Omniverse News Network - Live Broadcasts

[Proto Man]

There was a frantic air in the studio.

As always, Ron Burgundy was calm and collected behind the main news desk of the ONN studio. In front of him, the tech crews, company execs, and lesser newspersons were zipping back and forth like panicked farm animals. “Ah, brilliant idea,” the newsman muttered as he pulled out a notepad from his jacket and scribbled ‘pick up veal’ on the index card.

“It’s almost time to go on the air,” a camera man muttered as he leaned over and adjusted the green screen behind Ron. “You excited? I feel like this is one of the biggest stories we’ve landed.”

“A little bigger than the dragons in Camelot or the terrorists in Coruscant, yes,” Ron muttered as a pretty young intern from the makeup department walked over and started to dab at his face with some powder. “You remember the early years? All those horrible pitched battles and all the high-profile executions and banishments?”

“So much news…” Ron muttered, his eyes glittering just a little as he recalled the last eight or nine years’ worth of shenanigans to befall Omni’s world-sized dungeon.

Suddenly someone from the other side of the studio let out a yelp. “He’s here! All we all ready?”

The intern gave Ron’s nose a final pat. “Knock ‘em dead,” she said with a wink before sauntering off, her hips swaying back and forth as she went.

As he stared, Ron had a small epiphany that prompted him to smile and snap a finger. Ah, yes, the staff party three months ago… couldn’t forget that sway for the life of me. Somewhere in the corner of Ron’s eye, he saw the ‘On Air’ sign flash to life, signifying that the network was live.

Turning his focus to the other side of the studio, Ron Burgundy continued to smile as man known as Karl Jak came sauntering—yes, sauntering—out from the curtain. Although his clothes were simple by businessman standards, everything was a vibrant shade of purple, including the man’s leather shoes. Only his white undershirt, pink bowtie, and some gold edging on his jacket broke what was otherwise a lot of purple. In his left hand, he held a purple briefcase with some diamonds around the edges, and in his right, he held a full glass of red wine.

“Good evening,” Karl said with a smile as he walked over to the chair across from Ron. The man had a slight lisp, and his accent also had slight traces of the American South. … Florida, perhaps?

“Please, have a seat,” Ron replied as he stood up and gestured to the leather chair. After placing his glass across from the anchorman, the two shook hands before plopping back into their expensive seats.

“Are we already on the air?” Karl asked as he glanced at the camera crew.


“Yes,” the newsman replied. “Welcome to the Omniverse News Network… the number one legitimate source of news in this wonderful multiverse we call home.”

At that, Karl smirked and took a sip of wine. “It’s a pleasure to be here with the one and only, Ron Burgundy, and if I may say so, you look even more handsome in person.”

Never one to skip a beat, Ron flashed a grin and continued. “So are you going to tell us a little bit more about yourself, Mr. Jak?”

“Please, Ron,” the man replied with a smile as he picked up the glass of wine and took a delicate sip. “Call my Karl.”

Ron Burgundy grinned as he drank from his rocks glass. “So what brings you to our studio tonight, Karl? We’ve heard a lot about you, both through the ole grapevine and from your little presents.”

“You like the Endless Flask?” Karl smiled as he spotted the metal container tucked into the inside pocket of Ron’s sport coat. “I found that, if you’ll believe me, in the aftermath of the strangest troll orgy… Can you believe it? One of them just left that lying around with the rest of the torn up and unwanted clothes.”

The anchorman leaned back a little and furrowed his brow as his hands laced over his chest. “Troll orgy? Do tell.”

A voice cut in from out of the shot. “Ron!” The shrill voice was from one of the network executives, and based on the tone, he was trying to warn his lead anchor not to stray from what was suitable to broadcast on air.

“Yes, of course,” the mustachioed newsman chuckled as he leaned forward. “We’ll have to save that for a pleasant discussion over some steak… So what brings you here? What are you all about, Karl?”

“I’m what you might call a Jack-of-all-Trades, Ron.” Karl turned and winked for the camera as he took another sip of wine. “Before Omni brought me here, my life was producing television. Violent, sexy, dramatic shows that a rife with real, ‘human’ stories and real conflict, you see?”

“Reality television?” Ron asked, furrowing his brow once again. The anchorman hadn’t been exposed to the genre before the Omniverse, since it didn’t really exist in the early 1980s.

“Some might call it that.” Karl answered. “I prefer to think that I’m simply capturing life at its rawest and most authentic.”

“And how do you do this? We’ve heard talk about a competition, and you’ve been pretty flagrant when it comes to flashing around your wealth.”

Karl smiled and waved for another glass of wine. Once he had it in his hand, he blew a kiss to the male intern and turned back to look at Ron. “I have my own verse, Ron. I found it smack dab the moment I walked out of the Nexus through whatever gate that was… and it was just a swirling tear in reality waiting for me.”

“What did you find there?”

At that, Karl produced a brick of white material that radiated all the colors of the rainbow as the producer twisted it for all the various cameras to see. “Just a giant landscape of raw Omnilium, Ron.” The man set the brick down and leaned a little closer to the anchorman. “And that’s all there was. People often say they were brought here for no reason? I don’t have that doubt. Omni brought me here and led me to that place, because he knew what I’d use it for. He knew what I’d do with it.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I built an island, Ron. A beautiful little island that’s just a short little helicopter trip away from a beautiful staging area.”

“What’s the island for? Condos?”

“Of course not,” Karl said with a smile. When the producer spoke again, a little of the synthetic sweetness that seemed to infest how he talked had faded away. “A competition, Ron. A competition where I intend to dump every willing soul onto an island, deprive them of what they think makes them special, hand them weapons, and have them kill each other until there’s only one person left. Hell, I might even grab some unwilling souls to, just to keep things a little interesting. I mean, you can’t imagine the money I’ll be saving since primes just respawn at the Nexus… my old job, we had to spend millions on these fancy pieces of equipment to keep people alive.”

Ron didn’t say anything--he was too busy mulling over what he’d just heard and wondering what the appropriate follow-up question would be. It was times like this that he missed the teleprompter. After killing a few more seconds, the anchorman nodded his head, as if to make people think he may have had a fresh thought. “You’re a producer… how will you market this? What’ll be the viewing audience?”

As if he had anticipated that question, Karl smirked and reclined once more. “Everyone, Ron. My reach is everywhere. From my pocket verse, there isn’t a single place I can’t realistically reach with my broadcasts. I don’t care if you live in the ghetto of Coruscant or in one of King Bowser’s little tower outposts… You’ll be watching.”

“What’s the incentive here? I mean, it’s a pretty tall order to throw a bunch of people onto an island and have them kill each other.”

“Please, Ron,” Karl shot back with a smile. “This will be limited to primes, so you can’t honestly tell me that anyone should be worried about genuinely ending people’s lives. I could break this glass, dive over this table, and stab you in the heart half a dozen times. Would I hate to clean off the blood? Of course. Would I be broken and ruined as a human being? Why? You’d just pop back up in a few days in a crisp new suit and a freshly waxed mustache waiting to do your next news segment.”

“True.”

“As for incentives…” Karl threw his head back and giggled. “Fame. Wealth. Power. From the Abyss will arise a new champion for the Omniverse, Ron. They will rise, anointed in the metaphorical blood of the fallen, to become the fresh face of this place. How many new primes have arrived in the last three years? How many of them are just chomping at the bit to break through that glass ceiling? I will do that for them. All they have to do is not just brave the competition but brave themselves.

“I will give them the platform they need. This isn’t some quaint little tournament in Camelot. This isn’t some cutesy duel between Pokémon or some petty Motorball race cheered on by a handful of tech-addicted maniacs. This will transcend verses, Ron. This will transcend the petty squabbles between regional powers. This will be the first true event celebrated by the entire Omniverse. Everyone’s eyes will be focused on what happens on my beautiful little island.”

Ron smiled and sipped some more scotch. “A televised gladiatorial competition broadcast to the entire Omniverse and set to star a cast pulled from the entire Omniverse? That sounds… very interesting. Can you share more details about how it will work?”

“No.” Karl replied with a coy smile. “All good things in time, Ron. What’s a good event without a proper buildup?”

“Understandable,” Ron replied, knowing full-well how big fights were prompted. “What can you offer to the viewing audience?”

At that, Karl shifted to face the cameras. “It’s coming, Ladies and Gentlemen. Are you a chump or are you a champion? Test yourself. Test everything you could ever aspire to be. I look forward to seeing you in Dante’s Abyss.”

At that, the feed cut out.