Love, Whatever That Is (Pt. 5-1) - To Save the Maiden Fair
Jul 31, 2016 15:27:42 GMT -6
Spencer Adams, Bonnie Blue, and 1 more like this
Post by The Polar Phantasm on Jul 31, 2016 15:27:42 GMT -6
Hey, kids- it's the Phantasm again. Welcome to another Guardians adventure! We've been pretty excited about this one, though this weekend made shit pretty rough on some of us (at least this Phantasm, anyway) so some of this (specifically speaking of this piece here, honestly) isn't entirely complete. This piece is actually missing about... half of its size? It's all story, and will be posted (probably as Pt. 5-2) within the next 36 hours (liberal estimate). That all said... enjoy you some Guardians: Love, Whatever That Is!
Guardians: Love, Whatever That Is
I - Twenty Thousand Reasons
W - Preecha Kamon
II - Beauty and the Beast
W - Alex Richards
III - Trim the White Lotus
W - SHADOWLOVE
IV - Without a Glass Slipper
W - Bonnie Blue
V - To Save the Maiden Fair
W - the Polar Phantasm
Enjoy! (Sorry for the minor delays on the end of the story- coming very soon, once I'm less heat strokey heh)
-B.
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[Scene: City Hollow, Chicago; more specifically, Sanctuary. It is decorated as you would expect a Mayor's Office to be in any major metropolitan city... though this new Mayor's Office is markedly different from the Daly Plaza days in a number of ways. For instance, the monitors off to the side of the desk which allow Mayor Sanchez a 'big brother's' view of his constituents... that's a bit unusual, for one. We see Mayor Sanchez sitting at his desk, telephone to ear... his body language speaks to exasperation.]
Sanchez: Right, so you've got the girl? What's she look like? ...a pretty girl you say- and blind! Interesting twist. Yes, I did say a family member or something worked just fine; not a clue who she is to him, though. ...yes, you'll still get your money! Maybe she's a cousin or a stepsister or- fuck, who cares? He'll never get that close to a piece that nice again, sight or no. Saraba da*.
(* - Japanese; translates to "adios". -B.)
[Sanchez hangs up the phone; he presses a button on his desk.]
Sanchez: Get my research people on the phone. And bring me another picture; this one's almost used up.
[We see that at his desk, Mr. Mayor is doing a bit of retouching to a promotional photograph of UCI Tag Team Champions Bonnie Blue and the Polar Phantasm; he appears to be drawing something aimed at Bonnie's head.]
Sanchez: Hope you're ready, Guardians... here comes the rain.
--------------------------------------------
"I'm not gonna lie
I want you for mine
My blushing bride
My lover, be my lover, yeah...
Don't be afraid
I didn't mean to scare you...
so help me, Jesus." -Toadies, Possum Kingdom
"There are no more good places to meet girls. Especially if you're a guy like me, who has been banned from all organized places of worship and Blockbuster Video. Nothing says creepy guy more than the dude hanging out in front of Express at the mall or in the back row of a yoga class with puppy dog eyes and an awkward smile, except possibly a chainsmoker in a trenchcoat. I've been all of those at one time or another; fortunately I lost my shame a long, long time ago." -(Renegade Reporter) Lucien Hicks, Love, Whatever That Is
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!
What is a man but what he perceives? Would a man who cannot hear be classified as less of a man for his handicap? Then what is a handicap but a challenge? In this world of distraction, it is easy to forget the cold precision of silence... but among all the bumping and blaring and bleating, one man exists apart. A man who sees, feels... knows more than most realize is there. Close your ears... open your mind. Now you can see... THE EDGE OF SILENCE, PREECHA KAMON!
It's a cold world out there; sometimes one has to dabble outside of the law to make ends meet. Sometimes one finds out they're really good at that sort of thing... then sometimes one wakes up one day and realizes what they've become and steps away from 'the life'. Some get killed... some get pressured back in... some get run out of town. Those people? They don't have enough moxie to make it, that's all. If life's one big chess game, then the secret to winning is to talk the other guy into tipping over his king. At least, that's the rather compelling worldview of ARMAND DE LA FONTAINE!
Born in a crack in time, he has seen the very edges of the multiverse and lived to tell the tales... tales which most brush off as the ramblings of an intense-looking lunatic, though a great many painful truths lay within. He is a man of great sight, great knowledge and many answers... though more often than not, they're answers to questions no one has yet thought to ask. Occasionally, they're questions no one in this dimension will ever think to ask. It's an occupational hazard when you can see the reality next door as easily as one might see a building. He calls himself Para-Pirutseo-Bal, but his 'friends' know him as HOPHNI!
Introduced to one another in a deathmatch, they became a team both in combat and in life. He, the Polar Phantasm, calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent... she, Nightmare, virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... they are THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
In the wrestling business, it takes more than just brawn or brains or even athletic talent to get ahead; anyone who's anyone knows, you've gotta have that 'X' factor. You've gotta have attitude... and you've gotta have *the look*. They're too hip to be square, but too sharp to be round... they're the hottest couple on the block and the coolest pair in town at the same time. They're the Handsome Half-Breed and the Fashionista Sensei, SHADOWLOVE and MS. MIYAMOTO!
[Chicago, Illinois has become a dangerous place to live... or work... or visit... you know, it's even dangerous to look at it these days; let's just get that point established and move on. Part of the reason things have gotten so dangerous in the Windy City these days is that two opposing Asian gang factions- West Town's Yakuza and Little China's Triad- have turned much of West Chicago into a warzone in the past month. Of course, much of Chicago looks kinda Detroit these days; couple solid days of riot and arson will do that to a town right quick-like. That said, it's definitely worse in West Chicago right now than anywhere else in town... in the streets, it's full-blown asymmetrical warfare day and night. The White Lotus Triad have made a lot of noise lately; they had little choice after the Yakuza framed them for the murder of Diego Garcia (still technically 'unsolved'). Large targets on their backs, the Triad were in a corner... and they began making moves to try and get out. One of those moves was to try and draft some new talent into their underground fight league; they made a play and their prospect didn't bite, so they switched tactics and showed the prospect their teeth... and threatened to bite if he didn't.]
[Unfortunately for the Triads, their prospective new talent is a stubborn man with contractual ties to another organization - UCI, which you may be aware of - and 'family ties' to another rival 'organization'... yep, you guessed it- the Yakuza! The Triad tapped the man we know as Shadowlove, either unaware of or in spite of Ms. Miyamoto's connections to the Triad's enemies... then, taking it that much further, Triad underboss Ped Xing put ten grand on each of their heads when the contract didn't get signed. Bonnie Blue, leading a field team of Nightmare, Shadowlove and (America's favorite deaf ninja) Preecha Kamon, is currently making her daring assault on a Triad casino in Little China... one would hope Shadowlove is getting his proverbial pound of flesh. Meanwhile, at the Sloshed Pit, the Phantasm sits in thought awaiting news that will change the course of his night in epic fashion. But what else would one expect when the Fashionista Sensei is in the neighborhood?]
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POLAR PHANTASM #12: To Save The Maiden Fair
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[Scene: Wicker Park, Chicago; more specifically, the Sloshed Pit. The bar has seen better days, one might think; one would be very wrong, though. Yep- this is it in its majesty, in its prime... the most truly righteous retchid hive of scum and villainy this side of New Orleans. And, oddly enough, Chicagoland HQ for UCI's Guardians... one of whom we see sitting alone in an empty corner of the dank hole-in-the-wall. Engrossed in his wrist-computer's screen, we see the Polar Phantasm with a look of sullen despair etched across his face. Our view changes a bit... we can now see he's flipping through up-to-the-minute 'eyewitness' news on the smallish wrist-computer screen. He clicks a link, producing a video window... he watches briefly as a building is set ablaze by molotov cocktails; by the angle of the video, it's obviously being shot from a few floors above the flames...in the same building. He closes the video window... he sets his wrists in his lap, sighing a bit. Polar rubs his forehead, then his temples... he gets up, pacing about a bit; Polar is obviously disheartened by how bad shit's getting in Chicago. Then again, how would someone not be... unless they were profiting from it somehow?]
Phantasm: Christ, how did it come to this? How the fuck did all this happen?!
Comedian: Evil.
[Polar turns, noticing the familiar visage of his old friend Lucien Hicks, Renegade Reporter (later Detective); something tells him, though, that this isn't Lucien... it's the other who shares that face. It's...]
Phantasm: ...the Comedian.
Comedian: And what's at the root of all evil, as the story goes?
Phantasm: About time you showed up- hey, we're here! We're in Chicago. No Wave, no nothing- literally, Sanchez has even stripped the opiate of the masses! Shit is coming apart at the-
Comedian: Money! Come on, Cam, these are softballs!
Phantasm: Are you even listening to me?!
Comedian: No! Because you're not listening to me- and I'm the one who showed up to say something, so wait your fucking turn. Dig?
[Polar huffs angrily; the Comedian digs into his sweaty black trenchcoat and retrieves a pack of Pall Malls.]
Comedian: You're in the right place and on the right track to find an awful lot more than you think, Cam... but you have to stop thinking big.
[The Comedian lights a cigarette... the Phantasm growls slightly.]
Phantasm: What. The. Fuck.
Comedian: Stop- no judging for a second, ok?
Phantasm: You can't smoke that in here.
Comedian: What, in a fictional universe I helped to create? Fuck yeah I can smoke- I can make you do the fuckin' Macarena while I do it if I want. Pump the brakes, Bankston... I'll be gone before you know it, so let me try and make you know stuff before that happens.
[Polar sits back down, his glare becoming a frustrated look of surrender.]
Comedian: You can't look at everything from above, Cam... you can't always just go on the overview. When something is big, it makes total sense to look at it big... but when that something is, say, a whole city...
[Polar's eyes slowly widen.]
Phantasm: ...the devil's in the details. Holy shit.
Comedian: Everything starts somewhere, and that start is usually small... and those things sprout roots and sprawl all over.
[Polar's thought train (which had been chugging along at a high speed) is suddenly derailed... however momentarily.]
Phantasm: What things? What roots?
Comedian: Evil things, Cam. And what are the roots of evil?
Phantasm: ...you son of a bitch.
[The Phantasm jumps up, taking a few quick steps forward to high-five... well, his god. The trenchcoated tramp can't help himself; the Comedian swings his hand down, seemlessly shifting into a windmill high-five.]
Comedian: You already had the idea, you just didn't get the scope, the scale of it...
Phantasm: I would've put it together-
Comedian: ...and you were pretty fuckin' distracted by the chaos all around you. Which is the point of all this, by the way; religious riots and gang violence... it's overkill as fuck, but it's still all just smoke and mirrors.
Phantasm: You're telling me that all of this... madness... is just a smokescreen?
[The Comedian laughs.]
Comedian: Oh, it's way bigger than that... but it certainly does the job in a pinch, doesn't it?
Phantasm: Question, though... when we were in space, and you said the Wave answers were here-
Comedian: I didn't say the answers were here... I said the way to find the answers starts here.
Phantasm: Ugh- I get enough cryptic bullshit from Hophni.
Comedian: Polar... anything that changed the entire universe and its history? Gonna be a little harder to explain than "...oh, that?" And it's gonna take a little more digging than "Eh, I guess there's nothing here." You've got a mystery... you've got a very, very active crime scene... and you've got some highly qualified suspects.
Phantasm: Sanchez? The Wave is Sanchez' doing?
Comedian: Jesus, Cam- what part of 'way too hard to explain' are you not getting, man? This isn't an "x + y = z" kind of problem; there are so many variables here that you'll be solving for "x" all night long.
Phantasm: Fuck a math.
Comedian: Damn skippy... but hold up a sec, back to the plot. The mystery you have in front of you is "What happened to Chicago, and why?" The city is your crime scene... the suspects you know quite well.
Phantasm: But what about-
Comedian: -the Wave affected everything, right? This world, others... time, space, whole nine yards. Follow?
Phantasm: I'm picking it up...
Comedian: ...then I'll keep layin' it down. If the Wave affected everything, and in post-Wave Chicago, Sanchez rules uber alles...
Phantasm: ...there's a clue there. Where did Sanchez come from? How did he get to this point? What if he had something to do with-
Comedian: -what if he just woke up one day Mayor of Chicago and ran with it? What if... I mean, what if he's just a pawn in the game after all, Cam?
Phantasm: Then... who's the king? Fuck, who's *playing*?
Comedian: Now you're on it. Remember how I said you should stop thinking big? Well... the Wave... that's a subject you need to think really, really big on. Hey, I gotta get out of here... I have like six missed texts, and you've got a promo to cut.
Phantasm: ...crap. You wanna stay for a minute and help me with that?
Comedian: I'm feeling a very definite no, but there's a kinda yessy aftertaste in there.
[The trenchcoated man gazes about a bit...]
Comedian: Eh, fuck it- you wrote it, you sit in it. Alright, Cam- just this once.
[The Phantasm can't help but laugh.]
Phantasm: Oh shit- you're fucked, Shadowlove! I got god in my promo, bitch!
[The Comedian shakes his head in disapproval, but he's having trouble holding back his laughter.]
Comedian: Come on, you know how to do this. I should know- I fucking taught you.
Phantasm: Yeah, yeah. How do we... Chuck and Flav?
Comedian: Which of us is Flav?
Phantasm: Yeah, you'd upstage me too much. Jay and Bob? Nah- you'd make a shitty Silent Bob, though you do have the coat for it.
Comedian: Eh, it does alright... and yeah, I'd make a shitty Silent Anything.
Phantasm: Ooh... got it. Obama and Luther.
Comedian: Yes! My man!
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[...and now, a word from the Team Captain of the Guardians.]
Phantasm: Good evening, UCI... and a special good evening to all of you viewers at home. I am, of course, the Polar Phantasm; there has been some criticism as to my ability to express certain emotions of mine, so tonight I have brought with me an anger translator to help me get my point across. This is Brian-
[From off-screen, the Comedian enters and gives a solemn nod; the look on his face is somewhere between peeved and absolutely butt-fucking insane.]
Comedian: How y'all doin'.
Phantasm: Now, first thing I'd like to address tonight is my opponent at Beachmania 2016. Shadowlove, I have heard the things that you've said and I'm sorry you feel the way that you do... you will have a much harder time defeating me than you seem to think you will.
Comedian: 'LOVE, WHAT THE FUCK MAN? Don't you know who this motherfucker is?! Phantasm, baby- ask your momma, she'll tell you what's up. Some weak shit, man- that ain't gonna do dick for you once that bell rings Sunday, brutha. Better find an A-game... steal it, rent that shit or somethin', fuck!
Phantasm: It greaves me deeply that one of us will have to lose this Sunday, Shadowlove; you are a noble competitor and a rising star in the wrestling business, and a pay-per-view loss of this magnitude will likely set you back some hard work.
[Lighting a cigarette, the Comedian springs into... uh, rant.]
Comedian: You hearin' me, 'Love? It's gonna be him or you, and we all fucking know it ain't gonna be you; not if this man got anything to say about it... oh shit, and he does, too! He's saying "Homeboy is gonna get Ice Capped back to the 80s and whatever fuckin' 'ski school' movie he came from" or some shit. Boy, you better get your chinky-eyed old lady to write your address down in your underpants; this dude's about to dump on your head worse than fourteen million pigeons.
Phantasm: You may be a more stylish competitor than I, Mr. Love, but the bottom line rarely reflects your attire moreso than your level of talent... a fact that proves most discouraging for your chances this Sunday at Beachmania.
[The Comedian exhales a small cloud and matter-of-factly states the following.]
Comedian: Motherfucker, you better hope them fifteen hundred dollar pants you wearin' is ass-whoopin' proof.
Phantasm: One does not work their way to being the Polar Phantasm on a humbug, you understand... whereas Kid Phantasm shared my mental prowess, I have grown as an athlete and a ring technician significantly since those days. I was as a knife before... and I am as a sword now. Bigger, more powerful... every micron as sharp, now on a grander scale.
Comedian: And that ass-whoopin' is gonna be super-size like this man done ate one of them mushrooms from Mario Brothers. 'Love, what you gonna do with your Goomba ass when shroomed up Polar rolls on you? And don't say piss yourself; ain't a dry cleaner alive could fix that mess, and besides... designer of those pants would probably sue your ass for defamation or some shit. Oh, then homeboy's trying to fuck your tag partner, P-
Phantasm: Bonnie is a grown woman who makes her own decisions; I try to withhold any judgements and trust her instincts.
Comedian: Man, quit playin'. You shot that shit down quicker than a hot air balloon tryin' to get out of North Korea.
Phantasm: Yeah you right.
Comedian: Motherfuckers always tryin' to fuck your tag partners, P.
Phantasm: That's cause they're always hot.
Comedian: People gonna think you're fruit for Purse, man.
Phantasm: I'm comfortable in my sexuality enough to state that my friend Jeff is an attractive man.
Comedian: What, dude that looks like JT? I mean, obvious Polar is being obvious... but I dig it, man. Hey, you remember that time in Reading when you got knocked over by that mob of bitches trying to get at Purse, then his old lady bitched at you for it?
Phantasm: ...no, actually. I don't. Why don't-
Comedian: Ah, shit- that musta been one of the unfinished FE #3s*. Nevermind, my bad- we still doing this?
(* - True fact: roughly 75% of all Purse/Phantasm co-writing missions have ended with an unfinished 'Future Elements #3' promo. It's the Duke Nukem Forever of roleplays. -B.)
[Polar clears his throat... the Comedian puts his 'game face' back on.]
Phantasm: And after Beachmania and defeating Shadowlove, I will be representing the Guardians in Wentworth Updegraff's Invitational... against fellow Guardian, Alex Richards.
Comedian: ALEX RICHARDS, YOU- wait, the fuck? 'Lex? Shit, alright- Alex, motherfucker, you want some of this? Bitch, I'm comin' at you with- P, I'm not feelin' it.
Phantasm: Completely understandable, B; I should likely address a few of the others in the-
Comedian: OH YEAH, THAT'S THE SHIT. Uhhh- oh, fuck yeah, let's do this. Feelin' it now. Yo, whatup Beaver? I know you lost your TV Belt a hot second ago, but it's cool you didn't trip on it too much... probably 'cause you can just fall back on being World Heavyweight Champion of the Mickey motherfuckin' Mouseketeers. Fausse, that's a sketchy bitch for sure... I still ain't sure if you're the worst wrestler that currently is or the best Veronica Mars character that never was. Taylor motherfuckin' Wright- what the fuck happened to you, man? You would be the first motherfucker in this company to get put out for a 'wellness policy violation' or some shit; Sanchez got you turned onto the juice, or you the one put the spike in his ass first? Yo, Kyle Cameron- Doc Henry hooked you up with that place that makes the fake belts, huh? Alright, do you, brah; just sayin', your breath still smells like Ted DiBiase's dick. And oh, fuck me- look over here at David fuckin' Sanchez. Sanch-
Phantasm: -actually, B... I got this.
Comedian: Shit, son- it's your party, shoot if you want to.
Phantasm: Sanchez... our time is gonna come, and sooner than you'd think. It may not be next week, or week after... but it's coming. In the ring... in your office... somewhere, sometime, it's gonna happen. We're gonna clash like forces of nature and shit's gonna blow to pieces like an atom bomb went off; I already know. It does not end well for you and I, Mister Mayor... and it does not end pretty, either. But it will have an end... be it yours, or be it mine. One of us will fall... and for the sake of Chicago, I'll do whatever I must to ensure you are the one who falls.
Comedian: Yo, P- we done?
Phantasm: Everything except talking about how much we hate math.
Comedian: Man... save that shit, I got a half dozen stale texts in my pocket. One of us has to run this team; we can't both be fucking around in post-Wave Chicago all day.
[Polar looks confused for a second, then shrugs the mindfuck off.]
Phantasm: Alright, I'm just gonna find where I left my weed- say, you don't have anything, do you?
[Polar looks about for an Altoids tin, but can't immediately find it; when he glances back to his creator, he sees the man has vanished.]
Phantasm: ...you sneaky motherfucker.
[Polar sits down once more, chuckling slightly.]
Phantasm: "Fucking around in post-Wave Chicago"... shit, if only it was like that. I bet this town used to be fun.
[Just then, the Pit's side door opens; Ms. Miyamoto and Alex Richards rush in, Alex leading the charge.]
Richards: JAPANESE GANGSTERS STOLE MY GIRLFRIEND!
[Polar looks confused by this, then shakes his head slightly and plainly states his response...]
Phantasm: Well, I guess anything is possible in a post-Wave universe.
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LOVE, WHATEVER THAT IS
Series conceived by Alex Richards, Bonnie Blue and the Polar Phantasm
Series directed by the Polar Phantasm
Episode Five: To Save The Maiden Fair
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
'The Guardians' created by Bonnie Blue, Jay Omega and the Polar Phantasm
(Come home soon, Spaceman.)
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]
Guardians: Love, Whatever That Is
I - Twenty Thousand Reasons
W - Preecha Kamon
II - Beauty and the Beast
W - Alex Richards
III - Trim the White Lotus
W - SHADOWLOVE
IV - Without a Glass Slipper
W - Bonnie Blue
V - To Save the Maiden Fair
W - the Polar Phantasm
Enjoy! (Sorry for the minor delays on the end of the story- coming very soon, once I'm less heat strokey heh)
-B.
------------------------------
[Scene: City Hollow, Chicago; more specifically, Sanctuary. It is decorated as you would expect a Mayor's Office to be in any major metropolitan city... though this new Mayor's Office is markedly different from the Daly Plaza days in a number of ways. For instance, the monitors off to the side of the desk which allow Mayor Sanchez a 'big brother's' view of his constituents... that's a bit unusual, for one. We see Mayor Sanchez sitting at his desk, telephone to ear... his body language speaks to exasperation.]
Sanchez: Right, so you've got the girl? What's she look like? ...a pretty girl you say- and blind! Interesting twist. Yes, I did say a family member or something worked just fine; not a clue who she is to him, though. ...yes, you'll still get your money! Maybe she's a cousin or a stepsister or- fuck, who cares? He'll never get that close to a piece that nice again, sight or no. Saraba da*.
(* - Japanese; translates to "adios". -B.)
[Sanchez hangs up the phone; he presses a button on his desk.]
Sanchez: Get my research people on the phone. And bring me another picture; this one's almost used up.
[We see that at his desk, Mr. Mayor is doing a bit of retouching to a promotional photograph of UCI Tag Team Champions Bonnie Blue and the Polar Phantasm; he appears to be drawing something aimed at Bonnie's head.]
Sanchez: Hope you're ready, Guardians... here comes the rain.
--------------------------------------------
"I'm not gonna lie
I want you for mine
My blushing bride
My lover, be my lover, yeah...
Don't be afraid
I didn't mean to scare you...
so help me, Jesus." -Toadies, Possum Kingdom
"There are no more good places to meet girls. Especially if you're a guy like me, who has been banned from all organized places of worship and Blockbuster Video. Nothing says creepy guy more than the dude hanging out in front of Express at the mall or in the back row of a yoga class with puppy dog eyes and an awkward smile, except possibly a chainsmoker in a trenchcoat. I've been all of those at one time or another; fortunately I lost my shame a long, long time ago." -(Renegade Reporter) Lucien Hicks, Love, Whatever That Is
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!
What is a man but what he perceives? Would a man who cannot hear be classified as less of a man for his handicap? Then what is a handicap but a challenge? In this world of distraction, it is easy to forget the cold precision of silence... but among all the bumping and blaring and bleating, one man exists apart. A man who sees, feels... knows more than most realize is there. Close your ears... open your mind. Now you can see... THE EDGE OF SILENCE, PREECHA KAMON!
It's a cold world out there; sometimes one has to dabble outside of the law to make ends meet. Sometimes one finds out they're really good at that sort of thing... then sometimes one wakes up one day and realizes what they've become and steps away from 'the life'. Some get killed... some get pressured back in... some get run out of town. Those people? They don't have enough moxie to make it, that's all. If life's one big chess game, then the secret to winning is to talk the other guy into tipping over his king. At least, that's the rather compelling worldview of ARMAND DE LA FONTAINE!
Born in a crack in time, he has seen the very edges of the multiverse and lived to tell the tales... tales which most brush off as the ramblings of an intense-looking lunatic, though a great many painful truths lay within. He is a man of great sight, great knowledge and many answers... though more often than not, they're answers to questions no one has yet thought to ask. Occasionally, they're questions no one in this dimension will ever think to ask. It's an occupational hazard when you can see the reality next door as easily as one might see a building. He calls himself Para-Pirutseo-Bal, but his 'friends' know him as HOPHNI!
Introduced to one another in a deathmatch, they became a team both in combat and in life. He, the Polar Phantasm, calculating yet comedic, intense yet irreverent... she, Nightmare, virtuous yet violent, belligerent yet beautiful. Together they work to defend this universe as strategist and infiltrationist (respectively) of the Guardians... they are THE UNSTABLE ELEMENTS!
In the wrestling business, it takes more than just brawn or brains or even athletic talent to get ahead; anyone who's anyone knows, you've gotta have that 'X' factor. You've gotta have attitude... and you've gotta have *the look*. They're too hip to be square, but too sharp to be round... they're the hottest couple on the block and the coolest pair in town at the same time. They're the Handsome Half-Breed and the Fashionista Sensei, SHADOWLOVE and MS. MIYAMOTO!
[Chicago, Illinois has become a dangerous place to live... or work... or visit... you know, it's even dangerous to look at it these days; let's just get that point established and move on. Part of the reason things have gotten so dangerous in the Windy City these days is that two opposing Asian gang factions- West Town's Yakuza and Little China's Triad- have turned much of West Chicago into a warzone in the past month. Of course, much of Chicago looks kinda Detroit these days; couple solid days of riot and arson will do that to a town right quick-like. That said, it's definitely worse in West Chicago right now than anywhere else in town... in the streets, it's full-blown asymmetrical warfare day and night. The White Lotus Triad have made a lot of noise lately; they had little choice after the Yakuza framed them for the murder of Diego Garcia (still technically 'unsolved'). Large targets on their backs, the Triad were in a corner... and they began making moves to try and get out. One of those moves was to try and draft some new talent into their underground fight league; they made a play and their prospect didn't bite, so they switched tactics and showed the prospect their teeth... and threatened to bite if he didn't.]
[Unfortunately for the Triads, their prospective new talent is a stubborn man with contractual ties to another organization - UCI, which you may be aware of - and 'family ties' to another rival 'organization'... yep, you guessed it- the Yakuza! The Triad tapped the man we know as Shadowlove, either unaware of or in spite of Ms. Miyamoto's connections to the Triad's enemies... then, taking it that much further, Triad underboss Ped Xing put ten grand on each of their heads when the contract didn't get signed. Bonnie Blue, leading a field team of Nightmare, Shadowlove and (America's favorite deaf ninja) Preecha Kamon, is currently making her daring assault on a Triad casino in Little China... one would hope Shadowlove is getting his proverbial pound of flesh. Meanwhile, at the Sloshed Pit, the Phantasm sits in thought awaiting news that will change the course of his night in epic fashion. But what else would one expect when the Fashionista Sensei is in the neighborhood?]
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POLAR PHANTASM #12: To Save The Maiden Fair
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[Scene: Wicker Park, Chicago; more specifically, the Sloshed Pit. The bar has seen better days, one might think; one would be very wrong, though. Yep- this is it in its majesty, in its prime... the most truly righteous retchid hive of scum and villainy this side of New Orleans. And, oddly enough, Chicagoland HQ for UCI's Guardians... one of whom we see sitting alone in an empty corner of the dank hole-in-the-wall. Engrossed in his wrist-computer's screen, we see the Polar Phantasm with a look of sullen despair etched across his face. Our view changes a bit... we can now see he's flipping through up-to-the-minute 'eyewitness' news on the smallish wrist-computer screen. He clicks a link, producing a video window... he watches briefly as a building is set ablaze by molotov cocktails; by the angle of the video, it's obviously being shot from a few floors above the flames...in the same building. He closes the video window... he sets his wrists in his lap, sighing a bit. Polar rubs his forehead, then his temples... he gets up, pacing about a bit; Polar is obviously disheartened by how bad shit's getting in Chicago. Then again, how would someone not be... unless they were profiting from it somehow?]
Phantasm: Christ, how did it come to this? How the fuck did all this happen?!
Comedian: Evil.
[Polar turns, noticing the familiar visage of his old friend Lucien Hicks, Renegade Reporter (later Detective); something tells him, though, that this isn't Lucien... it's the other who shares that face. It's...]
Phantasm: ...the Comedian.
Comedian: And what's at the root of all evil, as the story goes?
Phantasm: About time you showed up- hey, we're here! We're in Chicago. No Wave, no nothing- literally, Sanchez has even stripped the opiate of the masses! Shit is coming apart at the-
Comedian: Money! Come on, Cam, these are softballs!
Phantasm: Are you even listening to me?!
Comedian: No! Because you're not listening to me- and I'm the one who showed up to say something, so wait your fucking turn. Dig?
[Polar huffs angrily; the Comedian digs into his sweaty black trenchcoat and retrieves a pack of Pall Malls.]
Comedian: You're in the right place and on the right track to find an awful lot more than you think, Cam... but you have to stop thinking big.
[The Comedian lights a cigarette... the Phantasm growls slightly.]
Phantasm: What. The. Fuck.
Comedian: Stop- no judging for a second, ok?
Phantasm: You can't smoke that in here.
Comedian: What, in a fictional universe I helped to create? Fuck yeah I can smoke- I can make you do the fuckin' Macarena while I do it if I want. Pump the brakes, Bankston... I'll be gone before you know it, so let me try and make you know stuff before that happens.
[Polar sits back down, his glare becoming a frustrated look of surrender.]
Comedian: You can't look at everything from above, Cam... you can't always just go on the overview. When something is big, it makes total sense to look at it big... but when that something is, say, a whole city...
[Polar's eyes slowly widen.]
Phantasm: ...the devil's in the details. Holy shit.
Comedian: Everything starts somewhere, and that start is usually small... and those things sprout roots and sprawl all over.
[Polar's thought train (which had been chugging along at a high speed) is suddenly derailed... however momentarily.]
Phantasm: What things? What roots?
Comedian: Evil things, Cam. And what are the roots of evil?
Phantasm: ...you son of a bitch.
[The Phantasm jumps up, taking a few quick steps forward to high-five... well, his god. The trenchcoated tramp can't help himself; the Comedian swings his hand down, seemlessly shifting into a windmill high-five.]
Comedian: You already had the idea, you just didn't get the scope, the scale of it...
Phantasm: I would've put it together-
Comedian: ...and you were pretty fuckin' distracted by the chaos all around you. Which is the point of all this, by the way; religious riots and gang violence... it's overkill as fuck, but it's still all just smoke and mirrors.
Phantasm: You're telling me that all of this... madness... is just a smokescreen?
[The Comedian laughs.]
Comedian: Oh, it's way bigger than that... but it certainly does the job in a pinch, doesn't it?
Phantasm: Question, though... when we were in space, and you said the Wave answers were here-
Comedian: I didn't say the answers were here... I said the way to find the answers starts here.
Phantasm: Ugh- I get enough cryptic bullshit from Hophni.
Comedian: Polar... anything that changed the entire universe and its history? Gonna be a little harder to explain than "...oh, that?" And it's gonna take a little more digging than "Eh, I guess there's nothing here." You've got a mystery... you've got a very, very active crime scene... and you've got some highly qualified suspects.
Phantasm: Sanchez? The Wave is Sanchez' doing?
Comedian: Jesus, Cam- what part of 'way too hard to explain' are you not getting, man? This isn't an "x + y = z" kind of problem; there are so many variables here that you'll be solving for "x" all night long.
Phantasm: Fuck a math.
Comedian: Damn skippy... but hold up a sec, back to the plot. The mystery you have in front of you is "What happened to Chicago, and why?" The city is your crime scene... the suspects you know quite well.
Phantasm: But what about-
Comedian: -the Wave affected everything, right? This world, others... time, space, whole nine yards. Follow?
Phantasm: I'm picking it up...
Comedian: ...then I'll keep layin' it down. If the Wave affected everything, and in post-Wave Chicago, Sanchez rules uber alles...
Phantasm: ...there's a clue there. Where did Sanchez come from? How did he get to this point? What if he had something to do with-
Comedian: -what if he just woke up one day Mayor of Chicago and ran with it? What if... I mean, what if he's just a pawn in the game after all, Cam?
Phantasm: Then... who's the king? Fuck, who's *playing*?
Comedian: Now you're on it. Remember how I said you should stop thinking big? Well... the Wave... that's a subject you need to think really, really big on. Hey, I gotta get out of here... I have like six missed texts, and you've got a promo to cut.
Phantasm: ...crap. You wanna stay for a minute and help me with that?
Comedian: I'm feeling a very definite no, but there's a kinda yessy aftertaste in there.
[The trenchcoated man gazes about a bit...]
Comedian: Eh, fuck it- you wrote it, you sit in it. Alright, Cam- just this once.
[The Phantasm can't help but laugh.]
Phantasm: Oh shit- you're fucked, Shadowlove! I got god in my promo, bitch!
[The Comedian shakes his head in disapproval, but he's having trouble holding back his laughter.]
Comedian: Come on, you know how to do this. I should know- I fucking taught you.
Phantasm: Yeah, yeah. How do we... Chuck and Flav?
Comedian: Which of us is Flav?
Phantasm: Yeah, you'd upstage me too much. Jay and Bob? Nah- you'd make a shitty Silent Bob, though you do have the coat for it.
Comedian: Eh, it does alright... and yeah, I'd make a shitty Silent Anything.
Phantasm: Ooh... got it. Obama and Luther.
Comedian: Yes! My man!
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[...and now, a word from the Team Captain of the Guardians.]
Phantasm: Good evening, UCI... and a special good evening to all of you viewers at home. I am, of course, the Polar Phantasm; there has been some criticism as to my ability to express certain emotions of mine, so tonight I have brought with me an anger translator to help me get my point across. This is Brian-
[From off-screen, the Comedian enters and gives a solemn nod; the look on his face is somewhere between peeved and absolutely butt-fucking insane.]
Comedian: How y'all doin'.
Phantasm: Now, first thing I'd like to address tonight is my opponent at Beachmania 2016. Shadowlove, I have heard the things that you've said and I'm sorry you feel the way that you do... you will have a much harder time defeating me than you seem to think you will.
Comedian: 'LOVE, WHAT THE FUCK MAN? Don't you know who this motherfucker is?! Phantasm, baby- ask your momma, she'll tell you what's up. Some weak shit, man- that ain't gonna do dick for you once that bell rings Sunday, brutha. Better find an A-game... steal it, rent that shit or somethin', fuck!
Phantasm: It greaves me deeply that one of us will have to lose this Sunday, Shadowlove; you are a noble competitor and a rising star in the wrestling business, and a pay-per-view loss of this magnitude will likely set you back some hard work.
[Lighting a cigarette, the Comedian springs into... uh, rant.]
Comedian: You hearin' me, 'Love? It's gonna be him or you, and we all fucking know it ain't gonna be you; not if this man got anything to say about it... oh shit, and he does, too! He's saying "Homeboy is gonna get Ice Capped back to the 80s and whatever fuckin' 'ski school' movie he came from" or some shit. Boy, you better get your chinky-eyed old lady to write your address down in your underpants; this dude's about to dump on your head worse than fourteen million pigeons.
Phantasm: You may be a more stylish competitor than I, Mr. Love, but the bottom line rarely reflects your attire moreso than your level of talent... a fact that proves most discouraging for your chances this Sunday at Beachmania.
[The Comedian exhales a small cloud and matter-of-factly states the following.]
Comedian: Motherfucker, you better hope them fifteen hundred dollar pants you wearin' is ass-whoopin' proof.
Phantasm: One does not work their way to being the Polar Phantasm on a humbug, you understand... whereas Kid Phantasm shared my mental prowess, I have grown as an athlete and a ring technician significantly since those days. I was as a knife before... and I am as a sword now. Bigger, more powerful... every micron as sharp, now on a grander scale.
Comedian: And that ass-whoopin' is gonna be super-size like this man done ate one of them mushrooms from Mario Brothers. 'Love, what you gonna do with your Goomba ass when shroomed up Polar rolls on you? And don't say piss yourself; ain't a dry cleaner alive could fix that mess, and besides... designer of those pants would probably sue your ass for defamation or some shit. Oh, then homeboy's trying to fuck your tag partner, P-
Phantasm: Bonnie is a grown woman who makes her own decisions; I try to withhold any judgements and trust her instincts.
Comedian: Man, quit playin'. You shot that shit down quicker than a hot air balloon tryin' to get out of North Korea.
Phantasm: Yeah you right.
Comedian: Motherfuckers always tryin' to fuck your tag partners, P.
Phantasm: That's cause they're always hot.
Comedian: People gonna think you're fruit for Purse, man.
Phantasm: I'm comfortable in my sexuality enough to state that my friend Jeff is an attractive man.
Comedian: What, dude that looks like JT? I mean, obvious Polar is being obvious... but I dig it, man. Hey, you remember that time in Reading when you got knocked over by that mob of bitches trying to get at Purse, then his old lady bitched at you for it?
Phantasm: ...no, actually. I don't. Why don't-
Comedian: Ah, shit- that musta been one of the unfinished FE #3s*. Nevermind, my bad- we still doing this?
(* - True fact: roughly 75% of all Purse/Phantasm co-writing missions have ended with an unfinished 'Future Elements #3' promo. It's the Duke Nukem Forever of roleplays. -B.)
[Polar clears his throat... the Comedian puts his 'game face' back on.]
Phantasm: And after Beachmania and defeating Shadowlove, I will be representing the Guardians in Wentworth Updegraff's Invitational... against fellow Guardian, Alex Richards.
Comedian: ALEX RICHARDS, YOU- wait, the fuck? 'Lex? Shit, alright- Alex, motherfucker, you want some of this? Bitch, I'm comin' at you with- P, I'm not feelin' it.
Phantasm: Completely understandable, B; I should likely address a few of the others in the-
Comedian: OH YEAH, THAT'S THE SHIT. Uhhh- oh, fuck yeah, let's do this. Feelin' it now. Yo, whatup Beaver? I know you lost your TV Belt a hot second ago, but it's cool you didn't trip on it too much... probably 'cause you can just fall back on being World Heavyweight Champion of the Mickey motherfuckin' Mouseketeers. Fausse, that's a sketchy bitch for sure... I still ain't sure if you're the worst wrestler that currently is or the best Veronica Mars character that never was. Taylor motherfuckin' Wright- what the fuck happened to you, man? You would be the first motherfucker in this company to get put out for a 'wellness policy violation' or some shit; Sanchez got you turned onto the juice, or you the one put the spike in his ass first? Yo, Kyle Cameron- Doc Henry hooked you up with that place that makes the fake belts, huh? Alright, do you, brah; just sayin', your breath still smells like Ted DiBiase's dick. And oh, fuck me- look over here at David fuckin' Sanchez. Sanch-
Phantasm: -actually, B... I got this.
Comedian: Shit, son- it's your party, shoot if you want to.
Phantasm: Sanchez... our time is gonna come, and sooner than you'd think. It may not be next week, or week after... but it's coming. In the ring... in your office... somewhere, sometime, it's gonna happen. We're gonna clash like forces of nature and shit's gonna blow to pieces like an atom bomb went off; I already know. It does not end well for you and I, Mister Mayor... and it does not end pretty, either. But it will have an end... be it yours, or be it mine. One of us will fall... and for the sake of Chicago, I'll do whatever I must to ensure you are the one who falls.
Comedian: Yo, P- we done?
Phantasm: Everything except talking about how much we hate math.
Comedian: Man... save that shit, I got a half dozen stale texts in my pocket. One of us has to run this team; we can't both be fucking around in post-Wave Chicago all day.
[Polar looks confused for a second, then shrugs the mindfuck off.]
Phantasm: Alright, I'm just gonna find where I left my weed- say, you don't have anything, do you?
[Polar looks about for an Altoids tin, but can't immediately find it; when he glances back to his creator, he sees the man has vanished.]
Phantasm: ...you sneaky motherfucker.
[Polar sits down once more, chuckling slightly.]
Phantasm: "Fucking around in post-Wave Chicago"... shit, if only it was like that. I bet this town used to be fun.
[Just then, the Pit's side door opens; Ms. Miyamoto and Alex Richards rush in, Alex leading the charge.]
Richards: JAPANESE GANGSTERS STOLE MY GIRLFRIEND!
[Polar looks confused by this, then shakes his head slightly and plainly states his response...]
Phantasm: Well, I guess anything is possible in a post-Wave universe.
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LOVE, WHATEVER THAT IS
Series conceived by Alex Richards, Bonnie Blue and the Polar Phantasm
Series directed by the Polar Phantasm
Episode Five: To Save The Maiden Fair
Episode written by the Polar Phantasm
'The Guardians' created by Bonnie Blue, Jay Omega and the Polar Phantasm
(Come home soon, Spaceman.)
[(c) United Championship Infinite 2016. All rights reserved.]
