🗃️ Dept. of Petty Affairs — Double Dragon: The Crimson Reversal Docket
Filed by: Jerry “The Ankle Biter” Silverhand · Tribunal Chair, DPA
Case: When a survey turned into a saga.
Introductory Statement
They asked one harmless question:
“Is there anything specific you’d like to see in the new story?”
Most people wrote two lines. I, apparently, wrote three acts, a gym riot, and a drag queen with a death-mic.
Somewhere, a Haremverse developer is staring at their screen, whispering:
“Who the hell just turned our feedback form into a boss battle?”
So, for public record — and because the Tribunal insists all forms of chaos be archived — I hereby present Double Dragon – Crimson Reversal, my unsolicited neon-soaked crossover pitch.
Quick Submission Summary (Filed with the Haremverse Department)
Let’s go full 80s–90s arcade chaos — neon lights, gym-rat villains, and fights that feel like a workout montage gone wrong. Marian stops being the damsel and starts the riot, the Shadow Master hides in his spa while everything collapses, and Skullmagedda struts in as a drag-queen diva turning the final boss fight into a rock concert.
Loud, dumb, sexy, and self-aware — exactly what a Haremverse crossover should be. A three-part neon brawler parody where Marian takes the reins, HH Hero boinks through chaos, and Skullmagedda brings the house down in sequins and fireworks.
(Below: full text of the submission as filed.)
Double Dragon — Crimson Reversal — Part I: Chains of Echo
(80s/90s-style opening cutscene – full-tilt arcade energy)
Neon hums like an engine…
(80s/90s-style opening cutscene – full-tilt arcade energy)
Neon hums like an engine. The camera snakes through concrete tunnels until it bursts into an underground wonderland ripped from a warped Muscle & Joystick commercial.
A boom box blares beside a sweaty bench press. Punks in headbands arm-wrestle near a glowing Streets of Rage cab flashing GAME OVER. Protein powder, hair gel, and ozone mix into the scent of ambition. This is the Shadow Master’s lair — half fight club, half youth gym, half arcade nightmare.
Marian’s dragged in through the noise, wrists bound. A goon yells, “First one to hit a high score gets extra creatine!” and the crowd roars. She just sighs.
Up the chrome stairs, the Shadow Master (SM) watches from his balcony, then disappears behind a heavy study door to his private spa — his do-not-disturb zone.
Inside, everything slows: cool blue lights, slow synth heartbeat. SM sinks into the steam, mask gleaming, answering a holographic call straight out of Final Fight’s Mad Gear.
“Yeah, package secured. Tell the boys to hydrate. Tomorrow we go public.”
The spa hums in peace until— THWACK!
The sound rattles the hinges. A second THWACK! follows, sharper — the unmistakable sound of someone drop-kicking a locker.
SM glances up from his drink. “That better be cardio,” he mutters, and taps the lock. Steel bolts slide home.
Outside: total mayhem. Grunts, clangs, an arcade cabinet explosion, and a high-pitched “HI-YAH!” echo through the vents. A dumbbell rolls past the crack under the door, followed by a cheer: “That’s three for three!”
SM sighs, cracks the door open an inch — steam drifts out, neon pours in.
Marian is in the middle of a group-workout-gone-wrong, flinging henchmen across benches and balance balls. One’s tangled in jump ropes, another’s buried under a yoga mat shouting for help. She’s grinning, sweat-slick, unstoppable, like leg day on caffeine.
SM watches a moment, then quietly eases the door shut. He presses his comm.
“Yeah, HQ? Get me the HH Hero…
and a cleanup crew. Maybe helmets this time.”
Cue title blast and guitar squeal: DOUBLE DRAGON — CRIMSON REVERSAL
Part II — Cardio Day in Hell
(80s/90s arcade chaos continues)
Cut to the HH Hero’s apartment—alarm screaming, holographic call blinking. He groans, hair everywhere, someone giggling under the covers.
Comm: “Emergency at the Shadow Master’s gym. Total meltdown.”
Hero: “Pretty sure that’s leg-day business.”
Comm: “No. It’s her.”
He sighs, kisses the companion goodbye.
“If I’m not back by sunrise, save me a protein shake.”
One portal hop later — BOOM! — he lands in the middle of a riot that looks like Saturday-morning fitness hell.
Each stage is its own neon disaster:
- Aboba & Burna, the tag-team Gym Mistresses, running a bench-press coliseum where the audience hurls energy drinks instead of roses.
- Roxy & Poison, disco-floor captains commanding a sea of flashing tiles; miss a step and the crowd pelts you with confetti.
- Barbelle, self-proclaimed “mindfulness coach” who preaches inner peace between elbow drops.
- The Blaze Twins, aerobics idols whose jazzercise routines somehow summon clones when you hit the wrong sister.
- Cameo chaos: Juri arguing with a vending machine that owes her snacks, and Cammy trapped mid-jump-rope challenge yelling, “I’m fine! Totally fine!”
The Hero powers through it all—fighting, flirting, boinking, and flexing his way across the lair. Every punch lands with a neon THWACK!, every wink pops a glittering heart. He keeps muttering to himself,
“Next time someone says ‘spa emergency,’ I’m screening the call.”
Each victory leaves a trail of dazed gym girls and love-struck rivals. But the deeper he goes, the stranger the beat gets—basslines turning theatrical, lights syncing to a single rhythm.
In the distance, Marian’s voice crackles through the intercom, commanding the chaos like a queen of cardio. And beneath that—another voice, smoother, grander, sparkling with mischief.
A crowd starts to chant, the neon pulsing in time:
“Skull-ma-ged-da… Skull-ma-ged-da…”
Then laughter fills the corridor—half villain, half runway emcee.
TO BE CONTINUED → Part III — Neon Hell Encore
Perfect — here’s your Part III — Neon Hell Encore, written to match your Parts 1 and 2 tone: 80s-neon chaos, cartoon-logic fun, drag-diva spectacle, and HH-style flirt energy. It closes the trilogy cleanly so it’s ready to paste straight into a submission.
Part III — Neon Hell Encore
(Final stage – Drag-Diva Showdown)
The hallway fades under blacklight. The pounding gym bass melts into a heavy glam-metal beat, each riff echoing like a heart monitor for chaos itself.
HH Hero staggers out of the last portal, covered in confetti, clutching an empty energy-drink can.
“Okay, note to self: never mix glitter and whey protein again…”
He looks up— the world has changed.
The once-gritty gym is now a runway coliseum, half concert, half end-of-the-world tour. Spotlights sweep across cheering minions in sequin headbands. Neon banners read “WELCOME TO NEON HELL — LIVE TONIGHT!”
Smoke machines hiss. The music drops. Then … heel-click. Out struts Skullmagedda, the resurrected queen of chaos herself.
She’s equal parts rock idol and drag deity: rhinestone skull mask, feathered cape, thigh-high boots that could crush small egos. She twirls a mic-stand shaped like a scythe and greets her audience with a pose so fabulous it causes a small explosion.
“Darlings, did you really think the credits could roll without me?”
“Tonight’s number is called ‘The End of Everything (With Jazz Hands).’”
Marian steps from the wings, cracking her knuckles.
“Cute show, diva — but the stage is mine now.”
Skullmagedda gasps theatrically.
“How rude! Interrupting a girl’s comeback tour?”
She snaps her fingers. The stage explodes with skeleton backup dancers in crop tops, twirling dumbbells like batons and striking poses to the beat. The beat drops. The fight begins.
Battle Sequence — The Rhythm Rumble
Every move lands on-beat. THWACK! Heart-shaped sparks burst across the air.
HH Hero joins in, dodging pirouette kicks and disco lasers while yelling,
“Is this combat or choreography?!”
Marian shouts back,
“Yes!”
Together they trade attacks and one-liners: Marian with cardio-kicks, Hero with flirt-based power-ups. Skullmagedda counters every combo with pure drama—glitter grenades, death-drop slams, and a sonic “WERK!” that knocks everyone back ten feet.
Halfway through, she pauses to re-apply lip gloss.
“A queen must stay hydrated.”
Finale — The Encore Break
The floor shatters into a rhythm grid; lights flash faster, crowd chanting:
“SKULL-MA-GED-DA! SKULL-MA-GED-DA!”
Marian and Hero sync up their finishers—a double-suplex that explodes in pink fireworks. The diva hits the floor, clutching her pearls.
“Fine! Fine! You win!” she sighs, flopping dramatically. “But remember, sweeties—villainy doesn’t die. … It just re-applies foundation.” She winks.
She blows a kiss—gone in a puff of lilac glitter.
Marian dusts herself off.
“Well… that’s cardio done.”
Hero catches his breath.
“Does the cleanup crew handle glitter?”
The Shadow Master’s voice crackles faintly through the comm.
“Absolutely not.”
Cue neon outro riff and freeze-frame logo:
DOUBLE DRAGON — CRIMSON REVERSAL
THE END (…PROBABLY)
Closing Statement
Was it too much? Absolutely.
Was it necessary? Also absolutely.
Because if you hand me a text box, I’m not typing — I’m directing. The Haremverse wanted ideas. I gave them an encore.
Some people submit surveys. Others submit scripts.
Filed and stamped, — Jerry ‘The Ankle Biter’ Silverhand, Tribunal Chair (DPA)
Doctrine: Don’t bark — bill.
Motto: I don’t flex, I calculate.
#DeptOfPettyAffairs #CrimsonReversal #NeonHell #HHSubmission #WhenSurveysGoTooHard #BorisVerse #ArcadeDoctrine
[Redacted production note left in intentionally. The glitch speaks through the draft.]