Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

INT-- DAY-- Omegler Headquarters

Somewhere in the surprisingly clean underbelly of the world
(let's be honest, its probably Florida) there sits a split
level townhouse. This is the headquarters of THE OMEGLERS,
the world's worst super team.

The team is gathered in the LIVING ROOM.

CREATION:
ahh pasta, one of the wonders of
the world.

Creation holds up a fistful of PASTA, then glances at his
comrades who are munching respectfully.

CREATION,

(con't):

Friends, I think we've done it. This is the
most at peace I've ever felt. Nothing could ruin this
moment.

ARI,

(shoveling a handful of pasta into xer face):

you could say that again!

BRAINFUCKER chuckles.

BRAINFUCKER:
You guys are about to look so
stupid.

Brainfucker is instantly assaulted by a sailing CANISTER OF
SLEEPING GAS. It hits him in the head with a loud bonk. He
goes down like the lightweight he is.

The team crane their necks to get a good look out the
window.

DUSK DEVIL stands on the sidewalk. He is wearing a velvet tracksuit and looking smug.

SNOWTREE:

Ugh, it's that guy.

ARI:

Wait, who is that?

Creation and Snowtree shrug in unison

CREATION:

See, he looks like a 'Jerome,' but I'm not exactly sure

In the background, BEAST BOY and ROCK LEE have started
investigating the undetonated canister. In turn releasing a
cloud of PURPLE SMOKE.

Dusk Devil laughs maniacally as glittery purple smoke pours
out of the open window and every member of The Omeglers
falls asleep after each having a veritable coughing fit.

Dusk Devil smiles evilly, quirks an eyebrow and menacingly
uncaps a sharpie.

Chapter Text

The team lies motionless, scattered about the carpeted floor
of their swampy, Florida townhouse.
Slowly they all start to stir, sitting up and yawning one
by one.

CREATION,
(rubbing his head):
Mm, my head. What is that stuff?

ARI,(sitting up):
It smells like grapes

SNOWTREE:
it smells like a sleeping gas.

ARI:
well, how do you know it's
sleeping gas?

Snowtree holds up the stained purple can.

SNOWTREE,
(reading from the can):
Dusk Devil's Glitter Thunder
Sleeping Gas. Patent pending.

Ari makes a face, but stays quiet.

CREATION:
Dusk Devil... where have I heard
that name before...

Creation ponders for a moment before having a little (!)
moment.

CREATION:
Rizzini's!

BRAINFUCKER:
Gesundheit.

CREATION:
No, it was the first heist I ever
stopped.

Fade in to a flashback; cue soft saxaphone music.

CREATION,
(V.O):
Really it was more of a stick up...
I was still getting used to my
powers.

(In black and white) Creation effortlessly makes pizzas with
nothing but his bare hands. Also an oven.

CREATION,
(V.O., Con't):
I quickly moved up the ladder at
my job... Rizzini's Pizza.

Black, the sound of breaking glass and an alarm going off

CREATION
(V.O., Con't):
It was him and this guy I couldn't
see, the came in with those money
bags you see in cartoons to try and
rob the place.

Creation laughs, out of flashback he picks at the hem of his
jeans.

CREATION:
He must be back to finish what he
started.

ARI:
Did you at least have a cool
one-liner?

Creation shook his head.
Everybody looks at Creation, who looks degectedly at the floor.

BRAINFUCKER
(eating pasta out of the
carpet):
Let's get him first then.

CREATION:
What?

BRAINFUCKER:
We are superheroes. We're like...
Supposed to catch villians. And
whoever this chucklehead is is a
criminal who stole from my best
buddy.

ARI:
Fucker's got a point. He is a
villian...

Creation narrows his eyes.

CREATION:
I dunno you guys...

SNOWTREE:
C'mon it'll be fine. We've beat up
worse turds than this before.
Creation smiles and goes back to picking at his jeans.

CREATION:
Ok.

And with that, our superhero team sets off on their new
quest.
To prank some rando so hard he shits his pants with how
pranked he is.