Neon Western III: The Cavalry Is Here
Jul 20, 2020 19:16:47 GMT -5
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Post by Jay Omega on Jul 20, 2020 19:16:47 GMT -5
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"If there is to be reconciliation, first there must be truth."
-Timothy B. Tyson
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"If there is to be reconciliation, first there must be truth."
-Timothy B. Tyson
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EARTH GDTAW
"The Danktuary", Somewhere in the Colorado Rockies
June 30, 2020, 1824Hrs, Local Time
"The Danktuary", Somewhere in the Colorado Rockies
June 30, 2020, 1824Hrs, Local Time
~Jay Omega was alone in a large weight training room, buried under more than a mile of rock and steel, so when the soft scent of a familiar perfume laid its delicate touch on his nose, he was more than a little surprised. Not just by the identity of his visitor, but also by the fact that there had been no warning from either the facility's security systems, nor his own Omega Sense. Regardless, he didn't allow his expression to give away his shock, he simply replaced the dumbbell he'd been working on its rack, casually toweled off his face, and spoke without turning to face his guest.
"I thought vampires couldn't enter unless invited, or is that just in the stories?" A rustle of clothing came from behind him, accompanied by a pair of bootheels clicking against the floor. "Some of the stories are true, some are made up to make people feel safer," Answered a woman's voice; a Southern accent touched with something that conjured images of a serpentine nature, "Doesn't matter, though; I used to live here, too, I can come an' go as I please." Omega turned to face his guest, and found her standing in a darkened corner; the shadows seemingly extending their reach to embrace her. "Good to know. In that case, why did you come, Bonnie? We weren't on the best of terms, last I checked."
"I think you just answered your own question; because we haven't been on the best terms lately, and if I'm bein' completely honest with myself… I kinda miss you an' Alex." A barrage of memories assaulted him; Cam Bankston surprising the Guardians with a heaping tray of homemade po'boys, Bonnie and Crystal Bankston getting the drop on Jay during a paintball war in the halls of the compound, a stream of sights, scents, and sounds that hit him with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. "Yeah. Me too." Was all he could manage to choke out under the weight of his emotions.
Those emotions soured when Omega remembered who Bonnie was married to, and what she had become because of him. The change in feelings must have shown on his face, as Bonnie's expression flattened a little. "I know you and John don't exactly see eye to eye, but there's more to him than you know; underneath the cold, calculatin' exterior is a surprisin'ly warm man." The Hardcore Maniac snorted his derision, rolled his eyes in disbelief. "I don't care if he's half kitten, half teddy bear; the man is all snake." His words caused an anti-flash in Bonnie's eyes, her corneas turning black for the briefest of instants.
"He's still my husband, and he makes me happy, so take care how you speak about the man I love." Hell truly hath no fury, so Omega made a placating gesture, and invited Bonnie to have a seat. "Well, I'm guessing you didn't pop in to chat about your love life, so why don't you fill me in on what's up?" As he spoke, Omega produced and lit a thumb-thick joint, passing it to Bonnie once his lungs were full. The Serpentine took a moment to fill her own lungs before replying, a slight wheeze to her words from the potent cannabis smoke tickling her throat.
"Like I said, just reachin' out to an old friend, hopin' for a reconciliation. I've got a lot of fond memories with the Guardians." Bonnie gave a coy shrug and eyed Jay sideways, "And who knows; maybe I can help you get the upper hand in the Glory tournament." Omega immediately vetoed that idea with a firm shake of his head, "Nope; as much as I love the night life, I spend waaay too much time in direct sunlight for what you're offering. Plus, I don't think it would work, what with all those nanobots in my blood."
Bonnie gave him a flat look that let him know just how far off the mark he was. "That ain't what I meant, an' I think you know it." Interesting how her speech mannerisms changed like that; Bonnie was clearly trying to present a proper, dignified air - no doubt picked up from her husband - but her Southern heritage slipped out when she got a little heated. "I was actually referring to some sparring; think of it as mending fences, if you will." Jay actually considered this offer, but after a moment he shook his head again, then accepted the joint back before elaborating.
"I appreciate it, but I'm just going to wing it as usual; I mean, it's not like there's anyone in this tournament I can't beat. And even if I do lose?" The Hardcore Maniac hit the spliff and tapped the ash off the end, "No big deal; it's only the United States Championship, which isn't what I'd call a prize." Bonnie clucked her tongue at him with a rueful shake of her head. "I wouldn't turn my nose up at the United States Championship, even if it wasn't the one I wanted." Omega snorted, half laugh half choke, and passed the burning bud back to Bonnie.
"Yeah, well, you've always cared more about titles than I have." The Serpentine nodded as she accepted the blunt, "Won more in recent mem'ry, too," She replied, "And maybe there's a lesson in that. It's been nice chatting, but if you're sure you don't need any help with this tournament, I'll leave you be. Maybe we can get together with Alex some time and catch up." Jay nodded with a small, but warm smile as the two rose to their feet. "I'd like that. But maybe next time let me know you're coming, eh? If I hadn't recognized your perfume, I would've shot you."
Bonnie smiled impishly at him before she turned and headed toward the door, looking back over her shoulder to respond. "You would have tried. Good night, Jay, and happy Canada Day." Bonnie paused at the door to put out the joint, and slipped the roach into her pocket. "Canada Day is tomorrow," Omega stated, prompting another smile from Bonnie. "Maybe this is yesterday for me." With a wink, she vanished from his sight; her bootheels no longer making noise as she strode down the hall. "Well, it's good to know I still have friends, at least," The Hardcore Maniac muttered to himself.
The W.E.I.R.D. strapped to Jay's left forearm chirruped at him, and Whittaker's face greeted him as he activated the device. "Hey, Cap'n, you've got an encrypted group message waitin' for ya that came in on an old Pantheon frequency. I already did a backtrace; point of origin was a burner phone purchased with an FBI expense account tied to a special agent Riko Tanaka. That ring any bells to you?" Omega shook his head and furrowed his brow; why would the FBI be contacting him? His work as a wrestler was beneath their notice, and his activities outside the ring were above their paygrade. There was only one way to get an answer though.
"Doesn't sound familiar at all. Who else is part of this group message; Bonnie and Alex?" Whittaker's image flickered as he checked the details, then raised a digital eyebrow. "Nope, neither o' them; it's between Riko, you, and Crow McMorris." That popped both Jay's eyebrows up in surprise; while not enemies, Omega and McMorris hadn't really spoken since the day the Scarecrow died. "Interesting. All right, well, open 'er up, and let's see what this agent has to say." Whittaker nodded in acknowledgement, and his avatar was replaced by a plain text message.
Gentlemen; I have information concerning a mutual acquaintance of yours, who is likely in need of help from men of your exceptional talents. Please meet me at the following coordinates, at the specified time and date. Come alone, and make sure you are not followed.
-A Friend
-A Friend
"Well that's obviously a trap," Jay remarked as he glanced over the meeting location, "Whittaker, can you get me satellite imaging of these coordinates? I wanna know what I'm walking into." Whittaker's face reappeared on the W.E.I.R.D, his expression concerned. "Y'all just said it was a trap, and you're still gonna go?" Omega just shrugged with a lopsided grin. "If I know it's a trap, it's not really a trap, is it? Not for me, at least; which is why I want to get the lay of the land ahead of time. If there are any surprises, I want to be ready for them."~
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"I'll be the strike anywhere, the reckless match you can count on to claim a life, or to save one."
-Bright Dead Things
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"I'll be the strike anywhere, the reckless match you can count on to claim a life, or to save one."
-Bright Dead Things
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EARTH GDTAW
Fifteen Miles Above Bodie, California and Falling
July 12, 2020, 1215 Hrs, Local Time
Fifteen Miles Above Bodie, California and Falling
July 12, 2020, 1215 Hrs, Local Time
~Even from this distance the intensity of the explosion caused the Suit's external display to polarize protectively, shielding Jay Omega's eyes from the blinding flare. "The fuck was that?!? Erin, gimme a sitrep." Formerly the Enhanced Reaction and Intuitive Navigation system of the futuristic powered armor, the sentient artificial intelligence known as Erin assessed the developing situation and fed him tactical data through their shared neural link; a magnesium-thermite incendiary device had just toasted a Jeep and its lone occupant. "That's not all; my scanners are picking up a lot of heat signatures down there," Erin informed him audibly, "I count two dozen armed men closing in on the three heat sigs in the saloon."
"Fuck sakes, I knew this was a trap, I just didn't realize it wasn't for me." Not the first time Omega's ego had led him to believe he was the target, "Is there any way we could get down there any faster?" Jay asked his digital companion, and a double "blat" sound in the back of his mind indicated a negative response. "We're falling just shy of terminal velocity now; if we go any faster, I won't have time to safely decelerate. You could handle the impact by going supersolid, but I would definitely sustain damage." On the ground, a one-sided firefight had broken out, and the optics in Jay's helmet switched to thermal imaging, allowing him to watch as his trio of contacts split up in an attempt to escape.
A flare of heat spiked under one of the fleeing figures; clearly they were trying to get away on a bike. The biker only managed to cover a short distance before the rider wobbled and the bike went down. A second figure ran in a serpentine pattern toward the fallen escapee; small flares of heat indicating return fire. Meanwhile the third person hunkered down behind a small rocky outcrop only a few dozen feet from the abandoned saloon. "Okay, looks like the biker's got some backup; let's try and drop in by the solo target, see if we can't lend a hand." A soft ping! in the back of his mind sounded acknowledgement, the Suit's repulsors slightly altered his angle of descent, and Omega braced himself for a hard landing.
Because of her cheerful personality and pleasantly polite attitude most of the time, Jay often forgot that Erin was a literal killing machine, having been designed by the Dark Timekeeper as a mass produced armor for his already formidable minions. That timeline had been destroyed during the Timekeeper Wars, and Erin was the only remnant of that lost time. Her original, violent purpose was thrust to the forefront of the Hardcore Maniac's mind with a grisly reminder, as the two of them landed dead center in a trio of attackers. Meaning all 800 pounds of armored Omega dropped feet-first onto one of the men, moving at roughly 700 feet per second.
Much of the unfortunate landing pad liquified on impact, spraying out to either side and coating the other two gun-toting lowlives with his viscera. The men didn't have time to react to Jay's gory entrance; his fists came down to steady him as he landed in a three point stance, his right hand smashing a furrow where one man's face had been. The seismic shockwave lifted the third man off his feet, and Erin picked him off midair with a precision burst from the shoulder-mounted chaingun. "More targets incoming," Erin said sweetly, obviously enjoying herself, "Two at eleven, two at eight. I'm also picking up radio chatter from a mobile command center somewhere nearby; give me a few moments to triangulate."
Not far away, a slight Japanese woman pressed a Sig Sauer P226 into a wounded man's hand. "You know how to use one of these?" She asked him breathlessly, her gaze scanning for any perceivable threats. He looked up at her with unfocused eyes, his expression confused, "Yurei? Hell of a party you've invited us to!" The laugh that slipped from the mouth of Crow McMorris held no mirth. "Call me Riko. Take the pistol. We got work to do." Crow tightened his grip on the proffered weapon, and levered himself up in order to take in the situation; the outlook was not favorable.
"I see four, no, five hostiles at our two o'clock." McMorris informed Riko. The Japanese woman lifted her head slightly, then laid flat again. "I count another three heading toward the saloon, and six more flanking us in two groups of three." Crow gave a defeated shrug, followed by a winning smile, "So we go out shooting, and take as many of them with us as we can." Riko was just about to tell him just how far from ideal his plan was, when the ground shook beneath their prone bodies. "Earthquake!" Riko exclaimed, but a short, staccato burst pricked McMorris' ears up. A longer, sustained burst brought a smile to his face. "No; backup!"
Whichever outfit these gunmen were with was clearly not prepared to handle a walking tank, as evidenced by their low calibre rounds bouncing off Jay's armored torso. But they hard started this fight, against unarmed civilians, so Omega had no compunctions about mowing them down with his vastly superior firepower. Flechette launchers on either wrist discharged as hostiles came within range, peppering the men with thin spikes of tungsten carbide. Meanwhile, the shoulder-mounted chaingun spewed a steady stream of hot lead at the other pair approaching from the side, turning them into bullet-riddled carcasses before they had a chance to fall.
As the chaingun went silent, a missile pod on the other shoulder opened up, and a microwarhead slid into launch position "Target locked, payload selected; shall I dispatch their command center, Pilot?" Jay grinned inside his helmet; for some reason, he had begun to enjoy being called that lately. "With gusto," Omega replied, his grin becoming a little feral, "Don't forget to double tap." A second microwarhead armed and primed, and the Hardcore Maniac mentally clicked the launch button, sending two manmade birds of prey out to hunt. Jay didn't bother to watch where the missiles went, they were sure to hit their target and he had to check on whoever he had just saved from certain death.
Omega activated his external speakers as he turned toward the rock formation, "Ollie Ollie Oxen Fr--" Several rounds ricocheting off the side of his head interrupted him, and the Hardcore Maniac hated to be interrupted. "Hold that thought," Trusting Erin to aim for him, Jay raised his right arm and fired a 40mm Hi-Ex grenade from the launcher under his forearm. After the ensuing explosion died down, Omega made a show of looking left and right, cupping a hand over the helmet's faceplate. "Ollie Ollie… Oxen Free! Come out, come out, whoever you are! There's, like, an eighty percent chance you won't get shot!"
The face that poked up over the rock turned out to belong to a young man that Jay was somewhat familiar with; the artist formerly known as Spencer Adams, the man formerly known as the owner of United Championship Infinite. That youthful face expressed shock and bewilderment; while likely not the first time Adams had been shot at, an assault of this scale was another matter entirely. There was also the fact that, while the Hardcore Maniac had engaged in superheroic antics while in Spencer's employ, the man himself had never seen Omega's power armor in action. Shock and bewilderment was the appropriate response.
"Oh hey," Jay said in recognition, "So if you're here, then Crow must be--" Automatic gunfire half a kilometre away drew his attention, and semi-automatic return fire of a smaller calibre confirmed his suspicions. "Over there. The saloon should be safe enough, dude; why not mosey on over, belly up to the bar, and chill out while I go play Big Damn Hero." The Hardcore Maniac didn't wait for a response, he just turned toward the sound of bullets and activated his repulsors; covering several hundred feet in a single leap that put him between two friendlies and six hostiles. "Yo, did I just get saved by fuckin' War Machine?" Adams asked no one in particular.
While Spencer made his way back to the dubious safety of the rundown clapboard building, his tag team partner clung desperately to his wits, as Crow and Riko did their best to fend off their attackers. The ground shook again as Jay Omega landed not five feet away, the mottled black and green armor he wore a welcome sight to Crow's beleaguered eyes. Riko's expression was one of pure terror, as she had no way of knowing that the heavily armed mechanical monstrosity before her was being piloted by one of the men she had sought an audience with. Before she could bring her pistol to bear on this new threat, the cybernetic construct flung a trio of flattened metal discs that punctured cleanly through a target each.
Before Riko could properly aim, the hulking brute spewed a gout of flame at three other targets, leaving only three more. It didn't register in Riko's mind that the machine was protecting her until her finger closed on the trigger, but a large hand sweeping into her view to knock the gun barrel aside broke her mental paralysis. "Please don't shoot our backup," Crow said calmly, "I promise, he's on our side." To demonstrate the point, a small missile launched from a recess in the armor's shoulder, and vaporized the remaining hostiles. Once certain the attack had ended, the Suit released its pressure seal, and Omega climbed out of the back hatch. Jay immediately extended a hand to help McMorris to his feet, but the big man waved him off and rose under his own power.
"Spencer's back at the bar," The Hardcore Maniac exposited, "And from the look of things, he's better at dodging bullets than you are." Crow lightly fingered the crimson streak still slowly leaking from above his ear, and gave a shrug, "Wasn't trying to dodge; I was trying to draw fire so Spence could get to cover." Omega laughed loudly and clapped McMorris on the shoulder. "A bold move, if also a little stupid; undead can still be made redead, y'know. You ain't bulletproof like I am." Crow conceded the point, but also rolled his eyes. "Bold, stupid, doesn't matter; it worked," The Murder Machine hesitated, then nodded toward Riko, "Though I have to admit it probably wouldn't have worked if Riko hadn't been there to cover me."
Jay turned toward the diminutive Japanese and stuck out a hand, "Ah yes, Special Agent Riko Tana-- wait a sec…" Omega cut off as he recognized the FBI agent from Action Wrestling's cruiserweight roster. "Aren't you that spectral assassin chick from CruiserClash? Umm… Yurei, right?" Riko tucked her pistol back into a shoulder holster and nodded, ignoring the offered handshake. "That is my cover, yes. I'm not happy about blowing it, but I didn't have much choice," Riko met the Hardcore Maniac's gaze with a look that was both pleading and commanding, "I would appreciate your discretion in the matter. All of you." Omega simply shrugged and nodded, while Crow glanced toward the saloon.
"I don't speak for Spencer," McMorris stated, "But I don't see that being a problem. We all have our secrets. And speaking of secrets, I think it's about high time we got to the point of this meeting, because something tells me you didn't invite us all the way out here just for an ambush." Riko nodded, then made a sweeping gesture toward the bar. "Absolutely. But let's discuss this somewhere with a little more shade and a few less bodies; this place is starting to stink." Tanaka turned toward the decrepit saloon, with Crow trailing along behind her. Omega hung back long enough to instruct Erin to watch the perimeter, then jogged to catch up to the procession.~