Back for Blood: Zombie Apocalypse Part 3

Back For Blood: Zombie Apocalypse Part 3

And here is the final part of this long, long match. It will feature the end of the fight and the analysis by experts :D So who else saw the Zombie vs Vampire episode. I certainly had a blast watching it, I don't know about the rest of you guys :) 

Now kindly enjoy the show ;) 

Zombie Apocalypse: Round Five

In the bell tower, Anakin steps over a giant heap of dead owls. Looks like undead feathers burn very easily; enter force lightning. Really, the damn birds were too easy to kill but in the fight he lost track of the Batman.

There! In the shadows, Anakin can see Batman’s cape. Striking while the iron is hot, Anakin throws his lightsabre at the Dark Knight.

The blue glow of his lightsabre illuminates the dark bell tower and cuts the cape in half. Anakin catches his lightsabre but quickly he sees that his weapon has cut through only empty fabric.

Realizing that he’s been had, Anakin calls the lightsabre back to him but before he can catch it, the wall next to him explodes from a well-placed explosive charge.

Anakin is thrown off his feet; his ears ring and he’s dropped his damn lightsabre. The explosion blew out the wooden wall, showering Anakin in heavy wooden beams and wood planks.

As Anakin attempts to free himself from the pile of wreckage, Batman hits open a wall panel and out comes a bat supply kit. Evidently whoever sabotaged the mini bat cave missed this little stash. As fast as he can, Batman restocks on batarangs, explosive gel and even grabs a spare cape.

As he does so, Batman hears something fly at him. He narrowly manages to dodge a flying disc, like a large circular shield with an American flag painted on it.

The flying shield misses Batman and bounces off a stone support pillar and bounces back into the hands of its owner, a tall muscular man with a red white and blue uniform. That red, white and blue uniform though is covered in blood and full of tears. Truly, Captain America has fallen far.

“Well look here,” drawls the zombie Captain America with a certain sadism that he lacked when his heart was beating, “it’s a rat with wings.”

Batman’s jaw clenches as the rotting corpse of Steve Rogers walks into the little light that’s there. “Now is now a good day to push me, Rogers.” It’s the only warning that they’ll get.

“Surrender now, Bruce,” says Iron man, “We’ll make it painless, we promise.” The once playful billionaire Tony Stark has got his visor open. While his Ironman armour is in pristine condition, his lips are rotted off and his eyes are milky white. His tear ducts no longer work so his corneas are scratched by little bits of accumulating dust. None of that distracts him because the only thing he can feel anymore is hunger.

Batman hears another sound, the straining sound of an arrow being drawn in a bow. Hawkeye, the group’s archer has not escaped the zombie fate of the rest. He’s merely looking forward to shooting down the Batman like a hunter taking down any other wild game.

“Hey guys!” calls zombie Spiderman, “Can I keep his belt? I know we’re all into the eat human flesh thing but gadgets are still my bag.”

Batman stands as the Marvel Zombies surround him. Out from under his cape rolls a metal ball. Then the zombies realize that they made a big mistake.

The metal ball explodes into a flash of light and smoke. The zombies are blinded by it and they clutch their eyes. They may not feel pain but they are still blinded.

As their vision starts to return, thick smoke fills the bell tower that doesn’t dissipate like ordinary smoke.

Captain American used to be a great tactician but hunger has muddled his brain. He shouts for the avengers to assemble just as somebody materializes behind Hawkeye and drives an explosive arrow into the avenger’s brain. Hawkeye’s head explodes like a zit and it’s not pretty.

“Find him!” screams Captain America. This smoke not only interferes with their vision but with their sense of smell.

Ironman lowers his visor and starts to scan but this smoke must have a magnetic element because his scanners are turning up nothing but static. Ironman nearly jumps out of his rotting skin when a batarang slams into his face plate and cracks one of the “eyes” on the mask.

Giant man suddenly steps into the bell tower, pulling of the roof to do so. He sees Batman fighting the Marvel zombies and he can’t help but laugh. “A little fight in him, I like that in my dinner.”  The giant zombie steps into the now roofless bell tower but as he does, a giant pile of wood explodes and a man with a lightsabre steps out.

“Then you’re going to love me,” says Anakin, practically spewing out dark side power.

The Doctor and his team have finally arrived on the roof of the Hotel where his time machine is parked. “We’re almost there,” the Time Lord warns. He warns because he doesn’t expect to get away so easily from this mess. “Keep your guard up.”

Wolverine snorts and tries to wipe zombie owl gore from his face. “Bub, I’ll let me guard down when I’m back at the Xavier mansion with a twenty-four pack, a new box of cigars and a hooker in my bed.”

“If you live that long,” the crusader Dante adds. He’s not normally the snide type but Dante can’t help but find the whole situation a bit humorous. He escaped hell only to find hell on earth; really fucking hilarious.  

Suddenly, everyone can hear a ringing noise. Dante swings his scythe around menacingly and shouts, “Come, Satan’s minions! Come and die uselessly, you whore’s sons!”

Wolverine puts a reassuring hand on Dante’s shoulder. “Bub, that’s a cell phone.”

Dante looks at Wolverine with nervous curiosity. “Is that some form of hellspawn?”

“No,” says the Doctor, “it’s mine.” From out of his pocket he pulls out something that’s part cell phone, part compass and part protein bar. “I made it myself,” the Doctor mutters.

The time traveller listens in on the phone. “Hello?” He pauses as the speaker replies. “It’s president Obama,” the Doctor adds.

“Is he an infidel?” asks Dante, whose experiences with infidels have seldom been happy.

“He says help is on the way!” the Doctor shouts. This earns a cheer from his crew, now reduced to three. He turns around only to notice that the Mask has gone AWOL.

Back at base camp, General O’Neill stand in front of the most massive assortment of vehicles assembled in the history of the world. It’s like Wacky Races on crack cocaine. Behind him, his buddy Teal’c is sitting in the cab of a giant, armoured Mad Max style semi-truck, ready to roll.

O’Neill puts down his radio and shouts to the men, “That’s the signal boys! CHARGE!”

In the cab of his semi-truck, Teal’c bites down on a strange pill and shakes as a high goes through him. “Indeed,” he says with a grin before putting on a pair of sunglasses.

Suddenly, a great mass of vehicles starts moving forward. High in the sky, Boba Fett’s ship Slave 1 opens up on the thorn maze with a salvo of blaster fire; the deadly thorns don’t stand a chance.

On the ground, the Elric brothers power ahead in a V-8 interceptor. Ed Elric hangs out of the passenger window firing a shotgun at the maze while Al drives.

A storm of zombie owls starts to attack the convoy like some kind of fucked up tornado. The zombie owls are met with a withering hail of firepower. Peter Griffin pilots a fire truck and on the top of the big red vehicle Mickey mouse and John Marston fire flamethrowers at the undead birds.

Hundreds of vehicles and flying machines go at the formerly unstoppable and impregnable thorn maze, tearing it apart. Teal’c’s mighty semi-truck uproots a vast section of the thorns while on the top of it the Mario brothers and several allies man AA guns.

Red eyes blink. The game is almost over and it will be soon time to make a tactical retreat. But the game is not over yet, there is still one last card to play before all this is over. Victory shall be his.

The swarms of vehicles charge the hotel and even more support comes. A herd of elephants charges, followed by a few dozen troops of monkeys. Motorcycle cops and ambulances all charge to crack open the dreaded zombie Hotel.

An army of Zulu warrior scream and charge, their feet far too toughened to feel the flattened thorn maze.

Napoleon Bonaparte turns to his army and shouts. “March!” Napoleon’s troops move in supported by a division of Scottish highlanders. The bagpipes are loud, I’ll tell you what.

Naturally, this huge army is succeeding where infiltration failed and it’s so loud that it can be heard all the way to the top of the hotel. Just one floor below the top is the Mask; the yellow zoot suit wearing hero strolls where others would fearfully tread and he whistles where others tremble in fear.

The Mask struts down the hall. He’s not avoiding trouble, he’s looking for it. He’s not in danger; he is the danger.

Taking his sweet time, the alter ego of Stanley Ipkiss pauses to admire a painting . . . and suddenly from behind the painting leaps a zombified version of Quicksilver. The speedster mutant is too fast for even the Mask. Edge City’s number one crime fighter falls backwards, his big hat falling off. Before he can even blink, Quicksilver sinks his rotting teeth into his arm.

It looks like the end for Edge City’s favourite son, but for some reason it’s not. Quicksilver notices that what he’s biting into doesn’t feel like an arm. It feels gritty and sticky for some reason.

The Mask grins mischievously at Quicksilver and detaches his arm. Sticking out of the end of the “arm” is a fuse that’s almost burned down and Quicksilver realizes that he’s bitten into a giant stick of dynamite dressed as an arm.

He tries to spit out the arm but—

BOOM!

The Mask shields himself with an umbrella as Quicksilver hits him in a dozen pieces. The smouldering head of the speed mutant rolls at the Mask’s feet. “I was just passing by—duh . . .” the mutant rambles while his head rolls about.

He doesn’t get to clarify what he means because at that moment the Mask crushes his noggin with his giant mallet. “Goodnight, sweet prince with your incestuous love for your sister.”

The Mask turns around to see that he’s got company. Surrounding him are Crimson Witch (Quicksilver’s sister) Jean Grey, Cyclops, Doctor Octopus and Howard the Duck. “Hello!” says the Mask to this threatening ensemble of zombies, threatening if you leave out Howard.

“You’ll pay for killing my brother,” Scarlet Witch issues in a ghastly, maggot eaten voice.

The Mask just smiles and says to her, “Sorry lady, but the flash is cooler. So who wants to bite my shiny metal ass?”

“Your ass isn’t so shiny” says Howard.

The Mask promptly turns into Bender from Futurama and says to Howard, “It’s Shinier than yours, shithead.”

Not in the mood for Banter, Scarlet Witch fires a blast of magic at the Mask, only for him to block it using one of the Harry Potter books.

Cyclops unleashes his optic beam, but the Mask deflects it with a makeup mirror, causing the beam to hit and destroy Doctor Octopus.

Jean Grey tries to utilize a psychic attack on the Mask but starts to moan in pain and horror. “No, no—he’s memorized the entire script to Batman and Robin!” Jean Grey lets out a scream and promptly explodes.

Cyclops tries to run and eat the Mask but only gets devoured by the evil wardrobe. The thing belches and self-destructs, blasting Scott all over the walls.

At last it’s down to the Mask and Scarlet Witch. The Scarlet Witch starts to glow as she gathers her most powerful spells to her.

In response, the Mask turns into a stereotypical wizard; complete with pointy hat decorated in stars and moons. He brandishes a magic wand and announces, “I shall now recite my most powerful spell.”

The Mask solemnly raises his hands and chants, “K to the I to the A—ZOM-BITCH!”

Back with the Doctor and his crew, they can feel the vibrations. The Doctor frantically grabs his sonic screwdriver and buzzes it around for a scan. “Alright,” he says as the roof shakes, “it’s big, it’s very angry . . . it’s the Hulk.”

Speak of the devil, out of nowhere the zombie Hulk explodes out of the roof. “HULK HUNGRY!” the emerald beast roars. The emergence of the huge monster has thrown aside Wolverine and Dante, but the Doctor has a plan.

In a seemingly suicidal move, the Doctor charges in front of the Hulk, waving his arms. “Dante!” he screams, “If you have an ice spell, now is the time to use it!”

In the bell tower, Anakin Skywalker fires a blast of force lightning at Iron man. Iron man waves his arms trying to balance himself as the thruster on his left foot explodes.

Luke Cage charges Anakin, only to be thrown backwards by force power into a thick stone pillar. The pillar cracks in half but Luke Cage just jumps back up and charges again, this time he gets an arm sliced off.

Before Luke Cage can scream about his injury, he is struck by a blast from Ironman’s repulsor weapon. Anakin used his lightsabre to deflect the blast from himself and onto Luke Cage, burning a large hole into his chest.

Captain America makes to throw his Shield at Anakin, but Anakin uses the force to slam the edge of the shield into the Captain’s head.

Captain America jumps up, the top of his head missing. “Do you see this! I get double rations for this!”

He is cut off as his shield slams into his head seven more times into his head, knocking him into the ground. “Choke on it! Choke on it!” Anakin roars.

The Wasp is about to sneak up behind him but Anakin throws his elbow into his face and slices off her head. “You’re too loud,” he says disdainfully.

Meanwhile, Batman struggles to avoid Spiderman but he’s fighting a losing battle. As trained and fit as he is, Batman is still only human. His leaping and grappling can only get so far ahead of the now zombified wall crawler. Bruce Wayne knows it; Spiderman is toying with him—prolonging the kill.

“Come on,” Spiderman says sarcastically, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.” The undead Spiderman easily deflects a trio of batarangs.

Spiderman is about to shoot another line of web when a sniper rifle blows his arm off at the elbow. “Oh crap!” he yells, dismayed.

Solid Snake steps out of the shadows. To Batman he calls, “Get down, dipshit!” and pulls out his RPG launcher. Spiderman’s eyes widen as the rocket speeds at him. The explosion darkens his world and launches him some distance away. For Snake and Batman it has the added bonus of launching Spiderman in two different directions at once; legs there and body there.

From out of the smoke from the RPG comes Anakin Skywalker like a bat out of hell. With his torn cloak and burns from Ironman’s ray weapons he looks a bit like the dark knight.

Snake raises his pistol and knife to try and gun down Anakin but is distracted by the reaching hand of giant man. Solid Snake quickly rolls out of the way from the giant, rotting hand and with is knife slashes through a large tendon. Giant man, being a zombie doesn’t even feel the severed tendon in his hand and reaches once more for Solid Snake.

Anakin raises his lightsabre and brings it down to cut off Batman’s head, but then the unexpected happens. The blades along Batman’s gauntlet light up with purple energy and block the lightsabre strike. Anakin’s eyes widen; so Batman has incorporated phrik alloy into his suit. Ingenious but it will not save him.

Not letting up for a second, Anakin continues to slash and thrust at Batman while Batman skilfully parries the strikes with his phrik alloy gauntlet blades.

Anakin thrusts forward with his lightsabre, putting his full force behind it. His strength is so great that it even begins to force Batman back, who isn’t exactly a featherweight.

Meanwhile, Giant man is trying to stomp on Solid Snake, but the fabled warrior is every bit as tricky and slippery as his namesake. Everywhere Giant man stomps, Snake is gone from there a second before the foot can land.

The Fifty foot tall zombie roars in hunger and slams his hands down on the floor, creating a giant shockwave. “I’ll rip your head off, Snake!” he howls.

Boom!

Giant man screams as one of his putrid eyes bursts and oozes pus and congealed fluid everywhere. Snake fired his last sniper round into the former hero’s eye. Then with a practiced, instinctive motion, Snake takes his RPG and fires a round into Giant Man’s mouth. The explosion is muffled but highly messy. Putrefied brain and skull flies everywhere and Giant man is down for the count. Even if his brain is still working his brainstem is cut in two; nothing short of the power of God will move him again.

Then Spiderman who was hoping to catch Snake off guard, takes a SOCCOM bullet to the head. Peter Parker is dead and may the heavens forgive his sins as a Marvel Zombie.

Back on the roof of the Hotel, Dante furiously hacks at the Hulk with his scythe, only doing superficial damage to the zombie beast. Wolverine hangs on the Hulk’s shoulders, furiously stabbing his claws into the Hulk’s ears; which does nothing more than infuriate the beast.

The Doctor has the most dangerous role of all; he’s actually hanging onto the Hulk’s head and trying to gouge out the monster’s eyes with two pieces of broken mirror. The Doctor hangs on with his legs and like a monkey dodges the Hulk’s crushing hands. “HULK KILL LITTLE MAN!” the beast rumbles loud as cannon fire.

Seeing that the glass isn’t working the Doctor curses, “fuck it!” Then he has a brilliant idea. “Dante! Use an ice spell!”

Dante jumps back as the Hulk slams a fist down onto where he was standing a second ago. Then the agile crusader pulls out his cross and launches an ice attack that causes large, sharp icicles to pop up from the ceiling.

The Hulk steps on a trail of their sharp ice shards and impales his foot, but the real damage is done when the ice causes the Hulk to slip and lose his balance.

The giant beast hits the ground like a meteor impact. In no time, the Doctor grabs his sonic screwdriver which fell on the ground. Then turning the device onto full power, he aims it at the Hulk’s face.

The Hulk’s eyeballs swell in their sockets for a brief moment before bursting like a couple of pustules. The Hulk screams in agony and covers his now gory eye sockets. The sonic screwdriver can’t kill, but it can cut through rope and in this case it can affect the non-living tissues of a zombie.

Dante seizes the advantage, switching his scythe into spear mode; he charges forward and rams the three foot blade into the Hulk’s mouth. The Hulk gargles in pain and tries to pull out the offending weapon, but the Doctor and Wolverine all grab onto the blade and try to help Dante kill the fucker.

There is a crunch as Death’s scythe drives farther into the Hulk’s throat and into his brain but the beast isn’t dead yet. The Doctor realizes that their strength isn’t enough and calls out, “MASK! We need you!”

The Mask appears out of thin air, right behind the trio of fighters. “You called?” he asks with his usual silly demeanour.

The Mask briefly spins like a Tornado and transforms into Sweeney Todd. “How about a shave, Hulk?” he asks in a sinister way.

The Mask lunges with his razors and the screen is temporarily covered in gore. While the screen is gore encrusted we can hear the Hulk scream.

The zombie blood clears the screen and the Sweeney Mask appears again. “Hm, maybe a bit more to the left.” He slashes and more gore covers the screen, the Hulk screams louder.

Back in the bell tower, Anakin slices Ironman from crown of his head to crotch and the two halves of the superhero fall to the ground. As he does this, Anakin continues to fend off attacks from Batman and Solid Snake. Evidently Batman had enough foresight to store a cache of ammo in the place in case he ever needed to rely on an ally like Solid Snake.

A sniper shot narrowly misses Anakin, the bullet grazing his cheek and producing a small burn there. It only adds to Anakin’s fury; yet he still cannot slay the dark knight

Abruptly, Anakin shoots out his hand and clenches his fist. Snake gasps and grabs his throat as he is force choked. Before Anakin can break Snake’s neck, a batarang strikes him upside the head, knocking him down.

The Sith lord drops to the floor. Snake and Batman both run up to their unconscious foe. Snake takes his sniper rifle and points it at Anakin’s head.

Batman is about to stop Solid Snake from killing Anakin when suddenly Anakin comes too.

The former Jedi leaps up and strikes Solid Snake across the jaw with a punch that could lay flat a wookie. Then before Batman can leap away, Anakin ignites his lightsabre and slashes Batman across the chest with it.

Bruce Wayne screams and falls . . . the Batman has fallen and he will not rise again.

Snake with lightning speed grabs his pistol and fires several rounds at Anakin. Anakin however merely smiles and blocks the bullets with the palms of his hands!

Then with a flick of the wrist, he disarms Snake using the force. Though Snake is outgunned he’s not ready to give up. He grabs his combat knife and motions for Anakin to come closer.

Anakin just smirks at Snake and stares at Batman’s corpse, smoke rising from his burnt body armour. “You’d do well not to fight me, Solid Snake. You just might serve me well when I am emperor.”

Anakin turns around and gazes at the Hotel from one of the bell tower’s openings. “If you want to be free of FOXDIE, then I can arrange for the cloners of Kamino to help you.”

Finally, the lad turns around and gives Snake a mock salute. “Until we meet again.” Then he takes a mighty force leap towards the Hotel.

Snake is about to give chase when he sees that Batman is still moving, but not for much longer. Before he takes one of Batman’s grapple lines, he leans in close enough for the Dark Knight to whisper one last secret—Batman knows who is behind all of this zombie madness.

On the roof of the hotel, the Mask, Wolverine, Dante and the Doctor look at the corpse of the Hulk. He was once such a powerful beast, but after these four got to him there isn’t really much to look at.

“Well,” the Doctor admits, “as much as I’d hate to jinx us all I fear that the worst is yet to come.”

“I agree, Doc,” Wolverine concedes, “Let’s get the hell outta here while the going is good.”

“I’ll bring nachos,” says the Mask.

“Nachos?” Dante is completely confused by his green faced ally. Unfortunately shit hits the fan and one more good man dies that day.

“Chimmi-chunga!” shouts a rotted and zombified voice. Nobody can react before a zombie Deadpool jumps from the shadows and takes a bite out of Logan’s neck. The Mask acts fast and shoots Deadpool with a shrink ray.

Wolverine groans with pain and throws down the now mini zombie Deadpool, who is promptly grabbed by the Mask. “I did it!” squeaks Deadpool, “I killed Logan! I’m now the best at whatever the hell it is he does!”

“Good for you, chum,” the Mask congratulates before dropping micro zombie Deadpool into a blender. “Oops,” he says as he hits the button for instant blend.

The Doctor grabs Logan to keep him from falling, but his wounds aren’t healing. The Doctor doesn’t need the sonic screwdriver to deal with this. “You’re dying; you’re going to become a zombie,” the Doctor delivers to Wolverine.

“Zombie,” Wolverine’s usual gruff voice is barely a whisper as the Doctor takes off his jacket to stave off blood loss. “I ain’t becoming no flaming zombie, Doc.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor’s eyes are full of sadness, “This is beyond even your healing factor." He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Frankly, this is beyond any zombie virus I’ve ever seen.”

Dante perks up and reaches for his cross. “I cannot heal this man but I can see to it that his soul passes into God’s light.”

“That’s a laugh,” Wolverine tries to chuckle at the thought of a mean son of a bitch like him going to heaven.

Glowing with white light, Dante takes his cross and puts it to Wolverine’s face. The feral mutant’s breathing is becoming erratic, like a death rattle. He doesn’t have much longer.

“Go in peace, warrior; you are absolved of your sins.”

The group is silent. Even the Mask can’t say anything funny; he’s merely dressed himself up like a mourning East European peasant woman and is crying cartoonishly.

Before their eyes, a white shape rises up from Wolverine’s body and vanishes. No sooner has this gone does Wolverine’s body start to crumble. Everything comes to pieces, as if the more than hundred and fifty years Logan has been alive is all catching up to him. Nothing is left except for adamantium bones.

At long last, James “Logan” Howlet knows peace.

Wolverine knows nothing more of pain or war; only those who are still alive know suffering yet. As Dumbledore said, pity the living.

Too soon, the light of Dante’s holy cross fades into nothing. The light and hope are replaced with despair and darkness. All around the three remaining fighters, the air is thick and poisonous. The smell of zombies is in the air. The Mask weeps like an old woman and throws roses in the air.

Like clockwork, the devil’s announcer gives the stats for the latest round.

“Round Five! Marvel Zombies! Wolverine and Batman are finished! You won’t survive the next round—HAHAHAHA!” 

In the space between spaces, the Dark voice makes a dry comment and its eyes seem to half shut.

“At last, the real game begins.”

In the floor below the Doctor and companion’s feet, General Grievous is heading to the spaceship hanger built for the Hotel’s space fearing guests. The General is in a rather good mood, since that pesky Skywalker and those other goody-two-shoes fuckers are being held up by the armies of Satan. Except for his damaged eye and some owl feathers on his cloak General Grievous couldn’t be happier.

The Separatist leader has got a bomb stowed away on his private fighter ship.  When he takes off he’ll leave the thing and set it to blow. That little bomb ought to be powerful enough to level this hotel and bask the surrounding lands in enough radiation to make Chernobyl seem like a mere trifle.

Grievous knows that he’ll have to move fast, because from what he saw earlier a massive wall of vehicles, troops and aircraft were breaking into the maze. The forces of SG1 and allies are almost at the front door of the hotel and it won’t take them long to clear the hotel of zombies and capture Grievous. If they get their hands on him they’ll execute him as a war criminal—hypocrites!

The General’s good mood is interrupted when he catches some movement in the shadows. His thermal vision is useless against the cold bodied zombies so he flashes to another part of the electromagnetic spectrum. In the shadows, a man shaped figure moves behind a partly open door.

The General didn’t live this long by being a fool; he immediately grabs his lightsabres and goes into fighting stance.

Something on his scans catches Grievous’s eye and he sees a trip wire only millimetres from his foot. Stepping back, he spins around and sees a square box shaped device with one side facing him. Before he can react, the claymore landmine is remotely detonated and Grievous is hit by a blast of shrapnel and concussive force.

The General cries out in shock though he’s not at all damaged except for his cape. Before he can attack the setter of the claymore a series of laser blasts whizz past the General; which he dodges due to his great agility.

Defying gravity, Grievous leaps straight up and clings to the ceiling with his feet. Into the hangar bay step a gang of five zombie Judoon. He can hear their harsh language. “Bloh! Cro! Sho! Bro! Foh! Coh!”

The Judoon all point their weapons at Grievous. The lead zombie alien takes off his helmet. The alien’s one ear twitches spastically; the other is completely rotted off. “General Grievous,” the alien says in a deep voice, “under the law 29874 of the Shadow proclamation you are found to be in violation. You will be executed.”

“Pitiful scum!” the General snarls, “I am above your petty laws. I will send you back to whatever hell you came from and drink soup from your skulls!”

The Judoon fire at General Grievous but he’s too agile for their aim. One of them fires a Judoon cannon at Grievous but he only succeeds in blowing up the ceiling and ruining a bunch of spaceships and aircraft. That Judoon with the cannon is swiftly cut in half and decapitated.

Grievous bounds out of the way before the group can retaliate, but there are more surprises in store for him. From out behind a door explodes a zombie on a motorcycle.

Most men would grieve at the fat of becoming a flesh eating zombie; forever hungering and forever being numb. To James Lynch it’s the best thing in the world. He can kill and eat whoever he wants and he never pays fucking taxes.

Lynch powers at General Grievous with a mile wide grin on his rotting face. He’s got a new pair of sunglasses and some of his teeth are gold. Two chainsaws are strapped to the front of the motorcycle, designed to cut the heads and limbs off of whoever gets in the way of Lynch’s perpetual case of road rage and any kind of rage.

Sparks fly as the chainsaws scrape against General Grievous’s hard carapace but Lynch manages to avoid a lightsabre strike, only losing an ear in the process.

Screaming with joy, Lynch screeches his bike into a turn and goes for another pass, this time pulling out his Colt M4A1. Any day above ground is a good fucking day in Lynch’s book.

As Grievous dodges and deflects Judoon laser fire with his lightsabres, a hail of bullets interrupts him and he sees a zombie Rambo raining down supressing fire on him with his M-60 machine gun.

The powerful bullets have little effect on Grievous except to make him mad. More shit comes General Grievous’s way as a giant blast of fire engulfs him. The source of the stream of fire comes from a team of zombified Spartan III’s. The only thing giving them away as zombies is the gore and blood crusted on their chest plates.

The Master Chief would have been able to kill General Grievous, or maybe another Spartan II . . . but the III’s are just making him angry.

General Grievous runs out of the stream of fire and he’s mad as hell. His rage is white hot; I’m talking about baby raping, woman bashing, puppy eating, gouge out their eyes anger!

On fire, with his armour scaling hot, General Grievous takes a flaming fist and drives it right through the head of one of the Spartan III’s. The faceplate crumbles like cracker, skull explodes and the back of the helmet is burst open.

Grievous swings around and grabs one Spartan by the head using his prehensile foot. The powerful metal digits crush the zombie Spartan’s head like an egg. Decayed brain slides between Grievous’s toes.

Grabbing a one man starship, he throws the one ton craft at the Judoon platoon as if it’s a rubber ball. The action scatters the Judoon like nine pins and Grievous directs his attention back at the Spartans.

With two lightsabre strikes he slashes a couple of zombie Spartans in twain and stomps on their heads with his talloned feet. The last remaining Spartan III he holds over his head and rips in half, entrails and gore flying everywhere.

This is the General who was the terror of the Republic. Not only is he a master strategist, he’s also a merciless killer who has no more honour or integrity than a vulture.

As a point of honour, he leaves none of his enemies alive—it’s his only point of honour.

Lynch, seeing the damage that Grievous is doing, scoots off on his motorcycle for easier prey, laughing merrily as he does. It was pretty fucking awesome to see General Grievous waste those fuckers; now Lynch wants to eat some fucking brains!

The hangar bay is bathed in the soft glow of burning napalm and the General stands before breaking out into a coughing fit. Damn that Mace Windu.

The General charges towards his star fighter. It would be foolish of his to stay any longer. Before he climbs into his starship, he does a quick look around and sees that Rambo has also fled.

The General laughs a bit before sitting down in the cockpit of his star fighter. Before he can close the canopy, a blade flies out from the flickering shadows and slices the lightsabre in his hand in half.

Grievous’s eyes widen with shock. It isn’t half an eye blink later that seven more blades sink themselves into his starship, taking out the nav computer and the hyperdrive unit. General Grievous isn’t going anywhere; nobody escapes the Zombie Hotel.

When he sees where the danger is coming from, he’s in for a shock. The zombie walking towards him is one of the heavy hitters, not some weak flesh munching drone.

Alexander Anderson walks towards General Grievous with a wide, sadistic grin on his face. It’s the expression of a man who knows he can best any man in a fight and doesn’t give a damn about anything except winning the next fight no matter how bad it is.

Anderson is a bit worse for the wear since Wolverine killed him; his flesh is rotted and his eyes are pure white. Growing out of his body and the left side of his head are a tangle of writhing, brown, dead thorns. Through his head is stuck Helena’s nail, where it goes in through his right temple and comes out the top of his head.

Acting on instinct, Grievous pulls out his special sidearm, the Grievance Striker. He fires the powerful blaster pistol at Anderson’s head. The blast bolt strikes Anderson in the head but is deflected off of the nail harmlessly. Anderson just keeps walking. At last his wide smile twists into something very ugly.

From out of his sleeves, Anderson whips out two bayonets and grinds them together in a cross shape, showering himself in sparks. His zombie skin feels nothing.

The good undead Paladin recites a prayer, for it is Christian custom to recite prayer at a funeral; and this Hotel shall certainly be a fine mausoleum for General Grievous.

“So they sent twelve thousand warriors to Jabesh-gilead with orders to kill everyone there, including women and children.  "This is what you are to do," they said. "Completely destroy all the males and every woman who is not a virgin."  Among the residents of Jabesh-gilead they found four hundred young virgins who had never slept with a man, and they brought them to the camp at Shiloh in the land of Canaan! AMEN!”
Anderson howls like a demon unleashed.

With a mighty leap, Anderson charges and Grievous, who for the first time in his artificial life looks afraid.

Grievous leaps from out of his ruined spaceship, which out of the corner of his eye he manages to see fall into two pieces.

Growling at the loss of his beloved space fighter, Grievous ignites one of his lightsabres and slices off Anderson’s arm with it.

Almost instantly, dead vines with thorns shoot out of the wound and create a brand new arm; they even recreate Anderson’s sleeve and glove. Face contorting savagely, Anderson’s eyes bulge and he throws a punch at Grievous with his newly regenerated arm. The force of the blow sends Grievous flying across the hangar bay.

Now Grievous is truly frightened. He’s like a pirate, ferocious, cunning and merciless to the extreme; but he’s only good for situations where he’s controlling the terms of combat. This is out of his hands and there is nowhere to run.

Will Anderson kill him?

Anderson slashes at Grievous with his bayonets, but those blades are cut in half with a lightsabre.

Shall Grievous live to fight another day?

Leaping to his starship, Grievous grabs a magnastaff from a hidden panel and uses the weapon’s extended reach to augment his lightsabres.

For nothing is more dangerous than a cornered animal.

Sparks fly as the manga staff and the bayonets clash; Grievous and Anderson go face to face, dead milky eyes meeting living yellow eyes.

“I will break you!” bellows Grievous.

Anderson laughs eerily like Alucard, “Tha’s the spirit, lassie!”

Back on the top of the hotel, the Doctor and company have reached his TARDIS. The Mask takes one look at the blue box time machine and turns into Luke Skywalker, “What a piece of junk!” he remarks.

The Doctor looks annoyed at the Mask, “Oh you’re not going to start that shit, are you?”

Dante gazes at the TARDIs apprehensively, “Be thou a sorcerer, doctor?” If the Doctor is a magician that would explain the strange buzzing wand he carries with him.

As the three men babble and banter, a cardboard box slowly shifts towards them.

“No!” the Doctor yells at the Mask, “We are not stopping at McDonalds before heading to UNIT headquarters!”

In response, the Mask turns into a Donna Noble look alike. “Doctor, you fucking tosser! You’re a time traveller! Why the hell wouldn’t we have time for a Big Mac or some chicken nuggets?”

The Doctor’s eyes widen with rage and his hands start to shake. “Oh no—no, you did not just impersonate Donna!”

Dante is completely lost. He has no idea who Donna Noble is and no clue who this McDonalds and Big Mac are. Maybe they’re pagan chieftains the Green one is friends with.

The Mask responds by changing into Martha Jones. “This better Doctor? I’d paint my face black but that wouldn’t fly unless this were a Michael Bay film.”

The Doctor is slowly starting to lose his cool. “If you keep that up, I shall be forced to make like a Dalek and rain fire down on you.” He grits his teeth and spit flies as he forces out the words, “Now please, Stanley get it through your head that we are not going to bloody McDonalds.”

The Mask then transforms into Rose Tyler, just as the cardboard box is creeping closer and closer.

Dante meanwhile is feeling helpless; a strange feeling for one who kicked the Devil’s ass in hand to hand combat. Nothing in his education or experience has prepared him for bickering like the Doctor and the Mask. Out of his eye, Dante catches sight of the cardboard box. He only noticed it because coming from the crusades he’s never seen a cardboard box ever.

The Mask and the Doctor are actually coming to blows; the Doctor is thrashing at the Mask like a madman while the Mask is dressed like a Karate master and is delivering kicks to the Doctor’s stomach and groin. The two are interrupted from fighting when Dante uses his crossbow to blast a bolt into a cardboard box.

A groan comes from inside the cardboard box and then a thud. Apprehensively, the Doctor gingerly steps up to the box and lifts it up. To his horror, lying dead on the floor with a crossbow bolt through the heart is Solid Snake—DANTE KILLED HIM!

Dante looks guilty but says nothing. In times where the Devil’s minion’s walk free about the land, a man must have an itchy crossbow finger and a ready sword.

Dante moves to pull out the bolt from the man’s heart, but then notices a tremor go through is body.

“Get out of the way!” shouts the Doctor.

“Get out of the way!” shouts the Mask, who turns into British author Michael Rosen to do so.

Not waiting for them to explain, Dante jumps back just as Solid Snake sits up and snaps at where Dante’s fingers were a moment ago. Snake’s once soulful eyes are now the pure white of zombie eyes. Soon they’ll take the blue tint from dust in the air due to non-functioning tear ducts. Snake’s one eye is missing from where the Zombie owl wounded him; that empty eye socket is covered up by his bandanna.

Moving with deadly intent, Dante slams his boot into Snake’s neck and knocks the once-man back.

Ready for action, the Mask whips out a blunderbuss and aims it at Snake’s head, who struggles to get Dante’s boot off his neck. Before the Mask can fire, the Doctor stays his hand.

Getting close enough to almost touch, the Doctor gets face to face with zombie Solid Snake. “Snake, can you understand me.”

At first, Snake gnashes his teeth and snarls but eventually a spark of intelligence returns to his remaining eye. “Yes, I can hear you.”

The Doctor pauses to digest this information and then continues. “How do you feel, Snake? What’s happening to you?”

Snake continues to struggle under Dante’s foot, a blunderbuss and Death’s scythe pointed at his face in case he tries to eat the Doctor. “I feel hunger,” he growls out, “It’s consuming my every though and I can’t fight it for long. The hunger is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

The Doctor puts his hands on the sides of Snake’s now cold, dead head. “Is there anything else? Anything? Tell me, because even the smallest detail could be of the utmost importance.”

Snake starts to snarl and thrash but soon he regains himself and stops. “I see eyes, Doctor; red eyes and a dark voice—that’s the one in charge. He’s the one responsible for this whole thing.”

“Who is he?” the Doctor asks in a voice as hard as surgical steel, but Snake only starts to thrash and scream for blood.

The Doctor starts to lose his patience; he squeezes harder on Snake’s undead cranium. “I said who is he!”

The Doctor never heard Snake’s answer because at that moment, a swarm of razor sharp playing cards cuts through a nearby door and slices the Mask into dozens of pieces.

In tandem with the playing cards, a magic musket ball blows through a wall and zips through the air in several chaotic patterns before blowing off Snake’s head.

The Doctor and Dante jump back right as Anakin Skywalker lands in the midst of them with his lightsabre blazing. He looks threateningly at the Doctor and blocks Dante’s scythe with his weapon.

“Anakin!” the Doctor yells frantically, “We don’t have time to fight you! Join us and we can survive!”

Anakin’s eyes narrow, “I won’t have to join you, Doctor; I’m going to single handedly send these Hutt slimes back to hell.”

On cue, the whole wall of the room blows up and from the dust and smoke comes a sight that is high octane nightmare fuel.

It’s a three person formation. In the center of it there is Sarah Kerrigan; the Queen of blades, but she’s looking like hell. With her skeletal wings spread out, Sarah looks like a hungry she-demon out of hell. Large sections of her flesh has rotten off and her left cheek has a large gaping hole in it; perfectly revealing her yellowed, slightly chipped teeth. Chunks of fresh meat are still stuck between her molars.

Quite alarmingly, Sarah is holding Alucard on a leash. The ancient and powerful vampire is truly looking like shit; he looks like he got set on fire and then put out with a shovel.

Alucard towers over everyone else like a pillar of shadow, his body dissolving at the waist into a mass of shadow and centipedes. Protruding from that darkness at his crotch is the Dandyman—South American card shark vampire who kills using sharp playing cards. And from just under Alucard’s armpit is Rip Van Winkle, the marksman she-vampire with the magic bullets that can kill anything.

Like Sarah, Alucard is also heavily decayed and rotten looking. Worst of all, he’s so furious that he’s not even smiling. He expected to die when Dante took him down, but instead he was resurrected and brought back as a fucking maggot buffet. “Time for your suppository, fuckers!” Alucard announces with white hot rage coursing through his rotted veins.

Standing next to Sarah is a giant metal box; from inside of which comes howling and screaming, as if there’s a tortured wild animal inside there.

The Doctor smiles at the zombie Queen of Blades. “Hey, Sarah! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Hello Doctor,” the Queen of Blades coos seductively, “Are you ready to die?’

The Doctor wrings his hands together enthusiastically, “Oh, you don’t know how often I contemplate killing myself . . . but not today,” the Doctor’s eyes take on that hard warrior cast which signals when he’s ready to kick ass. “You see, I can’t let you harm another person so I’ll have to stop you.”

The hidden thing in the metal box screams once more and Alucard chooses that moment to sass Kerrigan. “Smack this bitch up, Doctor; she’s just begging for it.”

In response, Kerrigan yanks on the leather leash and metal collar around Alucard’s neck. In truth, these two hate each other with a fiery passion. It’s not in a “I hate but respect you,” kind of way. No, these two hate each other like cancer and HIV; the Queen Bitch of the Universe and Three Time Winner of the Annual Honourless Cunt Award.

Anakin scowls and clenches the handle of his lightsabre. Of all the people here, he’s the least pleased to see Kerrigan in any capacity. He sliced off her head and watched her be blown to bits by a turbo laser; looks like he’ll have to barbecue this bitch one more time.

Deactivating his weapon, Anakin walks forward between the two factions of deadly warriors. “I am Anakin Skywalker,” he says to the zombies, “Sith Lord and friend to Emperor Palpatine.”

The young man continues, “I am offering you the chance to join me; you can either profit by this . . . or be destroyed. It’s your choice but I warn you not to underestimate my power.”

Sarah laughs at Anakin’s little “offer.” It’s the funniest thing she’s heard all day. “Poor boy,” she admonishes playfully, “Do you still think you’re the big bad wolf?”

Alucard grins viciously at Anakin, bloated black tongue licking his lips.

“Or are you little Red Riding hood?” Kerrigan mocks.

Anakin just looks at Sarah and smiles, “This is the last mistake you’ll ever make,” he explains calmly.

“So!” the Doctor says with a raised voice, trying to prevent further outbreaks, “Sarah, Alucard, guy in the metal box; is this what you really want?”

“Yes,” say both Kerrigan and Alucard.

The Doctor shrugs his shoulders; at least he tried. “Suit yourselves,” he says. Then with lightning reflexes, the Doctor whips out an India rubber ball and throws it with all his strength.

Every eye in the room follows the rubber ball as it bounces off surface after surface until at last it clocks Kerrigan right in the mouth. Sarah’s head is thrown back by the force of the impact.

Head snapping forward, Kerrigan furiously spits out a tooth. Tentatively, the undead Zerg Queen feels her mouth and finds one of her front teeth is missing. Her eyes narrow dangerously at the Doctor and she tries to make his brain explode but to her surprise the Time Lord doesn’t even flinch.

At that moment, the Mask holds up a plastic bag full of the Doctor’s Jammie Dodger cookie bombs, “THIS IS NOT METH!” the Mask screams before throwing the bag of cookies down.

While the bag of cookies flies through the air, the Doctor turns around and screams “RUN!” in slow motion, like an action movie. Nobody manages to get a dozen steps before the bag of cookies explodes.

There is a noiseless explosion which totally whites out the screen and nothing else is seen.

Down in the thorn maze, the attackers have nearly broken the siege. There have been losses but they press on still to rescue anyone who may still be alive in that godforsaken hotel.

In a centaur tank with its trademark monster truck wheels, Marcus Fenix pilots the large vehicle while trying to avoid running over any allies. Halfway through the maze, the allied forces began to encounter strange historical zombies rising from the earth who pulled riders from their vehicles and devoured them.

In the back of the tank, the robot Bender frantically fends off a zombie Zande warrior from a weapons port. “Marcus, little help here!” the robot shouts hysterically.

“Shut up, robot,” Marcus retorts as he fires a double barrelled shotgun into the face of a zombie samurai who managed to latch onto the side of the tank. “Bye-bye,” says Marcus as the zombie Samurai falls from the viewport.

Elsewhere along the line, vehicles have been delayed by a twin assault lead by zombie version of Lawrence of Arabia and Teddy Roosevelt. Gatling gun and Vickers fire rain down on the attackers, destroying several vehicles and aircraft. With a well-placed shot, Lawrence shoots down a TIE fighter with his Enfield rifle.

Some yards away in the deadly thorn maze is a down King Raven Helicopter which Baird and Cole were riding; Marcus’s fellow Delta squad mates.

The muscular Augustus “Coal Train” Cole furiously battles zombie version of the Waffen SS, the Vietcong and William Wallace; bludgeoning back his enemies using nothing more than a golf trophy. William Wallace is about to take a bite out of Cole’s jugular when the hard base of the golf trophy crushes his skull and gives him true death.

The zombie Nazi fires his machinegun at Cole only to be shot down by a sniper bullet through the head by Dominic Santiago. As he does this, the decaying Vietnamese freedom fighter jumps on Cole’s back.

Dom goes to help him but hears Marcus over the TACCOM, “Dom, what’s the sitch?”

“Not good man,” Dom reports while Cole screams to get it off, “Our chopper was shot down; don’t worry about us—we’ll be fine.”

Dom gives a glance over at Baird to see how he’s doing. Currently the mechanical genius of Delta squad is being manhandled by a zombie Viking. The zombie Viking is gingerly holding a tube of Vaseline in-between his lips and looks like he’s performing a special wrestling move which will allow him to take off Baird’s pants.

Dominic has to blink at the horrific sight; he’s shocked out of it when he hears Baird scream, “DON’T JUST STAND THERE! HELP ME!”

Baird has a list of fun things he’d like to do before he dies; being raped in the ass by a zombie Viking is not on the top ten.

Everything is suddenly interrupted when the top of the Hotel explodes in the most violent fashion. A huge eruption of silver light and blue lightning decimates the top of the hotel and even manages to cut the building in half. All sides momentarily gaze at this awesome act of destruction before resuming the killing.

The attackers can’t let up now, they’re so close to the actual hotel; but by the time they get there, there may be no survivors left.

Thunder and lightning tore apart the hotel, simultaneously hollowing it out like a pumpkin and cutting it in half like a cucumber. In a display worthy of Destroyed in Seconds, the top half of the hotel falls seemingly in slow motion. When it strikes the ground, it feels like a seven on the Richter scale.

Inside the hotel, the Queen of Blades is blinded by dust and smoke. Desperately she opens her bone wings and starts to fly with her psychic powers; but it was too much to hope that any of these maniacs could be killed in an explosion like this.

The Doctor comes careening out of the smoke and dust and he lands square on Kerrigan’s back. The Queen of blades yells in surprise as the Time Lord strikes her like a cannonball. The two of them start to plummet down into the bowels of the hotel. Kerrigan thrashes her arms and wings. She even fires a razor storm at the Doctor but the deadly psionic barbs seem to slide off him like water on a duck’s back.

As they fall and tumble down, the Doctor manages to grab hold of her right wing and with his inhuman strength he rips it off.

Shrieking like a banshee with rage, Kerrigan flips the Doctor over and makes to eat his face, but the Doctor head-butts her, knocking the Queen back.

Alucard laughs like a psychopath. He’s even scarier now that he’s a zombie. As a vampire he longed for death, but as a zombie he’s completely given up and shed any of what remained of his old morals and standards. Now he’s just an animal, a diseased dog.

The once vampire lord stands on a circular concrete platform which plunges with alarming speed. Standing on the platform with him are Dante and Anakin, who look like they’re at least willing to put aside any fighting between them until Alucard is dead.

Behind Alucard, he leaves a trail of his familiars like an oil smoke. Thousands and millions of consumed souls fall out of Alucard’s torso, choking the already unbreathable air after the explosion.

Alucard waves his hands like a magician and in front of him, a score of undead, armoured knights and impaling spears rise up. Foaming at the mouth and drooling, Alucard takes his two handguns and crosses them, “Who dies first?”

The Mask meanwhile is like a kid in a candy shop, he’s flying through the air and sipping on a colourful drink just as the crazy Alexander Anderson zooms at him like a bullet. Oh, and look at how Kind Anderson is; he’s brought along General Grievous’s and spine with him.

In response, the Mask turns into a lookalike of Anderson and shouts in response, “I kick arse for the lord!” And in midair the two start to battle with bayonets.

“No!” Anderson retorts, “AH kick arse fer tha lord!” To prove his point, he sinks his teeth into the Mask’s shoulder; Stanley Ipkiss has seen his luck run out.

Clenching his shoulder in pain, Stanley tears the Mask off his face. This is the last stand of the Mask; Stanley Ipkiss hits the bottom floor of the hotel and is splattered before he can become a zombie. The physical mask that he wore to turn himself into the mean, green superhero is lost in the rubble. Who will find it is anybody’s guess.

Higher up, the Doctor and Sarah Kerrigan begin their midair grapple. They’re both tumbling and Sarah can feel the Doctor’s hands wrap around her head; his Time Lord telepathy blocking her psionic powers—also blocking her power of flight.

“Let me go, you blazing idiot!” she snarls at him, “Or we’ll both die.”

Furiously, the Doctor squeezes harder on Sarah’s head and snarls back at her, “The party is over! I will never let you win.”

Sarah screams in fury as she and her enemy plunge towards the subbasement of the Hotel. At the last minute however, she kicks him off and repels gravity with her powers. The loss of one wing doesn’t really stop her.

The Doctor falls in midair. As the floor comes rushing up at him, he has enough time to think of all that he’s done in his life; all his mistakes, flaws and petty triumphs. In the end, did he really make the universe a better place? His head says no but his heart says yes . . . and as he hits the floor he feels nothing more.

Cough, cough

The Doctor suddenly wakes up feeling like he’s dying. The impact hit him hard but he’s not human; as a Time Lord he’s just going to feel incredible pain for a while. The Doctor struggles to get up but slumps back down on the broken concrete. Maybe it would be better to just lie down and let the spirit of death claim him. It would be like falling asleep.

However nobody can fall asleep when the infamous GIR is in the neighbourhood. “HIYA DOCTOR!” the manic robot screams into the Doctor’s ear.

In response the Doctor jumps up screaming and swats GIR off him. The Doctor curses and shouts as he tries to stop the ringing in his ear. Meanwhile, the psychotic robot continues to sing and dance around the Doctor. The Time Lord puts an end to this when he grabs GIR and clamps a hand over his mouth. “Quiet, GIR,” the Doctor warns in a hushed voice, “If you don’t keep quiet you won’t get a cookie.”

This immediately shuts up GIR, whose eyes temporarily flash red. Seeing that the little droid has calmed down some, the Doctor hands GIR  a cookie which isn’t a hidden bomb. The droid noisily munches on the sweet confection but it’s a huge improvement over his earlier singing and dancing.

Standing up, the Doctor scans his surroundings with all of his keen Time Lord senses. From what he can tell, he’s surrounded by danger; there have to be at least a thousand psychopaths to want him dead or worse—just another day on the job for the Doctor.

Yet, Solid Snake wanted to tell him something and he needs to know what it was. If he can find Snake’s remains, then maybe he could discern a clue as to what it was he badly needed to know. The only other thing that the Doctor knows is that Snake saw red eyes.

Red eyes; what could it mean? Shit, the Doctor must have encountered half a billion being with red eyes. That doesn’t narrow it down in the least.

Before the Doctor can think further, he hears the sound of a motorcycle and two chainsaws going. He ducks just before Lynch’s chainsaw bike can decapitate him. The crazed zombie is laughing wildly; a man like him regards being undead as a gift. He can now kill as many people as he wants and they can’t arrest him.

The bike’s tires screech as Lynch hits the brakes and spins for another round. As he does, he starts to fire his assault rifle at the Doctor. 

A quick burst of the sonic screwdriver causes Lynch’s weapon to jam while a second burst of the versatile tool causes Lynch’s front tire to stop turning. The result is that Lynch’s motorcycle violently flips over and launches its occupant a large distance away.

Getting up as quickly as he can, Lynch pulls out his Desert Eagle and draws a bead on the Doctor. The Doctor briefly looks up and realizes that he’s got the upper hand. “Wait!” he calls to Lynch, “Cactuses!”

Lynch normally doesn’t care when people call wait but he’s never heard someone shout Cactus. Before he can ask what the fuck is going on, the Doctor explains.

“Cactuses are very nice, Lynch; nice like neonatal care units, dentists and the bus driver I’m about to kill.”

“Bus driver?” Lynch asks with confusion, “What bus dri—

Lynch is abruptly cut off as the TARDIS lands on his head and crushes him. He never did learn who the bus driver was.

“Loser,” the Doctor mutters.

Dante prowls the ruined basement, vision impaired by the thick dust; his sense of hearing keen and his head is on a swivel. He’s like a big game hunter in Africa, going into the grass to hunt the lions; no native hunters to help him nor any fellow whites. Dante is all alone with the monsters who would love nothing better to rip his flesh like paper and eat his brains; but Dante has just as little mercy for his foes as they for him.

From off, he heard a crunching but before he can investigate he hears a bestial roar. Narrowing his eyes, Dante cautiously walks forward; his scythe clenched in his hands like an old friend.

As the dust clears, Dante spots a giant metal box which shakes and vibrates due to the terrible prisoner inside.

Suddenly, a cruel curved blade cuts through the metal wall of the box and Dante readies himself. “Come out, minion of Satan!” Dante challenges his new enemy, “I will show you God’s mercy!” he cries as the steel of his scythe glints in the dull light.

Dante fought many foes, but he’ll be pushed to a new level as zombie Kratos explodes from the box, ready for blood. Kratos responds to Dante’s challenge, “Then prepare to meet your doom, crusader!”

And they clash. Dante’s scythe strikes the blades of exile with such force that a shockwave is created . . .

Anakin Skywalker slashes and slashes but he never seems to run out of energy. He should be exhausted and dehydrated but the dark side provides him with all he needs to kill his foes.

Alucard stands before Anakin, Kerrigan hovering nearby; observing the progress or lacktherof.

An army of familiars attacks Anakin; an army numbering in the millions. They come from all ages and times; human and vampire it really doesn’t matter who they were. All of them are now the slaves of the zombie Alucard.

A massive tentacle of blood swings at Anakin but he leaps over it and bisects it with his lightsabre, the top half of it disintegrating. A squadron of the horse soldiers of Wallachia charge at Anakin with their lances lowered, but a blast of force lightning knocks the riders down like a hail of machinegun fire. The undead horses whinny and the riders fall dead, smoke rising from their eyeballs and ears.

For every one Anakin cuts down, ten take their place; and no matter how many he cuts down Anakin keeps cutting down more.

The deadly magic bullet of Rip van Winkle zips through the air and flies at Anakin, but he uses the force to stop the bullet in midair and with a superhuman display of willpower Anakin sends it back at Rip. The traitorous bullet decapitates Rip and she falls.

The Dandy man throws his lethal deck, but with the power of beast befriend, Anakin takes control of Alucard’s hellhound and it eats the card shark while the cards fly off target.

To give himself space, Anakin sends a powerful shockwave out that blasts familiars into pieces; tearing the closest ones to shreds and throwing back others hundreds of feet.

The space he gives himself is only temporary but Anakin calls out in pure rage, “YOU MORONS! NOTHING CAN STOP ME FROM GETTING TO YOU!!! NOT MEN, NOT ARMOUR—NOTHING!”

Kerrigan grabs the leash around Alucard’s decaying neck and gives it a tug. “As much as I enjoy seeing men make complete jackasses of themselves, finish the whelp off.”

Alucard merely gives a playful growl, “What’s the matter Sarah, don’t trust me? Maybe you want to take the boy yourself? It worked the last time.”

He cannot defy her, but he won’t make it easy on her either. Kerrigan’s necrotic eyes just darken, “Do it, now.” And she flies off.

Alucard laughs. He’s nothing left to live for; he’s not a man, a dog or a monster. He’s just a joke now, so he might as well take down the arrogant Sith with him. After all, only a man can kill a zombie.

Flexing his hands in stained white gloves, Alucard grabs his Jackal and his sword, “Let’s play,” he hisses as Anakin uses the force to rip the arms and legs off a Rio swat team.

“HERE’S THE DOCTOR!” GIR screams to the now rapidly decreasing dust clouds.

The Doctor realizes that his cover’s been blown. Looks like GIR isn’t nearly as friendly as he appears. A quick blast of the sonic screwdriver causes GIR’s head to explode, taking one more problem off the Doctor’s hands; but he’s got a bigger problem on the way.

The Doctor hears a whistling that can only be bayonets flying through the air. Performing several rapid backflips, the Doctor manages to avoid a veritable rain of bayonets which fall down from the sky on him.

A giant wall of thorns sweeps at the Doctor like a tidal wave; the wall of thorns starts to change shape and forms several hungry wolf like heads which snap their mouths in want of Time Lord flesh.

As the thorn dogs charge the Doctor, each one the size of a small elephant his sense of smell catches something. The Doctor smiles—he has a plan.

From out of his pocket he pulls out a second sonic screwdriver, for he always has a spare. Then turning up both devices to full power, he holds the tips together.

The result is explosive, a giant sonic wave is formed which knocks back the thorn dogs and creates a massive cloud of dust which had only just begun to settled; the Doctor doesn’t need his eyesight to take down this foe.

Anderson scowls at the dust cloud which as formed; he thought the thorn dogs would devour the Doctor much as the Hellhound devoured Luke Valentine.

When the dust clears, the Doctor is gone and so Anderson retracts the thorn dogs back into his zombie body.

Suddenly the Doctor’s voice comes from out of nowhere, “So, Angel dust Anderson!”

Anderson sends a massive pillar of thorns shooting to where he thought the Doctor was. His thorn pillar strikes at nothing.

“Killing Judge Anderson!” calls the Doctor’s voice. Anderson’s head snaps to the right and he throws a hundred bayonets where he heard the taunt, but again his weapons strike absolutely nothing.

“You’re the Vatican’s trump card,” the Doctor merrily recites, “But who am I?”

Anderson grits his teeth. There should be nothing to fear from this little slip of a man. He’s gone and faced the vampire Alucard, the Nazi Werewolf Hans Gunsche and a hundred worse enemies. How deadly can one time traveller be.

Anderson grunts and form his body extend thousands of strands of thorns which would impale any hiding enemy. Anderson screams though as suddenly his thorns burst into flames; while he was alive this would not be a problem but as a zombie his thorns are brittle and dry.

The undead priest finds himself shocked though his faith is still strong.

“I am stronger than your God, I am the oncoming storm,” laughs the disembodied voice of the Doctor.

“Ye are an infidel! Doctor, ye are a trickster an’ a liar!” Suddenly an idea forms in Anderson’s mind; that the Doctor is the devil. It makes sense; the Doctor offers women the forbidden fruit. And once a woman has knowledge then she is lost to the Catholic Church forever. The Doctor led a war against heaven.

Anderson’s eyes narrow and he grits his teeth. More than ever, the Doctor must be destroyed for he is the serpent of the Garden of Eden.

Anderson begins to pray.

Saint Michael the Archangel,

defend us in battle.

Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;

and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host,

by the Divine Power of God,

cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits

who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.

This only makes the Doctor laugh, “Michael cannot protect you from me, I am the light bringer!” the biblical translation for the name Lucifer—light one or light bringer.

Suddenly among the ruined stones and rubble, Anderson spots the Doctor’s face. “’Ere I am, J.H.” the Doctor taunts.

Anderson swings a single bayonet at the Doctor; hopefully the Time Lord won’t be able to survive a foot long blade through the head.

Shatter!

Anderson gasps in shock; it was only a mirror. Then the Doctor must be . . .

As Anderson spins around, the Doctor heaves a powerful kick at Anderson’s knee which causes his lower leg to rip right off. Anderson doesn’t feel the wound but hearing the sound of his bone and flesh ripping sends a bolt of fear through what’s left of his soul.

He swings down his blades, but the Doctor catches him by the elbows and uses momentum and Anderson’s higher center of gravity to flip the zombie regenerator over his head and onto his back.

Anderson’s body hits the ground with a large reverberation; he hears a splash as his foot hits a large pool of water created by a busted pipe. Before he can stand up, a plastic bag full of fluid hits him in the face, bursting as it does.

Anderson puts hand to his face and pulls away a crimson hand.

He has no time for this because the Doctor is standing in front of him, totally unflappable; bowtie as neat as ever. Around the Doctor’s wrist is a hankie acting as a bandage; that blood that’s all over Anderson belongs to the Doctor. But why cover Anderson in blood?

Anderson frantically stands up and slashes his bayonets against each other in an effort to rebuild the internal fire inside of him.

Surely the Doctor cannot be that hard to kill. He’s stronger than a man but certainly not stronger than Father Anderson and he is most certainly not a god or a demon.

As Anderson focus on the Doctor, he fails to spot that something is moving in the water behind him.

Just as Anderson screams out, “AMEN!”  Killer Croc jumps up out of the water and chomps down on the back of Anderson’s neck. Croc’s mind was never that great to begin with; since becoming a zombie little has changed for him. Because of the Doctor’s fresh blood, Anderson happened to smell like food to Croc.

Croc’s sharp teeth shred through Anderson’s spine like Styrofoam. In automatic reflex, Anderson’s thorns shoot from his back and dig into Croc’s body; ripping the mutated man’s body to shreds.

With Croc destroyed, Anderson’s neck regenerated with a flash of dead, brown thorns.

Anderson is furious to the point of incoherence; his rage gives him great power but it will also seal his fate.

He could have used his thorns to tear the Doctor to pieces; but in his rage Anderson wants to do this hand to hand. Wordlessly he screams and shrieks at the Doctor. Yet God is not smiling on the Vatican assassin, for at that moment, the Doctor’s TARDIS slams down on Anderson and pins him to the ground like a brawler in a bar.

Anderson is stunned by the impact, his body below the shoulders is completely crushed and he cannot get up for the TARDIS exerts great pressure on his body.

Before he can even realize what’s going on, the Doctor spears from seemingly nowhere and rips the nail violently from Anderson’s head.

Anderson screams violently, but this time in pain. His body begins to crumble. Paladin Anderson is trapped like a rat beneath the blue police box and he’s breaking apart. It starts at his fingers and toes but it works its way towards his body.

The Doctor’s eyes are old; old and sad. He’s almost a thousand years old but time and time again he feels as if he’s been forced into the role of executioner. The universe would be a happier place if everything were not dependant on force to make it happen. The Doctor is the last of his race and he’s just put an end to a proud man.

That is the hardest part for the Doctor; when he kills his enemies he sees them become the men and women they once were but by then it’s too late to change.

His depression is interrupted by Sarah Kerrigan, who swoops out of the sky and grinds her heel into Anderson’s remains. “No weeping for trash, Doctor,” she mocks “People are useless once they’re dead.”

Two warriors, a Spartan and a crusader fight each other. Kratos, Ghost of Sparta battles with Dante, the hated crusader who committed every sin under the sun. Their weapons clash and Dante’s will is indomitable; yet the great warrior who beat back Satan is being forced back.

Among all the enemies that he faced, none was as strong or as ferocious as Kratos. Now that Kratos is a zombie he’s twice as mad. He lashes out with the blades of exile; the flaming slashing and hooking weapons threaten to shred and disembowel Dante.

The Christian in turn counteracts with his lethal Scythe. Its range is able to match the blades and its killing power is comparable. Steel on steel flashes as the Scythe blade turns away the godly weapons given to Kratos by Athena.

Dante cannot believe the fury that Kratos fights with; the man is like a hurricane personified. But Dante knows that he has right and God on his side; he will not fail.

Jumping back from the Spartan, Dante pulls out a suicide fruit from purgatory and slams it into the ground. A large tree erupts from the ground; it’s a hideous thing devoid of leaves and with fruit that look like they’d kill you if you so much as licked them.

The suicide fruit stuns Kratos and Dante seizes the advantage; drawing his crossbow, he takes a bead and fires at Kratos.

The ghost of Sparta can only grunt as he takes a crossbow bolt through his left eye and out the back of his head; unfortunately, like the Marvel Zombies Kratos will need more to destroy his brain than that.

Roaring in Fury, Kratos calls upon the bow of Apollo. Dante barely has time to move as flaming arrows of sunlight fire upon him.

Desperately, the crusader tries to use the wide blade of the scythe to shield himself but on arrow grazes his leg. Dante grits his teeth in pain for that mere glancing blow scorched his flesh and hurt a great deal more than full on sword wounds he’s taken.

Using his superior strength, Kratos grabs a multi-ton slab of rock and swings to crush Dante with it like a baseball bat.

Dante just barely manages to roll out of the way from the giant stone that surely would have crushed him.

Grabbing Beatrice’s cross, he uses the divine path spell. The cross thrusts him forward, leaving a deadly trail of ice spikes in his wake. However Kratos counteracts this with a sweep of his blades, cutting down the icicles that would otherwise impale him.

Dante tries to avoid getting too close to Kratos, since the Spartan’s god like strength would be more than enough to crush him. So he points his scythe at Kratos and the weapon stretches out, flying forth with the speed of an arrow. Kratos however is ready to react.

Putting away the blades of exile, Kratos calls forth the claws of Hades. The cruel iron hooks knock aside Dante’ scythe and wrap around the handle, immobilizing the weapon.

Before Dante can let go or tear it out of Kratos grasp, the ex-God of War swings wildly, swinging Dante in a wide arc.

The crusader has the breath knocked out of him as he strikes a stone wall and falls to the ground bleeding as Kratos slams him again and again and again.

Dante lies injured heavily; breathing ragged and the scythe lying uselessly next to him. Before he can react, the claws of Hades dig into him. Except these weapons don’t just dig into his flesh, they dig into his very soul.

The greatest pain he’s ever felt feels Dante as Kratos starts to rip away his soul; but the crusader has some surprises for the ghost of Sparta.

Kratos starts to tear away Dante’s soul, but pull as hard as he may the crusader’s soul won’t budge.

Dante glares at Kratos, sweat pouring down his brow as he holds onto his soul. The Grim reaper tried to claim him and failed; what are the chances that the weapons of a long dead God can do the same?

Two opposing forces; Kratos pulling and Dante holding on. Dante takes the offensive. Grabbing the chains in hands, he grabs his scythe off the ground even as his soul is half pulled out of his body.

With magical swiftness, the scythe transforms from a long spear like weapon into a wrist mounted blade. With that wrist mounted blade, Dante cuts the chains from the hooks and lunches for a counterattack.

Kratos falls backwards, overbalanced; it is then that Dante strikes. The crusader jumps forward, activating his holy shield spell. Instantly, white wings of light sprout from his back and propel him right at Kratos.

Kratos looks up only to take Dante’s boot to the face, breaking his nose. Though Kratos cannot feel the pain, the damaging of the nerves serves to further throw him off.

Before Kratos can regain his bearings, Dante drives the scythe blade down Kratos’s throat. Black ichor comes pouring out of the wound as Dante twists the blade this way and that; looks like Kratos is getting a taste of his own medicine.

The slayer of Olympus slashes at Dante with the blades of exile but Dante’s spell shields him.

Kratos has an ace in the hole. From his belt, he draws the mighty blade of Olympus. The powerful God killing sword goes through Dante’s protective spell even as it repairs his injuries and fills him with new strength.

With a great swipe, Kratos chops Dante across the midsection. The Christian vomits, throwing up his lunch as he sees his intestines spill from the slash Kratos gave him in the midsection. The merely glance with the blade of Olympus can disembowel a mortal; blessed or no.

Kratos instantly seizes on Dante’s wounded state and pounces like a wild cat. Grabbing his enemy by the throat, Kratos stabs Dante in the chest a few dozen times. The crusader can barely make a sound; his eyes are full of tears from the pain but his expression is still hard. Even dying he won’t lose his dignity to a filthy animal like Kratos.

Then succumbing to zombie hunger, Kratos lunges for Dante’s throat. Dante attempts to slash at Kratos with the retracted Scythe but Kratos merely bites down on Dante’s arm.

The crusader cries out in pain; he spits blood in Kratos’s face and swears mightily at him—the kind of swears that would leave Bronson and Revy blushing red as roses.

Suddenly, some invisible force shocks Kratos; the blade of Olympus jumps from his hand with a ping! It’s as if the blade were hit by an invisible stone or sonic wave.

Kratos looks to the side only to take the Doctor’s loafer to the temple; knocking down the formidable fighter and causing him to drop Dante.

Kratos throws a punch at the Doctor, only for the Doctor to dodge the blow and toss Kratos to the ground using a Venusian Aikido move.

The Doctor then reaches down onto the ground and throws a handful of dust into Kratos’s remaining eye; causing Kratos to bellow loudly and claw at his damaged eye.

The Doctor is a peaceful man; but his geeky exterior hides a fighter who uses any manner of treachery to win. He hasn’t won against Daleks, cybermen and other manner of threats over the years by being a pushover. He just dresses like a pushover to take his enemies off guard.

Unfortunately he has no time to fight Kratos because Kerrigan is swooping at him like a bird of prey; her bone wings spear the ground where the Doctor’s groin was a second ago.

As the Doctor flees, Kerrigan laughs at his apparent cowardice. “What’s the matter, Time Lord?” she laughs as she uses her powers to fling a massive boulder at the Doctor. Though her psionic attacks cannot harm the Doctor directly, a boulder can still crush him.

“Too kind and gentle to beat me?” Kerrigan taunts again. Using her powers once more, this time she picks up thousands of little stone particles and flings them at the Doctor like a giant buckshot blast.

Moving far beyond the human range, the Doctor jumps into the large pool of water that croc burst from. The barrage of small stones and fragments strikes the water and soon enough, Kerrigan is rewarded by a mass of blood turning the water red. Scraps of cloth and flesh rise to the surface

Kerrigan smirks and goes off to see if Alucard has finally finished off that insolent force user.

Anakin and Alucard are going at it like cats and dogs. Anakin slashes out with his lightsabre, trying again and again to stab or slash Alucard in the brain. Meanwhile, Alucard opens fire with his tommy gun; the bullets narrowly miss Anakin, some of them putting burning marks on his flanks and arms. The pain however only fuels Anakin and drives him further and faster.

With each miss, Alucard taunts Anakin. “Come on, pretty boy! I’m here! Let’s go!” He cackles maniacally as Anakin silently lunges and dodges.

Around them, Alucard’s familiars give their master some room while trying to lunge for Anakin; the hapless familiars are cut to shreds before they can even scratch Anakin.

The Sith manages to get a lucky strike. He slices Alucard’s arm off. As a zombie, Alucard cannot regenerate as he once did, but he’s far from helpless in the face of such an injury.

Snatching out a random familiar form the crowd, Alucard rips an arm off and attaches it to the stump he’s now wielding. The new limb works just fine and Alucard laughs. His sanity is even further gone than it was before his rise as a zombie; he’s totally hopeless and he just wants to kill everything.

Kerrigan spots this endless dance and realizes that Alucard isn’t making any headway, so she has two of her minions do something.

Up on the destroyed first floor of the hotel, the zombie Mythbusters load a cannon with powder. Only instead of a cannonball they use Invader Zim’s head. “FOOLS! You do not treat ZIM this way!” The Irken gives a shout of distress as zombie Adam shoves his head into the barrel of the cannon and zombie Jamie rams him in with the ramrod.

The two zombies turn to the camera. “Don’t try what you’re about to see at home,” says Jamie, whose brain is visible through a hole in his skull.

“We’re what you call, the undead,” says Adam, whose beard is stained with gore.

Down in the pit, Anakin slices Alucard’s head in half. In response, Alucard gives a gory half grin and resumes his attack, now having replaced both arms but not lost his machinegun. The inside of his skull is totally empty; his brain is nowhere to be seen.

Anakin narrows his eyes; Alucard is no longer dependant on his heart. As a zombie, the only way to kill him is to destroy his brain; but where is he keeping his brain?

Up higher, the Mythbuster take aim with their cannon and pull the firing cord. The cannon gives a thunderous boom and Zim’s head is launches out screaming.

The fire of burning gunpowder stripped all the skin off of Zim’s head so he’s just a skull with a working mouth. His tongue is bitten in half and hangs out; what’s left of his eyes are full of terror as Zim finally realizes that he’s fucked.

Alucard has thrown aside his tommy gun and is now merely avoiding all of Anakin’s attacks, blocking force lightning with his shadows and using his considerable black magic to avoid crushing force attacks. He laughs and taunts Anakin while familiars grab for the fallen Jedi.

Alucard has lost more of his body, which he’s replaced with the body parts of his familiars. His head is now a Frankenstein jigsaw puzzle with a nose, eyes and ears which were all taken from different sources but look roughly like his own features; At least that bitch Kerrigan isn’t here to hold his leash.

Anakin allows the force to guide him; his lightsabre seems to move of its own accord. He cuts open Alucard’s belly, spilling out the zombie’s putrid innards.

Alucard looks down in shock as from out of his stomach rolls a glass jar with something inside—Alucard’s brain!

Before Anakin can destroy Alucard’s brain, Invader Zim’s head sails through the air and the Irken’s zipper like teeth rip a chunk out of Anakin’s torso, tearing through ribs and causing a lung to collapse.

Still screaming, Zim’s head keeps on flying where it hits a wall and splatters like a ripe tomato.

Alucard instantly seizes on Anakin’s momentary distraction and pounces. Grabbing a giant halberd from one of his familiars, Alucard swings and hacks off Anakin’s legs off at the knee. The young man screams and falls to the ground bleeding. With a flourish, Alucard takes the halberd and drives it through Anakin’s crotch—better to deprive the bastard of his dignity too.

Anakin screams like an animal dying on the slaughterhouse block, but Alucard just twists the blade of the halberd in the wound. The Sith lord’s agony is a great source of personal amusement for Alucard; and besides, he never really liked the Sith anyway—pretentious posers who cut down Jedi padawans to inflate their reputations.

As Alucard’s familiars start to devour Anakin from the knees up, Anakin still weakly slashes with his lightsabre.

Once his brain is eaten, Anakin will become one of Alucard’s zombie familiars. A piss poor end for the chosen one.

Still, Alucard has a bit of mercy. Pulling out a jerry can from some recess or another, Alucard starts to pour gasoline over Anakin as the familiars start to eat his organic arm.

The smell of gasoline is sweet to Alucard, and he grins all the wider when he tosses a burning match onto Anakin and lights him on fire.

Anakin screams as flame engulfs what’s left of his body. The crackling of roasting flesh is heard and it’s music to Alucard’s ears.

With his drying breath, Anakin screams, “I HATE YOU ALL! I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU!”

Alucard merely smirks at this and goes to pick up his brain-in-a-jar.

Yet all does not go according to plan when a voice form above screams out, “JERONIMO!”

Before Alucard can grab his brain, a flying blue box drops out of the wild above and a being hanging off the side grabs the brain.

Kerrigan’s eyes bulge as she sees the face of an enemy she thought dead, “THE DOCTOR!” furious at this lapse, she cries out to her Mythbuster henchmen, “KILL HIM!”

The Mythbusters are quick to obey their mistress and abandon their cannon for a civil war era Gatling gun. In no time, Jamie and Adam are busily emptying the forty round magazine at the flying TARDIS.

The Doctor hangs out the front door of the time machine with Alucard’s brain cradled in the crook of his arm. His hair is flying in the wind and one eye is suffering from eight ball trauma; the white sclera is stained white form ruptured blood vessels.

Indeed, all over his body the Doctor is wounded; he should be nothing more than an aching mass of muscle and alien organs. Yet the Doctor, mysterious unnamed traveler has never felt more alive than now. There are no hostages and he’s taking no prisoners; it’s just him and the bad guys with no innocents to get in the way.

A hail of bullets hit the side of the TARDIS; a pitiful attack on a machine that is strong enough to break the pull of a black hole’s gravity well.

Up on a ledge, the zombie Punisher fires his assault rifle at the Doctor. Frank is mad, consumed by hunger. The guilty must be punished; punishment is to be eaten.

With a zap of the sonic screwdriver, all of Frank’s guns become so much trash—paperweights.

Grabbing his combat knife and a grenade, Frank jumps off the vantage point he’s on and falls towards the TARDIS.

The undead Punisher grabs onto the side of the TARDIS but he finds that the Doctor is a lot tougher than he looks.

Clapping Frank’s knife blade between two hands, the Doctor stops the point of the dagger inches from his face. With a twist of his hands, he snaps off the blade.

Frank throws a punch at the Doctor, but the Time Lord evades the blow as easily as if Frank were stone drunk.

With a swipe of his hand, the Punisher knocks the remote control for the TARDIS out of the Doctor’s hand. The craft veers wildly and zombie and alien are thrown inside the time Machine.

The Punisher charges at the Doctor, but his special forces training is not enough to take down the wily alien.

The Doctor merely tosses Frank backwards and gives him a punch in the face.

Getting up from the blow, Frank seethes at the Doctor; lips bitten off, his ghoulish teeth are exposed.

The Doctor merely smiles and opens his hand; out fall a bunch of grenade pins fall out.

The Punisher’s glazed eyes look down and sees that all his grenades are live; six of them in total. In horror, he looks up at the Doctor, who grins in a way that could scare the bad wolf.

Frank tries to take the Doctor down with him, but the Time Lord won’t permit him that luxury. With a kick to the side of the head to stun him, The Doctor grabs the punisher and throws him into the TARDIS swimming pool.

The Doctor casually walks away as a giant column of water shoots up from the pool, mixed in with thousands of zombie body parts.

Kratos grunts and tries to do something about his vision. In the back of his head, the Dark voice nudges him; telling him not to rub his remaining eye.

To his great surprise, somebody taps Kratos on the shoulder. He swings around with the blade of Olympus but there is nothing there. He hears a sound and swings in the direction of it—again, nothing!

The Ghost of Sparta frantically swings his blade around, but there is nobody around him!

Kratos grits his teeth . . . someone is fucking with him. Before he knows it, a cold pile of fresh intestines hits him in the face. Instantly, the smell of uninfected meat makes his mouth Water and against his better judgement Kratos eats the intestines like too long sausages.

As he does, a Scythe blade impales the Greek warrior, causing him to drop his tasty treat.

Swinging his weapon sideways, Dante slams Kratos into a stone wall; forcing him to drop the blade of Olympus.

As the blade retracts form his body, Kratos draws the blades of exile and impales Dante through the hart—except this does nothing.

Dante has become a zombie, and his first act is to get revenge on the man who murdered him. He’s still a killer of evil and damned things, but now he is one of the damned.

With a mighty sweep of his scythe, he cuts off Kratos arms and for the first time in living memory, Kratos is feeling pretty helpless.

On the ground, each of his severed arms twitch and spasm once or twice before falling still.

Still, Spartans never give up and Kratos is no exception. He tries to kick Dante, but the Christina sidesteps the blow and hacks off Kratos’s leg with the Scythe.

Kratos nearly falls over but at that moment, Dante switches his Scythe into spear mode and charges at Kratos like a lancer without a horse.

The heavy blade goes through Kratos and pins him to a wall like a bug on a needle.

In no time, Dante’s gauntleted fist slams into Kratos’s face, followed by another and another and another. Fists are coming down onto Kratos’s face like strikes from a jackhammer. Under the furious barrage, Kratos’s face is destroyed; his nose is pulped and his remaining eye falls right out of its socket.

Dante’s arms move so fast that they blur from the speed. Then with a howl of fury, he grabs Kratos’s head in both hands and presses together. The Spartan warrior spits, bites and curses but it’s all for naught.

Death couldn’t beat Dante, so neither will a lousy zombie Spartan.

There’s a crack like a walnut being busted open as Dante crushes Kratos’s head in-between his bare hands. Skull fragments and brains fly everywhere. The Ghost of Sparta has met his match and his end.

Dante has no time to savour his victory as at that moment, a guided missile strikes him and blows him in half.

Before Dante knows it, he’s surrounded by the zombified Mandalorians who are now Alucard’s familiars. He devoured the armoured warriors at the start of the match.

Dante reaches not for his scythe but for his cross and he recites a prayer as the Mandalorians open fire on him, totally burning his brain and blasting his body to pieces.

The dark voice won’t like this but he can always bring Dante back, just like he brought back all the others.

Alucard looks upon Dante’s smouldering wreck with a rueful look. He wishes he could still be absolved, but the force that will not let him rest will not let Dante rest.

Suddenly, Alucard gasps in shock. He turns around and sees the TARDIS has landed and the Doctor steps out with Alucard’s brain. The time travelling alien pulls out his sonic screwdriver and lets his thumb rest on the button.

In that moment, Alucard’s stolen eyes bulge out like a cartoon character. It should be a man to defeat him! The Doctor is no man—he’s just another monster!

“Goodbye,” says the Doctor as he jams the sonic screwdriver to its highest pitch. Before anyone can do anything, the jar and the brain shatter into atoms.

It’s like someone pulled the plug on Alucard. His eyelids droop and his limbs go limp . . . and then he and all his familiars crumble into dust.

Alucard has fallen.

Kerrigan grits her teeth. If only she’d been allowed to bring a few zerg with her, nothing big, just a couple of hydralisks would have done just fine—then she could have prevailed. Of course, she is no longer in charge of the Zerg Horde; her master now controls the swarm, just as he designed it.

Even so, she had the most powerful allies and they fell. Shit, she managed to bend the blood thirsty Alucard to her will; not an easy feat for any person.

The Doctor catches sight of her and holds out his arms as if to say, “I’m here, kill me!” And she’ll happily do it.

She is about to bring down this whole hotel; even a Time Lord can’t survive being crushed by thousands of tons of concrete and steel. She may die with him, but she knows that she’s already dead; she never got anywhere in life by caring more about her life than her opponents cared about theirs.

She holds out her hands like the conductor of an orchestra. The hotel, already structurally damaged is starting to come down, more rubble and debris falling. Up on their ledge, the Mythbusters leap to avoid a falling I-beam which destroys their Gatling gun.

This however only causes the Doctor to smile and he fires his screwdriver over his shoulder.

The activity of the device causes a strange contraption to light up. It’s some sort of improvised machine, made form a fluorescent light, an incandescent lamp and the last bits of the Doctor’s hand mirror. Whatever it is, it glows brightly, fires a light into Kerrigan’s left eye and goes dark.

Kerrigan winces and puts a hand to her eye, the vision completely gone from that eye. What the hell was that machine the Doctor built?

Shaking her head, the Queen of the Zerg raises her arms once more, determined to kill the Doctor and feast on his brain . . . and nothing happens.

Kerrigan focuses harder, but like an athlete with a spinal injury nothing at all happens. For the first time, the confidence of the queen bitch of the universe wavers just a little bit.

She focuses herself to focus; she clenches her hands and flaps her remaining wing but still nothing happens.

For the first time in years, Kerrigan is afraid. “What did you do?” her voice comes out as a faint, hard whisper; like the steel of a razor, sharp but brittle.

“Having trouble, Sarah?” The Doctor calls from over by his time machine. “Finding yourself unable to access your highly impressive psionic abilities?”

Kerrigan’s teeth bare and she can feel a pit in her stomach like a pound of hot lead. “What did you do!” she screams like a woman violated.

The Doctor casually strolls, keeping his distance away from the zombie zerg Queen. Even like this she can still kill him with her bare hands. “Improvised laser,” he responds with British nonchalance, “Did you know I failed the entrance exam at the academy when I was a boy?”

Kerrigan can hardly believe this. Like many others, she made the mistake of thinking that with the Doctor, nice equals weak.

“Yes,” he says, “I got in on the second time with just barely a pass. I think I failed because I spent too much time building improvised lasers.”

A laser? Is that was that machine was?

“I love lasers, lasers are cool,” the man admits, fiddling with his sonic device, “This wasn’t a very good laser but it did manage to do its job.”

The Doctor turns and faces Kerrigan. Normally geeky looking and somewhat cute, the Doctor looks frightening now, with his numerous wounds and eight ball eye injury. He taps his injured eye for emphasis. “A concentrated laser beam, invisible and unseen; it went through your cornea and into your brain, slicing off a piece from the rest.”

Kerrigan starts to shake her head. No, it can’t be.

“My little laser tool sliced off the part of your brain responsible for psionic,” the Doctor concludes. “If you were an ordinary human you would be dead and if you were not a zombie you would just regenerate—but as things stand you’re looking at the permanent loss of your psionic abilities.” He finishes it off with a cheeky smile.

The Queen of Blades can’t believe this. Could any being be so cruel; to cut the legs out from under another being and instead of finishing them off simply leave them to spend their remaining days as a helpless cripple. For that is what Kerrigan is now, just a cripple; thanks to the Dark Voice and this—this thing! This shit eater who calls himself the Doctor.

HA! What a joke. Doctors heal people, make them better. This man is like a Nazi doctor; he’s spread around so much pain that it’s impossible to meter. He’s the most evil being in the universe and he dresses like your friend. Behind that cute smile hides a madman with the power of space and time at his control. He should be dead! He must be stopped!

The Doctor is shaken out of his triumph by the sound of gunfire. Instantly he drops to the ground.

The Doctor looks up in horror as Kerrigan is being blown to bits by a concentrated hail of gunfire. The sight of her jerking around like a puppet with half its strings cut sours any taste of victory in his mouth.

The Doctor knows that what he did was despicable and he enjoyed it. He’s horrified at what he’s done. In a moment, regret threatens to overwhelm him even as brass cases fall all over the floor.

Every time he breaks someone, they all look at him with puppy dog eyes and nearly always, their last words are “NO!”

But the Daleks, the Doctor’s most hated enemies; they never ask why he hates them. They know and they don’t care. They hate and fear the Doctor but at least the two enemies have an understanding.

The Doctor looks as Kerrigan’s corpse falls to the ground, head totally blown to bits. It’s for the best, if you’re an optimistic person; she wouldn’t have wanted to live under a cripple and it was killing her to serve another after being the Queen of her dominion for so long.

From out of the ruins come Tyler Durden, Rambo and the zombie Pope. All of them with the exception of Durden look pissed off and are just waiting for the word from their leader to attack.

Durden looks upon Kerrigan’s corpse with a species of sorrow on his face. “Shame,” he remarks, “even with the tentacle hair and alien freakiness I’d still tap that.” He looks up and smirks at the Doctor, “She reminded me a lot of myself, actually.”

“I believe that,” the Doctor replies uneasily as he picks himself up. True the heavy hitters are dead but he’s more afraid now than ever because he knows the end is so close.

Tyler looks up at the Doctor, though the fire in even his soul has burnt low by servitude to the mysterious force behind all of this. “Hey Doc,” he asks, “Give me a warrior’s death.”

The Doctor nods, “I think that can be accomplished.”

Durden hefts his fire axe as the Pope pulls out a morning star and Rambo readies his machinegun. “This isn’t fun,” Tyler admits, “I’m ruled by hunger and I’m being skull fucked by maggots.”

The Doctor nods and feels up his sonic screwdriver like a gunfighter caressing his weapon. “Right,” the Doctor breathes, “Let’s have it.”

Then with a mighty flourish, the Doctor takes off his jacket rips off his shirt Groundskeeper Willy style. He keeps the bowtie though.

In an instant, the Doctor is bare chested and ready for battle. He’s really got an amazing body; for such a geekily dressed guy he has the physique of a Chippendales Dancer; though the dancers don’t have as many wounds as the Doctor.

It’s a good thing that Amy Pond never saw him shirtless, otherwise she would have dumped Rory for sure . . . then poor Rory would have been forced to sleep with Jack Harkness.

The attack begins! A zap from the sonic screwdriver renders Rambo’s guns inoperable and the Doctor is left to take down three psychopaths with melee weapons using only a sonic screwdriver.

The Pope charges first with his morning star; the spiked iron ball flies straight for the Doctor’s head. The Doctor dodges but it’s close, he can feel the wind of the passing weapon.

Then a quick kick form the Doctor catches the Pope in the teeth and knocks him back. Rambo and Durden press the attack.

Rambo flies at the Doctor with the point of his combat knife ready for a heart shot, but the Doctor grabs his enemy by the twist and twists him into a position of submission. In a single fluid motion, the Doctor wraps Rambo in a chokehold and uses a pressure point strike to knock the knife from his zombie fingers.

Sensing rather than seeing Durden’s axe, the Doctor manoeuvres Rambo to use as a meat shield. The axe hits Rambo just below the neck but the spinal column is intact.

Rambo stomps on the Doctor’s foot and breaks out of his grasp and Durden pulls his axe free for another strike. He goes at the Doctor like a predator; no mercy and no hesitation.

The Doctor pushes back, with a chop of his hand he snaps the handle of Durden’s axe and throws an elbow into his face, knocking the founder of Fight Club back.

At the same time, the Pope charges again, this time with a broad sword. The Doctor sidesteps the heavy blade; the edge of the weapon passes so close that it actually makes a small cut in the Doctor’s belt.

Grabbing the blade between two fingers, he holds it fast. The Pope tries to yank the sword out of the Doctor’s grip but the Doctor punches the Pope three times in the face before taking the broadsword from him. The weapon feels good in his hands—it reminds him of all the sword fights he had with the Master.

Rambo is on the ground and is about to bite the Doctor’s ankle but the Doctor grabs the sword by the blade and swings the cruciform hilt at his head; punching a rather large hold in Rambo’s skull. His tough and durable Time Lord skin makes such a move possible without metal gloves.

Durden charges behind the Doctor, ready to bite through his neck and chew his head off, but the Doctor is seven steps ahead of any of them.

The Doctor jumps sideways and does a backflip which puts him right behind Durden.

Holding nothing back, the time traveller kicks Durden as hard as he can in the lower back. There is a wet crunch as the Doctor’s foot punches through the bone and rotten meat like a man stepping onto a pumpkin.

Tyler starts to fall but the Doctor isn’t done with him yet. Keeping his foot in place, he takes both hands and grabs Tyler by the head. Then with all his might, he pulls.

There is a delay and a mighty tearing noise as the Doctor literally rips Tyler Durden into half. He throws down the top half of Durden and stomps on his head, utterly crushing it and killing Tyler. A warrior’s death he has been granted.

As a man he was more than a man; almost a god but as a zombie he was merely a dog and he saw no reason to lead such an existence.

Like an athlete scoring a goal, the Doctor has no time to admire his work. He ducks as Rambo swings the Pope’s sword at the Doctor’s head.

In a Matrix like move, the Doctor bends over backwards until his hair is touching the floor. Then in a move reminiscent of drunken boxing and certain Brazilian dance fighting styles, he shoots out one foot and boots Rambo ten feet back, throwing him onto his ass.

The Doctor rights himself like a spring, moving with the suppleness of an elastic band as the Pope fires an arrow at him out of his longbow.

The hideous Pope Benedict aka Joseph Ratzinger snarls in a way that’s reminiscent of Emperor Palpatine. He quickly notches another arrow as Rambo goes to attack with the broadsword; the wound in his brain not slowing him down in the least.

The Doctor looks at Rambo with a pissed off expression; he’s like a school master that’s had it with his pupils and is ready to move beyond corporal punishment.

Reaching into his pants pocket, the Doctor grabs a hankie and wraps it around his hand as Rambo charges. A second arrow from the Pope misses thanks to the Doctor’s super evolved nervous system.

As Rambo makes to thrust with the broadsword, the Doctor steps into it, narrowly misses being impaled and punches right through Rambo’s head in a spray of ichor and gore. The body of one of our favourite action heroes goes down like a house of cards.

As Rambo falls, the Doctor pauses to adjust his bowtie. The Pope looks like he’s ready to let another arrow fly but the Doctor looks over his shoulder.

The Pope barely catches it as a ceiling fan falls on his head, slicing the top half of his body into gooey mush. That ceiling fan was on its last legs, the Doctor just had to manoeuvre these two under it and one of them would fall for it.

But as the realization that the battle has ended sinks in, the Doctor falls to his knees, like a heroin addict coming down from a high and crashing.

The Doctor feels cold. His keen nose can smell it; there were no survivors in the hotel. All became zombies or were eaten. He’s the last one left alive; he’s always the last one alive. He’s not a survivor, he’s just unlucky.

Slowly, ignoring how badly he wants to sleep, the Doctor slowly reaches for his jacket and pulls out a small piece of torn paper form it. Before he blew up half the hotel, the Doctor took a small slip of paper that Solid Snake had clipped to his belt.

Snake knew that he was infected and so wrote down what he had to say in case he died.

As the Doctor reads what’s written on the small piece of paper, the mystery unfolds. His eyes widen with unreadable emotion; like a silent movie actor, you can only know the intensity of what he feels—not exactly what it is.

The Doctor picks himself up, forcing his old legs to move

The Doctor doesn’t get far before he hears the sound of his TARDIS jumping off. “No!” he shouts, “No, no, no, NO!” He can’t do a thing before his beloved time machine leaves without him.

The Doctor breathes heavily and runs his hands through his hair; for the first time in living memory he’s actually panicking. He doesn’t know what to do!

Then the TARDIS explodes. It cannot be seen or sensed by humans but the Doctor can feel it and it’s like someone cut out one of his hearts and served it to him deep fried. That time machine was more than a time machine; it was a living being who was his oldest companion. It alone has been constant with him on nearly a thousand years of adventuring, swashbuckling and tragedy. It’s like the death of a child but a thousand times worse.

Then the Doctor does something that he hasn’t done in a long time, he gets angry. He can hear the sound of rescuers—too little too late—and he runs and runs. Suddenly none of it matters; all that he needs is to address the dark voice.

The Doctor runs through the ruins and reaches a stairwell which leads down to a deeper subbasement in the hotel. Down he goes; his breath slowly turns to mist as the temperature falls.

In the semi-darkness the Doctor has stumbled onto a meat locker. It is then that the demonic announcer makes its final triumphant announcement.

Round Six! Redemption Match!

Everyone died except the Doctor!

The voice practically sings with glee.

Congratulations Doctor, you are now the Deadliest Warrior! MUA-HAHAHAH!

This is the true winner of this match

The announcer laughs and laughs; it keeps on laughing for it knows that the Doctor hasn’t won anything; if anything he’s lost more than anyone else. The announcer’s mocking laughter in his ears prompts the Doctor to move faster through the meat locker, past the carcasses of cows and pigs finally into a room lit by a single red light.

The red lit room is empty, save for an out of place ornate mirror. Counter intuitively, the room is warm, almost boilingly so.

The Doctor steps into the room slowly, clenching his sonic screwdriver with a white knuckle grip.

He swallows the lump in his throat. Now of all times he is hesitant; he never hesitated or flinched before. It’s because the Doctor is afraid. He knows who he’s going to confront and for once he doesn’t want to.

Then the Doctor thinks of all his companions who shared time and space with him; he remembers all the men and women who died this night to satiate the twisted plans of a madman. This is a new enemy the Doctor faces, unlike any he’s ever faced before.

Reluctantly, the Doctor takes the edges of the mirror’s frame in both hands; briefly he can spot a pair of eyes looking at him but they vanish.

Putting on a stiff upper lip, the Doctor pushes down the feelings of fear that run through his blood like mercury poisoning and threaten to drive him mad. His twin hearts pound in his chest and he swelters in the head. His bowtie suddenly feels too tight; he can’t breathe.

Then the Doctor takes it all head on like ripping off a band aid. With a single motion, he slams his head into the mirror.

“Ow,” says the Doctor as cracks form slowly along the mirror’s surface; it’s like watching an ice flow break apart. It’s rather slow but deceptively fast.

The mirror shatters and through it is a doorway to a place of darkness. Still nervous, the Doctor steps through into the land of nightmares and shadow.

From the looks of it, the Doctor is standing inside of an underground cavern. Ahead of him is a structure; carved from the stone of the cave walls is a church of all things—an Anglican one no less.

The church is a run down, crumbling edifice which gives off waves of madness. Only the Doctor is stupid enough to walk towards this house of hell and enter the open door.

Inside the church, all is dark and decayed. Only a single candle lights the whole place. Near the pulpit, a large pool of bubbling mud sits like some living thing; a ceremonial bowl where the faithful are anointed.

In the pulpit itself are a pair of red eyes which look into the Time Lord’s very soul. “Welcome Doctor,” says the eerie, inhuman voice, “you have done as I predicted.”

The Doctor merely stares straight into the red eyes, refusing to look away or flinch. The voice continues.

“You have served as a fine executioner, I thank you for it. Now, if you had any respect you would kill yourself now, Time Lord,” the derision is barely disguised in the voice.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” says the Doctor, “I really don’t have any respect for anything.”

There is a pause as the voice measures its words, “Take care Doctor, your end will come by my hand or yours; be thankful that you are presented with a choice.”

“Then you’re just going to have to kill me,” says the Doctor, holding his hands wide in a “come and get me” gesture.

When nothing happens, the Doctor mocks the voice, “What the matter? Are you going back on your word, Tony Jay?”

The eyes narrow for a moment, as if it did not expect its identity to become known, then the voice merely laughs and the owner steps into the light of the lone candle.

It is an elderly human man in a brown suit with hawk like features; certainly not what one would expect from one who manipulated Sarah Kerrigan and plotted this battle royale of zombies.

The Doctor still can’t believe that all this is the work of a deceased English voice actor whose baritone voice made for great cartoon villains; but the proof is right before them.

“Astute deductions, Time Lord,” Tony Jay mocks with his deep, almost sensual voice. “I shall have to be more tidy in the future; not that you can stop me.”

Yes, that sweet old man on the right is secret identity of the Dark Voice of Starcraft. The Secret is revealed!

“If you have any sense, Tony,” the Doctor warns, “you’ll give up your plans and never stop running.”

“Or else you will destroy me, Doctor? You cannot destroy me” Tony laughs, “I exist in places you cannot possibly find.”

Acting on impulse, the Doctor pulls out Anakin’s lightsabre, which had fallen near the spot where his TARDIS vanished forever. Igniting the weapon, he goes to thrust at the voice actor.

Tony Jay however, catches the lightsabre blade in his hands like it’s nothing and throws the Doctor across the room. “You are most amusing Doctor,” he chuckles mirthlessly, “but the day and the wheel of time are mine.”

“I am victorious, Doctor; I am older than your species and I will achieve my grand design.”

The Doctor groans and props himself up from where he slammed into an old and decaying pew. “Oh really, then kill me now and be done with it.” He grins ruefully and wipes blood from the corner of his mouth.

Tony Jay says nothing, the smile for once leaving his face. “Another time, perhaps; now I must leave you be.”

The dark being waves his hand and the Doctor feels sleep pulling him down. Fight it as he may, he cannot resist; but before lapsing off to a dreamless sleep he hears Tony Jay’s melodic voice, “Sleep well, little Theet; your song is almost over.”

The Three hosts appear before the camera. “Well, it’s official,” Geoff beams with pride, “Doctor Who is the deadliest warrior.”

The three hosts crowd around the touch table. Max begins to work the contraption, pulling up images of each of the fighters, from Bronson to Anakin Skywalker. The resident computer expert pulls up images of Bronson and Revy.

“Revy and Bronson were some of the first characters to die in the simulation.”

Geoff carries on with the explanation, “Both of these fighters were blood thirty and had very little in the way of self-preservation instinct.”

“The problem lay,” Armand explains, “In the fact that neither of them is very bright. Like a zombie, they are immune to pain and fear but they’re dumb; those are great traits for a foot soldier but foot soldiers are usually only effective in numbers.”

Red X’s appear over Bronson and Revy and Max pulls up images of the Mandalorians and Jem’Hadar.

“Mandalorians,” says Geoff, “They had the edge in armour and training. The Jem’Hadar are relentless and ruthless but while their tactics are brilliant they lack originality; the founders bred them to fight, not to think.”

“As well,” Max adds, “It was a big deal that the Jem’Hadar don’t wear helmets and they also can’t fly.” Red X’s also appear over the Jem’Hadar picture while the Mandalorian picture gets a big green check mark. “That’s why the Mandalorians made it all the way to the redemption round before being killed.”

Those two warriors go into the background only to be replaced by pictures of Christopher Hitchens and Snake Plissken. “Take these two guys,” Max explains, “These guys were tough as nails, tenacious and smart. Even though he had a single shot, black powder Japanese gun, Hitchens’s superior tactics, ninja stealth and witty remarks got him alongside warriors who were using modern firearms; and you can’t discount his deadly Hitch Slap.”

Geoff points to the picture of Plissken, “In the simulation we did take into account that he’s missing an eye; because every little bit has an impact. Plissken was a great shot, very close to Solid Snake but both of these guys died in the range where ordinary humans can’t stay around for very long.”

“In short, the heat became too much for them,” says Armand, “One thing that counted against Hitchens is that even though he can kill forty men with his bare hands, he’s still a smoker and heavy drinker and it doesn’t take much for tobacco use to shrink your lung capacity; making it harder to get oxygen for all those critical things.”

Two red X’s cross over Hitchens and Plissken and they are put away; next up comes Solid Snake.

Geoff takes this one. “Snake was able to come ahead of that other snake largely because he’s proven himself in the past against giant robots and humans who border on the superhuman. Also what helped was his mastery of stealth. When you can dictate the terms of the battle, that’s half of the fight right there.”

“Again,” says Armand, “his heavy smoking and the accelerate ageing worked against Snake. He’d have twice the lung capacity if he didn’t smoke; which is partly why his brother Liquid was in so much better physical health.”

Snake gets the red X and then a picture of Batman comes up. “In our simulator Snake lived longer than Batman but he got infected early on so that counts against him,” Armand explains

“It’s very interesting because Batman and Snake are very much alike; both are peak physical strength for humans, both are geniuses at a variety of things and both overwhelm inhumanly powerful enemies multiple times using strategy and stealth.”

“Because of this,” Geoff finishes off, “Batman and Snake came equal in this match. Batman scored major points with his armoured suit and highly versatile arsenal which even though less than lethal, could still be used to destroy some powerful enemies.”

“But Batman’s major weakness,” Max continues, “Is his paranoia; he’s got a dozen plans for every eventuality and a dozen backup plans for his backup plans. The problem is that Batman has a martyr complex; he needs to take the risk himself, even when that risk is too much to manage. As a result, he had a way of alienating his allies and reducing his chances of survival.”

These two get X’s and then comes a picture of Wolverine. “My personal favourite,” says Geoff with a grin. “Wolverine is at first an ideal candidate. He’s got decades of battlefield experience and he has a fabulous healing factor.”

“The Bren machinegun was a major force, despite its tendency to jam,” Max adds to Geoff’s fanboy adoration.

“True,” Geoff continues, “among other things, his indestructible skeleton and claws were a huge boon. When you’ve got a weapon you know won’t break or dull, that gives you a huge confidence boost when you use it.”

“And the reason he died . . .” Geoff can’t complete the sentence; his inner fan boy is breaking down.

Armand takes over, “Wolverine died because we saw him die in Marvel Zombies; his need to get up close and personal is one of his disadvantages; especially against enemies like Sabretooth who are tougher than he is and the Marvel zombies who are walking bio bombs that even his healing factor can’t cope with.”

Wolverine gets an X and then pops General Grievous.

“Grievous is like a German King Tiger tank,” Geoff poses the analogy. “He’s heavily armoured, has massive skills and weapons that are some of the most powerful available; unfortunately he’s a fucking coward.”

“True,” Max says disdainfully, “General Grievous is highly aggressive and cruel when he has the advantage but he only attacks when he has the advantage, sometimes sacrificing his whole army to save his own skin. Compare that to Warriors like Crazy Horse, the Ghurkhas and George Washington, who were forced to fight vastly superior enemies with better training and logistics.”

Armand adds on, “More importantly, if he gets damaged he has no way to repair himself outside of finding a specialized medical station meant specifically for him.”

Both Geoff and Max give Grievous a thumbs down with the red X. Then pops up an image of the Mask

“If Solid Snake and Batman get points for stealth and Wolverine gets points for ferocity then the Mask is the King of Chaos.”

The camera plays back footage of the Mask taking out scores of zombies with the most unconventional methods. “The Mask is an innovator,” Max explains, “he adapts to each new situation before him and comes up with a plan of attack; if that plan fails he improvises another one on the spot.”

“His cartoon nature naturally equips the Mask with nearly every tool he’ll need to survive,” Geoff explains, “one of his weaknesses is that while he can improvise with the world’s best improv artists experts he had a tendency to forget past lessons. The Mask is overwhelmingly powerful but he met his match in redemption round.”

The Mask gets a red X and then the experts pull up footage of Anakin and Dante. “Both of these guys are human, but at the same time they are so much more.”

Geoff zooms in on Anakin, “Anakin’s rage gives him enormous power and combine the dark side with the lightsabre and you’ve got a killing machine on par with some armies. He’s a brilliant commander who’s in top physical shape and with an enormous skillset. The only thing is that while his rage gives him enormous power it can also destroy him; causing him to make mistakes that he might not make if he was still with the light side.”

Anakin gets an X and they focus on Dante. “As a crusader coming from a noble family, Dante is well educated and trained from boyhood in the military arts. One major thing coming for him was that he killed death; that speaks for itself,” Geoff iterates.

Armand pipes up, “Dante’s magic cross and scythe gave him huge edges in terms of how versatile his weapons were and he also had a great talent for using the terrain to his advantage. The only problem with him is that he always charges headfirst at something with very little variation; although his ranged attacks set this off somewhat.”

Dante gets an X and finally they pull up to the Doctor’s photo.

“And here he is,” says Geoff, “the official Deadliest Warrior.”

Armand turns directly to the camera, “The Doctor was strong and fast but he wasn’t the top in either category; the category he did take top in was intelligence. He is by far the most cerebral of the fighters we have.”

Geoff holds up a copy of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. “If you used this book as a guide, the Doctor would get checkmarks for every last point in this book. The Doctor is the ideal warrior because he’s the one who can win without ever fighting his enemy.”

He puts down the book, “Hannibal won every single fight he had against the Romans but he didn’t win the war.”

Max takes a seat at his swivel chair and puts his hands behind his head. “The Doctor knows himself perfectly and he knows his enemies perfectly; his deductive abilities allow him to gather significant data about a foe in a very short time; it’s like Sherlock Holmes on brain steroids.”

Armand holds up a sonic screwdriver, “The sonic screwdriver was a big help in that it could disable nearly every weapon in all the other fighter’s arsenals.”

Before the camera appears the fourth Doctor, this time wearing his floppy fedora and looking like he’s about to leave. He grins widely, “Well this is rather splendid. I always did have a rather high opinion of myself but now it seems to have been justified.”

From out of a paper bag, the Doctor pulls out a jelly baby and nibbles on it. “Why did I win? Well I suppose it is because I can charm the Terminator, befuddle a Dalek and unlike Batman I don’t hesitate to take allies with me into battle if they are capable of handling themselves.”

Armand concedes to the Doctor, “That’s very true, your ability to make others work with each other factored in greatly; especially with the Mask who just drives everyone crazy.”

The Doctor bows, “Not at all my dear fellow, now if you will excuse me I need to leave; the Brigadier’s car is on fire.”

He quickly skips over to the TARDIS and in a flash he’s gone to another time and place.

With the season completed, Geoff starts to turn off the lights and pack everything up. Before they leave, Max asks Geoff, “Hey, whatever happened to Mack?”

Geoff turns to face his buddy even as Robert Daly mindlessly types on his keyboard. “Mack? He got locked up in a nuthouse; hopefully he’ll stay there.” Then in a more regretful voice he says to Max, “Hey, sorry for bringing in a deranged psycho who wanted to kill you.”

Max smiles and pats his buddy on the shoulder, “That’s alright, we all make mistakes; just don’t do it a second time.”

Meanwhile

Mack is currently sitting in a cell in Arkham Asylum wearing a strait jacket. At present he’s sitting next to the Joker and singing If I were a Rich Man.

And now this crazy motherfucker is somewhere he can't hurt anyone. Max is here to say ;)

Mack’s voice is slightly off key but he actually sings alright.

If I were a rich man,

Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.

All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.

If I were a wealthy man.

A moment later the Joker interrupts Mack, “Do you wanna know how I got these scars?”

In reply, Mack head-butts the Joker with his bald head and keeps singing. The Joker just laughs as his nose bleeds; he laughs at Mack’s lack of sanity.

wouldn't have to work hard.

Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.

If I were a biddy biddy rich,

Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man

Announcer: And that concludes this season of Master of the Boot’s Deadliest Warrior. Tune in next time as Umbrella’s criminal mastermind Albert Wesker goes up against expert monster hunter Gabriel Van Helsing.

Until then, read and review and be happy :D 



On a side note, Theet was the Doctor's nickname when he was a kid. I sincerely hope you enjoyed this match and that you're not too mad as to who won.
Also, Tony Jay is one of my favourite voice actors so I couldn't resist putting him in here because he's the least likely person to be the dark voice. That line about "places you can't possibly find," is a reference to the legacy of Kane games, where Tony Jay voiced the Elder God.
 I'm the Master of the Boot and I wish you well :D