Omniverse News Network - Live Broadcasts

[Proto Man]

“Hello, Omniverse, I’m Ron Burgundy, with your evening news.”

Behind Ron, a picture of a burning forest flashed up, with the caption ‘Uncontrolled Blaze!’ beneath it.

“We have received breaking news from the Tangled Green, where—in an unprecedented act—a forest fire of immense proportions has broken out within a few miles of the Nexus Gate. Sources are unclear as to the cause of the fire, but all attempts to prevent its spread have met with limited success. Most of the efforts to dial back the blaze have come from Camelot’s Mages’ Guild, and some of our reporters spotted Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore amongst those actively fighting this force of nature.”

A grainy image of a man in robes appeared on the screen to the left of Ron.

“This forest fire is the just the latest in a long line of tragedies to befall the Tangled Green. Before this, we were sifting through reports about the strange and terrifying disease plaguing the outer reaches of the verse.” An assortment of mutated creatures flashed up behind Ron. “For now, this forest fire takes center stage, but who knows how long it is until we receive our next piece of horror stories from the deep jungles of the Tangled Green.

“Well that seems like all we have time for today. From all of us here at Omniverse News, I’m Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

[Proto Man]

“Hello, Omniverse. I’m Ron Burgundy. I’m here to bring you the most reliable news’ source in the Omniverse.”

Ron shifted in his seat as his eyes found the overlay next to the teleprompter that told him what was being projected on the green screen behind him.

“In the news today… Crime on Coruscant’s bottom tiers is at an all-time high, with reports of nearly a half dozen gang-related crimes on Tier 5 within the last twelve hours alone. Local residents say that the Empire’s response has been, and I quote: ‘Half-hearted at best’. When asked for a statement, a representative for King Bradley replied that these accounts are untrue, and that stormtrooper patrols in the area have increased by nearly three hundred percent in the last week alone.”

Ron paused to take a long sip of scotch from one of two nearby tumblers. He missed San Diego, but he loved nothing more than the Omniverse’s lax regulations on drinking on the job. Nothing helped him tell the news better than a glass or two of fine scotch imported from Camelot’s highlands.

“In other news, there have been reports filtering in that Darkshire’s resident champion, Argento Camarinos, has returned from a fruitful expedition to the Black Gate. Our reporters in the field were unable to reach the paladin for information, but many of the locals say the story is that he killed several of Diablo’s still-active lieutenants who may have been attempting to reactivate the Gate. The rumor is that Argento has added two members of the garrison to his retinue and intends to venture into Silent Hill.”

Ron stopped once more and glanced at the horrifying graphic of the nightmare town that his crew had found. Just looking at it made him reach for his scotch glass and take another slug.

“For those of you unaware of the significance, Silent Hill was a famous tourist attraction and a mecca of modernity in the Pale Moors before Diablo’s forces started pouring out of the Black Gate. After a period of isolation, the town was swallowed by a dense fog, and since then, the only individuals to escape have been primes who had to resort to suicide. Needless to say, Omniverse News Network will be following this story intensely in the coming weeks.”

“In other news, we’ve heard reports of a fresh prime activity in the Endless Dunes and the Tangled Green. Some welcome the influx as it brings with it a fresh influx of omnilium and attention to these regions, but more often than not, these influxes may lead to fresh conflict between the existing power players. It’s been a few months since we heard that Ganondorf and Enel got into a fist fight, and since then, activity around the Gerudo castle has been minimal. Attempts to get a statement from villagers have been fruitless up to this point.

Ron glanced over and saw that a picture of Samus Aran was now above his right shoulder.

“It also seems as if Samus Aran and her retinue of murderers and anti-Imperial lackeys have managed to vanish into the Vasty Deep. The admiralty in the area have been unable to locate the trio despite the heavy damage sustained the Aran’s vessel as she blasted her way out through Coruscant’s Gate.”

The news man had to suppress a smirk. He’d always been amused by the bounty hunter, and he was glad to hear they hadn’t locked her away in Impel Down.

“Our last piece of news is undoubtedly our most mysterious, and this is not a lie, Omniversians. At our board meeting this morning, the very fabric of space was torn open above our head, and a solitary pamphlet drifted down before the event horizon sealed.

“The pamphlet contained a simple message,” Ron picked up the photocopy from his desk. “And I quote: ‘Come on, come all! The preparations area nearly finished! In just a few months’ time, the stage will be set, and the competition will unfold. Spread the word. Ready yourselves. There will be more to come later, my lovelies.’ The note bore no signature, and analysis was unable to pinpoint where the material may have come from, but needless to say, it piqued our interest, and I think it probably piqued yours as well.

“Until the next time. I’m Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

[Guu]

The familiar jingle plays, as the visage of Ron Burgundy’s silhouette is visible on screen. The camera pans in as his form is slowly lit up into being visible.

“Hello, Omniverse. I’m Ron Burgundy with your evening News.”

Behind Ron, a picture of a Gengar with the caption “Rogue Pokemon”

“In recent news, a rogue Pokemon has been loose on the Nexus. Based on eyewitness reports, it has been confirmed to be the Ghost Pokemon, Gengar. There has been no word from the PLF if it is an operative, but its actions suggest that it’s acting on his own volition. While it mostly doesn’t attack, only limiting itself to scaring people, it has been noted to attack people in their sleep. Authorities from both Camelot and Coruscant have issued alerts to not sleep in the Nexus until the matter has been dealt with.”

The picture shifts to the image of a strange creature with the head of a chicken and the body of some dragon thing with the caption “More Rogue Beasts.”
“On the topic of rampant monsters, the body of a cockatrice was discovered in the woods near the township of Langweilig. Authorities state that the creature was taken down by three currently unidentified primes who were helping in the search of a little lost girl in the area. While the one beast has been felled, tracks suggest that many more Cockatrices are in the forest. The woods have been declared off limits to civilians for the time being.”

Picture fades into an image of a forest fire, with the subtitle “Uncontrolled Blaze.”
“Continuing on the Tangled, the blaze is still going on, however, thanks the help of Albus Dumbledore and his volunteer mages it appears to be contained to a certain area of the forest for the time being. However, the fires have caused a number of unexpected stampedes towards the Nexus gate, killing several and injuring many. It’s only the most recent tragedy to befall the area as of late. Several towns in the Tangled have already held large memorials for those that have been claimed by the fires and plagues.”

Image shifts to the picture of people having a barbeque. Caption reads “Big Feast.”
“In a surprising turn of events, the dozens or so fishmen bodies that turned up in the Vasty Deep didn’t go to waste. They were bought up by the inhabitance of Gourmandise Island who promptly used what was left of the corpses for meals and such. The PLF has been quick to express outrage, claiming the bodies have been desecrated, and there have even been threats of a PLF attack on the island. The islanders responded with the message: ‘Totally worth it.’”

following interview was written by Inlumia

An image of Inlumia dancing and singing is shown in the background.
"In other news, the prime Inlumia has been tracked down and we are going to try to interview him regarding various things he has done. More recent of which is him hosting a really wild party. From what I can tell, the death toll is roughly half and expected to increase with sunrise."
Suddenly it shows the field, with parts censored out, and shows the devastation sunrise caused.

"Hello Inlumia. This is Ron Burgandy from the Omniverse News Network. I would like to have a quick word with you."
Inlumia shrugged. "Are the neighbors complaining about the noise? This always happens when I try hosting a small get together! Sure we were loud enough to wake the dead, but they weren't complaining!"

While he was saying this a zombie rose to it's feet, wavered, and leaned against a tree to literally puke his guts out, much to the horror of the Gremlin sleeping against the tree.
Inlumia paid it no mind, until the zombie came over to him, and said "Great party dude!" before shambling away.
Inlumia simply said, "see, they even like it!"

Ron was a bit stunned, "Ah, no, that's not it. In fact, we don't know about any complaints. I wanted to interview you about a few different things, but first, what do you mean small get together? If that's a small get together, I'd hate to be about a really wild party!"
Inlumia is dead serious and replied, "When we have a wild party, realities are destroyed. Omni and Diablo combined don't have jack on us. Pray to whatever deity will listen that we never have a truly wild party anywhere near you, because normally the death count includes Gods, and large parts of realities. If I could be sure Secondaries were the people Primes try to summon and not just clones, I would gleefully summon a few million into wild parties just to kill them."

Ron just moved on.
"What are your plans for the Dark Mage Guild?"
"To ensure it retains its legal existence and is not twisted. It provides useful services to the communities and give Dark Mages an opportunity to make a living through ways other then crime. This means we are less persecuted for no good reasons!"
"And the Healing Order you made?"
"Same reason, but I have to add, the core of it was not my creation, but the Sex Mage guild's work. I just provided a small legal nudge here and there."
"And what about the assassin guild?"
"It was pre-existing. Most of those members are decent people who honestly believed they were killing evil people. When the truth of the people behind them was revealed, that death cult broke up, and I got the assassins, and another fragment that's helping the Healers. I admite I converted most of the members of the Healer order and the assassins to Goddesses of my faith."

"About death cults, what are your plans for the Nidhogg tournement?"
"Non-existent, since this is the first I've heard about it. Still, the name Nidhogg rings a bell."
After a bit he said: "Now I have it! The Nidhogg is the Dragon that lives trapped in the roots of Yggdrassil and gnaws on one of the 3 main roots, trying to free itself. It also devours souls of the most damned in an afterlife. He is prophesied to eventually be freed at the twilight of the Gods."
Ron was very interested at this! "This is the most we've managed to learn about the Nidhogg."
"When you've been around the true Omniverse for a few centuries you pick up a thing or two. What else can you tell me about the tournament?"
"Just that the winner will be eaten by a giant snake they claim is the Nidhogg, the World Wyrm."
Inlumia paused for a moment. "I see. The World Wyrm was not one of the Nidhogg's titles. It belonged Jörmungandr. I'm more interested in the sacrificial aspect of this. A tournament to glorify a god thing is actually a mass offering, with the crowd's rejoicing in the death being praise to the God. Every single death would also be an offering to the god thing. Also, I doubt any Prime would be allowed to contend. After all, if the Prime respawn at the nexus, what kind of offering would they be?"
"What are your plans now?"
"Once I finish up some matters, I will look into it."

One last question, "Since you have been helping Camelot so much, what do you think about Coruscant?"
"I have not had a chance to examine it myself in order to form an opinion. I also must remain neutral. Except for the Dragons, any benefits for Camelot are side effects of me helping those who were abandoned or despised by most society in Camelot, and not me trying to help Camelot as a whole. I should not have been needed in Dalaran at all."
"What do you think about Camelot?"
"I've been to much worse. I think the people in charge are trying to do the right thing, but have a lot of problems to deal with. The cold war they are having with the Empire would not be helping things either."
“Alright! Thank you very much for your time!” Ron said.
The footage of Inlumia ends and cuts back to the studio.
“Well, that is it for this evening’s news. I’m Ron Burgundy. Stay classy Omniverse.”

[Proto Man]

“Hello, Omniverse, I’m Ron Burgundy with your evening news.”

Ron smiled at the camera as his eyes verified that the correct image was on the green screen behind him.

“All eyes are on the Pale Moors, Omniversians, where there has been the biggest ‘natural’ influx of primes since the founding of Silent Hill. The primes there seem to be split between the two rival camps vying for influence in the area—the former Kingdom daughter-city of Darkshire and Count Dracula’s growing army of monsters and demons. Only time will tell if these primes have any lasting impact on the region, which has become increasing unstable over the last few years.

“In other news, the Endless Dunes continues to attract would-be warlords and leaders. I’m not completely sure why, because I never once had the desire to visit New Mexico back home. But since this is the Omniverse, I can never be too sure what motivates anyone.”

Ron grinned and took a swig from the scotch in front of him. He glanced up to see that the graphic had already been updated.

“Now onto our special news… We received, of all things, a tape tonight.” There was a slight pause as someone off-camera slid the piece of technology down Ron’s desk and into frame. Without skipping a beat, the anchorman scooped it up to display it to the viewing audience. “Just after a morning board meeting, we had one of those little ‘time-space’ tears open up and drop this U-Matic cassette down onto the boardroom desk with a note that read ‘Because I imagine this is familiar to you’.

“Well if you’re out there watching, yes, I am, and thank you for the bottle of scotch that you sent along with it.” With a smile, Ron handed off the 8-track to one of the tech people. “If you have no idea what a U-matic is, I recommend you go Google it. But since this is the pseudo-future, we had the data extracted from the tape and converted to a digital medium. It’s not a very long video segment, so we here at ONN will play for you, our loyal viewers, the entire video.”

There was a flash of static as the camera feed switched over from Ron to the recording from the U-matic.

After a brief pause, an island comes into view. It is pristine, with verdant fields bordering a calm, blue ocean. An almost picture-perfect mountain juts up from a forest. A little village can be spotted slightly up the mountain, and a small yet urban city rests near the seashore.

The view changes to show the back of a scrawny man in a suit. Next to him on an end table is a half-empty glass of wine. “Hello, everyone. It’s my pleasure to meet you.” He says without turning to the camera. “I’ve been working very hard since I found this place to create the perfect place to host what will be the greatest event that this strange little world has seen.” The man turned around and smiled. His face was clean-shaven and by for all intents and purposes, he would have been considered handsome.

“Many primes have spent years wondering why they were chosen by Omni. I don’t need to wonder. He chose me because I’m the best at what I do, and that, Ladies and Gentlemen, is entertainment. Consider this a message to every single prime in the Omniverse… You won’t want to pass on the opportunity I have for you.” The man reached into his expensive suit and pulled out a shimmering, rainbow-colored ingot. “Yes, this is a brick of pure omnilium. It’s the very same stuff that makes this world move ‘round, and I assure you that I have much, much more.”

With a laugh, he dropped the brick next to his wine glass.

“My name is Karl Jak, and I look forward to our next little chat.”

The video faded to static, and a moment later, the feed switched back over to Ron, who smiled to the camera. “Needless to say, Omniversians, we here at ONN will be doing all we can to learn more about Mr. Jak. All we know so far is that he dresses very well and has a wonderful taste in scotch,” Ron chuckled and slid away the papers in front of him. “That’s all we have time for tonight. From all of us here at the Omniverse News Network, I’m Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

[Proto Man]

“Hello, Ominverse, I’m Ron Burgundy, bringing to you the most reliable news source in the Ominverse.”

With a cool grin, Ron glanced to make sure the graphic—an armored woman fighting a dragon—was properly in place.

“In your news, there seems to be word that the bounty hunter Cindy has gone missing. Those close to the traveling soldier-of-fortune state that she hasn’t frequented her usual haunts in months and left no sign to make them not believe that some sort of foul play is at hand. Cindy was part of a troupe of mercenaries and adventurers from several verses who joined forces to slay a dragon rampaging through Camelot.

“It is known that after the death of the Rathalos that Cindy was spotted with her own dragon, but other than that, there are no leads as to her whereabouts or what may have been the cause of her disappearance…”

Ron trailed off to provide himself time to drink some scotch. He glanced at one of his coworkers sitting at a desk off camera and muttered just softly enough for them to hear and no one else. “Never liked her… dirty swashbuckling soldier-of-fortune.”

Clearing his throat, Ron set down the rocks glass of scotch and turned back to his audience. “In other news, the Endless Dunes continues to be home to lovable egomaniacs, as Gilgamesh continues to attract people through his blustering charisma. Word on the street is he went so far as to travel to the Tangled Green to settle a twitter fight…” Ron paused to let that settle in. “No one is quite certain who emerged victorious.” The legendary anchorman took a moment to wink before the graphic changed once again.

“In tonight’s top pseudo-story, we’re happy to announce an upcoming interview with a young woman named ‘Android 18’.” Ron paused to glance at the picture of the individual in question. She was attractive, but her eyes were a little too cold for his tastes. It was as if she’d rip your heart out for complimenting her unnaturally perfect physique. “Android 18 comes to us as a representative of ‘Syntex Corporation’ … and who is sending her our way? None other than Karl Jak, our mysterious businessman with a love for vintage electronics…

With a cough, Ron took another long sip from his glass before placing it down.

“That’s all we have time for tonight. From all of us here at Omniverse News Network, I’m Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

[Proto Man]

“Good evening, Omniverse, I’m Ron Burgundy.”

Unlike most nights, Ron seemed a little more gleeful than usual. For the viewers at home, they would have no idea, but off to the anchorman’s right, a young blonde woman sat in a chair, waiting for her cue.

“As promised, tonight we have in our studio a young woman by the name of Android 18. From what she says, she is an employee of the mysterious stranger and his hidden organization. We’re going to go to that story right now, so I’d like to introduce you all to our visitor.”

At that, Ron turned to the right, and the camera swapped to a wider shot that showed the man sitting across from the woman, who smiled when she saw the green light. “Hi, Ron,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming as she turned to look at the anchorman. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, Eighteen… may I call you that?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied. Although the woman wore makeup, it was obvious to anyone with a keen eye that she wasn’t covering up skin blemishes. Rather, the foundation and concealer had been used in an attempt to gloss over scars—where the scars had come from where anyone’s guess. Ron and the staff at the news network didn’t have much on the woman beyond her affiliation with their mystery man.

“So what brings you to our studio tonight? Are you here to give us the tell-all exclusive about Mr. Jak?”

Eighteen giggled softly before shaking her head. “Of course, not, I’m just her to build more suspense, Mr. Burgundy.”

A laugh escaped from beneath Ron’s mustache as he picked up his scotch and took a sip. “Well what can you tell us?”

With a smile, Eighteen pulled up a little folder and produced a picture from it. Placing it on the desk, she slid it across to Ron, who picked it up and furrowed his brow as he examined what was on it. “You know what those are?” The blonde inquired as she picked up her water and took a sip.

“Random trinkets?” Ron inquired as he held up the photo for the cameras. It was a high-resolution shot of a closet-sized vault filled with what genuinely looked like an assortment of random odds and ends.

“Artefacts.” Eighteen replied nonchalantly, prompting a few members of the network’s tech crews to gasp. Even Ron seemed a little flummoxed and taken aback by the woman’s proclamation.

“Legitimate artefacts?” The newsman inquired as the woman nodded her head. “And we’re just to take you on your word?”

“Karl has limitless resources at his disposal, and he has for quite some time. Here,” Eighteen took that moment to reach down under the table and retrieve a simple metal flask. “This is a gift to you, Ron.” With a furrowed brow, Ron reached over and picked up the flask, but a little jiggle revealed that it was empty. “Pour it,” the woman said once she noticed the look on his face.

With a shrug, Ron tipped the flask over his glass, and from the spout, a fine amber liquid poured out. Setting down the flask, Ron picked up the glass and brought it up to his nose. “Scotch.” He replied before taking a quick sip. “Very nice scotch.”

“Obviously not everyone will be sold on magic flasks, but I assure you that Karl Jak has many more treasures for those who shine.”

“Shine in what?” Ron inquired, setting down his glass and leaning closer to the blonde.

“The competition, of course.”

“And what competition is that?” The anchorman asked, hoping to have the woman give him something of value.

“Soon,” Eighteen answered. “He’ll be making the announcement. From what I’ve seen, Ron… it’s going to be a grand spectacle. I know this man and his production crew. None of them will disappoint.”

“You can’t give us a little teaser, can you?” Ron said with a playful sigh as he leaned back in his chair and picked up his scotch.

“Stay tuned.” She shot back with a coy grin. “He’ll let you know soon, Ron.”

Ron shook his head even as a grin spread beneath his regal mustache. “Well… that’s all we have time for tonight. From all of us here at Omniverse News Network, I’m Ron Burgundy. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

[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.

[Guu]

Ron sits casually in front of his desk, he peers over to the camera with that sexy debonair look of his.

“Greeting Omniverse. With all the excitement that has been going on, we have to remember that the news never rests. So on to tonights stories!”

An image flashed up next to him. It’s a picture of a cartoon burglar running off a pair of money bags.

“We’ve recently gotten reports that the Hogginstein bank, located in a hidden island in the Vasty has gone out of business. What was the most popular bank of rogues, rebels, and vagabonds is shutting is doors for the last time next week. When asked why, they released this video.”

The following video plays:

Solemn Farewell from Hogginstein

Cut back to Ron sitting at his desk.

“A sad day for bankers in anarchy sectors.”

Ron bows his head for a brief moment of silence. The suddenly jolted his head back up.

“With that, onto our ongoing drug watch.”

A new image flashes up in the corner of a screen. It shows a man smoking with a text reading “High Times.”

“A new drug has hit the market. The new drug, ‘Dwarven Dust’ is said to be smoked in joints and is believed to be composed of rare materials found in the Frozen fields. The substance has random effects each time it’s taken. Some of been reported to become slow and complacent, while others turn violent and delusional. The substance has been banned in both Camelot and Coruscant and deemed dangerous by most authority figures based on it’s unpredictable nature. We’ll give more details as they come out.”

Shifts to a new image. This one shows two boxers punching each other with the text “Prime Beat Down.”

“Some interesting news from Coruscant. A large group of newbie primes got into a scuffle not far from Coruscant’s Nexus gate. Based on descriptions, it was between a large robot, a sword wielding fur collector, A little girl possessed by Cthulhu, a teenager on a moped, and some floaty demon guy. According to the Empire, most parties have been taken into custody, but have since been released.”

The image in the corner shifts to a stormtrooper shedding a single tear with the text “Trooper Blues.”

“The Empire reports the high death toll on Stormtroopers from primes. In response to the recent attacks, they’ve released a video.”

The following video plays:

Stormtroopers are people too!

Cut back to Ron at his desk.

“The red shirts always have it rough.”

An image of a bomb laying against a Butterfinger candy bar is overlaid with the text “Missing Weapons.”

“Word from the grapevine is that a weapon has been stolen from Dr. Gero’s lab. Coruscant has refused to make a statement on the subject, but from what little info that could be gathered, it seems to be some sort of gas weapon. We’ll give more information as they come up.

“Well, that’s all for tonight. Stay classy Omniverse.”

[Carn_Val]

With the up and coming Dante's Abyss, an event large enough to be known throughout the whole Omniverse, ONN is doing its best to cover everything. From the sign-up booths to the actual verse itself, every public corner is under live coverage. Reporters from all over the place, including ONN, are mostly waiting at the Danteverse Lobby, waiting to ambush any new participant that comes through the crack(?) on the wall.

After a particularly menacing attack from Wartortle, the PLF leader, which was, sadly, not captured by camera due to how sudden and brief the whole thing was, everyone resumes their regular ambush routine for new arrivals. Well, here's a new one trying to sneak up on the media.

NEWS FLASH
A video streams from the closest ONN camera to interrogate the new participant with the 'LIVE' tag blinking on the upper right of the screen. This hour's victim seems to be a black creature with bright white eyes. The poor victim almost looks pitiful, dealing with the sudden relentlessness of media personnel. Questions indistinguishable followed by flashes lf lights leaves the newly arrived guest to blink and stare blankly a few times.

Finally, the creature reacts with a smile, the kind of smile that brings in bad luck. The creature growls at the reporters, "I am Carn, Carn is here for fame and food. Since I am now satisfied with the attention you have given me, it is time to feast! the creature said with a voice that shook the earth, chuckling with malice. At least now we know what this creature wants, right? Carn jumps at the nearest camera and bites a good chunk off of it. Safe to say that one's not going to work anytime soon. Other reporters start running, one famous man sounds like a girl as he faceplants on the floor elegantly, not from ONN ofcourse. The brave and heroic ONN cameraman still airing the chaos, trips and drops the camera on the floor, now lying on its side. The camera cuts off as it short-circuits from the damp floor and the whole screen turns black with a little 'NO SIGNAL' replacing the 'LIVE' tag.

A few seconds later, the black screen is filled with a short note in white bold-face saying "The network is currently facing an anomaly in its transmission. Please stand by as we fix these technical difficulties."

Moments later, the black screen flickers as if it's about to go back online. Three white bands span the screen horizontally followed by digital noise. The noise is filtered as the screen pops an 'AUDIO ONLY' tag in place of the 'NO SIGNAL' one.

Sounds being transmitted includes screaming, footsteps, crunching noises, laughter, broken glass and cries of help. A few seconds later, the cycling noises are reduced to footsteps and the transmission cuts off again.

[Gildarts]

The camera spies the cut and chiseled features of mustached newscaster Ron Burgundy as he spins around in his desk chair and directs his balanced glance – casual yet convincingly serious – as his eyes skim the lens aimed at him.

The newscaster flashes a suave smile as large and demanding words appear on the screen.

Breaking News!

"Good evening Omniverse, sorry to interrupt the latest episode of 'Spank Me Omni,' however, in the depths of Coruscant there has been some startling events unfolding. A massive explosion in Tier Three that has been said to have shaken the windows off of the entire street. You heard me right ladies and gentlemen, the cause is unknown and the investigating party of Stormtroopers the state has sent have not reported back. I caution all Coruscant citizens inhabiting or visiting Tier three to remain inside your homes until further notice."

Ron's hand touched his ear as though he was listening to some feed blasting from a hidden earpiece.

"Our sources tell us that just before the explosion occurred – on the next block over – Syntex employee Kindal Fairbanks as been pronounced dead at the scene. The cause of death is a suspected hovercraft malfunction."

The screen changes to the flaming remains of a vehicle pressed into the side of a wall. Atop the screen is the text Tier 3 Traffic Cam as Ron's voice continues, "Also found dead was the taxi driver of this hovercraft, Thomas Morel, age thirty-seven."

The camera filtered back to Ron, who held an abysmally grim expression as he offered his deepest sentiments to those who knew and loved him.

-

Ron was given the "go-ahead" to move onto the next story.

"In other news, there is a tournament occurring in Camelot's coliseum. We have Katherine Winthrop on the scene."

The screen flickers to Katherine, a tall and lanky blonde with freshly curled hair, she holds a black microphone up to her glossed lips and the camera extends over her shoulder to offer the audience an inside look at Camelot's famous Colloseum.

"Hi, Katherine Winthrop here at The Colloseum, where quite the event has been happening. Secondaries have hosted this event, where fighters from around the Omniverse have come for their slice of fame!–"

A green fellow popped into the screen and waved to the camera mouthing "Hi mom!" Before he disappeared back into the stands. The camera zoomed into the stadium's arena, where many were fighting.

"This secondary hosted event inspired many competitors to visit Camelot in hopes of slaying a few unnamed Primes, said to be survivors of our favorite 'Dante's Abyss.' The prizes include death, glory, and your very own Isolation Verse!

But who will be the one to slay these notable Primes, and just how many will die in the process?! Only time will tell... Oh-Oh look! That one Prime finally is standing! OUCH that's GOTTA hurt."

The woman excitedly cringed as a splash of blood shot through the air. "Kathy." A persuading voice called her back to her job.

"Oh, uh... Meanwhile anti-violent, pro-prime and pro-secondary rights protestors out front are fighting amongst themselves for who has the best cause. I don't know which battle will prove more riveting, but one of them is free, so come on down to Camelot to watch the show, support your fellow Primes and Secondaries, or just to watch people battle to the death! This month's tournament is said to be the event of the Omnicentury, so stay tuned for more updates!"

Kathy's blue eyes gleamed with a stern enthusiasm. "Well it looks like my time is up for this broadcast, this has been Katherine Winthrop, ONN, coming to you live from Camelot."

Ron appeared once more on the screen, donned in mustache and a burgundy suit. "That's all the time we have left for you folks, this has been Ron Burgandy, ONN. Stay classy."

With a wink at the camera, the video feed went black.

[Proto Man]

From his desk, Ron Burgundy chewed on his lower lip a little as he glanced over the freshly printed piece of paper. It wasn’t until the cameraman let out an unsubtle cough that the anchorman glanced up and realized that the light above the piece of equipment was green again.

“Welcome back, Omniversians. I’m Ron Burgundy, here again with some of the latest headlines.

“The tournament in Camelot continues to be a big hit, with the crowd of contestants dwindling down to four.” Ron glanced at the monitor to his left that displayed what was being projected onto the greenscreen behind him. Once he had a look at the primes, he turned back to his audience. “As you can see, it’s a bunch of white people, but at least we’ve got kind of a woman in there, am I right? That’s Progress.” To cover up his smirk, Ron took a swig of scotch, knowing that he’d made a few of the ladies in the department red across the cheeks.

And I’m not even talking the good cheeks.

The laugh bubbled up out from the scotch as Ron set the rocks glass back down onto his counter. “In other news, the town of Nippur has had some bad luck in recent months. After two failed… assassinations?” Ron glanced down at the description and wondered if one on four fights could really be anything other than attempts at self-euthanasia. “Yes, after two failed attacks on the Palace that resulted in at least one banishing, Nippur has been attacked by a gang of loosely affiliated individuals.

“Chief among those involved in the skirmish?” A choppy video feed played over Ron’s shoulder. “This man, one Thaal Sinestro, who has become something of a folk hero among the ‘citizens’ of the Town with No Name. Reports indicate that this perpetually red-faced prime was the focusing point for aggressions, although we’re also told that he’s been aided by… Mickey Mouse?” Ron glanced at the monitor and then over to the other desk crew. “That’s Mickey Mouse? He decide to go Terminator or something?” The image was certainly the mouse from Dante’s Abyss, but he was decked out in red metal armor and firing lasers at Gilgamesh.

“Mickey Mouse was seen engaged in a firefight with Gilgamesh in downtown Nippur, but at this point, we have no additional information, and the only news about the situation is filtering in from a collection of corrupted audio-visual feeds from a reporter on the scene. We’re going to try to get one of our people to the area, but for now, we can only imagine that the situation will get worse before it gets better.”

The next image that flashed up on the screen took Ron a moment to figure out, and he spent that moment draining his scotch. As he clinked the glass down and motioned for a refill, he cleared his throat. “News from the Pale Moors.” An image of an older man appeared on screen. “Commander Dobson Skendor of Darkshire’s Town Guard has been the victim of an assassination. Killers were linked to a rogue councilman who was last seen slipping out of town in the aftermath of attacks on the commander and his son Dobson, who had been assuming more responsibilities in lieu of his father’s age and injuries.

“From what we’ve heard, the assassinations were followed up by a riot at Darkshire’s Town Hall. While we don’t have much information just yet, it appears that the mob has taken control of the building and detained the mayor and several councilmen. It sounds as if the town’s guard has established a light form of martial law while they sort out the government. No word on the status of Mayor Boone and other leading members of the seemingly defunct town council of Darkshire.”

Picking up his fresh glass of scotch, Ron took a small sip. “In other news, there is word that a group of secondaries were turned into primes following a meeting with Omni. We’re attempting to reach out to one of these individuals to figure out the veracity of their statements.” A glance at the paper in front of him revealed a few other stories that could pass as headlines.

“Oh yes,” he suddenly spoke up as an image popped up behind him. “The Empire continues its crackdown on prime-on-secondary crime, with the total rising to nearly seven dead primes over the last few months… a rate of at least one or two per month. Kingdom officials have become a little more active in their attempts to guide new primes away from the often death-filled allure of Coruscant.”

Tapping the stack of papers on the desk until they were lined up in a nice pile within his scotch-chilled fingers, Ron set them down once more and reflected upon how neat it all looked. “That’s all the headlines for right now, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check my tournament bracket. You stay classy, Omniverse.”

When the light blinked off atop the camera, Ron let out a long breath of air and relaxed in his chair. From the next desk over, one of the reporters shot him a question.

“Who’d you wager on, Ron? Didn’t you have a few brackets?”

The anchorman frowned beneath his perfect mustache. “I had most of my bets on Stretch McCock.”

“You got anyone still competing?”

“Yea, in one of my brackets, the person I have winning it all is—”

[Proto Man]

“Good evening, Omniverse, I’m Ron Burgundy.

“In the news today, we have an unfortunate end to violence around the Omniverse.” On the screen behind him, they played an audio-devoid clip from the city of Nippur out in the Endless Shithole.

“The city of Nippur has fallen, although we’re not certain the extent of the damages. It appears that while there were many civilian casualties, the town was attacked not by a rival army but by a collection of primes. It is unknown at this time what will become of the city, but rumors indicate that the king has been banished.”

An image of Gilgamesh—a shiny prick that Ron remembered from Dante’s Abyss—popped up alongside an image of Ganondorf—a dark prick that Ron remember from Dante’s Abyss.

“Also among the dead and gone is Ganondorf. It remains to be seen what will happen to both Nippur and the little plot of land that the ger… gerudo? That the gerudo lorded over in a neighboring region of the desert.

“The real winner here, folks?” Ron asked as he took a long sip of scotch. After he set it down, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure, you can let us here at ONN know on Twitter, because we know you’ll do that even if we don’t ask you... you teet-suckling attention whores.”

With a soft chuckle that could wobble the thighs of anything with two x chromosomes, Ron Burgundy turned and glanced at a different camera as the images behind him changed once more. “In the Pale Place, that city that no one cares about has apparently killed its mayor or something and opted to be ruled instead by a junta.” Ron’s expression twisted up as he stared at the teleprompter. The anchorman glanced off camera toward the crew working the side cameras. “What is that? A type of fruit? Is it tasty?”

The beardless college-age kid standing behind the camera went white as he glanced around for some sign of help. When nothing came, his response was somewhat meek. “It’s a type of political-military council… usually one that seizes power.”

Ron stared into space for a moment before nodded his head and brushing his moustache. “Ruled by fruits.” He replied before glancing at the camera and reaching for his scotch.

“So in other news,” Ron half-slurred as he stared back at the main camera. “It’s been reported that primes are dropping off the face of the Omniverse and not showing up anywhere. We’re not sure if this is some fancy new banishment or what, but we’ll be the first to know…” The anchorman blinked a few times as he tried to see what was on the screen behind him. When that failed, he craned his neck only to realize that the wall behind him was green fabric. “Has that always been so green?”

Turning back around, Ron rubbed one of his eyes and nodded his head as the teleprompter came back into focus. “Oh, yes, reports tell of primes gathering in the Nexus.” The rest was jumbled together. Ron blinked and gave up. “I’m sure we’ll cover that story even though it won’t involve any orgies.” A look of utter disgust and disappointment spread across the renowned anchorman’s rose-tinted visage as he shook his head. “I’m Ron Burgun… Ron Bur… Fuck it. You all stay classy.”

With that, the light atop the cameras all went red. Somewhere, a group of producers collectively buried their faces into their palms.

[Gildarts]

-A Bermuda Triangle Story-

“Do you think that this story really has any relevance to the other verses, I mean come on.. Who even writes these things now a days...” A muffled voice could be heard while the camera zoomed in on the newsman’s face, which was turned away from the camera and looking at a beautiful blonde assistant.

“Ron, you’re live.” the camera man gently reminded him.

The suited man spun around as if Omni himself had addressed him, exalted, a great smile broke out on his unusually happy lips, and his alert eyes met with the many viewers who all were watching on their many personalized screens. “HI! Good evening, I’m Ron Burgundy!”

Between the part of his smile, his teeth flashed whiter than the Nexus as the “live” light finally flickered on behind the camera, and suddenly he was reading a wall of text.

“Breaking news coming to you from the Omniverse News Network. It seems there has been a very large number of ships disappearing in the Vasty Deeps, by what’s been reported, it looks like it isn’t just the usual pirate raids. Many ships of all kinds are being reported missing. But it doesn’t appear particular ships are being targeted. Reports say that this only happens in one location, tucked off the the very end of the ocean. Those who were aboard the missing ships are found near and far, scattered all throughout the islands and great ocean. One storm trooper reported he had no idea what happened to his ship, which has lead to the raising speculation that there is some kind of invasion of creatures in the ocean that are more dangerous than anything they’ve seen out there before! Here’s Sunny, on the scene with a Storm trooper from the imperial fleet.”

The image flashed from the newsroom to that of a young woman holding a microphone too close to a Stormtrooper’s helmet, and getting a bit of interference. The woman with brown hair looked miserable. The light was shining too bright in her eyes, so she was squinting, which made her appear to be irritated. Meanwhile, the wind was whipping stray strands in her face and all over anything her hair would snag on. Over her shoulder, the sun had set and dusk had clouded the sky with a dim blue light. The ocean ate at the shoreline, which seemed to be a little too close to her feet. Her eyes grew bold and the whites of them were enhanced as she looked closely at the camera and held her other hand near her ear, straining to hear what Ron was saying.

“Uh, yes, this is Natasha here with ONN, beside me is Storm Trooper Bill Ralphie, who, after being found many miles off of the coast of Cinnabar Island, reports having no recollection of what happened to him!” Natasha directed the microphone to Bill Ralphie’s face now, and asked him, “Now! What did you think when you were asked by your superiors about the disappearance of your boat?”

“What did... I THINK? Well as you can imagine, they weren’t pleased. I was found Omni knows where, so far from our course, that many people have some kind of conspiracy going around what happened. They’ll tell you I’m lying, but I really have no recollection of the events that occurred. One moment I was on our ship, at my post, the next minute, BAM!” A loud splat noise was made with the clapping of his hands. “There was some loud noise, and it all goes black. I opened my eyes and found my eye being picked out by a Pidgeotto, and had to have my eye replaced with an electronic one. Luckily it wasn’t serious though.”

“Wow, that sounds scary! Can you tell me anything about your theory of what happened? Another survivor of what we can only assume are shipwrecks, reported that he thought he had been enticed by sirens- or perhaps a mermaid. This survivor remembers being carried many miles away from some very dangerous territory, and delivered safely to land. What do you have to say about that, Ralphie?”

“It’s Bill, and honestly, I don’t know. I can’t say for sure that I know I WASN’T carried off by mermaids, because I don’t remember anything, but if that were somehow the case, what happened to the ship?” Bill turned his head to the camera, and his white and black helmet glistened with the spray of the ocean, “Seriously, if you know, PLEASE tell me, my superior would love to know why I can’t remember a single dang thing!”

“I’m sure he would, Bill. Now, one more question, if you don’t mind. You said you had no idea what happened after the loud noise, and then you were suddenly found drifting to shore by the Pidgeotto, now, what do you say about the many people who aren’t returning from these wrecks, what can you say to their families? Do you think there is any hope for their loved ones’ safe return home?”

“Natasha, I’ll be honest with you, you’re a smart woman, brave, and pretty fearless.” The waves lapped at her feet, and she held in the shock of the cold on her contorting face. She nearly screamed out at the wincing chill that engulfed her feet. “I have no intention of giving the families of everyone who has gone missing false hope. Your husband, sister, father, brother or mother could be out there, marooned on an island just as I was. They could be stranded out there, for days. Without food or drinkable water. They could be starving to death as we speak, no method of transportation to bring them home, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I’m sure you can imagine that with all the boats going missing, people are afraid to sail the seas. The economy has gone a little whack for places like Costa Del Sol, and some of the fishermen that do their main casting over in that one particular section of the ‘Deeps. I don’t want people to think that there’s some sorta Bermuda triangle that’s been created in the Deeps, because quite frankly, there hasn’t. There’s a perfectly good explanation on why I lost my eye, as there is plenty of logic in why your husbands and wives haven’t come home yet. If they’re out there, they can swim, they can fight, you just have to believe in them.”

Natasha was gaping, “Bill, thank you so much for your words of wisdom, I hope that our viewers don’t hesitate to reach out to the families in need. This is Natasha signing off, from the scene at Costa Del Sol.”

Ron was caught again, his face away from the camera while the “on-air” light flickered on. “You’re on, Ron.” A voice whispered, and he was pulled from his very interesting conversation, and spun around in his spinning chair to face the camera once more. “Ah, Ron Burgandy back again, it sounds like that story was truly a sad one, that man lost an eye in the line of duty, many more have been reported missing on some of the boats that have disappeared. The place that the most of the disappearances have been reported, is being called the “Ship Graveyard” and is in the far west corner of the Vasty Deeps. We have our best reporters tracing the leads on this growing mystery, and we hope to find not only the many ships that have vanished, but we also hope to find those that were aboard them. Our hopes go out to them and their families during this very trying time, this is Ron Burgundy, wishing you the best of good-byes.”

The newscaster winked at the camera, and their filming reel ended.

...

Meanwhile the mystery was being unraveled by an unexpected traveler. . .

[Storyteller]

Ron Burgundy sat in his desk and waited for the little light on the camera to flash green.

In the meantime, he tended to the glass of scotch that patiently awaited deliverance into his brilliant, mustachioed mouth. After a short, savory swig, he smirked at the sports anchor. “Still amazes me that you can make scotch this good out of rainbows.”

“I wouldn’t know, Sir,” the reporter muttered as he shuffled his papers.

The light turned green, saving Ron from any more awkward moments of silence. Turning to face the camera, he put on his debonair smile.

“Ron Burgundy here, with your ONN update, Omniverse,” the legendary anchorman glimpsed at the first news article and suppressed an eye roll. “Dante’s Abyss continues to pull high numbers in local venues, and the Dataverse revenue is supposedly reaching record numbers.” Ron paused for effect as he glimpsed at the lens that connected him to his own widespread viewership. “If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Jak, I’d think you’re trying to compete,” at that, Ron did a practiced ‘lighthearted-slash-jovial chuckle’ accompanied with a slight tilt back of his own perfectly styled hair.

“In other news,” Ron cleared his throat with some scotch. “Reports indicate that there’s been a lot of traffic to and from Carrefore in the recent days.” The anchorman smirked. “I know a little dancer who works in a watering hole down there, but I guess this is a ‘loose lips sink ships’ ordeal, and if one thing is certain, there were no loose lips about her.”

Ron took the next pause to refill his scotch. The bottle ran empty and he sighed, because that usually meant the morning shift was nearly at an end. “Princess Guu has been spotted turning herself into Kingdom authorities. Supposedly, the little elastic princess was harboring a weapon of mass destruction in her little forest city. Someone should tell her that WMDs are best stored in one’s pants.”

“The Empire cut ground on a new settlement, just on the other side of the gate in the Vasty Deep. A long-standing militarized zone, the region is now apparently sporting houses and other signs that people other than goons—I mean gentlemen—in white plastic suits will be residing there.” Flipping to the last sheet in the stack of missives, the anchorman nodded his head.

“Murky reports coming out of Fishman Island in the far-away reaches of the Vasty Deep. Denizens of the underwater kingdom have reportedly been picked up by Imperial scouting parties a few hundred miles from their home. Intel on that situation is likewise hush-hush, but we’ll do our best here at ONN to keep you looped in, Omniverse.”

Gently stacking up the papers, Ron rested them on the desk and shifted his gaze to the take-home camera. “From everyone here at ONN, this has been Ron Burgundy with your morning update. From here, we’ll take you to sports and entertainment. Stay Classy, Omniverse.”