myself Crazy with these jokes and all, but have a little sense of humor man.
Purse: Please stop.
Black: I'll Never Stop. This I Promise You.
[Despite this claim, Black does indeed stop when he sees his old comrade The Polar Phantasm emerge from the entrance to P:A. Tagging along with him is his young son Jeffrey Bankston.]
Phantasm: Welcome back to Cryogenix HQ, guys- been a while, hasn't it?
Purse: Ahh, Cryogenix. That name brings back memories. Of you throwing me out of a plane.
Phantasm: You loved that shit and you know it.
Jeffy: Uncle Jeff! Uncle Frank! Uncle Corey!
FPV: Waddup little man! Been playin that copy of Super Mario World I sent ya?
Jeffy: Yes!
Phantasm: He finally managed to beat Iggy bout two nights ago.
FPV: WOW! Proud of you Jeffy, you're doin great.
Jeffy: Daddy says you used to have Koopa Kid hair.
[Purse and Black snicker; Polar just smiles and shakes his head.]
FPV: That's... really? No way. I did? When?
Black: When we were on this team.
Purse: Yeah, dude. On and off for like, two years. It was kinda your thing.
FPV: Eh... guess I grew out of it.
Phantasm: That's All Right. That Brain Stew of yours probably found the information Redundant.
Purse: No One Knows.
Black: It's not like you're an American Idiot or something.
Phantasm: Yeah, man, don't be a Basket Case. In The End...?
[He puts a hand on Frank's shoulder.]
Phantasm: ...we hope you have the Time of Your Life.
[They all have a laugh except Jeffy (who's completely lost) and Frank (who seems to have missed something).]
FPV: ...is that... Green Day?
[Polar just shakes his head.]
Phantasm: Just fucking around, man. It's all good- none of us remember 2013 that well either. Right guys?
Black: I remember plenty. ...wait... 13. That number's starting to bug me-
Purse: Yeah, odd numbers fuck with me, too.
Black: No, like... the 13th maybe? I was supposed to do something on the 13th. Of... something...
[Polar looks around cursively, just on the off chance this gathering has drawn attention; suddenly he waves the visitors inside exuberantly.]
Phantasm: I'm sure you've all been enjoying the scenery, but it's time to get y'all inside. It's time to party it up like only Cryo can!
Purse: Yeah, Frank- Welcome to Paradise!
[For the first time in far too long, the three old friends heard (the unicorn that is) a laugh out of Corey Black.]
FPV: Green Day? Seriously? What's up with- and Corey started the N'Sync jokes, yet you're picking on me? That's not fair.
Phantasm: Neither is what happens to people when they pick on Corey Black.
[On their way into the elevator bay on Level 1, Jeff Purse stops for a second to reflect on a limerick painted on the wall.]
When dangerous villains arrive
With schemes they are hoping will thrive
Their plans go kaput
As they're crushed under foot
Of the vigilant Guardians five
---------------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Howard County, Nebraska; more specifically, an undisclosed location somewhere Farwell, NE. In what appears to be a barn or perhaps factory farm warehouse of some sort, we see a series of oversized plexiglass coffin-like 'pods' lined in rows against a wall. One of these pods contains Bonnie Blue, suspended in some kind of field... in another pod just down the row, Jay Omega suffers the same fate. Both appear to be breathing and even twitching a bit, but are unconscious... or, at least, not conscious in this world. A man in a technician's whites approaches, removing the 'helmet' to reveal his angry bespectacled countenance. He opens a large metal strongbox, flipping through... cartridges? Yup, those are video game cartridges.]
8-Bit: Kid Icarus...? That'd be pretty funny to see. Bad Dudes? Nah, not this time. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, ugh! How the fuck did this get in there? I mean, I'm evil and all, but that's just fuckin' wrong. I hate these two assholes and I wouldn't even threaten them with that fuckin' game. This has some promise, though... ooh, and that. Fuck yeah. You Guardians think you're so bad... let's see how you like fuckin' around with Lord Slick and the Mother Brain.
[He walks over to a bank of NES consoles worked together as a mainframe; he pops open the door of two of them, blowing a bit of dust from the cartridges before inserting them into the slots. He pushes the cartridges down, each clicking slightly as if bread fully inserted into a toaster. He closes the doors... he presses the power buttons, both lighting red lights on their systems dramatically. One of the lights blinks on and off for a second...]
8-Bit: Ah, what is this shit- hold on.
[He presses POWER off, holds the RESET button and presses POWER back on. The light stays on this time.]
8-Bit: Piece of fuckin' 80s bullshit- you better not fuck up. You saw what we did to all those E.T. cartridges, right? Let that be a fuckin' lesson to you.
---------------------------------------
[Scene: River City, pixelated state of America; well, sort of. I'd imagine things look a lot more... well, 8-bit on that end... but from in here, things look pretty convincing. At least at first... for instance, the background seems very... flat. There's only a couple of signs and they repeat. Yep- welcome to video game reality, Jay Omega! And this place was programmed in Japan, too- it's gonna get weird. At least you're not in Earthbound or something, right? Waking up in Onett would be a little too much, even for this narrator.]
Omega: If you'd played less video games in high school, you probably would've gotten laid more. You know that, narrator?
[Omega comes to in front of a walled courtyard, a sign reading "CROSSTOWN H.S." before him... and yeah, I know, Megs. Did you know if we spent less time writing this crap we'd probably both get laid more?]
Omega: I'm sad now. I think everybody is sad now. Wow. You're way worse than my usual narrator.
[Your usual narrator gets better pot than I do.]
Omega: Yeah you right.
[...and now you're all stealing my shtick. Christ, I love this team. Oh, yeah, forgot- a couple of stereotypical 'beat-em-up' game thugs come out of nowhere (or, from our pixelated POV, from off-screen) and address Omega as their mouths randomly move up and down.]
Cody: Hey, Ryan! Slick has kidnapped your girlfriend, he's holding her on top of River City High- good luck gettin' her back... you're in for the fight of your life!
[They charge toward Omega haphazardly, giving him plenty of options on how to dispense with them.]
Omega: Oh, shit, thanks man!
[Jay ducks a wild windmill punch, plugging the first thug with two heavy kicks to the gut. A huge left cross spins Jay about 90 degrees, but knocks another thug into a wall... they both get up and lope towards him once more.]
Omega: Bring it on, you pseudo-manga humonculoids!
[Omega leaps in with a jumpkick, flooring the first thug; the second thug leaps onto his back, but gets smacked twice into a wall before being laid out with a pretty sweet looking Diamond Cutter.]
Cody: AWOURG!
Dirk: BARF!
[The two thugs blink a few times, then turn into piles of change that bounce on the street and roll around. About eighty-four cents lies at Omega's feet as he laughs, shaking his head.]
Omega: I hadn't played this game for so long I totally forgot they say "BARF" when they die.
[And then they turn into change.]
Omega: And they turn into change.
[Yeah, it's some serious Japanese video game shit. Just go with it.]
Omega: Of course. I might've forgotten a few things in my life, but... no matter where I end up, Jay Omega never forgets how to kick ass.
[Now do one of those 'huge anime smile with the fingers in a V' poses.]
Omega: No!
[Well fine then. No more scene for you, buddy.]
Omega: Fine! I'm gonna go punch dudes until they turn into like, twenty or thirty bucks, and then I'm going to the mall!
[You should get a couple more bucks and find a bookstore, get a fight manual.]
Omega: Oh yeah?! I mean... yeah. That's a good idea, actually. Uh... which one should-
[The scene fades to black.]
Omega: -wait, what? Hey!
---------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica, spare room. Though it's only heard faintly in this spare bedroom, once FPV and Polar open the door and enter, loud and powerful metal music playing from the hologym threatens to permanently damage both men's eardrums. Both men take a moment to decompress and cover their ears.]
FPV: Gawd damn, I had forgotten how loud it was in there.
Phantasm: I know man, Corey and his Dethfort Metal Concert Power Fantasies ain't no place a young Jeffy belongs.
FPV: But if it's a metal concert then why was Taylor Swift there?
Phantasm: Don't ask me, that's all Corey.
FPV: Uh huh. Well actually, now that I have you to myself, there's something I've been meaning to ask you.
Phantasm: You want an interview? I mean sure, I wouldn't mind doin' one right now.
FPV: Well I mean I do want an interview, but legit though, there's this...odd feeling I've been having lately, and I was hoping you could clear it up.
Phantasm: Uhh, I'm a little spooked, but go on.
[Frank takes a seat on the twin bed in the room while Polar remains standing, looking down curiously at his friend.]
FPV: So I know we've been friends for a feww years now, but a few months ago, shortly before UCI opened, I got this odd feeling about you, dig? Like, I feel you just kinda vanished for a hot second then came back, and from where, I don't know. But something seems off, some slight little minute detail feels different about you, and to be quite Frank, I can't put my finger on it.
Phantasm: Huh. So that's your question?
FPV: I'm hoping you may have an answer?
Phantasm: I may, but it's a long story.
FPV: Gimme the Cliffnotes version then.
[Polar takes in a deep sigh, and then quickly explains to his friend what the deal is.]
Phantasm: Okay so I'll be completely honest and say that I'm not originally from this Universe we're in right now. I'm from another place way way out in the cosmos or some shit like that, I don't know. I left it for reasons I don't really wanna go into right now, but suffice to say this place is my home now. I figured there was a Cameron Bankston in this universe somewhere, I dunno what happened to him though. He must be dead, cause if he wasn't he'd have shown up by now, so I guess I'm glad Bonnie, Jay and showed up when we did. So yeah, if that's why you were feeling off about me, that's why. As crazy as it may sound, it's the truth.
FPV: OH. Okay, that makes perfect sense then.
[There's a slightly awkward pause.]
Phantasm: Wait...you really believe me?
FPV: Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?
Phantasm: I was expecting a more...animated reaction I guess.
FPV: It's exciting for sure, and maybe some day when we're not interviewing each other you can elaborate for me.
Phantasm: Oh damn, that's right, you need an interview. Wanna try out that..."style" of promo I've been talking about?
FPV: Damn straight. Good practice for when we get back the Hologym from Corey.
[Frank gets up off the bed and reaches into his front pocket, taking his cellphone out to begin a new voice memo.]
---------------------------------------------
FPV: This is 'Dank' Frank Venable, and I'm here with America's sweetheart the Polar Phantasm... Polar, you've got a big tag match this week, tell us about it!
Phantasm: Well, you know, Dank Frank - Bonnie and I have been hittin' the gym, brother, takin' our vitamins, drinking lots of milk to keep our bones nice and strong... all you kids out there, if you wanna be big and tough like the Polarmaniac, you gotta stay off the drugs and get eight hours sleep every night!
FPV: Shit- Cam, there's no way I'm keeping a straight face for this. You telling people to stay off drugs and get sleep... shit, how can YOU keep a straight face for this?
Phantasm: Oh man, you have no idea how hard that was to pull off. Shit, maybe we try this again later when we can get Alex to be the Macho Man.
FPV: Should we keep going?
Phantasm: Fuck yeah, we keep going. If I don't include a certain amount of obligatory trash-talk into promos the pro wrestling gods will kill my first-born child.
FPV: Wait, really?!
Phantasm: Of course not. You just end up losing to someone who shows up three hours before the match and blathers for twenty minutes about how great they are. Kinda makes you wonder why we put so much work into the business, doesn't it?
FPV: Yeah, that is pretty f'ed up, man. I've been around a long time, and I don't think I've ever seen a team as devastating as your crew, Polar...
Phantasm: ...there is not a team in this company that can even come close to the level of teamwork you see in the Guardians. Seriously, Frank- name me one team. Hell, name me one legit tag team in this company! ...you can't do it, can you?
FPV: Well, there's your opponents this week-
Phantasm: Yeah, they're a team... for this week... either by attrition or by poor planning, one or the other. I don't even see them being able to act as a cohesive unit... then again, I just always assume one-note shit-heels are always one second away from turning on each other in desperate hope someone will pay attention to them. It's fuckin' pitiful, Frank. I mean, these guys aren't even Kyle Cameron-level bitch-heels, you know? They're real green, they're real hungry... but that doesn't mean shit when it comes to being a tag team.
FPV: The best teams are the ones who think alike.
Phantasm: Exactly; it's all about being on the same page. Bonnie Blue and I? We've been living in the same compound, eating meals together, training together, fighting battles together in the ring and out of the ring- sometimes way, way out of the ring- and it shows. Then there's her intuition; it's like she knows what's happening next, Frank. It's amazing shit.
FPV: I've heard that about her, yeah...
Phantasm: Throw in my usual manner, dissecting opponents before- and during- matches... boom, you've got a team that knows what you're gonna do before you do it and already have six strategies on how to counter it. It's not even fair, Franky- seriously, even when Crystal and I were teaming up we didn't click like this. And don't ever tell her I said that; she would never forgive me for that, no matter how true it is.
FPV: So let's get into it then... you got any strategy planned for dealing with Mercury and Fausse?
Phantasm: Mercury...? I wasn't even sure that guy still worked here 'til I saw the card. Seriously, did he just get re-hired or something? I haven't seen that guy around in a minute, and I've been all over the place. He wasn't even in space, man. That guy's just...gone. At least, that's what I thought- what does it tell you about the tag team competition in this company that Management has to scrape up this jobber?
FPV: At least they're trying...?
Phantasm: Don't get me wrong, the guy's got the basics down; he's definitely a worker, though he's probably not ready for the UCI environment. He could probably use a tour of Japan or something; does a body good, right Frank?
FPV: Shit, I've been back for months now and I'm still feeling those knife-edged chops, man.
Phantasm: See? That's the kinda shit this kid needs in his life. He's just out of his depth. I mean, what's his deal? What is he, an assassin or something? Haven't we already had like, three of those? Haven't we already had a tag team of assassins? Come on, kid- I liked the Hitman games as much as anybody, but you're not even Asher Bradley.
FPV: Wow. I completely forgot about that guy-
Phantasm: Pretty sad that we lost that guy and still have Julian fuckin' Mercury riding the bench. And Fausse... man, don't even get me started.
FPV: G'head, Cam- get down wit' yo bad self.
Phantasm: Yeah you right. Look, there's overrated and then there's overrated with an exclamation point... and then there's Erin Fausse.
FPV: Ouch.
Phantasm: I'm just being real, man- isn't that what a 'shoot' is? Christ, as much as that word gets tossed around in this company you'd think someone might actually, you know, fucking say something useful when they're 'shooting'.
FPV: Church.
Phantasm: Back to Fausse, unfortunately. Again, not a bad worker, but... Christ, who are you fucking?
FPV: Not me- no way I'm getting near that.
Phantasm: Seriously, my guess? Any push she's gotten in this company has likely started on her back. Fausse... you have shown me absolutely nothing I haven't seen five dozen times before. Your promos sound like you're an emo teen girl Oblivion. They sound like LiveJournal entries from 1998. You are absolutely the worst; I am not exaggerating. I honestly hope I don't have to deal with you again for at least the next few years of my wrestling career, if only because it will keep me from having to sit through the whiny dreck that comes out of your mouth.
[Polar shakes his head as if shaming someone; we can only guess who he is ashamed of.]
Phantasm: No, it's no mystery- I'm ashamed of being in this match, because I'm gonna be mentioned all week in the same breath as Erin Fausse. See this look? This look of extreme disappointment? It's probably a look you've gotten from your parents regularly throughout your life, and it's a look you'll get from every wrestling promoter you work for soon as they get tired of fucking you. It's a look that says 'oh. yuck.' There've been maybe five or six people in my entire career I've felt like this about, tops. Seriously, Bonnie and I would have a better match against Mercury and a broom. And that's saying something- Mercury barely rates higher than a broom, so theoretically the UCI fans would get more out of Bonnie and I wrestling aisle 8 at ACE Hardware. I mean, I already had you figured out, as far as ring-work goes... both you and your enhancement-talent partner are less challenging to solve than a sudoku puzzle.
FPV: We talking a Sunday New York Times here, or-
Phantasm: The dime-a-dozen kind you find in one of those dollar store puzzle books.
FPV: Oof. Old ladies solve those on the bus.
Phantasm: What I can't figure out is what you're playing at being; what, are you supposed to be a lunatic? A prophet? A zealot? An apostle? The antichrist? I've dealt with all of that shit before at one time or another; seriously, you would've fit right in where I came from. There were four or five cookie-cutter spooky kids who all sound exactly like you; none of them were girls, though, so you'd be a shoe-in so long as you don't mind being the token female member of the grumbly ghoul's heel chorus.
FPV: ...where did you come from, anyway?
Phantasm: Frank, stop fucking with me- I'm on a roll here.
FPV: Heard that; roll with it.
Phantasm: At least you're tagged up with another one-trick pony; between your two tricks you've at least got a shot at making this match look interesting on something other than paper. Honestly, Fausse, if you want some advice- and we both know you could use some- take a couple months and figure out just what you're supposed to be. It's obvious you don't have a clue... which is forgiveable. You're young, you're 'unhinged' or whatever... you've got a lot of growing into yourself to do, and I hope you do it. Maybe find someone worth a fuck you could latch onto, get some direction. And, you know, sponge heat off of. But you're going nowhere fast right now, and you're gonna sink like an anchor with your dead weight partner tied to your fuckin' ankle.
FPV: I've already forgotten who she's tagging with. Asher Bradley, right?
Phantasm: He fucking wishes. So go ahead; get to your grumbly emo bullshit promo. Take twenty, hell, thirty minutes of our viewers' lives away from them with the auditory skidmarks you call 'promotional segments'. But when you do, know this; there is not a thing that you can say that will scare me. My wife tried to stab me the day we met, and she was aiming to kill... I've dealt with crazy women, and not just in passing. In the last four years I've gotten so good at that shit I'm like a fuckin' bomb squad technician by now. You wanna talk scary, Fausse? I cut my teeth in this business fending off Nathan von Liebert. You're a fucking Muppet Baby compared to that bastard. You'd better sell your soul to Satan in a televised promo if you even want to raise my eyebrow slightly, and even then he'll probably think twice about helping you once you tell him you're going up against the Phantasm. We've got old business to take care of, and he's really not gonna want to fuck with me now that I could freeze him right out of house and home.
FPV: Anything else, man?
Phantasm: Nah, I think I'm good. Could use a shower, though... took one this morning, but... I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to wash those Fausse promos off me.
FPV: How many did you watch?
Phantasm: All of them. It was like sitting through every goth I dated in high school's poetry... all four years' worth, all in one sitting.
FPV: The shit we put up with for professional wrestling, eh?
Phantasm: And I didn't even get to tie a chick to her radiator with her own clothes afterwards.
[Frank looks at Polar with a smirk.]
Phantasm: Alright, so I surprised the hell out of Crystal when I did it; not that she complained, mind you-
FPV: Yeah, I figured this story would get there, eventually...
---------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Upper Brinstar, Planet Zebes. The terrain is rocky all around; it appears that we are in some sort of an underground cavern, though one could guess we're near the planet's surface judging by the (sparse, but still) alien foliage growing up from the stony outcroppings everywhere. Upon what appears to be the platform for some sort of alien elevator, Bonnie Blue stands from a kneel... when she gives herself a once-over, she finds that she's wearing some sort of a power suit (for which she's holding a helmet) and that one of her arms is a blaster cannon of some sort.]
Bonnie: Either this is serious overkill... or I have no earthly idea how underarmed I am for this place. Where the heck am I, anyhow? It ain't Earth, for one- or Aja Darrik, either, or no part of it we've seen.
[She puts on the helmet, its display popping up with directional readouts and the like... she hops down from the platform, feeling the spring in her boots. On a lark, she jumps and her boots assist her into an extra-high front-flip jump... and then a second, at the peak of her jump. She bounds into a stalactite, but her suit insulates her from the impact... and the subsequent fall. She picks herself up and checks herself again, seeing no damage.]
Bonnie: Guess I'm not goin' out of here up, anyway. Maybe there's somethin' down this embankment.
[She flips down a high wall, looking back up and realizing she's not getting back up there without help of some kind. She heads through two massive caverns filled with these reptilian-looking bats with very sharp-looking wings; as she approaches they begin to dive at her, two striking and drilling a bit into the ground before exploding and throwing her back about five feet. She checks herself again, noticing how little damage she took from the exploding bladed lizard bat things... upon hearing a 'skreeee' from above, she looks up to see two more incoming.]
Bonnie: Not this time, you turkeys!
[She lets forth a volley of shots, vaporizing one 'bat' and causing the second to crash into a rock and splatter across the terrain. She leaps over a pit of what appears to be acid, landing against what seems like one solid block wall. Upon further inspection, she sees a hole less than a foot and a half in height; as she attempts to crawl into the hole, her suit transforms her into a dense sphere and she finds herself rolling through the hole at speed. Dizzily, she drops something; wondering what she could've possibly been holding, she begins to head back toward the object just in time to be thrown even faster forward by its explosion.]
Bonnie: Whhhaa---eeeeeee!!!!!!
[She comes flying out of the tube at serious speed, dropping a few more bombs in her wake. Their explosions alert something to her presence; a growling, insectoid sound greets Bonnie as she unfurls herself and reaches a vertical base.]
Bonnie: Sounds like I'm about to make some new friends.
[She looks down at her arm cannon inquistively.]
Bonnie: Wonder what this button does...?
Space Pirate (in an insectoid hiss): No one ssssurvivesss the planet Zzzssebesss!
[...a pair of green insectoid warriors attack, entering suddenly from a pipe-like opening in the ceiling; Bonnie aims her arm cannon, now gleaming with light energy that seems to be bending into the cannon's barrel as if it possessed the gravity of a black hole. She fires a tremendous blast from her right arm, bursting a space pirate at the midsection and causing fragments of him to hit the ceiling. The second pirate lands about three feet from Bonnie, who is still slightly reeling from just how damn cool the Charge Beam is; the pirate whacks her with a claw-like arm, knocking her slightly backwards and to one knee. Rebounding quickly, she pushes a button on her arm-cannon... its barrel opens like a claw, launching a missile into the space pirate's chest carrying it about twenty-five feet before blasting it to smithereens. Climbing up from a kneel yet again, this time without the confusion, Bonnie can't help but indulge a cowboy fantasy. She lifts her visor and blows a bit of 'smoke' from her arm cannon, giving a wink.]
Bonnie: You know... a girl could get used to this.
------------------------------------------------
[Scene: Project: Antarctica, outside. As she makes her way to the entrance of her home, Crystal Bankston begins panicking even harder then before. How is she going to explain to her husband, who she believes is currently sleeping without a care in the world, that she fucked up the one mission he let her be on? Shee hasn't got the time to answer that question, as she frantically enters the base.]
Nightmare: Cameron? Alex? It's me, Crystal. I need to talk to you guys, some real shit's going down-
[Her plea for help is drowned out into an ocean of 90's party music, which she can hear coming from within the hologym. She once again calls out Cameron's name, but this time in a more confused tone.]
Nightmare: Cameron? Alex? Are you fuckers pulling a fast one on me?
[As she steps into the hologym, she finds not only her husband Cameron, her son Jeffy, and one Alex Richards, but also Frank Patrick Venable, Jeff Purse, and Corey Black, all getting down to the FUNNNNNNKKKYYYYY beats of House of Pain's classic "Jump Around." The first thing she hears upon entering is her son singing along to the chorus.]
Jeffy: Jump! Jump! Jump! Everybody jump!
[Despite all being grown ass adults, the rest of the party obey the young three year old's commands and jump around like fuckin' crazy. Cameron stops, however, when he sees his wife looking at him dead on.]
Phantasm: OH. Uhhh...hi honey! I'm all better now! Hi!
Nightmare: Cameron, normally I'd be royally P.O'd at you for pulling a fast one on me, but not tonight. I fucked up royally, and luckily it looks like the calvary's already here to help us out.
[Glad his wife is not angry at him for a change, the Polar Phantasm immediately springs into action.]
Phantasm: What happened babe?
Nightmare: We went to investigate the signals, when all of a sudden we got attacked by space invaders. Literal space invaders, like the video game.
Phantasm: So like giant floating Atari sprites?
Nightmare: Mmmhmm. I was the only one to escape, they took Bonnie and Jay to god knows where.
Phantasm: Oh man, that's heavy. Nothing we can't handle though. Who's with me guys? We're gonna need a team for this one!
[The music comes to a screeching halt as the hologym goes from the party atmosphere back to it's default state. Purse steps up, looking confused.]
Purse: I thought you said we were just hanging out today, Cam! What's all this "space invader" nonsense about?
Phantasm: Come on, Jeff- what's a Cryogenix party without a life or death mission involved?
Black: What, Purse, you got rusty or something?
FPV: Exactly, duderino. It wouldn't be a Polar party without us having to get into some shit, you know this.
Richards: Am I coming on this mission too?
Phantasm: Of course, man; Cryogenix was a six-man team, you're gonna have to take Steve's spot.
Black: Wait, he's our Orbit for this mission?! Cam, you gotta be fuckin' with me.
Purse: Took the words out of my mouth, Corey.
Phantasm: Actually, he's perfect... for this mission, we're not gonna need a flamboyant mouthpiece so much as clever motherfuckers that think outside the box. And that's Alex to a tee...
[In the middle of his speech, Cameron (and the rest of the team) seem to have...misplaced Alex, as he's suddenly no longer around. However, knowing his invisibility powers will come in handy, no one seems to be worried. Polar then smirks before making his way out of the Hologym.]
Phantasm: C'mon guys, we've got some Guardians to save.
-------------------------------------------------
TWO BITS, FOUR BITS, 8-BIT, DISASTER
Series conceived by the Polar Phantasm
Series directed by the Polar Phantasm
Episode Two: Cameron Bankston's Day Off
Episode written by Frank Patrick Venable and the Polar Phantasm
'The Guardians' created by Bonnie Blue, Jay Omega and the Polar Phantasm
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. Jeff Purse and Corey Black appear courtesy of us being huge marks. All rights reserved.]
