Back For Blood: Zombie Apocalypse Part 1

Master of the Boot’s Deadliest Warrior: Zombie Apocalypse

Part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these fictional characters in this nor any of the real characters in this. I do not own deadliest warrior and I make no profit from any of this.

Announcer: Welcome to the exciting finish of this season of Deadliest Warrior!

The Deadliest Warrior Logo flies across the screen and highlights appear from previous fights.

Over the last season we had many exciting matches that kept readers on the edge of their seats.

The camera shows The Mask Killing Kratos, Hitchens killing the Pope and Dante killing Alucard and many many more fighters. 

The Mask, aka Stanley Ipkiss. Women want him and bad guys want to kill him, nuff said. 

Revy: Psycho Bitch extraordinaire

Mandalorians: the best armor blood can buy

Jem'Hadar: Footsoldiers of the Dominion

The Doctor: A mysterious time traveller who has a knack of showing up at the wrong place at the right time

Charles Bronson, aka Michael Peterson. Also Britain's most violent prisoner

Christopher Hitchen- No, it burns! Who the fuck took this picture? 

Even Death Can't stop the ferocious Dante Alighieri

Before there was Metal Gear, there was . . . Snake Plissken

A battlefield Legend, Solid Snake is a foe to be reckoned with

Announcer: but now it’s time to take the game to a whole new level with the aid of . . . zombies!

The Deadliest Warrior Logo appears on screen, suddenly it is torn apart and a horde of crawling, hungry zombies bursts through the hole that is created. These suckers are rotted, stinky and hungry to boot.

Announcer: In an all new twist on the old tried and true Back for Blood Formula, the winners of this season will be thrown together in a zombie infested hotel and forced to survive.

The familiar face of Max appears in his curly haired glory.

Max Geiger, resident computer expert is the mastermind behind this radical idea.

“Sure we’ve done back for blood before,” Max says. “But all those other times we just had two warriors fighting it out. Now we’ve got all the warriors in the same environment facing down the zombie apocalypse. That introduces a whole crap load of new factors to consider.”

Announcer: Geoff Desmoulins, biomedical expert and master of mayhem will be tasked not only to the killing power of the various weapons but to see alternate ways of how the fighters can use their arsenals to inflict pain!

“We’ve tested the weapons before, but before we were working on a time limit. This time what we’ll be able to do is go in and go over select weapons again and see how else they can be utilized.”

Announcer: Former ER doctor Armand Dorian will measure who is quick and who is dead.

Armand appears carrying a shovel and a bucket of what looks like blood and guts. Flies are buzzing around the bucket he’s carrying. “In previous fights I’ve gone over bodies and seen if the impact was fatal or not,” the doctor pauses to swat at some of the flies that are gathering around him.

“This time we’ll be really taking into account the level of training these fighters have, their physiology, general health level, inebriation level, history of drug and alcohol use, hangnails, sexually transmitted diseases, parking tickets, whether or not they’ve had a haircut that morning, sexual orientation, grades from high school, did they remember to take out the garbage, tendency to use run on sentences . . .

Announcer: Uh, moving on!

Assisting us in this endeavour is former Navy Seal and host of Discovery Channel’s Future Weapons show, Richard “Mack” Machowitz.

A fit looking bald man steps before the camera. “As a former Navy Seal and a practitioner of eight martial arts styles for more than twenty years, my experience makes uniquely qualified to judge and appraise fictional and fictionalized warriors from diverse backgrounds and abilities.”

“In short,” he concludes with a somewhat sinister look, “Max’s job is as good as mine.”

Announcer: Also appearing to handle a more efficient and elaborate computer processing is military video game software developer Robert Daly.

Daly appears before the camera. Sitting on his chair, Daly is smoking a cigar the size of a submarine sandwich. A haze of cigar smoke surrounds him like smog over Los Angeles.

The camera briefly returns back to Armand who is still speaking in an incredibly long unbroken sentence.

“. . . we’ll also test their ability to make pancakes, what are their favourite video games, generalship, music preference, are they circumcised or not, how often do they go to church, do they have wooden teeth.

Announcer: . . . Also appearing as a guest expert today is the fourth incarnation of Doctor Who.

Before the camera, the familiar blue police box materializes from thin air. From out of the box comes a bohemian looking man in most eccentric clothing. He’s wearing a large, floppy hat, long coat and a scarf that is impractically long.

The mysterious visitor cracks a smile which reveals more white teeth than anybody has a right to own.

He introduces himself. “Hello, I am the Doctor,” he says in a deep, melodious voice.

“Lately the Brigadier has been a bit moody and I needed a short siesta away from his glum behaviour.”

From out of his coat, the Doctor pulls out a bag of British sweets called jelly babies and begins to nibble on one. “Currently, the Brigadier just made his twenty-seventh suicide attempt. As soon as this show is done I shall try to stop him.”

Announcer: With introductions out of the way it’s time to get cracking on the experiments.

Everyone is now standing around a weapons table with a few monitors and computer devices thrown in almost as an afterthought. Max, Armand and Geoff stand together while the three of them are flanked by the Doctor and Mack.

“Alright, how do we organize this?” says Max.

“Well, the first thing we need to do is split the tests between individual fighters and faction battles,” Mack iterates.

“That’s a good idea,” says Geoff.

“Right then,” Max says. “If we’re talking about faction battles then that basically leaves us with the Jem’Hadar and the Mandalorians.”

“Okay then,” Geoff agrees. “Let’s get nitty gritty dirty and see who takes an edge for our two factions.”

Announcer: Returning for the testing of the weapons of the Mandalorians and Jem’Hadar are Commander Worf of Starfleet and bounty hunter Boba Fett.

I know what you're thinking, but he is not a merry man

And neither is this guy. 

Worf, the stoic and easily pissed off Klingon goes first. “I stand by the Jem’Hadar in this match. While the Mandalorians are well armoured, the eagle is safer from attack than the turtle.”

Crossing his arms, Worf gives the camera a hare glare that normally is seen by wrestlers bad mouthing each other on TV and in the eyes of executions about to let the floor drop out of the gallows. “The Mandalorians are powerful warriors, without a doubt. However they lack discipline and unity. They compare themselves to mercury, unable to be broken; by the same token they are unable to draw any significant wounds in their enemies flank.”

Boba Fett however has a totally different view of things. “In my own way, I have some respect for the Jem’Hadar’s ruthlessness and their discipline,” his voice coldly rasps. “But ultimately while their tactics are excellent, they are not original thinkers. In essence, they’re like Storm troopers on steroids with better aim.”

To illustrate his point, Fett points to his right shoulder. Around his left shoulder are several braided Wookie scalps and around his other shoulder are several similarly braided Jem’Hadar scalps. If Fett is fond of one thing it’s trophies and he’s got way more Jem’Hadar trophies stashed back on his ship, Slave 1.

Announcer: As a basis for comparison, we’ve set up two ballistics gel dummies designed to replicate the flesh of a Jem’Hadar and a nonspecific humanoid respectively. One dummy will be clad in full Jem’Hadar armour while the other will be clad in the fabled beskar suit of the Mandalorians.

The Fourth Doctor and Max are busy setting up the gel dummies and Max has to ask the Doctor. “Hey doc, where did you get all this gelatin?”

To that, the Doctor puts away his sonic screwdriver and flashes one of those freakish yet charming smiles. “Well in my travels I recently stopped by Xingomenikomir IV, a planet made entirely of gelatin and the natives let me help myself.”

The camera pans to reveal that in fact the Doctor has filled up half of the fight club with nothing but giant blocks of gelatin.

Max pats the gel dummy next to him for luck, but then looks around. “Hey, has anybody seen Armand?”

From inside the giant mass of gelatin a muffled voice can be heard that sounds vaguely like Armand. “Help me.”

The Doctor immediately realizes his mistake and says, “Oh shit, please forgive my overzealous gelatin unloading.”

While the Doctor and Max are working to free Armand from the giant wall of gel, Mack and Geoff and working at the touch table.

“So what have we got here Mack?” asks the resident biomedical expert.

“Well Geoff,” Mack replies, “This is my touch table; I bought it at a yard sale two years ago and until now it’s been sitting in my attic.”

Mack flicks on a switch and immediately the screen lights up, showing a giant map of the world. He then zooms out of the map of the Earth and then shows a wider map of the galaxy.

Mack then starts to draw in glowing circles to indicate the origins of the two fighters. “This here is the Delta quadrant, around the region where the Dominion makes their capital city.” He clarifies. “It’s unknown where the Jem’Hadar originated, so we’ll just say this is where they hail from.”

He draws up a separate map, showing a galaxy far, far away. The points out a single planet in a single star system. “This is Mandalore, home of the Mandalorians—

Mack is suddenly cut off when his touch table flickers and dies. “Oh, god dammit!” he curses. The ex-Navy Seal turns around and gives a shout to Robert Daly, computer expert.

“Hey Rob! I got a problem here, gimme a hand.”

The camera then shows Rob, who is merely typing on his computer and smoking his cigar; he gives no sign whatsoever that he heard Mack at all.

Mack calls for Robert several more times. “Rob! Hey Rob!” At last he grows tired of it. “Ah fuck it!” and then he picks up a wrench spanner and throws it at Rob’s head.

Strangely, Robert Daly doesn’t even notice the metal spanning wrench that narrowly misses his head and clangs against the wall behind him.

Before Mack can throw something heavier at Robert, he gets a call from Max and the Doctor to help them dig Armand out of the gel block wall.

Robert is the guy on the far left. He literally appears for thirty seconds per episode

Sprinting over, Mack and Geoff furiously run to remove the gel blocks before Armand suffocates. Strangely, Mack pulls at a strategically placed gel block which causes an avalanche of gelatin to fall on Max and almost crush him. Luckily this has the added effect of freeing Armand, who gasps for air.

Announcer: And now it’s time for Mandalorian and Jem’Hadar to go at it!

Each side has been given four dummies, dressed in authentic armour. Worf and Boba and standing fifteen feet apart from each other. For a moment, either man glowers at the other, although Fett is unreadable under his helmet.

The way this had been set up, two mock bunkers have been set up to replicate an advanced alien world where each side might be fighting. They’ve even used real ferrocrete and alabative alloys. In each fake fort, two targets are hidden behind portholes from where in real life they could provide fire without losing too much cover and two more targets are mobile and behind mock weapons systems.

As the experts get ready to kill, Geoff explains how this will work. “Okay, each man has got thirty seconds at each station. At that station you’ll have a weapon available to you and you’ll do your best to kill the designated target. You can only kill one target per station. If you break the rules we’ll start all over again and the cheater will be tarred and feathered.”

Worf has no worries about this conflict. “I shall obey the rules, though I have my worries about the bounty hunter.” He adds with a sneer. “The Mandalorians are without honour.”

To this Fett has no reply. He just chuckles a bit and rubs a finger on the trigger of his blaster. Yeah, he keeps a few Klingon skulls in his ship to use as ash trays.

Fett and Worf stand at a marked position before their respective mock bunkers. Both men are unarmed, at least with official weapons. In reality Worf and Fett both are packing personal weapons. Each man sizes up the other like marathon runners at the start of a race.

Geoff gives the countdown and the testing officially begins. “In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . GO!”

Instantly, Fett and Worf both grab a box of roses off the ground and tear them open. Roses and red flower petals fall on the ground as they pull out their long range weapons.

Worf fires his weapon first, but Fett is only milliseconds behind the Klingon. Squeezing the trigger, Worf sprays the first dummy with the dominion’s lethal Coagulation Ray; which causes the smallest bump or bruise to lead to fatal bleeding.

Meanwhile, Fett starts to open fire with the EE-3 Carbine Rifle. The Jem’Hadar dummy is peppered with crimson blaster bolts. Large carbon burns are seen on the anti-energy armour while the head shots melt the dummy’s gel head. It’s fair to say that sucker bought the moisture farm.

With both of their enemies dead, Worf and Fett sprint to the next station. Despite his heavy armour, Fett manages to keep up with Worf’s olmpian pace without resorting to using his jet pack.

This time the weapons are encased in a big old box of chocolates. Each fighter rips open their respective boxes open, scattering Bernard Calibeaux all over the ground. This time Fett goes first with his gun.

The Mandalore heavy repeater rains hell down on the mock dominion soldier like the wrath of the gods. This time it’s clear that the dominion issue armour is no match for the intense firepower behind the Mandalorian warrior.

Worf however works furiously to make up the difference. He opens fire on the Mandalorian dummy but with a considerably lower rate of fire than what Fett is putting out. Still, Worf is smart.

The war savvy Klingon fires his weapon between the plates of the Mandalorian armour. Using his weapon like an improvised saw, Worf actually decapitates the dummy.

They run to the next target—bombs away.

At each bomb station there is a chicken coop full of chickens. Not waiting to knock, Worf rips down the door of the chicken coop and starts throwing and kicking chickens aside like they’ve insulted his honour.

The angry and terrified hens peck and claw at Worf and shit all over the place but soon Worf finds what he’s looking for.

The angry Klingon warrior of Star Fleet holds up a detonator and presses the button. Inside the bunker, a subspace mine appears next to the Mandalorian dummy. The resulting kaboom is fantastic; that bastard may have had a better chance against a rampaging rancor. Chunks of gel and bits of once working Mandalorian armour go flying all over the place.

Meanwhile, Fett activates his wrist mounted flame thrower and barbecues the chickens that get in his way. Over the stench of scorched feathers and the sizzle of original recipe chicken, Fett grabs the atomic compression grenade and lugs it at the current target.

There is a tense moment as Fett’s grenade almost doesn’t clear the bunker wall, but he just barely makes it. It looks like Fett needs to work on his throwing arm.

The dominion soldier stands no chance. He melts under the atomic fire like plastic figures in the microwave.

The last target is revealed as the doors of the bunker open dramatically, revealing one last dummy per man.

From out of a hidden panel, air compressors fire a deadly payload at Boba Fett and Worf. Next to each man, a beskad and a Jem’Hadar combat knife land in the dirt.

Both fighters scramble for their weapons and charge at the targets. This time, Boba had no qualms about using his jet pack.

Taking off in a roar of flame, Fett flies up and comes down on the Jem’Hadar dummy like a hungry hawk-bat.

The mighty swing, combined with Fett’s downward momentum nearly slices the Jem’Hadar from crown of the head to sternum. The force is so great that Fett struggles to free his blade.

Despite the fact that Fett has already killed his target, Worf doesn’t slow down or lose heart. Roaring with Klingon battle cries on his tongue, Worf charges at the Mandalorian and drives the blade through the visor of the Mandalorian. The T-shaped visor is penetrated but doesn’t shatter.

Worf twists the blade before freeing it. Then he starts to stab at any of the armour’s weak points. First he kicks the target around and stabs the Mandalorian in the spice just under the back plate. Then he stabs into both of the armpits from underneath before attacking the armoured neck like a screaming fanatic.

At last, Geoff calls for the experiment to stop but Worf keeps going. The three hosts watch in horror as Worf continues to go apeshit on the target. The Fourth Doctor merely watches on with fascination and grabs himself a jelly baby. Mack has mysteriously vanished.

And Robert Daly is sitting back at his computer, still typing.

At last, Worf rips the helmet off the Mandalorian and starts to maul his neck with his teeth. It’s only after Worf has ripped a large chunk of flesh from the dummy’s neck with his teeth that he finally stops.

The Starfleet Klingon then pulls out a stick of chewing gum and starts to savour the minty goodness.

Max is shocked. He points at Worf and says, “I wouldn’t want to get into a fight with that guy.”

“Agreed,” say both Geoff and Armand.

Suddenly there is an explosion just left of Max. The nerd is knocked over and disoriented, but not severely injured. The sturdy computer table luckily took the brunt of the bomb.

There is much screaming and confusion and Worf and Fett rush over to help in any way they can.

Giving the area a cursory examination, Worf gives a diagnosis. “It would appear that someone has set up this area with an extra subspace mine; possibly to sabotage this test.” Immediately, Worf glares at Fett, but Fett makes no claim of innocence or guilt.

The Fourth Doctor is back after losing his hat in the explosion. “Well if nothing else that provided us with a good thrill. At least no one was hurt.”

Just at the moment, Mack shows up. “Sorry guys, I was taking a whiz when I heard an explosion, what happened.” He pauses for a moment when he sees that Max is still alive.

“I nearly got blown up,” says Max. “Someone left a subspace mine right here.”

Mack purses his lips and shrugs. “Well, you’re okay and we really ought to do a test to see who’s alive after this.”

After Max has been given time to cool down after that unfortunate accident, they all start to examine the damage. This time the Doctor takes point. For added convenience, the dummies have all been moved and placed in a line like a collection of POW’s.

The time travelling alien walks up to the first Mandalorian and gives him a scan with the sonic screwdriver. “Well, this bloke is most definitely alive. If anything I’d wager that the beskar foam lining in his armour saved him.” The Doctor smiles brightly at the camera, nearly blinding it. “Beskar is a most wonderful alloy. In the right hands it can be a steel hard enough to stop a light sabre, a lightweight foam, a paste and a thousand other different forms.”

He turns to Worf. “Sorry my good fellow, but this battle belongs to the Mandalorians.”

They inspect the corresponding Jem’Hadar dummy. Armand peels off the anti-energy armour of the Jem’Hadar. “Well, this stuff did save him. He’s going to need a new suit of armour but he’ll live.” Armand then points at the melted head of the dummy. “Except for this, he’d live.”

Next up are the weapons testing dummies which were used to demonstrate the ability of the medium ranged weapons.

Armand points to the headless Mandalorian dummy and the Jem’Hadar mock-up. “Well the headless guy is dead, duh. And the second guy was destroyed by the Mandalore heavy repeater; looks like the dominion need to upgrade their troop’s armour.”

The next two dummies are basically heaps of ruined gel and armour. Armand’s diagnosis is easy for this one. “They’re both dead, but the Mandalorian gets an edge just because he’s in bigger pieces than his adversary.”

The Fourth Doctor takes the last two dummies. “I think you shall find that this dummy shall yield the most entertainment and edification to our audiences.”

A scan of his sonic screwdriver and the Doctor is in the house. “Well, for one thing, the blade to the spine has turned this Mandalorian into a mere jelly sandwich.” The time traveller turns to Boba. “It looks as if you shall have to make some modifications to your armour.” Fett nods at the constructive criticism and allows the Time Lord to finish.

“The blade to the eye will have this man needing an eye patch but Mr. Worf failed to penetrate the brain. Also the wounds to the other weak points of the armour, there is no danger of immediate death.”

The Doctor elaborates for everyone. “Inside the plate armour is a layer of beskar chain mail, which is riveted, not butted.”

The three hosts plus Mack confer. “Well,” says Mack, “I’ve got to give our faction category edge to the Mandalorians. They may not be able to turn invisible at will like the Jem’Hadar but their armour and Jet packs make all the difference.”

“Agreed,” say the three original hosts.

Edge: Mandalorian Faction

Announcer: With the two main factions out of the way, we start the individual fighters with our more unique fighters. Both of them are put together because they couldn’t match up with anyone else and they’re both British . . . we bring you Doctor Who and Christopher Hitchens!

The three hosts show up along with Mack. It looks like the Doctor is here to be more than just a guest host, he’s also an expert.

And demon hunting evolutionary biologist and porn star Richard Dawkins is back for more good fun.

“Good to see you again, Professor Dawkins,” Geoff greets the English man heartily.

Bitch Please

Dawkins smiles with good grace. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you, Geoff.” He turns and smiles at Armand and Max. “It also gladdens my heart to see two more familiar faces, as well as two new faces.”

The Fourth Doctor beams at this while Mack merely nods.

“So what have you been up to, Professor?” asks Max.

Dawkin’s grey eyebrows go up. “Well, demon hunting has been rather slow as of late, which luckily has allowed me time to commence a study on the evolution of cricket mating calls as well as star and direct in a new pornographic film.”

Max smiles but seems a bit put off that the elderly Dawkins is also a porn actor. “Well, good luck with all your stuff.”

The camera shifts to an outdoor setting where multiple white foam dummies hand from pulley mechanisms.

“Okay Professor Dawkins,” instructs Mack, who doesn’t show Dawkins the same friendliness as the others. “This is the circle of death; you’ll be timed on how long it takes you to kill all the targets available.”

Dawkins nods with understanding, “Loud and clear, my friend.”

“And as an added bonus, we want you to finish off the test with the deadly Hitch Slap.”

Dawkins blushes. “Well I’m rather good but I don’t know if I can do the infamous Hitch Slap.” He chuckles and shrugs, “But I guess I’d better be a sport about it.”

Grabbing his weapons, Professor Dawkins steps into the middle of the circle of death and prepares to unleash hell on their foam asses.

This time Mack gives the call. “In 3 . . . 2 . . . 1. . .  Attack!”

Immediately, Dawkins opens up with the twin combination of the ninjato and the kusari-gama. Swinging the metal ball on the end of the chain to get momentum, Dawkins simultaneously slices off the head of a passing dummy.

Bringing his arm around in an arc, he caves in the head of another dummy.

Skilfully changing his grip, he grabs the scythe end of the kusari-gama and stabs it deeply into the head of a passing dummy and then uses the custom made hand guard to break the dummy’s stupid face.

Throwing down the sword and kusari-gama, Dawkins throws a flurry of razor sharp metal “A’s” at the hearts and throats of the targets.

A large bull’s-eye target zips by on a pulley only for a killer A to hit the center.

One dummy remains. Dawkins kicks open a wooden chest next to him. Out of the chest he pulls out a Japanese harquebus called a tanegashima.

Like a pro, he takes the Japanese black powder, matchlock weapon and draws a bead on the moving target.

Though not really accurate beyond fifty yards, Dawkins has no problem gunning down the target at twenty five yards.

There is thunder and smoke and a large, heavy musket ball blows the dummy’s synthetic brains to bits.

Yet this is not at all over. As soon as the gun has fired, a giant fire breathing dragon swoops out of the sky and dive-bombs the English professor.

Dawkins however doesn’t appear to be the least bit afraid. Instead, he jumps up, defying gravity like a tweed wearing super sayan and gives the dragon a mighty slap.

The slap is so powerful that the top of the dragon’s five foot long head is torn right off. The neck twits around as the wings go limp and the dragon hits the ground with the sound of bursting organs and shattering bone. Behind Dawkins, a whole hillside is on fire—all in a day’s work. It looks more epic than any action movie ever made.

With the data gathered, the three hosts look at the Doctor. Max is sceptical that the time lord can do better. “I don’t know Doc, do you think you can top that?”

The Doctor is flabbergasted. “Can I do better? Is the sky blue? Is the galaxy old? Does the famous purple stuffed worm in flap-jaw space with the tuning fork do a raw blink on Hari-Kari rock?”

At the last one, Max just goes, “What?”

“Tally ho!” shouts the Doctor, who runs into his own circle of death without even waiting for the countdown to start.

Unlike most warriors, the Doctor half skips to the ring of death—most merrily in fact. The first thing he does is go up to a brick wall that’s been set up and put his fist right through it. The guys gasp in shock; they knew that the Doctor was stronger than a human but they had no idea.

With a hole put through a brick wall two bricks thick, the Doctor turns to an astronaut suit which he starts to kick the shit out of using moves from Venusian Jujitsu. It looks a lot like Solid Snake’s CQC fighting style but actually better. The Doctor then switches his fighting style for the more brutal melee arts of the Ice Warriors of mars.

It’s not long before the sturdy astronaut suit is torn to shreds. From out behind a white picket fence pop up three foam dummies with two guns and a sword. The sword and guns are real, as is the ammo but the Doctor is ready.

Drawing his sonic screwdriver like an old West gunfighter, the Doctor presses the button and works magic. Instantly, the machineguns in the dummy’s hands jam and the sword in the middle dummy’s hand jumps away like it’s spring loaded.

Pulling out a hand mirror, the Doctor smashes one dummy over the head and then begins to duel wield two pieces of broken mirror like a knife fighter; he uses his scarf to avoid cutting his hands on the sharp glass shards.

Dropping the glass shards, the Doctor takes his sonic screwdriver and throws it at one dummy. The screwdriver embeds itself four inches into the dummy’s head, a most fatal blow.

The guys are taken aback by this. Evidently there is no such thing as a non-lethal weapon, only less than lethal. Well, this silences any voices who say that the sonic screwdriver can’t stop a zombie.

Still moving with the energy of a cheetah on speed, the Doctor then grabs a skip rope and starts to skip at speeds which far surpass even the greatest Olympic jump ropers.

While he skips and jumps at a speed to fast to measure, the doctor starts to chant a little ditty.

Charlie Chaplin went to France

To teach the ladies how to dance.

First the heel, then the toe,

Then the splits, and around you go!

Salute to the Captain,

Bow to the Queen,

And turn your back on the submarine!

Reaching into his pocket, the Doctor pulls out a jammy dodger cookie and primes the energy matrix that will turn the small cookie into a lethal bomb.

Throwing it like a baseball pitcher, the cookie lands in the middle of a scrap yard, where it blows up and generates a humongous mushroom cloud. Melted and shredded car parts are scattered as far as the eye can see and nothing remains.

Suddenly, a zombie tank from Left 4 Dead springs out of a hidden trap door and charges the doctor. The tank roars and howls as it charges the Doctor but the Doctor is as nonchalant as if he’s being attacked by a kitten.

When the tank is almost within arm’s reach of the Doctor, the TARDIS drops out of the sky and lands right on top of the over muscular zombie.  The tank is instantly crushed like a cockroach under a boot.

Then the Doctor runs and solves seven Rubik’s cubes and an impossible mathematical paradox that’s been puzzling mathematicians for centuries. He solves them all in five seconds.

The Doctor sniffs and adjusts his mega long scarf before commencing with the last part of his test.

He jumps out of the ring of death and grabs the tanegashima from Richard Dawkins hands. Dawkins has just finished reloading the musket and tries to take it back from the Doctor; easier said than done.

The Doctor flashes one of those million watt smiles and cocks the musket for firing, the red match glows even in the noon day sun.

The Fourth Doctor spins his gun dramatically around his finger like an old gunfighter. Then suddenly, he takes the harquebus and fires it three times in a row and shoots three bleached buffalo skulls that are half buried on the hillside.

With the test concluded, Geoff stops the stopwatch and everyone is . . . is . . . just floored. It’s lucky that the Doctor is such a nice guy, because if he really went mental then even Alucard from Hellsing and the Joker would be begging for mercy.

Time passes and nobody quite knows what to say. Professor Dawkins adjusts his glasses as if he may have just hallucinated the whole thing.

At last, Doctor Dorian breaks the stunned silence. “You just fired three shots in a row . . . from a single shot weapon . . . without even reloading.”

The Doctor grins brightly. “It’s all in the wrist, old boy. If you ever have the time I may teach you that technique.”

“River Song is really going to love you,” says Geoff.

The Doctor frowns. “Who is River Song, pray tell?”

The guys realize they made a boo-boo. This version of the Doctor hasn’t met River song yet.

“Uh,” stutters Max, “River song is just some hooker that Geoff knows. She’s very hot.”

The Doctor’s frown vanishes and he smiles again. “Well I do love a good lady of the night from time to time.”

Everyone is just about to start moving onto the next test when suddenly a crossbow bolt narrowly misses hitting Max in the heart. The loveable computer nerd tripped over a rock just as a bolt whizzed past his chest.

The presence of the bolt immediately puts Max into a state of panic. “Holy shit! Who saw that?”

Almost on as if on cue, Mack pops up from behind a foam dummy wielding a crossbow. “Sorry,” apologizes the ex-Navy SEAL. “I was just giving this guy a tune up when his weapon slipped. My bad.

Everyone else, even the Doctor seems eager to put the incident behind them, but Max is a little bit anxious. He waits for a few seconds before moving on to the next exam.

Announcer: As Professor Dawkins is sent packing with a gift basket containing some scented oil and a loufa, our next match up will be primarily psychological rather than physical.

Up ahead we test to see who is crazier, Charlie Bronson or Revy.

The camera zooms into Mack’s special touch table, which is actually looking pretty cool. He’s got mug shots shown of Rebecca “Revy” Change and Charlie Bronson respectively.

In her mug shot, Revy is looking smug and lazy and almost sexy. She’s somehow hot a cigarette in her mouth, which I’m sure that the criminal photographers tried to take from her. Incidentally she’s also giving the finger to the camera as she holds up her info on a placard.

Charlie is much more jolly looking in his picture. He’s giving the camera thumbs up in his mug shot—probably taken minutes before he went insane and kicked the living shit out of whoever was taking his picture.

Geoff and Mack stand over the touch table, ready to analyze the psyches of these two decidedly insane people

“So what have we got, Mack?” Geoff asks.

Mack gets right into it, zooming in on images of each fighter and pulling up their individual rap sheets. “Well, these two are pretty much the scum of the universe. Revy is a crazy psycho bitch who loves guns more than she loves cocks and will just as soon kill you as look at you.”

Mack taps the touch table and the pictures of each fighter change. It now shows a picture of Revy in a gunfight and Charlie buck naked fighting six guards at once. “Charlie is a possibly bipolar man-child who alternates between childish playfulness and raging bull on steroids. Charlie is mentally insane and by far isn’t driven by anything rational, like money.”

He bluntly states what Charlie is after. “Charlie just wants to be famous.”

Geoff shakes his head. “Well, he went about it a very interesting way.”

But Geoff has to pop the question. “So Mack, who is crazier?”

Mack shakes his head and exhales. “Oh, Charlie for sure; I mean, Revy is a fucking loony but Charlie’s got balls of steel and a brain made out of skittles.”

“Single handedly he caused three quarter of a million pounds in damages over a forty seven hour period with hostages in tow.”

Mack holds up his hand to silence protest. “Granted, Revy has gone her fair share of damage in her adopted country of Ronapur, but she’s had the help of guns and explosives.”

“So the edge goes to Charlie,” says Geoff.

“Edge goes to Charlie,” says Mack.

Edge: Charlie is crazier

Announcer: And now just for kicks let’s check up on Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart

The camera shifts to show the office of Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart at UNIT. The usually tidy office is a mess, furniture is destroyed and papers are strewn about all over the place.

The normally stiff upper lip Brigadier is currently strapped down into a wheelchair so that his arms and limbs are immobile. He’s frantically trying to pull on a string with his teeth that is attached to a gun which is bolted down to the desk in front of him. He can’t kill himself though because the trigger needs to be pulled backwards.

As the wheelchair rocks back and forth, Sarah-Jane Smith opens up the door to his office. “Brigadier?” she asks demurely.

“What is it Smith?” The Brigadier grunts out from clenched teeth. “Can’t you see I’m trying to blow my fucking brains out?”

“Ah, yes sir, but you see the Doctor called,” says Sarah Jane, quite worried about the whole situation.

The Brigadier looks over Sarah-Jane, “Which Doctor?”

“The Sixth Doctor,” she replies. “He called to say that if you can’t kill yourself properly he’ll come over and do the job for you.”

The Brigadier gives a happy, insane laugh. “Jolly good, bring him over on the double.

Announcer: And back to our regularly scheduled programming. We get right back in the game with the comparison of Wolverine and Dante Alighieri.

In for our Wolverine expert is none other than Deadpool, the Merc with the Mouth.

On cue, Deadpool jumps onto the stage. “Yo, what up, biatches?” the mouthy mercenary crows happily. “I’m Motherfuckin’ Deadpool, everyone’s favourite fourth wall breaker, here to enhance the enjoyment of one of the most inaccurate historically accurate shows on TV.”

He then turns and addresses the TV screen directly. “Oh for god’s sake, it’s on Spike TV. You want accuracy; then go to the discovery channel.”

Before Deadpool can rant any further, a big white gloved hand comes down from the sky and smacks him like a fly. The announcer speaks.

Announcer: Sit down, Deadpool; because I will not hesitate to spread you. Yes, I have the power of the Super Smash Bro’s hand.

Uh, anyway . . . introducing the expert for Batman we have none other than the Dark Knight’s faithful butler, Alfred Pennyworth.

Fuck you Jarvis and Watari, Alfred is the world's best butler. Science has proven it. 

Alfred waves gracefully to the camera; his measured and cultured persona is the total opposite of the psychotic Deadpool. “It is a pleasure to be here, everyone,” Alfred signs charmingly. Though to be honest he’d rather be somewhere else other than this vulgar show.

Alfred and Deadpool stand side by side. Both men eye each other with a professional eye. Alfred used to be British secret service and Deadpool is a professional mercenary, despite his goofy mannerisms.

Finally Deadpool quietly comments on his rival. “So, I see you’re the Alfred from the animated series.”

Alfred is utterly confused.

“That’s good,” says Deadpool. “Michael Cain and Michael Goff were fine but I like the animated Batman the best.”

Again, Alfred doesn’t know what to say. He just keeps looking straight ahead and pretends that he didn’t hear anything.

Announcer: For this test, Deadpool has graciously volunteered his services in place of a ballistics gel dummy.

Deadpool stands in front of a firing range with a t-shirt on that has a target on it. He’s also busy taunting Alfred. “Hey loser!” the Merc shouts. “Why don’t we get started, you British homo!”

Alfred merely stands stoically with a table full of batman’s weapons by the side of him. But you really know that on the inside, Alfred just wants to kick Deadpool’s ass.

The faithful Wayne Butler turns to Geoff. “Shall I begin, Geoffrey?”

Geoff looks down at his stopwatch. He hits the button to begin. “Yeah, go for it Alfred.”

First, Alfred grabs a batarang just as Deadpool is starting to make gay jokes about Batman.

“Hey Alfred! I hear that Batman really tired out Robin last night with all the festivities! Where’d he find Robin? Was it at the Circus or a San Francisco bathhouse?”

As easily as tossing darts, Alfred grabs a batarang and throws it at Deadpool. The bladed instrument flies through the air and hits Deadpool right in the eye.

The mercenary cries out. “Oh shit!” he jumps up and down and pulls the sharp batarang from his eye. “Alfred, you’re a bastard!”

Alfred just smirks a bit, and then tosses two more batarangs at Deadpool. One of them hits him in the knee and knocks him off his feet, the other one hits him in the groin. Deadpool’s taunting and such has been reduced to mere whimpers. Deadpool is silently chanting to himself to think about the money, think about the money.

While he’s thinking about the money, Alfred activates the remote control batarang. This flying high tech device of pain flies around Deadpool like a vulture, swooping down to hit the mercenary repeatedly in the head.

Deadpool grunts and groans in pain as his coconut is knocked back and forth like a boxer’s speedball.

Yet Alfred still isn’t done with Deadpool. Taking the Ultra-Batclaw, he fires the device so that it grabs at Deadpool’s testicles with its cold, mechanical claw.

The merc with a mouth squeaks in pain. “Uncle,” he chokes out.  “I give.” Truly he’d had enough. But they give him a cash bonus for every injury he takes on the show.

Alfred just smiles at Deadpool. “Of course, Mr. Wilson.” At that, he hits a remote control and detonates the explosive gel under Deadpool’s feet. Deadpool is blown to bits. There’s a giant smoke cloud and two of Deadpool’s legs go flying from out of it.

When the dust clears, Alfred starts to use a mop and bucket to clean up Deadpool’s blood from the location.

Announcer: While Deadpool takes time to heal, we bring two experts who can shed light on both Anakin Skywalker and the Mask.

Appearing before the camera is a tall, light skinned man with close cropped black hair and an expression which can only belong to one who’s spent a lifetime of killing things. This is none other than Galan Marek, aka Starkiller. The man used to be Darth Vader’s secret apprentice, and nobody knows Vader like this man does.

In his hand he carries some sort of pet carrier.

Two pieces of ID please

Marek puts down the pet carrier and begins to work with the door on it. “My name is Galen Marek. For almost twenty years I worked as an assassin for Lord Vader.”

He has some difficulty with the carrier door but it doesn’t stop his introduction. “As such, I am intimately familiar with the ways of the dark side; perhaps even more so than my old master.”

Galen finally pries open the pet carrier and looks inside. “Roger, come out now.” He calls. When nothing happens, he starts to get irritated and reaches his hand in. “Roger, now is not the time for shyness. Come out now or—OW!”

Marek pulls his hand from the pet carrier with a lobster pinching hard on his fingers. Frantically, the dark side assassin waves his arm around trying to dislodge the angry crustacean.

While Starkiller is doing the pain dance, Roger rabbit pops out of the pet carrier with a one-man-band set of gear on his back. Roger is dancing and playing the old Loony Toons theme with his band kit.

Max, Geoff and Armand immediately begin to start laughing and cheering at Roger’s lively song and dance. Meanwhile, Mack is up in the rafters with an axe. He cuts a rope and a giant sandbag nearly hits Max . . . luckily it misses but Max doesn’t notice because of Roger Rabbit’s song and dance number.

Meanwhile the Fourth Doctor steps in, jamming with Roger and pretty soon the Time Lord and the Toon are dancing in tandem.

Laughter is the best medecine

As Roger’s musical number finishes, Marek manages to use his lightsabre to slice the lobster in half; killing the malicious little beasty.

“Ta-da!” go the Doctor and Roger as soon as the last note rings. Roger gives the Doctor a knuckle tap and then throws off his band gear. “Thank you, thank you,” the Rabbit crows happily. “I’ll be here all week, ladies and germs.”

Geoff is ecstatic with glee. “Oh man this is amazing! You brought Roger Rabbit to Deadliest Warrior!”

“That is the shit!” Max agrees.

“Can I get your autograph?” Armand asks, giving Roger a piece of wood and a giant bowie knife to sign.

Galen Marek doesn’t share the guy’s enthusiasm though. Instead, he powers down his lightsabre and grabs a piece of wood off a work bench that’s full of nails.

He advances on Roger Rabbit with the nail filled two-by-four. Give the guy a break; he was raised by Darth Vader; that would give anybody a short fuse and a head full of problems.

Roger gives a little “eep” and then runs behind Max’s leg for protection. Simultaneously, Geoff tries to calm down Starkiller and prevent him from going on the warpath. “Whoa man, take it easy. We’re all amigos here.”

Marek nods and puts down the board he’s holding.

After a few minutes, Marek and Roger Rabbit stand in a makeshift octagon. It looks like a cross between the Ultimate Fighter ring and a street fighting death match arena.

“This is a demonstration of toon physics are the powers of the force. For this occasion I’ll be imitating Lord Vader’s lightsabre style from prior to his imprisonment in the suit.”

Deviating from his usual lightsabre style, Marek has one sabre with him, all the better to utilize Form V: Djem Sho—way of the krayt dragon. Roger by contrast has nothing but zeal. The highly excitable cartoon rabbit is wearing a set of boxing trunks and gloves. “Put em up, buster!” Roger shouts enthusiastically. “Put em up, put em up! I’ll take ya. I’ll take ya all on. You’ll have to call the police on me!”

To start, Marek gives Roger a pretty easy start; a basic sweep characteristic of Anakin Skywalker’s overwhelming broad stroke style. Roger Rabbit barely dodges the blow, scorching some hairs in the process. This causes Roger to lose his boxer’s spiel and pull out a white flag. “Peace?” Roger asks.

In response, uses his lightsabre to slice in half the white flag and then goes in for a decapitation move. Roger continues to dodge Marek’s strikes, which according to the motion detector are well above the speed of snake strikes.

With nowhere to run, Roger sees a conveniently placed rope hanging from the ceiling with a card on it that says “pull me.” The rabbit is happy to comply and when he does, a giant spiked ball of death drops on the ceiling on Marek.

Marek however uses the power of the force to easily throw aside the multi-ton spiked ball. The hosts duck as the giant death ball flies over their heads and takes out a wall.

Marek is about to slice down Roger for that lousy rope trick when a pie hits him in the face—banana coconut cream pie to be exact.

Drawing on his hate, Marek wipes the pie away from his face and renews his attack, pulling out thermal detonators, a clone wars blaster and a barrage of force lighting.

The lightning by far is the most effective weapon, burning Roger’s powder puff tail and sending him flying through the air.

Marek goes in to finish off his enemy but slips on a banana peel. While he’s down on the ground, Roger appears before him with his own lightsabre. To finish the effect, Roger’s even dressed up like Obi-Wan from the original series. Roger Rabbit then tries to do a Jedi mind trick on Marek, “You will buy me a carrot cake after this and a case of beer.”

Marek merely scowls at Roger. “Losers say what.”

“What?” Roger asks, breaking his character.

Suddenly, Marek uses the power of the force to hit Roger in the face with a frying pan. Roger is down for the count, the toon falls to the ground with x’s for eyes. Marek just grins and shoves Roger back into the pet carrier. “Sleep well, you jittery little freak.” Marek curses.

Marek then turns and shakes hands with The Fourth Doctor, Mack and the three hosts. “Thank you all for having me,” he says warmly. “I hope to see you again—without the crazy rabbit in tow.”

“Well Marek, it was our pleasure,” Max says. “If you want we’re serving coffee and donuts in the lounge with the other guest hosts.” He points off to the right, where Dawkins, Worf, Fett and the other guest hosts are lounging around and relaxing.

Announcer: to analyze the results, we bring out again Mack and his touch table.

The hosts and the Doctor crowd around the touch table, which has pictures of the Mask and Anakin Skywalker on it. “Well this test was designed primarily to determine which is greater, the powers of the force or toon logic and physics.”

Mack taps a few times and pulls up footage of the Mask fighting Kratos. “The Mask is absolutely fatal, that’s for certain. He did kill Kratos.”

Suddenly the touch table fades into static and Mack shouts “Ah, no! No! NO!”

However nothing he does can get rid of that fuzzy screen. “Robert you son of a bitch! You said you’d fix it!”

Back at Robert Daly’s table, Robert Daly is typing on his laptop when he promptly gives Mack the finger. The camera pans around and reveals that the computer he’s typing isn’t even turned on.

From the side of the touch table, Mack angrily storms off and grabs a big bowie knife from his belt. Looks like Robert is in for a world of pain.

Luckily, the Fourth Doctor takes matters into his own hands. From inside his long coat, he pulls out his sonic screwdriver and gives the table a quick once over. “He didn’t have to get mad, I’m sure,” says the Doctor. He takes to operating the table, just as good as Mack could.

“Now this test essentially was to pit the power of the force against the unpredictable nature of toon logic,” the Doctor states as he brings up a picture of Marek and Roger Rabbit. “I assure you gentlemen that I have fought many a toon before.”

He pauses as he remembers tales of daring do. “Yes, I’ve fought all kinds of toons; from treacherous nineteen-forties Disney villains to blood soaked anime characters with mental instability.”

He flashes a bright grin at the camera. “But this Doctor needs no paint brush or eraser to vanquish the odd rogue toon.”

Meanwhile, the screen flashes to the inside of the TARDIS. This wing of the Doctor’s famous time machine is full of cages that are full of toons. Gnashing their teeth and pulling at the bars are famous anime psychos like Guts from Berserk, Cel from the Dragonball franchise and Naraku from Inuyasha, who is busy banging a metal dog bowl against the cell bars. “

“You’ll pay for this, Doctor!” screams Guts.

Also in cages are the weasels from Who framed Roger Rabbit and the Coachman from Pinocchio. The Doctor caught that red coated bastard involved in some hefty illegal shit. Unlike his screaming compatriots, the Coachman carefully plots his vengeance.

Be glad this guy got the death penalty. Even Hitler wasn't this evil. 

Back at the fight club, Robert Daly is lying on the ground in pool of his own blood. He’s got multiple bruises and cuts on his face and somebody busted his laptop over his head.

Back at the touch table, Mack is breathing heavily and holding a bloody knife in his hand. Max, Geoff and Armand are huddled together, scared shitless of the former SEAL. The Doctor just pulls out a breath mint and makes a gesture to offer Mack one; who politely declines.

“So anyway,” Mack pants. “From what we can tell, both the force and toon powers are very potent. In this case, we’ve got to give it a tie. While Anakin may be one of the greatest Jedi of all time, the toon powers of the mask are deadly and effective in their own right. The Mask is the kind of guy who feeds off of other people’s angers; highly effective against a hothead like Anakin.”

“For that,” says Mack, “I’m calling a draw on Force powers and toon powers, because like Roger demonstrated . . . if it’s funny, it could end the fight badly for the Mask.”

Everybody is too afraid to disagree with Mack. “I’m going to go see if Robert is still alive,” says Armand.

Max goes to follow him. “I’ll go with him.”

Before he goes, Mack gently touches Max’s shoulder and says to him in a sinister voice. “Don’t go anywhere alone.” Max is greatly creeped out by this and rushes off to help Robert.

Draw: Force Powers vs. Toon Logic

Announcer: And now Deadpool has sufficiently healed for him to continue the testing.

Deadpool stands before four dummies dressed in spare batsuits that Alfred has managed to acquire. “Okay ladies and germs,” says Deadpool, “I’m about to put a beat down on gelatine Batman’s bitch ass. Tomorrow I’ll beat down the real thing.”

Off to the side, Alfred smiles condescendingly at Deadpool while sipping on a lemonade.

First he pulls out the Bren Light machine gun. With practiced ease, Deadpool empties the weapon’s not inconsiderable clip into the Batman’s armour. At first hit holds but halfway through the clip, fake blood starts to pour from the cracks. For emphasis, Deadpool shoots at the head, putting slugs into the fake Batman’s head.

As he puts down his gun, Deadpool begins to sing. “You get a line and I’ll get a pole baby, you get a line and I’ll get a pole friend!”

He grabs Captain America’s shield and tosses it at the gel batman, utterly shattering the jaw of the dummy and rebounding back into Deadpool’s hands.

Gently laying down the shield, Deadpool grabs the flash bang grenade used in the earlier episode. This time Deadpool has taped twenty four flash bang grenades together. Though it’s rather heavy, Deadpool tosses it onto the feet of the faux Batman. Then pulling out his pistol, Deadpool blows up the back and when the smoke clears, there’s almost nothing left of the Batman dummy.

“That’s three batmen dead,” Wade laughs, “Just one to go. This’ll be a piece of cake.”

For the finishing touch, Deadpool grabs an imitation set of adamantium claws to represent Wolverine’s most iconic weapons. He walks up to the last Batman dummy and slashes it across the abdomen. The armour opens up like the Red sea and fake guts spill out.

Deadpool swipes the claws lazily across the chest, cutting through the bat suit and cutting through the heart and lungs.

“And for the finish,” Deadpool drawls lazily.

He swings the claws as hard as he can at the neck, hoping to slice off the Bat’s head. Because as badass as he is, Batman can’t survive without his head. Or can he?

This time it isn’t so easy, Deadpool’s claws can barely touch the armoured neck before an electrical charge travels up the claws and into Deadpool’s body. The mercenary screams in pain and drops dead from the electric shock. The charge is so bright that we can briefly see his skeleton.

A smoking Deadpool lays on the ground unmoving. Alfred steps over his temporarily lifeless body. “Master Bruce devised this as a last ditch effort to prevent both his head from being removed and from his mask being taken from him.” Alfred pauses to look at a now twitching Deadpool. “Evidently Master Bruce’s design worked out smashingly.”

The hosts are back at the game, sitting around with the Fourth Doctor while once more Mack seems to be missing. Apparently he’s with his beloved touch table, fearing that Robert might screw it up again.

Before they can talk about who is better, Wolverine or Batman—and start a huge nerd debate—Max airs some concerns.

“Hey guys,” he says with a worried expression on his face. “I think that Mack might be trying to kill me.”

The guys don’t really believe him. “That’s crazy, Max. What’s gotten into you?” Geoff asks.

“I’ve read Mack’s psychological profile,” Armand says, “Mack might have suffered some brain trauma in the past but he’s totally cool.”

Only the Fourth Doctor seems to think that Max’s worries might be valid. “You’ll be fine, Max. At most there is only a fifty percent chance that Mack wants to kill you. If he does, I will be there to save you.”

“Thanks Doc,” says Max. Though worried about a sniper’s bullet, he turns around and sees Mack at the touch table. There is a loaded handgun on the table. Mack makes eye contact with Max; then he takes the gun and rotates it on the table so that the barrel is facing at Max. Then Mack points at Max as if to you, “You’re next.”

Announcer: Well I don’t think that Mack is trying to kill our resident nerd; the fans would never allow it. But after some debate, Wolverine takes the lead since his regeneration and adamantium skeleton gives him an edge.

Edge: Wolverine

Announcer: While many our warriors have superhuman or inhuman ability, here are two warriors who are human through and through. Solid Snake and the man who inspired the Metal Gear video game series, Snake Pliskin.

“Well, it looks like the battle of the twin Snakes,” Geoff jokes. Only Max laughs at his joke. Mack and the Fourth Doctor don’t seem to hear. Armand seems indifferent.

For the Snake experts we have Solid Snake’s own clone daddy, Big Boss. For Pliskin, we bring in former Green Beret and current elementary school principle Seymour Skinner.

The man himself

One day Skinner will make them all pay

The two experts could not be more different. Big Boss looks like some kind of military revolutionary; like a page taken directly from Che Guevara’s how-to book. Skinner on the other hand is an unassuming and somewhat geeky looking man.

Big Boss explains about his son. “I never really saw David as a son, but I always respected him as a man and a soldier. He did after all manage to burn me alive with a flamethrower and kill those rat bastards who call himself brothers.” He snorts at the last statement. Solid Snake was the only one of his sons that he liked in any capacity.

Skinner talks, but he commands much less respect than big boss. “I fought in ‘Nam; multiple tours of duty. Plissken fought in Nam briefly before the start of World War Three.”

He straightens his tie and goes on. “I never knew him personally but I knew of his exploits and up until he turned to a life of crime he was a soldier that everyone looked up to.”

“Hey Skinner,” Geoff says to the principle. “I heard about your mom dying. You have my condolences man.”

Skinner nods and acts like he’s grieving. “Yes, mother died in a tragic accident. She passed on peacefully while cleaning my favourite axe . . . with her neck.”

Looks like Principle Skinner finally got tired of mom’s nagging and did something about it.

Moments pass and Big Boss and Skinner are facing down each other in a circle of scotch tape. Mats are placed down on the floor for safety purposes. Armand stands between the two men, reliving his Ultimate Fighter Days. “Okay Gents, here’s how it works,” the good doctor elaborates. “This is a test of the men. Snake and Plissken have similar arsenals but we want to see who the better soldier is. Since we can’t actually get Snake Plissken and Solid Snake here right now, you two are the best we’ve got.”

Skinner and Big Boss look at each other with a nod of respect. Then they strip down to battle gear. Big Boss throws off the trench coat he’s wearing and reveals his camo military gear underneath.

Principle Skinner meanwhile tears off his shirt and dress pants just like Groundskeeper Willy does. Underneath it all, he’s got on a green tanktop and camo coloured pants. He’s starting to look like the elite level soldier he was in the past instead of just the brunt of Bart’s pranks every week.

Armand is in full UFC mode now. He tells the fighters in a no nonsense way. “Okay guys, I want a good, clean fight. You can’t kill each other but anything else goes.”

Off at the work table, the Fourth Doctor and Mack have set up various motion capture cameras and high speed cameras to track the movements of Skinner and Big Boss. Big Boss is the greatest soldier of the twentieth century but Skinner won’t go easy on him.

In the past, Principle Skinner killed twenty-three men with his bare hands . . . and that was before he became a soldier and went to Vietnam. Springfield’s corrupt and inept police force gave Skinner a big hand in not getting caught for multiple manslaughter.

To get the ball rolling, Max rings a giant bell just like at a boxing ring—and they’re off!

Big Boss strikes first with a kick aimed at Skinner’s knee, but Skinner evades the strike and goes in for a punch at Big Boss.

Big Boss catches the punch and pulls Skinner into one of the classic CQC grapples. Big Boss uses Skinner’s momentum against him and pulls the principle into a choke hold.

Skinner fights back. Bart Simpson’s principle head butts Big Boss and slips from the legendary soldier’s grasp. Seymour throws three more punches at Big Boss’s throat and diaphragm, all three of which are blocked.

Big Boss strikes back, punching Skinner in the face and knocking down his opponent. Big Boss goes to give Skinner a kick to the windpipe, but the Principle catches Big Boss’s leg in mid kick and throws him to the ground.

There on the ground, the two veteran soldiers wrestle like a pair of pythons fighting over a pig. Skinner managed to sink his teeth into Big Boss’s shoulder and rip a chunk of flesh off the old soldier.

Big Boss winces and throws Skinner off him. Shooting a hand out, he manages to grab the side of Skinner’s neck, pinching the carotid and jugular arteries.

Skinner’s face turns red as the blood flow to his brain is cut off by Big Boss’s action. From out of his boot, Skinner grabs a combat knife. He swings with it and nearly takes off Big Boss’s head.

Armand so far hasn’t done a thing to stop any of this. It’s all fair game. Behind the speed camera, the Doctor is smiling like a child. “Fantastic!” he says, foreshadowing the ninth Doctor. Mack meanwhile has got a blowgun and a dart ready and he’s jonesing to shoot Max with it.

Luckily Max stumbles at the right time and the dart misses and hits Skinner, who’s trying to gouge out Big Boss’s remaining eye.

Seeing his foe start to foam and convulse, Big Boss stands up and turns to Armand. “We need a Doctor here—not that bitch Naomi!”

Off to the side, Mack curses as Skinner is taken to hospital.

Announcer: Now to clear things up, we have an expert go over the particulars of the fabled Warrior Dante Alighieri, please say hello to . . . Enrico Maxwell?

Yeah, I bet the choir boys sleep with one eye open when this guy is around. 

Enrico Maxwell appears before the camera looking tired, annoyed and pissed off. For some reason the greasy Italian Bishop is wearing African tribal tattoos on his face.

The Doctor and Mack stand back while the three hosts greet Maxwell.

“Uh, hey Maxwell,” Max tries and fails to sound cheerful. “What are you doing here?”

Maxwell just sneers and explains. “Well, since the great Dante is a Catholic, the Pope was able to vouch for me to the studio executives.”

“And the tattoos?” Geoff asks.

Maxwell’s sneer deepens. “Well, after my last stint on your infernal show some heretic thought I was a child molester and tried to inject me with a HIV positive syringe. When I defeated that assassin, his wife knocked me out cold. When I woke up I found out I was married to a black witch doctor.”

There is an awkward pause as everyone tries to figure out what to say. Geoff luckily picks up the slack. “Well, let’s get going.”

Maxwell grunts and steps to a table. “First of all, Dante has no bow of Hercules. You bribed the experts to pretend it was a real weapon.”

The hosts look guilty but say nothing.

Maxwell goes on. “But to salvage this situation, I am eager to see that the one Catholic left alive is good hands.”

From behind the table, Maxwell pulls out Dante’s Scythe, his cross, a poleaxe and a medieval crossbow. “You all know the poleaxe very well and the scythe, so in turn I shall demonstrate the ability of the crossbow and the cross of Beatrice.”

He holds up a crossbow. “The Europeans knew the crossbow before the crusades, but it was their time in the first crusade which introduced them to a new kind of bow technology.”

The sleazy bishop holds the crossbow up to the camera. “This is a composite crossbow; it’s shorter and more powerful than a mere wood bow. The arms of this are wood, but also horn and sinew. And as you know, horn is carbon tubes which can take a great deal of tension and sinew, like from an ox neck tendon has massive tensile strength.”

Then he points to the front of the crossbow, “This weapon has a stirrup on the front, so that a knight could use the power of his legs to cock this weapon.”

To make his point, Maxwell puts the crossbow on the ground and uses his legs to pull the string back. Loading a bolt into it, he fires at a target some thirty yards away and hits it in the heart area. “The crossbow has less range than an ordinary bow but it has greater penetration and accuracy since the shorter bolt bends less in mid-air than a longer arrow.”

The bishop then takes Beatrice’s cross. “In addition to having ranged attacks, the cross can also act in a defensive capacity.”

He stands back before reciting a prayer. Suddenly, two lights appear on Maxwell’s back like Angel wings. From a distance away, several catapults and a late medieval cannon fire at him only to have their ammunition bounce off. As the spell wears off, Maxwell explains. “Holy armour will shield Dante from all attacks temporarily as well as heal his wounds.”

He puts a hand to his face, the tribal tattoos are gone. “It will also remove unwanted tattoos! Ha!”

Maxwell recites another prayer this time; which causes a giant wind vortex with pink lightning to form around him. Several volleys of arrows and knives fly at him, only to be shredded by the killer winds. He stops the spell, since it seems to be sucking the life from him. “The lust storm will also block all damage, but at the cost of Dante’s own health. The upside to this spell being that it damages enemies, unlike divine armour.”

To finish it all off, Maxwell takes a medieval sword of the early middle ages and uses it to chop down a gel dummy. The sword doesn’t have much cutting power but is great for thrusting; an excellent quality for a sword in a time where chain mail armour prevailed.

When it’s all done, the guys thank Maxwell and send him on his way before more misfortune can befall him.

Announcer: With just one last test to go, tension is running high and examination is worth bearing on this battle and how it will work.

Max appears before his panel of computers to explain how the battle will work. “Each episode, we try to decide between two guys or girls who is the deadliest warrior. This time is much harder because we’re trying to decide who’s the deadliest of multiple fighters. Only one man and one faction is going to come out of this battle alive.”

The screen changes to show Geoff. “What a zombie apocalypse stands for is the ultimate FUBAR situation. None of these guys have worked with each other, some of them have been enemies but they’ll either turn on each other or work together to survive.”

Armand appears on the screen. “The physical abilities of these warriors are spread out across on quite a wide range. All of them are the best at what they do but some of them are more than human. I’m going to be working closely with Max to factor in these warrior’s resilience.”

To finish it all off, we bring in a replica of General Grievous’s armoured exoskeleton. The plan is to fire everything that the warriors bring to this match into that bone white armour.

All of the experts to appear on this episode are there for the final test and they’re loading up their projectile weapons. Dawkins is loading his musket while Galen Marek loads his blaster. Big Boss is aiming a PSG-1 sniper rifle and Boba Fett and Worf are next to him with their big guns.

Maxwell is getting his cross ready alongside Roger Rabbit who is holding a cartoon machine gun way too big for him to lift.

Deadpool and Alfred stand side by side. Deadpool has brought his own weapons instead of the test weapons because he’s suffered too much grief to even care what the hosts are telling him. Alfred has a dozen batarangs at the go, including a few experimental explosive ones.

Big Boss and Principle Skinner are back.  Skinner is in a wheelchair due to the venom he took but he’ll live. “You alright?” Big Boss asks the principle.

Skinner merely nods and raises his fist weakly to give Big Boss a fist bump. Both men are packing their heavy hitting long range weapons.

All these characters are assembled in the big dry desert area used for shooting firearms. Geoff walks before the procession of gunmen. He raises his arms dramatically and all chatter and preparation ceases before his incredible charisma. “Alright guys, we are on the final test of our Back for Blood match. I’d like to thank you all for showing up on such short notice and like to notify you all that there is a kegger when the show is done as a token of our gratitude.”

This gets Geoff a murmur of approval from the crowd. Meanwhile, Geoff is totally oblivious as Mack chases Max with a tomahawk. Max screams for help as the crazed ex-SEAL chases him around and around.

At this time, Geoff decides to wrap up his speech. “Basically you have only thirty seconds to do as much damage as you possibly can to the fake General back here. Fuck him up, guys!”

At this, all the guys howl and raise their weapons in the air like a band of inflamed Sand People. Geoff takes a bow as Max runs past screaming, followed by an equally maniacal Mack.

Geoff stands back and grabs a chequered flag and a stopwatch. He’s starting to look like a race car starting official. To finish it all off, he puts a NASCAR cap on his head. The biomedical expert then calls to the guest experts. “Okay guys, when I wave this flag it’ll be time for you to shoot.”

Max is still being chased by a homicidal Mack. Just as Mack is about to axe our favourite computer expert, Armand jumps out of some desert shrub and sticks a needle into Mack’s neck.   

Mack grunts like an angry bull, but before the drug can take effect he gets hit over the head by the fourth Doctor with a meat tenderizing mallet. Richard “Mack” Machowitz doesn’t even stand a chance; the guy folds like an accordion.

While Max is busy looking traumatized because he was nearly killed by an axe wielding madman, the Doctor and Armand work to pick up Mack’s limp form and tie him up because he’ll definitely still be insane when he comes too.

Totally ignoring Mack and his little mental illness, Geoff gets ready to raise the flag. “Okay guys, prepare to fire in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . FIRE!”

The chequered flag waves and they’re out of the starting gate.

Not even a second passes before the General Grievous imitation is peppered with all manner of firepower. Blaster bolts, machinegun rounds, sniper fire, magic Cross power and even some musket fire come at the shell.

Men like Big Boss go for accuracy, striking at the eyes of Grievous. Marek, who has actual working knowledge of droids thanks to his training, goes for the joints with his blaster and tries to burn through to the organ sack that would be there in the real general Grievous.

Professor Dawkins is busy reloading his musket because even for an expert like him a Japanese harquebus takes at least ten seconds to reload; which sacrifices what accuracy this gun has.

The ricocheting bullets and other shot bounce off the armoured shell and hit the dirt, kicking up a great dust cloud. One of the most effective weapons turns out to be Beatrice’s cross; the cross’s magic attacks tear holes into Grievous’s armour. Score one for Christianity.

Deadpool’s bullets are largely ineffective, as are Alfred’s batarangs.

Richard Dawkins seems to be waiting for the final shot, even though there are only a few seconds left.

Suddenly, from all the strain of that firepower, the chest plate opens up on the Grievous look alike to reveal a faux organ sack like the one that Obi-Wan fried in the Revenge of the Sith.

Only one second is left on the clock and everyone is out of ammo, but at that moment a single musket ball slams into the heart, killing grievous.

Dawkins smiles as time runs out. Everyone else wounded Grievous, but with a little patience his musket killed the bastard. Classic case of the tortoise and the hare.

Announcer: With testing complete, it’s time to start up the simulation for the biggest battle in Deadliest Warrior history. Our experts will take the data that they’ve gathered and see who is the deadliest warrior!

As the announcer does his bit, the local law enforcement hauls off Mack in a strait jacket.

Geoff looks like he enjoyed having Mack around but still reprimands the foaming man. “Look Mack, we’re only committing you until you stop being insane.”

Mack isn’t listening. “You’re dead, Max, your job is mine! Do you hear me?”

Max just stands back with Armand and the Doctor. The Doctor smiles, “Well, that went well.”

Announcer: Tune in next chapter for the exciting simulation for this match in part two of Deadliest Warrior: Zombie Apocalypse!

Well, I hope I didn’t tease you guys so much. But damn, this was hard to write. This was four times as hard as a regular chapter. Compared to this, the simulation will be a piece of cake.

I’d like to thank all my reviewers because you people are a beauty. Thank you all.

Ta

Master of the Boot