DaVE? Where Have I Heard That Name Before?

[The Celt]

Eisenverse's original plan for Jeremiah Moose was to turn him in "Hell-Hound". Someone made a BADASS alt for the gimmick; you should ask EV to sent it to you and it might make you think twice about Moose.

[jhd1]

Eisenverse's original plan for Jeremiah Moose was to turn him in "Hell-Hound". Someone made a BADASS alt for the gimmick; you should ask EV to sent it to you and it might make you think twice about Moose.

 

That would be me. There were actually two Hell-hounds originally, with Mikey James being the other half of the team if I remember correctly.

[KingJoel]

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

No particular reason whatsoever

 

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

Cletus will carve up that mask-wearing ************.

 

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

Hard pick, goin' with the Bulldozer.

 

Greg Black vs. Acid

Draw. Solely because I see a cluster**** of a finish coming with both men getting jumped, like last week.

 

BONUS POINT: Brendan Idol. As said earlier, that boy needs to get beaten up until he is totally bloody goddamn it!

 

Anyway, nice diary you got here, emulating the hardcore feel. I'm not sure about putting a barbwire cage on a TV show because that's a throwaway of a PPV match, but it'll do if it doesn't go on for too long and gets invaded by other wrestlers.

[Trell]

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

Greg Black vs. Acid

[Bigpapa42]

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

Greg Black vs. Acid

 

BONUS POINT: Nemesis. Sentimentality.

[Big Roguey]

DaVE Danger Zone TV Quick Picks:

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

Greg Black vs. Acid

 

BONUS POINT: Donte Dunn. Bulid him and Art Reed - if Reed is still alive - as a purely wrestling team. Give them Eric Tyler as a manager, maybe through in Acid. BOOM! New School of Tradition.

[20LEgend]

BONUS POINT: Donte Dunn. Bulid him and Art Reed - if Reed is still alive - as a purely wrestling team. Give them Eric Tyler as a manager, maybe through in Acid. BOOM! New School of Tradition.

 

Always love the New School of Tradition idea and I have it running in a game of mine (Steve Flash, The Gauge Twins, Acid and Eric Tyler) so this good be an idea if Eric wasn't commentating.

[TLLK]

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

Violence before cats, showmen, and whatever the heck AAW and X are doing.

 

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

It's DaVE. Come on. AmEl is a great wrestler, but Big Cletus is an absolute monster. He'll thrive in this environment.

 

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

I can't stand Sparrow. Smith needs to get pushed a looooooooong way.

 

Greg Black vs. Acid

Gotta love the DaVE original. Acid is the man!

 

Save Nemesis. Unless it has to be an active wrestler. In that case, save Totally Supreme. Two great wrestlers and even greater gimmicks.

[Oregano Jensen]

Feline Fancy vs. Viva Las Vegas vs. The Merchants of War vs. The Cali Dragons

 

Team name aside, I'm a big Fox Mask fan.

 

American Elemental vs. Big Cletus

 

Two guys who need to be pushed, but I'm not sure there's anyone better than Larry/Cletus for this style of promotion.

 

Matty Sparrow vs. Bulldozer Brandon Smith

 

El Dozerino rides again.

 

Greg Black vs. Acid

 

Because the COTGD (or whatever you're calling them) are the rare heel team that's more exciting when they're chasing the title.

 

BONUS: Do I have to choose from the list you mentioned? Because if not, I'm saying Art Reed. My favorite worker, managed by my favorite manager.

 

If so, though -- I'm going with Parker. Minus the gimmick, though.

[Beeker]

I finally got around to reading the first show sebs, and while I mostly really enjoyed it... it's a bit of a mixed bag if I'm being honest. The problem a lot of your characters are lifted or borrowed from two dynasties and I've never been able to become immersed in an EV dynasty (either too dark, too long or when I get around to thinking maybe he's already moved on to the next dynasty.) The concept itself I have read before in an RW diary on EWB that had a pretty iconic image at the end.

 

As a one-off story or show I thought it was amazing. I loved a lot of it, but I'm confused how many of your characters are dead or are zombies. Hard to keep a roster intact if they're infected. Plus, do the zombies go the next show too? I'm overthinking I'm sure.

I loved the violence and the completeness and execution of the vision of a zombie invasion. I'm not sure I care about many or any of the DOA guys, and only a few of the DaVE survivors. (Eddie Peak was MADE to be in that show.) All in all I enjoyed it while I read it but I have no idea where you go from there.

[sebsplex]

OOC Note: Firstly, I need to thank everyone for their input into this dynasty so far. You've provided me with the validation for starting this game afresh and running it in real-time, rather than simply writing up the shows from the original game in advance. Sure, it's more intensive and demanding doing things this way round, but it's more rewarding and organic, leaving me free to take some elements in different directions. Hopefully it makes for a richer experience all round. Oh and yes, this is another almost prohibitively long show, yet there's still a lot that I'll need to explain and the cookies... they're all gone.

_______________________________________________

 

"Zombies are people, too... Okay, dead people, with poor verbal skills. And the only communication they understand is blowing off their heads."

 

 

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EXORCISING THE DEMONS

DAVE Danger Zone TV

: Episode 002 - Thursday, August Week 2, 2010 - From The Compound, Seattle

________________________________________________

 

The show opens with brief excerpts of local news reports, the running headline of

'riot-like disturbance after a local wrestling event spirals out of control'

typified the negative tone of the coverage following last week's episode of Danger Zone TV™. Even for a perceived media-whore like Mark Cuban, this adverse publicity was a world away from what DaVE's return to national television was intended to garner.

 

The footage that follows is that of a previously unseen nature, an almost voyeuristic insight into the aftermath of what has officially been termed 'The Outbreak' by those investigating the incident. The considerable presence of the police and local authorities within the confines of the Compound suggested that the recording had taken place at least an hour removed from Danger Zone TV™ leaving the air, crucially after StallCorp employees secured the area. Some members of the local media were there, including Seattle's own

KOMO 4 News

, getting sound bytes and comments from fans on the outer-reaches of the gathered crowd, whilst those congregated nearer the front pressed up against the chain link fence in order to get better look at anything beyond the several dozen security guards who along with the fencing, separated them from the scene of the disturbance.

 

The legacy of a disastrous bow on the Arcadia Network...

 

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The whole scene carries a harrowing tone, drawing parallels with the more modern phenomena, such as the aftermath of a terrorism scare or the containment of an ongoing environmental disaster, with the sense of panic and unknown peril in abundant supply. Faceless personnel in protective radiation suits aim unspecified instruments at unspecified targets amidst the efforts of the emergency services as they treat and retrieve injured workers from scene, whilst those survivors previously unable to escape from the premises emerge from their place of hiding. The viewpoint shifts to a multitude of subjects during this flashback, but the soundtrack of confused shouts, cries for help and blaring sirens make it feel all too real, as if the horror of last week were still unfolding. Members of the Emergency Medical Team are even displayed treating their own colleagues, those who first responded to the distress calls that emanated from the Compound, grossly unprepared for the situation that awaited them. Several of the wrestlers were dotted amidst the chaos, in varied states, a relatively small footnote on the list of casualties that resulted from a night of indiscriminate and relentless violence. The visuals come thick and fast, like scenes from a storyboard of suffering.

Dick Eyezen

is shown strapped to a board, unconscious with his head and neck firmly braced in a protective collar, his white shirt stained pink with blood as EMTs load him into a waiting ambulance. Nearby,

Matty Sparrow

maintains vigil whilst

Jettstream

is examined by a paramedic, frozen in a state of shock, his gaze directed far into the distance, focussed on nothing in particular, oblivious to the uncharacteristic distress and vulnerability being exhibited by

Miss Emily

as she tries to identify Art Reed from the muddle of humanity, whilst

Jay Chord

petulantly yells into his cellphone, presumably with his agent Art Tellum on the other end of the line, demanding an immediate release from his contract. As perverse as it may sound, they were some of the lucky ones.

 

All in all, it makes for uncomfortable viewing, but this televisual reminiscence of seven nights prior has one final, monumental revelation to yield.

 

"There's another one over here!"

Came the shout from one of the quartet of rescuers from the Seattle Fire Department as they combed through a pile of debris, which upon closer inspection, conceals the bruised, bloodied and battered body of

Nemesis

. On a cursory evaluation of his greyed and lifeless physique, fears peak that they may have discovered him too late.

 

But he was still alive. Barely.

 

************************ MAIN SHOW ************************

Your Announce Team: Mitch Naess & "The Voice Of Tradition" Eric Tyler

 

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The Statement

 

Mark Cuban

stood on the stage, backlit by the strobes that surround the entrance gateway, the dust and fibre particles dancing in their lurid glare. He had the look of a man who hadn't slept sufficiently for the past forty-eight hours and he didn't wear it well. His eyes appeared slightly shrivelled and burnt out in their sockets, like toasted marshmallows and the stress had arguably etched an extra crevice into his brow. Only the retro blue and black DaVE football jersey the billionaire was wearing carried any element of freshness, plucked from one of the concession stands less than an hour before the cameras began rolling. In truth, DaVE wasn't the only pressing concern that burdened his mind and plagued his waking hours. News that Cuban had finally committed to a bid in order to purchase the (Texas) Rangers broke over the weekend. He'd been chasing the Rangers throughout the summer, determined to add a Major League Baseball team to his bulging project portfolio, but such a quest entailed a lot of meetings and even more paperwork. The timing certainly wasn't ideal, but he couldn't control that and to complicate matters further, Cuban wasn't the only interested party. Once the bidding process intensified, it would consume an even greater body of his time.

 

Bearing that in mind, the Mavericks' owner needed to get his wrestling promotion back on track without delay, but having only a decimated roster available to work with, that would prove a considerable feat of booking nonce. That, Mark Cuban definitely did not possess and without Nemesis by his side, tonight would be reduced to little more than an exercise in damage limitation.

 

"When people ask me why I invested in a wrestling company, why I bought DaVE, I give them all the same answer. Some of the media guys thought it was a joke, that I put up the capital for this place because Phil Vibert served me some of that famous DaVE Kool-Aid the guys in the back were all hooked on, given me all the figures and returns that his 'cult' promotion would make when it blew up on a national level. No, it wasn't like that. Anyone can make up numbers. Anyone can tell me what 'might' happen. Phil Vibert believed it would happen and I believed him. He didn't have the means to make it happen, but I did. I didn't buy this company because I thought it would make me money. I bought this company because I could differentiate it from everyone else in the market. I could let you see the sort of programming that the Richard Eisens and Tommy Cornells of this world were praying would never see the light of day, because they knew they couldn't rival what we had. They couldn't rival our heart, our hunger, the connection we were able to create with the fans and the wrestlers. That's something you don't get with the larger promotions.”

 

“Every owner has their own reasons for getting involved. Owners who have inherited their promotions, owners who have dreamed of owning their own promotion and worked their butts off to get there. Owners like myself who have always been fans and buy promotions in order to get more involved. I love all sorts of challenges and I don't want to look back and regret not taking them on. When I bought DaVE it was a unique opportunity to try something different and be a bigger fan than I was, but last week, for the first time I gotta admit this... I regretted it. Last week, you didn't see the DaVE I wanted you to see. You saw something twisted and horrific and a lot of people got hurt. A lot of good people, but those of us still here... we've got to dust ourselves off and pick up the pieces...”

 

Cuban's statement continued in it's long and rambling vein. He thanked the Arcadia network for having the courage in their convictions to stand by the promotion when lesser networks would have pulled Danger Zone TV™ without hesitation. He also revealed that investigations were ongoing into the cause of the disturbance and acknowledged the legal ramifications facing the company from the numerous parties likely to seek damages and indirect retribution. Most importantly, he tried to quell speculation connected with the outbreak's origins, confirming that initial reports pointed towards contamination of the water supply with a chemical substance that caused severe allergic reactions in many, which included inducing violent seizures, severe paranoia and hallucinations. There was a deliberate purpose to his choosing of words, steering clear of those that would lend any credibility to the wild conspiracy theories of worker zombification and any fantastical notion of the walking dead rising from the dirt and laying claim to the ball of mud to which they'd been condemned. After all, the net contained everything from a Zombie Survival Wiki to a Zombie Preparedness Initiative. A lot of people out there took the subject to the point of obsession, but despite the overall situation remaining unresolved, an open case so to speak, the show would go on. However the status of the Unified Title remained unclear following the abandonment of the championship bout, the billionaire imploring those who awaited the belt's fate to allow him the time to find a resolution that would be acceptable to all.

 

In lieu of previous events, Cuban apologised on behalf of the promotion to the fans and company sponsors adding his own personal pledge that nothing like this would take place on DaVE programming again under his watch, despite knowing that if it did, only a small percentage of what he'd just said would still hold true.

 

Still, there would always be a segment of non-believers out there...

 

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...Some Advice, Fren...

 

A spotlight suddenly blazed high into the crowd, onto a lone man sat amongst the people, microphone in hand and a gray hood draped over his head.

 

"You have to understand, Mark..."

Shawn Gonzalez

began, staring down at the chewing-gum smeared floor in front of him as he addressed Cuban.

"There are far more ominous scenarios that are yet play out than last week. Far greater tests of our will to be endured. Will we fight back, Mark? Or do we simply lay down our arms and accept our fate?"

 

Gonzalez slowly raised his head, the fans around him pushing one another just to get in on the camera shot.

 

"Maybe you don't understand at all, Mark. I'm looking out for you..."

 

The spotlight shut off with a loud click and within moments, there was nothing more than the empty orange seat in which "The Lone Wolf" had sat, leaving Cuban looking anxious below. To the rest of the world, his exchange with Gonzalez appeared vague and innocuous, but they hadn't been privy to the pair's enlightening limo journey of a week prior. The billionaire turned to leave, mouthing an inaudible instruction to Justice, himself positioned deep inside the entranceway, virtually hidden from view as Danger Zone TV™ reverted to it's schedule.

 

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Don't Say The Z-Word

 

The camera cranes across to the raised announce position, situated to the right of the very stage that the 'Billionaire Maverick' had just vacated, where a sleek black desk resides behind a row of oil drums and other artificially placed warehouse accessories, some ten feet above the floor. Following the closing moments of last week's episode,

Mitch Naess

and

Eric Tyler

have a new appreciation for their vantage point. It may be somewhat removed from the action, but their high-tech crows nest gave them a bird's eye view of proceedings within the Compound and crucially a head start when everything went to hell. Naess particularly relished the fact that unlike his ringside desk in PSW, he didn't have to worry about the frequent blood-letting contaminating his coffee and acknowledged the camera feed.

 

"Welcome to Danger Zone TV! The Compound is once again open for business and we are LIVE on the home of EXTREEEEEEME Entertainment, the Arcadia Network! I'm Mitch Naess, sitting alongside me is 'The Voice of Tradition' Eric Tyler and let me tell you folks, it's been a difficult seven days and there's no getting around the fact that locker-room is looking more banged up than a Joisey Girl on heat. Most of the guys able to lace up their boots will be competing inside the squared circle tonight and we've got a sure-fire ratings smash on our hands when Greg Black and Acid lock horns once more... and this time, we're going to have us a winner because the match is taking place inside a BARBED WIRE-LACED STEEL CAGE!"

 

"That's right, Mitch..."

Tyler smirked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as the camera's gaze switches to the giant steel cage, crowned with razor-sharp barbs, suspended above the ring.

"There's no escapin' this one. Anybody tries to pull a fast one and climb in or out of that cage or pull any of that smoke and mirrors bulls**t, they're gonna get cut up. They're gonna get cut up real nice."

 

"If that's the case..."

Mitch continued.

"Then Cuban's going to have to whip out that big chequebook of his and bring in some reinforcements, because at this rate we're going to have less bodies left than Arcadia-commissioned episodes!"

 

"Well I've seen a couple of new faces backstage."

Tyler added, screwing up his wrinkled and scarred face in a moment of concentration.

"That dancing cream-puff from DOA is back and hell, I even saw Dallas McWade back there... of course that brick-stupid b*stard might have been here last week too. The real survivors of a zombie apocalypse are always the rednecks and the mountain men, Mitch. They've got the guns and the trucks..."

 

Naess shifted uncomfortably in his plush leather seat.

 

"Didn't you read the memo?"

He asked Tyler, almost in an inaudible whisper.

"We were explicitly told not to say the Z-word."

 

"Don't be stupid, son..."

Tyler grinned dismissively in response as the opening bars of Feline Fancy's theme literally roared out of the speakers.

"There ain't no Z's in redneck."

 

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[Overhead Wires, Tag Team Title Match]:

FELINE FANCY

versus.

VIVA LAS VEGAS

versus.

THE CALI DRAGONS

versus.

THE MERCHANTS OF WAR

 

The Tag Team Titles hang precariously above the ring, dangling like gold-plated piñatas, suspended by the wires that run from four small scaffolds in each of the squared circle's corners. For the benefit of those viewers who may have mistaken the belts for some sort of elaborate decorations, Naess confirms them as the prize at stake in what is set to be a "high-flying human demolition derby" and makes sure to name-drop the many great DaVE tandems who have laid claim to the gold in the past. Ironically, due to the stipulations of this contest, the next champions would be determined without being required to execute a single tag. This was a proverbial 'smash and grab' affair.

 

The four teams stand for a few moments after their introductions, familiarising themselves with the layout and plotting their initial actions. Despite such rigorous preparation, the opening exchange amounts to little more than an uncoordinated scramble, with half of the participants engaging one another on the canvas, whilst their counterparts begin scaling the scaffold. The Masked Cougar is the first to crash back to earth, struck in the midsection by Victor Kahn's briefcase, hurled by “The Instigator of Violence” himself with laser-like precision. Mikey James is the next to fall, knocked from his perch by Silver Shark who then utilises the overhead cable to deliver a sensational super rana on the So-Cal RIPW drop-out. That pops the crowd early, but the hits keep coming. Charles Weston jerks Frankie Perez from off the wire and catches him in a seated face-plant before P-Dawg's feet hit the mat. Masked Cougar runs up the back of the unsuspecting Ford Memphis, using him as a springboard for a flying crossbody on his Viva Las Vegas partner, before "The King" levels him with a sloppy leg lariat for scuffing up his jumpsuit, if nothing more. And just when the action seems to be slowing, Fox Mask nails a moonsault from off of the scaffold and manages to take out just about everyone else in the match, including his fellow feline.

 

"What the f-ox!? That was insane! Off the hook! These men are treating their bodies and their well-being with absolute contempt!"

Naess exclaims with his usual rapid-fire delivery, puffing out his cheeks in disbelief.

"Where else would you be able to find raw action as good as this!?"

 

"The circus..."

Tyler muttered, suitably less impressed by what he described as feather-panted gymnastics, grinding his teeth as Memphis reaches for the acoustic guitar he's recently incorporated into his act and dragged it into the ring. And unlike last week, the stringed instrument is a legal as a wrist-lock. Having caught sight of the recent developments, Fox Mask turns possum and remains grounded, anticipating that Memphis may target him first given that he was the only wrestler between the ropes currently showing any sign of life. Sure enough, the former cowboy-turned-Elvis-incarnate sets his aim and winds back, only for Mikey James to snatch the guitar...

 

"Crack!"

 

The guitar explodes over Memphis' cranium, sending splinters and dust flying in all directions, but James is in no position to take advantage as he turns straight into the claws of the revitalised Masked Cougar who hoists him up, with Fox Mask already inbound off of the ropes. Fatal Feline Fury! The crowd roar with approval as the feline tandem seem to have proceedings sewn up. Even Kahn is unable to halt their momentum, trying to replicate the events of their last encounter and striking in cobra-like fashion with his trademark superkick, only to succumb to the same fate as James. Cougar directs Fox Mask to the near corner, vowing to protect his parter as he scales the apparatus to retrieve the belts, but neither man is ready for what happens next as Silver Shark uses his own prone partner, still with the remnants of the guitar frame wrapped around his neck, as a staircase and vaults for the belts. Using the straps like vines as if he were Tarzan navigating the tree tops, Shark swings through and plants a boot in the face of both masked opponents, bowling them over like skittles. Still hanging from mid-air, he manages to unhook the belts with his free hand and subsequently brings this spot-tastic bout to a close.

 

Result: Viva Las Vegas became

DaVE Tag Team champions

when Silver Shark retrieved the belts.

Rating: C-

 

Naess excitedly proclaims that Viva Las Vegas now rest amongst the likes of Adrenaline Rush and the New Wave in the annals of DaVE tag team history, while Silver Shark retrieves his bloated partner from the ring and hands him his share of the spoils. Bemused and still sporting his guitar-frame necklace, Ford Memphis clutches the belt to his chest, possibly on the verge of cardiac arrest after such physical exertion. Nevertheless, the outlandish pair celebrate in the aisle, possibly contemplating how much of a stake the belts would represent at the next poker table as we head into the commercials.

 

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A Corporate Clampdown

 

"Real name? Does Johnny Martin sound like a made-up name to you? F**k'in mark..."

 

Johnny Martin

shot the female staff-member a look of contempt as she punched the information into her PDA, waiting for the suited hulks to grant him entry to the Compound's backstage area.

 

The promotion had been consumed by what could only be construed as an oppressive force since the catastrophic events of seven nights ago. Those physically and mentally able to attend tonight's show following last week's ordeal faced interrogation and medical examination on arrival, an illustration just how much more sanitised and controlled their new environment would be. Whatever viral agent had penetrated so many of his co-workers, the infective element had long since left their system of it's own accord, in many cases within an hour or so of contracting it, but the doctors on hand were still tasked with examining the arrivals for residual effects before granting them clearance to journey further into the arena. Martin had already stepped through this compulsory hoop and having just left the makeshift yellow medical tent with the intent to reach his designated locker-room, found only further scrutiny. StallCorp had replaced the woefully ineffective operational security team from the previous episode with their own specially trained personnel, placed like statues in strategic positions around the complex, large heads and emotionless eyes taking everything in. The all seeing eye of security had been complimented by the extensive network of CCTV cameras that seemed to capture anything that transpired within the four walls of the Compound facility, more than the wrestlers were likely aware. This new incarnation of Danger and Violence Extreme had taken the form of an unrecognised beast. Right and wrong could no longer be considered factors. Instead it had become every man for himself under the watch of a very much involved corporate system.

 

It proved an uncomfortable habitat, especially for the embittered and battle-hardened veterans of DaVE.

 

“Just like being at the amusement park and waiting for the ride...”

Teddy Powell

remarked, one place behind Martin in the line.

 

It wasn't a joke or at least, the humourless tone of Powell's voice implied that Martin wasn't required to laugh, which is just as well, as the East Coast War veteran was in a foul mood, for many reasons. He felt personally slighted that Cuban had thrown a Barbed Wire Steel Cage bout onto tonight's card in a gesture that Martin equated to being a cheap ratings stunt and act of misdirection. DaVE hadn't seen such a contest since the famous fourway Unified Title match of 2004, when Eric Tyler successfully fended off a three pronged challenge to his reign from Martin himself, Nemesis and Chris Caulfield, the latter of whose arm ended up resembling a badly packed kebab after getting snagged. The match itself was historic. Iconic even. Tonight's version, was an insult to their legacy.

 

But it wasn't just that. Teddy Powell represented a further dilemma. A representative of the roster who had turned on their fellow man with brutal consequences. How do you interact with a person who previously sought to tear your limb from limb? Are you gracious for their survival when they spared their victims no mercy? Do you accept their alibi of involuntary, substance-induced behaviour and absolve them of personal responsibility?

 

Or do you resort to a form of action that seems natural, almost mandatory given the circumstances... begin the process of apportioning blame.

 

“They walk amongst us, non-believers, heretics... and disingenuously call themselves a tribunal!”

The voice of

Henry Lee

preached with venom, making an encompassing motion with his arm.

“Yet they are not passing God's judgement. Instead they incite his wrath. They worship false archetypes and dabble in the Devil's dark arts, but who will absolve us of their sins? Not those around us who place the creations of science above those crafted by our Lord's divine hand!”

 

Although last week's episode marked the first time Lee had been seen outside of Japan since late 2006, his presence had hardly sent shockwaves rippling through The Compound. Standing atop of several wooden palettes, "The Icon of Insanity" presents surreal spectacle to those around him, attired like an evangelist, his scarred body concealed by a well-tailored suit and clutching a soiled and tattered copy of the bible, presumably lifted from whatever run-down motel room he's occupied in the past seven nights.

 

Regardless of this, he had amassed quite a congregation.

 

"That's right."

One of the surviving security guards from last week piped up in agreement, trying to validate Lee's allegation.

"We seen'em skulking around outside on the cameras before it all happened!"

 

"And I ain't never seen that Ota fella without his mask on!"

Another bystander chimed in, his eyes wide with accusation.

 

"They spread their demonic intent through those too weak to repel such evil."

Lee continued with gusto.

"And they possessed your wife, did they not Brother Bulldozer?"

 

The former football stand-out loitered around the main gathering, which was over twenty people-strong now.

 

"Gosh, well I wouldn't know about that. I mean, she got a little carried away with the excitement and all, but she simmered down after a while and was mighty sorry about what happened."

Dozer

replied, looping a thick, protective arm around

Missy

.

 

"Some of them have been listenin' to that biblical bluster for nigh on fifteen minutes."

Alex Braun

said, slapping Martin on the back, his gaze falling upon

Jettstream

who had positioned himself at the forefront of the onlookers, transfixed.

"I didn't figure Lee for one of those church-types, only picking up the good book if he wanted to brain somebody with it. Those years spent in the Far East must have really screwed him up."

 

Martin snorted.

“It don't matter how he dresses it up though, he's got a point. Maybe it ain't what God wants, but those reptiles need to get learned.”

 

Nodding in agreement, Braun picked up his wheeled holdall in preparation of a new excursion.

 

“Lets get the troops together.”

 

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The Dirk Nowitzki of DaVE

 

Mark Cuban

is shown in his executive suite when Danger Zone TV™ returns, addressing

Sara Marie York

who sits almost playfully across his desk with her legs crossed, using a red marker pen to annotate items on her clipboard. The pair are engaged in conversation concerning the much-vaunted Extreme Index and how problematic implementing the Mavericks owner's new ranking system has proved given the sizeable portion of the roster who are currently out of commission for the foreseeable future. The personal assistant continues to strike through names when the man who currently sits in pole position opts to take advantage of the Cuban's new 'open door' policy.

 

"And here's our MVP now..."

Cuban rises from his seat, smiling uneasily.

Greg Black

is in no mood for small-talk. He wants an explanation as to why 'the company's most valuable asset was thrown to the wolves last week, condemned and abandoned. If the worst-cased scenario had played out, then the owner of the Dallas Mavericks would have been culpable.

 

"Listen Greg, you... you got it all wrong. It didn't go down like that..."

Cuban stammered, realising from the reflection in Black's shades how unconvincing he appeared.

 

"Don't give me that! I've got my ear to the ground around here. You knew sh*t was going down before my match and you didn't do sh*t!"

Black accused, recomposing himself before continuing.

"Maybe I should just go back to my locker-room, carefully read through that multi-million dollar contract I signed with Arcadia... maybe I need to make a couple of phone calls, have a conversation with Tommy Cornell..."

 

Cuban responds to Black's thinly veiled threat of TCW defection by reminding the former Groucho Bling that he'd been very receptive to Black's demands thus far, which included handing over the title opportunity Black felt he was owed following DOA's collapse, having defeated Matty Sparrow on episode #10 of Rapid Assault for a shot at their now defunct gold. The billionaire reiterates that Black is his top asset, "the Dirk Nowitzki of DaVE" so to speak and Cuban's going to take care of him. That's why the Mavs pick up the best free agents, because Cuban pampers his stars and in return, they want to play for him and they perform to his expectations. Everybody wins.

 

"I'm glad we have an understanding Cubano."

Black smirks, seemingly appeased by the outcome of their discussion.

 

Cuban just nods in reply as the 'Peerless One' made his exit, waiting until the former SWF superstar is almost out of earshot before echoing his sentiments.

"Oh we have an understanding, Greg."

 

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[standard Rules, Singles Match]:

AMERICAN ELEMENTAL

versus.

BIG CLETUS

 

American Elemental is a relative non-entity by industry standards, but his fantastic talent is one of the worst kept secrets in the business. Even so, Am El shifts uncomfortably as the menacing sound of a gritty heavy-metal rendition of ‘dueling banjos’ is heard blaring over the sound system and the spectre of the the creepily stoeck "Appalachian Madman" looms on the stage. And for good reason. Big Cletus bares no resemblance to any opponent previously faced, in fact beyond a few rumblings backstage, nobody knew much about him, let alone how Mark Cuban had managed to hire him. The massive mountain-man prowls around the ring once inside, like a previously caged animal released into the wild for the first time. He appears leery his surroundings, as if this were the first time he'd laid his crazed stare on so many people in one place, continually overwhelmed by the myriad of new experiences he had been subject to following a lifetime of severe isolation within the mountains. This was the 'outside world' of which his family had preached, the Devil's playground, populated by sinning heathens. Such intensive, one-sided teachings left Cletus unable to reason to the contrary. This was all he knew and the longer he remained exposed to mainstream society, the deeper his disdain for it grew.

 

The match itself, was academic. American Elemental used his pace to stay one step ahead of the lumbering Cletus, wobbling him with a missile dropkick at one point, but once the psychotic powerhouse finally snares the North American super-junior, he dominates the bout. Unable to muster any real resistance against the mauling that ensues, Am-El is tossed around the squared circle like a star-spangled ragdoll, an object on which Cletus can displace his rage. As a consequence, such unfocussed aggression offers American Elemental his only avenue of hope as the "Appalachian Madman" misses with an over-zealous charging shoulder block, allowing Am-El to head upstairs and springboard from the ropes, but from the moment he takes off, Am-El realises his mistake. Time seems to freeze for Am-El as he notices Cletus stumble forward mid-flight, slowly raising his tree-trunk-like leg to create an unavoidable and pain-drenched collision, caught like a deer in the headlights of a large, unwieldy truck.

 

American Elemental was already unconscious before he hit the mat. His body folding over like an accordion. Ironically, he'd wind up remembering as little of tonight's episode as he had the week prior.

 

Result: Big Cletus d. American Elemental w/a "Back-Home Boot"

Rating: D+

 

Cletus doesn't celebrate his victory, cemented by a planting his large open palm upon the chest of his smaller opponent for the pinfall, he just rolls American Elemental's sprawled body with one of his giant sized work boots, checking for signs of life, his curiosity almost child-like as he toys with his prey, but chilling all the same. Perhaps he contemplated inflicting further punishment upon his prone opponent, but none was forthcoming. Stomping back down the aisle, Cletus disappeared through the entrance way, away from the prying eyes that unsettled him so.

 

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The Art Of Adjustment

 

"You gonna answer that?"

enquired

Greg Black

, entering the locker room where

Art Reed

sat unresponsively adjusting his kneepad, his cellphone vibrating on the bench beside him.

 

"That can wait. It's good to see you..."

Reed smiled, extending his hand to his fellow House of Stone graduate as Emily's call transitioned straight to voicemail for the sixth time.

"I woulda caught up with you last week, but y'know..."

 

Reed's voice trails off. The memories and wounds were both still fresh from last week's episode. He explained how he'd managed to evade serious harm, after Emily and Sparrow fled, condemning him to a violent end until his reprieve came in the form of a fire-extinguisher, wielded by Shawn Gonzalez of all people, a feat of unexpected camaraderie from 'the Lone Wolf' that allowed him to save his own skin. Part of Reed didn't blame the pair for running. Leaving him behind. Maybe he would have done the same if their roles had been reversed. Deep down, he couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't.

 

"Game's changin', no doubt. A lot of people did crazy things last week..."

Black replied, eyeing himself in the adjacent mirror, as if he were addressing his reflection rather than Reed.

"Some won't forgive and some won't forget. Straight up, some of 'em probably won't be the same again."

 

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...With An Injection Of Funk...

 

"H-H-HAAAAAAAAY!!!"

Came the shout from the doorway, as

Cannonball Funk

arrived as if he'd stepped onto a sitcom set, minus the canned applause. His tone completely inappropriate for the mood that had been set.

"Miss me playas?"

 

A bewildered Reed shoots Black a 'you have got to be kidding me' look as Funk spontaneously high-fives him, before sharing a Fonz-moment with the same mirror.

 

Funk continues, whistling through his teeth.

"Man, dis shindig is off da chain... ya feel'in me?"

 

"No."

Reed replies, completely deadpan. Not that the response registered with Funk.

 

Either that or the jive-talk express rolled right over the top of it. At least Black was acutely aware of his friend's growing agitation and guided the former Calamari Kid to a point in the room that he believed fell outside the remit of Reed's personal space, taking the opportunity to ask why he wasn't in attendance last week. Funk just smiled and accused his fellow ex-SWF co-worker of having his head in the sand, as one of the few people in the country who hadn't seen his cameo on the new series of CBA’s musical Juggernaut, “America’s Superstar Search”. His ridiculous audition back in April was a proven YouTube phenomenon, giving the producers ample motivation to invite him back for a feature on last week's show, with Mark Cuban's blessing of course.

 

"But yo, if it all goes down for a repeat and them freakz are all up in ya grill, I got y'alls backs, fo' real."

Funk reassured the pair in his almost incomprehensible tongue before a previously unheard voice weighed in to the discussion.

 

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...Not Exactly Hardcore's Finest...

 

"And we've got

your

back."

Johnny Martin

added, having assembled a group of like-minded partners who now occupied the doorway, all armed with their respective weapons. Notably the men who apparently marched to the East Coast War veteran's tune could all be labelled as DaVE 'originals'.

"Tonight, we put the freakshow down. There's a penance to be paid for what 'they' did and you have our word that whether it be at your hand or ours, 'the dragon' gets chopped down like a rotten tree."

 

Martin's proverbial band of merry-men cheered in approval, raising clenched fists and yelling in approval, rattling and scraping weapons against lockers.

 

Greg Black however shared neither their optimism nor their cause, but the wheels were already in motion and given the volatile climate backstage, how could he refuse such an allegiance, irrespective of how unwanted it was.

 

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Not Even At First Base

 

The well-manicured finger nails of

Miss Emily

virtually caress the buttons on her cellphone, dialling her client's phone once again. Contacting Art Reed was becoming an increasingly futile pursuit. She didn't leave a message this time. There was no point.

 

"That reminds me..."

A confident voice said behind her, it's point of origin within an intimate proximity to Emily's right ear.

"I didn't give you my number last week."

 

Immediately recoiling in an obvious display of displeasure, Emily pulls away from

Matty Sparrow

.

 

"So we're back to the old frosty-box treatment?"

Sparrow said, bearing his perennial dirty smirk.

 

"There is no 'we'."

Emily replied bluntly after positioning herself beside a nearby vending machine, making it apparent that she didn't want anyone to see the pair conversing.

"What happened last week... that was a mistake. That was MY mistake, but if you so much as breath a word about this to my client, it will become YOUR mistake. I am not going to let a 'distraction' cost me my opportunity to get back to where I belong in this industry."

 

"Whatever turns you on Em... and believe me, I

know

what turns you on."

Sparrow smirked, heightening the sexual tension and raising Emily's ire.

"If that's what you want to tell yourself, go ahead, but we both know what went down in that room. When you get over yourself, look me up, but until then, I've got a match to win."

 

Sparrow turns away to depart, his match with Bulldozer Brandon Smith scheduled after the next instalment of commercials, but not before leaving the former Queen Emily with some additional food for thought.

 

"And if you want to get back to the 'big leagues', then you need to be riding the Pecker-Wrecker, not Art Reed's coat-tails."

 

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[standard Rules, Singles Match]:

MATTY SPARROW

versus.

BULLDOZER BRANDON SMITH

w/

Missus Smith

 

In the world of Bulldozer Brandon Smith, even the horrific happenings on last week's episode of Danger Zone TV™ can't diminish his glass-half-full mentality. The sun still shines, birds still chirp and his wife still bakes the finest 'Brown Betty' in the whole state of Minnesota, so it comes as no surprise when El Dozerino continually overpowers Sparrow in the opening series of tie-ups, getting in close and hitting hard. Missus Smith bounces around with giddy joy, still fulfilling the same role she's held since High School, playing cheerleader to her football-standout husband, blowing him kisses and flashing him saccharine smiles. A far cry from the woman who almost split Sara Silver's face in half. Naess comments on what a charming couple the wholesome pair make, going as far to say they have excellent chemistry together as Dozer reverses Sparrow's crossbody attempt into a powerslam. A release German suplex quickly follows, causing the Pecker-Wrecker to roll outside for some respite and go back to the proverbial drawing board.

 

Given the state of play thus far, the contest has a win for BBS stamped all over it, but like any good NFL coach, Sparrow has an alternative gameplan to deploy and that involves the nearby Missus Smith. Approaching Dozer's wife with obvious amorous intent, Sparrow sizes her up, making an innuendo-laden remark about wanting to 'plough' the doe-eyed county-girl and subsequently lights BBS's fuse. Before you can say "B-Doozie", Dozer makes a burst for Sparrow, his chubby face flustered and red with fury, but the resident pornstar sidesteps his charging clothesline, leaving Dozer to unfavourably connect with the steel ringpost. From there on out, Sparrow works the damaged limb with some nasty-looking stomps, legdrops and dropkicks to the joint, contorting it as best he can and finally making some progress against the injured beast, a psychology that elicits praise from the Eric Tyler himself, the unlikeliest of sources given the history shared between Tyler and the Pecker-Wrecker. But like any wounded animal, Dozer is still dangerous and makes a spirited comeback, shrugging off Sparrow's charging roll-up attempt and then flattening the on-rushing cruiserweight with a forearm hammer blow.

 

Naess gets in a one-liner about the former 'Bird Man' getting his feathers plucked as Dozer squats down into the three-point-stance, leading Missy to hop onto the apron and remind her absent-minded spouse of the detrimental effect the charging blow would have on his weakened leading arm. She had no way of knowing that her wise words would carry dire consequences for Dozer as Sparrow manages to land a well-placed knee to the groin and drills his winded opponent with "the Testicular Thrashing" (Snap DDT), all whilst referee R.M. Stones has his back to proceedings, admonishing the petite Minnesotan for her perceived infringement.

 

Result: Matty Sparrow d. Bulldozer Brandon Smith w/a “Testicular Thrashing”.

Grade: D

 

Missus Smith climbs into the ring to console her husband with whisperings of sweet deserts, leaving Sparrow to mark his victory with a celebratory grind, inwardly hoping that Miss Emily had witnessed his impressive display, sat somewhere backstage, watching events unfold on a monitor whilst twisting a flowing lock of black hair around her finger.

 

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I Can't Go With Someone Watching

 

It had been a hectic night for

Mark Cuban

and in truth, he'd featured on camera far longer than he'd intended, but right now he had a different type of business to attend to. Positioning himself at the urinal, he began to read the advertisement posted above it, whilst fumbling with his zip. It was an ad for

America's Next Top Entrepreneur

, the CBA network show that had transformed fellow IT billionaire J.K. Stallings Jr into a household name in the last three years, regularly seen utilising his incredible personal wealth to invest in a variety of wild projects that had been successfully pitched by their creators on a weekly basis. Waiting for the stream to begin, Cuban thought to himself that maybe he should have signed up to appear on that show. At least that way, he would have had the money he needed without becoming entangled in the numerous strings attached by Stallings' corporation, StallCorp.

 

"Anyone in here?"

Cuban enquired, applying uncomfortable pressure to his prostate in order to scan the Men's Room, positive he'd heard a noise not of his making.

 

Silence.

 

That made the owner of the Dallas Mavericks uncomfortable and given recent events, it was worth indulging his paranoia as simply trusting his peripheral vision wasn't enough. He ducked down and looked under each toilet stall to check for feet, then upon finding none, stood up and checked his reflection in the mirror. He flashed himself a self-assured grin, convincing himself there was nothing weird about his behaviour and caught a glimpse of the white porcelain urinal he'd been standing at, reminding him of his purpose for being in the vicinity. He still needed to relieve his bladder and turned towards it, but the unanticipated presence of

Fumihiro Ota

who stood before him almost caused a premature release of said golden fluid.

 

"I didn't hear you come in..."

Cuban stopped mid-sentence and gazed at the door. It was still and completely without motion.

"How in God's name did you get in!?"

 

Ota spoke slowly, but with perfect clarity, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes mercilessly drawn.

 

"My master awaits acceptance of his terms."

 

"Listen, this 'dragon' thing. It's old. Tired. Gray dragon, purple dragon, double dragon, whatever you're going by these days..."

Cuban replied with the sort of bravado Justice's presence on the other side of the Men's Room door afforded him, even if the Tribunal member had somehow slipped by him.

"It's a fable. A story that always ends the same way. Your 'master', the dragon - gets slain and whilst I don't have a valiant white knight at my disposal tonight, I do have a Black Knight on hand to put Acid to the sword."

 

Ota's eyes narrow further, but his demeanour is otherwise unchanged and indifferent, as if Cuban had alluded to a match with Martin Lawrence as opposed to Greg Black.

 

"My master awaits acceptance of his terms."

The ninja repeated with no alteration of tone to his voice.

 

Surprisingly, Cuban turned his attention back to the urinal. He was either incredibly confident that Ota brought no ill-intent with him or the billionaire simply couldn't hold 'it' any longer.

 

"I have a message for your master..."

Cuban said over his shoulder.

"I'm not stupid. I know Acid needs you to skulk around in the shadows, operate the smoke machine and screw around with the lights. So here's some news; if you or his other minion pop up during tonight's main event or pull any stunts. He'll be disqualified. Comphrende?"

 

Silence.

 

This time he heard the door swing on it's hinges, but the motion had been triggered not by Ota's departure, but the box-like cranium of

Justice

poking inside the room to satisfy his curiosity having finally become aware of the voices from within. He withdrew it at Cuban's instruction as the Dallas Mavericks' owner finished up and made for the exit, finally allowing access to the patient workers outside who'd been waiting to use the facility.

 

The super ninja meanwhile had vanished without a trace.

 

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Squashed Like A Pimple

 

A large white limousine sat idle with it's headlights off in the parking lot. Naess speculates that the vehicle contains one Samuel T. Shark, although most of the viewers would have already worked that out for themselves courtesy of the twin dollar signed emblem on the hood that identified it as such. Approaching the vehicle with a microphone in hand is

Cat Jemson

, the former squeeze of Kurt Laramee, filling in for Sara Silver on a trial basis until the latter recovered sufficiently to return to her duties.

 

Tap, tap, tap...

 

Lacking Silver's journalistic instinct, she simply wrapped her knuckles on the window, expecting somebody inside to lower it, but they declined. The staffer seemed a bit puzzled by this development. Her sources were clear that since arriving, nobody had either entered or exited the luxury chariot.

 

"Mr Shark..."

Jemson began, trying not to sound overly pushy in her questioning.

"The fans would like to know whether..."

 

She stopped, aware of a figure looming behind her courtesy of the reflection from the tinted glass.

 

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...Far From Logical...

 

"The fans would like to know when they can see Dermot O'Logical begin removing the impurities that afflict the face of DaVE like the repulsive zits they are!"

A new voice said, strangely filtered and interspersed with echoed breath as each syllable reverberated inside the helmet of the special suit worn by the speaker. Like a poor quality Darth Vader voice-changer.

 

Dermot O'Logical

stood proudly before the Jemson, sporting a similar radiation suit to those worn by personnel in the opening montage and argued that his choice of attire was far from bizarre. The suit, the skin care obsessive explained, protected his complexion from the evil viruses and chemicals that plagued the Compound and would aid him in dealing with the uncleansed attackers of last week, shielding him from their infected saliva and flaky skin.

 

"If you cared about your complexion, Cat..."

Said O'Logical, implyingly.

"And let's face it, you should. You'd do the same thing... GENURGH!"

 

Before O'Logical could finish,

Rayne Man

grabbed him by the material of his garb and ejected him from the scene, throwing him against the nearby wall. Having arrived unnoticed, the SWF training camp graduate gave Jemson a warning glare, which she wisely took as her cue to exit, leaving as the limousine door finally opened.

 

Having favoured self-preservation last week, Rayne Man had a debt to repay.

 

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The Awakening

 

John Pathlow

groaned as the dazzling light flooded his optic nerves. He clawed blindly at his surroundings trying to identify where he was, his fingertips becoming his eyes. All he could determine was that he was laid upon a steel table, although he also sensed the presence of others around him.

 

Voices engaged in indistinct conversation echoed around him, but his current state of semi-consciousness made it difficult to attach them to anyone in his memory, the tingling sensation as he regained feeling in his body taking precedence. “The Blazing Red Demon” attempted to sit up. His vision was gradually stabilising, he could almost see once more, not that it provided him with any further answers.

 

He glanced down at his exposed upper body and noticed the numerous marks he had sustained prior to his bout of memory loss. Before he could remark on his own appearance, Pathlow realised there were numerous individuals draped in white lab coats around him, presumably doctors. He deduced that he was currently in some sort of medical bay, although the equipment and general surrounding seemed leagues ahead of a traditional hospital or similar medical facility.

 

“We've got a live one here!”

Vocalised one of the white entities, cloaked in the pale blue lighting emitted from nearby equipment.

 

Slowly Pathlow tried to reassemble the fragmented memories of the chaos in his mind, like a mental jigsaw, barely noticing as one of the doctors stepped in to unhook some wiring from the back of his neck. His head flopped onto his left shoulder, his vision became almost kaleidoscope-like, but occasionally materialising enough to provide flashes of meaningful visual information. There was a slab beside him, hosting another incapacitated human form, from which numerous wires branched out.

 

“M-Moose?”

 

He started to get up, but one of the doctors quickly moved forward to forcefully encourage him not to.

 

“W-wait… w-ho are you?”

Pathlow murmured, weakly flinching as he felt the cold needle of a syringe pierce his arm and rapidly overcome by wooziness from whatever substance had just been injected into his bloodstream.

 

Situation analysis over, John Pathlow blacked out.

 

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[barbed Wire Steel Match]:

GREG BLACK

versus.

ACID

Additional Notes: Acid will be disqualified if The Tribunal of The Dragon interfere.

 

The atmosphere inside the Compound builds from a quiet awe to a crescendo of noise as the steel cage begins it's descent from the ceiling, the metallic grinding of gears buried beneath a reverberating bassline and accompanied by strobe beams erratically bouncing around the cell, it's barbed wire dressing glistening with lethality. It's during this spectacle that Eric Tyler makes a rather relevant observation as the production manager cues Greg Black's theme music. The 'inescapable' cage has been installed with a door.

 

"Danger and Violence Extreme has a statutory obligation to ensure the well-being of our employees, adhering to stringent safety legislation..."

Naess began, reciting the statement word by word as he received via his headset, possibly from Cuban himself.

"...and in case of fire..."

 

"It's a health and safety thing."

The PSW supremo concluded as his co-announcer burst into uproarious laughter.

 

"Let's just put a picnic blanket in there and have them eat fairycakes!"

Tyler bawled as smoke ominously rose around the entrance ramp, precluding the arrival of Acid.

 

With the 'safety' door sealed shut and the ringcrew having made sure the steel cage was secured in its final resting location, the match instantly lurched into high gear, bypassing the probing and feeling out stages of their last encounter with Black proving the catalyst. Whilst the gold itself is not on the line in this contest, both know that should they score a victory here, their claim to the still vacant Unifed Title would be indisputable. The Peerless One rattles Acid off of the cage with a dropkick, then clatters him against the steel on the opposite side before scoring a running neck snap in an adrenaline-driven opening sequence. Irrespective of his early success however, it begins to dawn on the former High Concept member and the viewers at home that the steel playpen intended to insulate the competitors, is well and truly Acid's realm. Naess describes him as some of masked-lucha-spider, clinging to the structure with ease in order to thwart Black, leading to some of the most innovative move sequences witness inside a steel cage. In one sequence, Black sends Acid into the buckles, following him in with a head of steam only for his foe to ghost behind him, stun him with a high kick to the base of the skull and then scramble up the cage panel to deliver a flying headscissors takedown. Even that manoeuvre pales in comparison to walk comes moment later when a resurgent Black monkey flips the mysterious tribunal member across the ring, only for Acid to freakishly latch onto the cage and decimate the former SWF'er with a corkscrew leg lariat. To make matters worse for those cheering the fan favourite, Acid plays dead for several moments after scoring the hit, resting in a completely motionless state before his eyes flash open again and the machine-like warrior snaps upward, whilst Black continues to convulse beside him.

 

Naess states what the viewers are probably all too well aware of, that no matter how hard Black tries to hide it, he's still hurting from last week and the chain of events unleashed by 'the outbreak' and crucially, has been unable to fully capitalise when an opportunity has presented itself in this match. That said, Mr. Black is not a man to surrender easily. Giving the impression that he is dead and buried, Black drags himself out the impending doom that is the "Acid Rain Bomb", providing his masked foe with an impact zone that consists of empty canvas.

 

"OH MY GAWD!"

Naess shrieks, with lashings of hardcore nostalgia.

"I thought Greg Black was finished! Deader than the Seattle SuperSonics!"

 

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...Finishing The Job...

 

The camera's gaze abruptly falls upon the

Johnny Martin

, armed with the barbedwire-wrapped steel chair he was shown holding earlier, leading his motley crew of similarly armed wrestling vigilantes down the aisle. They surround the cage, like villagers seeking the destruction of a hell-spawned demon that has plagued their land, only they carry steel chairs instead of pitchforks and the closest thing they have to a burning torch was a wooden 2x4, soaked in lighter fluid and tightly gripped by the hands of

Dallas McWade

.

 

"That's about the story ain't it, but the way I figure it, Mitch..."

Tyler smiled, with that slightly unhinged glint in his eye.

"That ain't gonna matter a whole lot, because we're about to have ourselves a good'ol fashioned lynchin' ."

 

Despite the well-meaning intent behind it's inclusion, the cage-door provides the Martin and his troops with a convenient point of access. A few well-placed boots to the outside official later and

Alex Braun

unlocks it with the reluctantly yielded key. Once inside the structure, Black's protestations for the men to leave fall on deaf ears as they circle Acid, who himself is now back to a vertical base and stands completely still with his arms crossed, almost accepting of his fate.

 

"BURN THE DEMON!"

Henry Lee

demands, thumping his dog-eared copy of the Bible as Martin brandishes a silver zippo lighter, intending to set the 2x4 ablaze until Black intervenes and smothers the DaVE icon's hand with his own. Martin's face immediately darkens and the crowd seem torn as he and Black eyeball one another with rising mistrust as the group close in around them as if a line had been drawn in the proverbial sand. Tyler lamented what he viewed as a stupid move from the announce desk as tensions inside the cage escalated to the point of no return and Black began dealing out right hands, striking out at those around him until McWade brought the 2x4 down across the former High Concept member's back. Martin's lynching posse then gathers around their victims, like dark clouds on the horizon, when the former SWF'ers own two-strong posse of reinforcements charge the ring.

 

"Uh-oh! Now this is an interesting development!"

Naess observed, as if the previous events had somehow been to the contrary.

"Black, Reed and Funk are standing between this vigilante group and their target... it's as if Acid is being protected by a makeshift barrier of iconic black hair-styles!"

 

The air is thick with sweaty, aggression-scented tension to the extent that a knife would be required should one choose to cut it as the stand-off between the two equally determined sides continues, the fans on all sides of the Compound baying for the blood-letting to begin creating a veritable Roman Coliseum around the potential combatants.

Art Reed

balls his taped fists,

Cannonball Funk

fluffs his afro, Johnny Martin starts winding up his chair-swinging arm, Alex Braun cracks his knuckles,

Tank Bradley

's stomach growls and Dallas McWade's 2x4 is finally set alight.

 

It's now just a question of who will blink first.

 

"YYEEEEEAAARRRGGGHHH!"

 

Without warning an acrid mist sprays from beneath Acid's partially raised mask, engulfing the entire head Cannonball Funk, afro included. Having dispelled his anguished cry, the Funk-Star collapses in agony, clawing at his eyes. His novelty shades had offered no protection to whatever concoction Acid had just blasted him with. A confused, stunned silence follows as the men inside the claustrophobic steel box look at one another in disbelief, unsure of how else to respond. While they hesitate, the ring begins to vanish under a blanket of choking grey fog, which rolled in almost instantaneously, consuming it's occupants including the statuesque Acid.

 

http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/FumihiroOtasml.jpghttp://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/KazumaNaratosml.jpg

...From The Rafters...

 

"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttttttt!"

 

The sound of zip-lines tightening is heard and the silhouettes of two masked figures are briefly caught as they descend from the rafters via wires. Deductive logic would identify them as Fumihiro Ota and Kazuma Narato, but it's difficult to make them out with any real clarity amidst the smoke and confusion, their forms only sporadically illuminated by the flashbulbs going off around them, but otherwise slice invisibly through the haze.

 

Result: Greg Black d. Acid by disqualification after The Tribunal of The Dragon interfered.

Rating: B-

 

When the scene finally crystallises, the Tribunal of The Dragon are nowhere to be found and a millionaire opportunist lies in wait.

 

Rayne Man

remains true to his word, clearing a path for

Samuel T. Shark

by bulldozing Reed against the side of the cage, allowing the fans and more importantly Greg Black to savour the first taste of Shark's newly minted finishing move,

“The Cash Deposit”

(vertebrae destroyer). The move viciously spikes Black like a tent-peg as Shark added to the tonight's theme of disproportional retribution, unhindered by the wrestlers around him.

 

Keen not to overstay their welcome, the pair take their leave and Danger Zone TV ends much as it began, mired in turmoil and mistrust as this new vision of DaVE remained as clear as mud.

 

http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/MarkCubansml.jpg

Accidental Inspiration

 

Parting the thin black veil that separated dreams from reality,

Mark Cuban

is caught on camera standing inches from the entrance curtain, observing proceedings from afar with a wide grin on his face. This closing sight seems out of context given how the night had transpired, culminating with another main event virtual non-finish that would prevent this episode of Danger Zone TV from being knocked out of the proverbial ballpark as intended, despite the fact that Greg Black would be awarded victory on a technicality. Instead, Cuban's good-spirited demeanour provides more questions than it does answers.

 

"It's brilliant, in fact I should have thought of this sooner..."

Cuban began with an air of mystery. It's unclear whether he's addressing somebody out of shot, the camera itself or simply enjoys the sound of his own voice echoing around him.

 

"It's all about the team."

 

_______________________________________________

Overall Show Rating: C+

TV Rating: 0.79

 

OOC Note: Quite a few comments I'd like to address, but this is a bit of a post and run, so I'll get round to those tomorrow along with tallying up prediction scores.

[sebsplex]

I finally got around to reading the first show sebs, and while I mostly really enjoyed it... it's a bit of a mixed bag if I'm being honest. The problem a lot of your characters are lifted or borrowed from two dynasties and I've never been able to become immersed in an EV dynasty (either too dark, too long or when I get around to thinking maybe he's already moved on to the next dynasty.) The concept itself I have read before in an RW diary on EWB that had a pretty iconic image at the end.

 

Really? Damn, I knew I should have gone with vampires or werewolves. They're all the rage now, right?

 

I'm not aware of the EWB diary of which you speak, but this dynasty is an amalgamation of various ideas. I took my cues for the "zombie" portion from a low-budget film I stumbled across late one night on TV called Zombie Beach Party, a quirky flick with luchadors battling zombies - starring the likes of Jim 'The Anvil' Neidhart and Tyson Dux. It's not as awesome as it sounds and has a completely different plot to what's transpired in this dynasty, but it did provide a creative spark to mix the two subjects. I'm also rather partial to the original premise of ECW on Sci-fi, which sadly the reality never came close to pulling off (or attempting for that matter).

 

I know what you mean about borrowing several of the characters, it was always my main concern when it came to deciding to write this all up. The fact is, some of the character concepts being used have been rounded through several shows and it's just not practical for me to try and rewrite or summarise all that for the first couple of shows. Instead, I'm trying to work backwards with some of them in that respect, but for those not familiar with the dynasty they originated from, some of them won't resonate initially, if at all. Different people latch on to different things I guess. In some cases though, their previous background isn't going to matter a whole lot.

 

It's kinda like when I tried to get into "Heroes" or "Lost" halfway through. There's some big backstory going on with these people I know nothing about, but at least in this case, you're here for the most important part, the zombies. For those that can stick with this, the gaps will get filled in along the way.

 

As a one-off story or show I thought it was amazing. I loved a lot of it, but I'm confused how many of your characters are dead or are zombies. Hard to keep a roster intact if they're infected. Plus, do the zombies go the next show too? I'm overthinking I'm sure.

I loved the violence and the completeness and execution of the vision of a zombie invasion. I'm not sure I care about many or any of the DOA guys, and only a few of the DaVE survivors. (Eddie Peak was MADE to be in that show.) All in all I enjoyed it while I read it but I have no idea where you go from there.

 

Thanks for that Beek, it's much appreciated. Some of the issues you've raised have been touched on in the second show, with more to follow in the next few episodes. Although I had most of the justification and explanation in mind when I ran the original private game, committing all that to text isn't all that easy. I do need to do a proper roster post though... must stop putting it of in order to write other stuff.

 

And yes, I was sorely tempted to delve into the editor and bring Eddie Peak along for the ride. A proverbial buffet for the Great White Shark.

 

Because the COTGD (or whatever you're calling them) are the rare heel team that's more exciting when they're chasing the title.

 

Firstly, it's great to see you post Oregano Jensen. I remember you posting some really in-depth analysis and breakdowns in Pox's dynasty, particularly your focus on Art Reed, which really added to the whole process.

 

Again, I resisted the editor to add Black Eagle, the blander Kazuma Narato fulfils his role in the group. The Tribunal of The Dragon are a somewhat different grouping to the Cult of The Gray Dragon (beyond the member substitution), although an obvious continuation of the theme. I have plans to take them in a different direction I believe Pox would have had in mind. Their journey is just beginning but right now, yes, there's something of a COTGD-Lite about them.

 

Oh and back to Reed, I'm going to try and give him quite a bit of love in this dynasty. I need to, considering he's one of my few bona-fide main eventers right now.

 

Eisenverse's original plan for Jeremiah Moose was to turn him in "Hell-Hound". Someone made a BADASS alt for the gimmick; you should ask EV to sent it to you and it might make you think twice about Moose.

 

Now this is an interesting development.

[Eisen-verse]

You know, Sebs, You've really created something amazing with this project. Honestly, the alt renders you're using (which I take you probably created given your rendering past), the vibe in which you've created, and the overall writing pattern (which I'm certainly a fan of a more 'novel-esque' form of writing); it's all great.

 

Given the DOA, and ELITE influence, I certainly have a soft-spot for what you're putting together.

 

All in all, I've mentally bookmarked this project going forward as I'm reading all along the way.

 

Cheers.

 

E-V

[sebsplex]

You know, Sebs, You've really created something amazing with this project. Honestly, the alt renders you're using (which I take you probably created given your rendering past), the vibe in which you've created, and the overall writing pattern (which I'm certainly a fan of a more 'novel-esque' form of writing); it's all great.

 

E-V

 

As I told you through pm, always glad to have you onboard E-V. I can't take any credit for the alts though. Beyond the render of Mark Cuban, jhd1 is responsible for pretty much all the other alt'ed goodness that appears, whilst the Wood and BBS re-renders are both from the jtlant 'range' .

 

But anyway, hopefully the vibes are good. I'd be interested to know if you had any thoughts on how any particular characters are coming across.

 

<hr>

 

Time to tally up the points from the DZTV predictions in a process that's probably going to be as convoluted as this dynasty...

 

20LEgend: 3/4 + 1 Bonus (Since Totally Supreme are a team, I can only give you a point for one of them)

MJStark: 3/4

jhd1: 3/4 + 1 Bonus

KingJoel: 1/4 + ½ Bonus (For pretty much calling the ME finish, like any good Maths test, you get a reward for your working out.)

Trell: 2/4

Bigpapa42: 1/4 + ½ Bonus (Nemesis wasn't actually up for the cut, but my preview wasn't as clear as it could have been.)

MichiganHero: 2/4

TheLeviticalLawKid3: 1/4 + 1 Bonus

Oregano Jensen: 2/4 + 1 Bonus (Point for Parker, although as it transpires he'll likely have to be killed off as the SWF have come in with an offer for him.)

 

Once again, thanks for all your predictions and insights. I've whipped up an ongoing league table, but I'll tag that onto the next show preview.

 

And to christen the arrival of 'the standings', I'm going to give away !THE FIRST PREDICTION CONTEST PRIZE! and although we have two winners this time round in 20LEgend and jhd1, this particular reward is actually completely redundant to jhd, so he doesn't get to claim it

 

20LEgend, you get to pick one of the exclusive as-of-yet-not-posted-in-full-size-alts for me post and to thus be generally released to the world and be used by anyone who sees fit to use it (expect jhd of course, since he awesomely made all of them). Your choices are as follows...

 

Cannonball Funk (version 2)

Eric Tyler (DaVE t-shirt)

Dermot O'Logical (radiation suit)

Shawn Gonzalez (gray hoodie)

Silver Shark (Viva Las Vegas!)

Kazuma Narato (Tribunal of The Dragon version)

Justice (Hell's Bouncer version 2000)

 

Or any of the other alts used so far in this dynasty, which are randomly dotted around the forums, but you don't have the time/will to track down.

 

Congratulations and choose wisely!

[20LEgend]

Thet're all so great but it just has to be Cannonball Phunk new alt he doesn't have enough alts so this'll be schweet!

[jindr3k]

So they are like 28 Days Later zombies and the effects wore off? Or am I wrong?

[sebsplex]

Thet're all so great but it just has to be Cannonball Phunk new alt he doesn't have enough alts so this'll be schweet!

 

Good choice, here's the CBF and variations in all his new glory...

 

http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/SamPratt_alt5.jpghttp://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/SamPratt_alt6.jpghttp://i80.photobucket.com/albums/j178/sebsplex/DaVE%20Diary/SamPratt_alt4.jpg

Cannonball Funk(s) v.2 courtesy of jhd1

 

So they are like 28 Days Later zombies and the effects wore off? Or am I wrong?

 

Actually that's a pretty good way to term it. The 'zombies' in the first episode of Danger Zone TV hit hard and they hit fast, but they're not the flesh eating variety i.e. the Romero breed. They're also 'runners', as in 28DL too. As for the effects fading, that's touched upon in some of the segments in episode two, which is why workers who were infected such as Am-El and Teddy Powell were able to feature.

 

I'll continue to elaborate on later shows, but yeah, you're on the right track with that.