Angela IX
The producers were writing, writing, writing, and herself with them. Toddlers wailed and kids sang from the new cast area at the foot of the hall; Stradivarius fiddles broken, tomatos squashed, the Whisperer skins smelled a lovely rank, but last season screwed them all. The rants echoed off the Twitter feed, whilst the critics ate, drank, and shouted at one another below. Scott Gimple must be dumb as a rock to call s8 storytelling. Angela Kang (TWD's new showrunner) sipped a cup of wine and watched the new teen actor practice for the storyline of "New Carl." At least she thought it was meant to be Carl. With these characters, it might as easily have been Dexter or Fear The Walking Dead (FTWD).
Outside the ratings still fell, but within AMC HQ the execs was greedy and stupid. A fire roared in the hearth and piles of angry fan-mail burned smokily from iron dumpsters on the floor. Yet most of the heat came off the contract non-renewal letters of the old cast, jammed in so thick among the mailbox that every exec who tried to read them broke his pen out of frustration.
Even in the boardroom they were closer than Angela would have liked. She had been placed between Scott Gimple and Management, and had gotten a good noseful of both. Scott Gimple wrote as if TWD had an infinite number of characters that the audience actually cared about, and killed them all off under his watch. He had held the Idiot Ball, she judged, but no idiocy could mask so much salt in his personality. Management had a sweeter smile, yet no more pleasant. They viewed yes-men comments in preference to facts or statistics, and thought but little.
Angela could not fault ex-viewers for their lack of interest. The last season began with a minute long gun battle where hundreds of scarce bullets were fired and only broke windows, followed by a salad of fake philosophical dialogue, you know what it is, poorly done cinematography, excessive and badly done ideological and religious symbolism, butchered characterisation, and the killing of the deuteragonist Carl Grimes (who was also the protagonist Rick's son, only main teen character, one of the very few remaining s1 characters and a fan favourite by s8) with a lame zombie bite that an experienced survivor like Carl have easily defended himself from. To remain faithful to the comic storyline, of course. It was poor storytelling to set before an audience, and the plotholes turned Angela's stomach. Yet the diehards watched it uncomplaining, and the 'Chief Content Officer' was too caught up with destroying the spinoff show to pay much attention.
You would never guess Gimple, now 'Chief Content Officer', complained of Chandler Riggs (Carl's actor) and his family all the way from Atlanta to NYC. How dare the family be angry when Gimple broke his promises to them by saying Chandler was needed for 3 more years. And how dare the actor ask how he should portray his character when filming pivotal scenes? She could not blame the Riggs for that. She remembered little of the reassurances told during her own appointment. Did I even believe it? Or spend the whole time gazing at Gimple's face, wondering when he lied?
Poor Angela's smile had a fixed quality to it, as if someone had sewn it onto her face. Well, she is a showrunner promoted, but the showrunning's yet to come. No doubt she's as terrified as the remaining audience was. Angela was seated between Goldberg and Chambliss, two of the producers who helped ruined Once Upon A Time with a soft reboot and now were showruining FTWD. "At the show's production I hope you will not refuse to follow my recommendations," the Chief Content Officer had said. "It would please a clever man's heart." His heart should be well pleased, then; Chambliss and Goldberg had done their duty like two Showruiners. They had destroyed each of FTWD's plotlines, by killing off FTWD's protagonist Madison Clark, making Frank Dillane, who played Madison's son and deuteragonist Nick Clark, ragequit, inserting a black and white filter as if it were the 1920s, along with a cringe-worthy hurricane scene that had worse CGI than a 6th grade student project. Angela wondered whether the Chief Content Officer would be satisfied, or if he would find cause for complaint in all the other showrunners – herself - who had not had a turn with realising his 'visions'. "Your fellow showrunners write very well," Gimple said to Angela, trying to be pleasant.
"Soft reboots help boost ratings." Gimple drank a swallow of wine, the sweat trickling down his cheek into his beard.
A sour man, and in his cups, Angela thought. AMC might be niggardly when it came to paying their cast, but they did not stint on the ratings grab. The cliffhangers, bottle episodes, and gimmicks were flowing as fast as the negative reviews online. Gimple was already blurting out even more show-ruining ideas. Goldberg was matching him gimmick for gimmick, but Chambliss had passed out trying to keep up with the two of them. Angela would sooner Scott Gimple had seen fit to write fanfiction, but telling Gimple not to showruin was like telling him not to breathe for a few hours.
Chris Hardwick, host of The Talking Dead, sat near Gimple, to the other side of Chambliss and Goldberg, respectively. Neither Chris nor Angela were drinking. The Talking Dead was not a battle as AMC would censor any criticism, but there were always dangers when fans were at their laptops, on their phones or at the studio, and a talk show host should never be unguarded. Chris was glad of that, and even more glad of the moderators patrolling the forums and deleting unnecessary opinions. No man needs an insane fan to post negative, toxic, evil, sexist, racist, communist, fake news comments online after all.
"Never thought AMC would choose me," a little girl told Angela, whispering to be heard. It was hard to picture her in TWD with Carl's Hat, a replica of Michonne's katana, and Rick's Colt Python revolver that even an adult may struggle to handle due to recoil. " I'm playing Judith now and Henry's still a boy, but his actor will turn 18 soon, poor thing."
The Chief Content Officer paid the chatter no mind, Angela saw. Sometimes he ruined an idea of TWD, an inspiration from FTWD, tearing character development from plot with cell-dead brain, but the destruction could not distract him. Gimple had made a toast to both shows' casts when the production feast began, pointedly mentioning that Chandler and Kim Dickens (Madison Clarke's actor) were both fired with extreme prejudice. From the way the actors had glared at him, his mouth sucking at the air, Angela knew they had heard the unspoken threat.
Was there ever a show more destroyed? she wondered, until she remembered the poor FTWD and its showrunning under the Gimp. Critics take mercy on it. It has a broken plot too. The stupid deaths and crossovers and cliffhangers were making it sick. Morgan 'Wesley Crusher' Jones crossing over from the main show might have brown and sticky staff/stuff [Don't click if eating], but he was not especially well liked. Angela took another swallow of wine and allowed a page to be added to the script. A few more months, and the worst will be over. By this time next year TWD would be off to another season, this time with the soft reboot with the Grimes gone. Strange, how that prospect seemed almost a relief. TWD will be a new show just like Once Upon a Time, which was cancelled 1 season after doing its 'soft reboot', was. It will win back its viewers, and GoT is about to end. Besides, she managed it well. The show will be rising.
In the writer's room came a sudden facepalm as Angela remembered Rick Grimes would need to do a flashback scene as he was near death, and his son – Carl, whose actor did not leave on good terms, would need to be there. Angela's mouth opened in a shock of horror as she dialled a number she hoped she would not have to use.
The voice on the other end made Angela wish once more for Chandler himself, but the teen actor was nowhere to be heard. His father had refused to put him through. "Your 'Chief Content Officer' has a taste for firing actors buying real estate in the area, I remember Beth," the man had said. "And male actors turning 18, yes. I'll have no such liar as my son's boss."
"Gimple is no danger to Chandler, sir," Angela protested. "Not so long as I am there."
"You didn't do anything when he was backstabbed, were you not? When the episode where he had to 'act strangely' was filmed? I remember all about that, don't think I didn't, heh."
"No harm was done—"
"No harm, the Kang says? No harm? My son cancelled all his college plans. Or was she just some puppet? We bought a house nearby for filming, yes, now I recall. Gimple broke off his promises and lost his mind. What would you do if your child was fired like this, heh? Just ask for an apology, heh? No, no, no. Might be you're showrunner, I won't say you're not, the Showrunner of TWD, heh, but under my roof, my rule. Have your actor or fire him, Kang. You'll not have both."
Angela could tell that Chandler's dad was furious, but she yielded with as much courtesy as she could summon. "If it pleases you, will, to let me ask your son himself, I'll ask him and then bother you no more." And so she did.
The new Showrunner decided to make another call, to Chandler this time. The lad was not going to be paid any money for a cameo, what did he expect? She wiped her mouth, sat, and began to speak. "A vision there was, a vision, a VISION! Don't you want to help us with the new show's vision?" Her voice was not at all bad, though somewhat thick from stress. Unfortunately and perhaps unsurprisingly, the actor said no.
Angela murmured some words too soft to hear and went off in search of the executive's office, sitting down in the vacant chair. "A few more actors quitting and this franchise is done, Sir," she said in a low voice, as the executive wondered what would happen to the network's stock prices thanks to the 'ratings moderation'. "Chandler Riggs is not coming back even for a flashback. And Andrew Lincoln (Rick Grimes' actor) seems well content to just work on your TV movies." she leaned across the desk. "Sir?"
The executive blinked and said, "Angela. Yes?"
"I'd hoped to have Maggie, the story's tritagonist, to star for the next story arc," said Angela, "but I do not see her actress Lauren here. Would she be at the other studio?"
"Lauren?" the exec shook his head. "No. Not Lauren. Gone . . . gone from the show. Money."
"I see." Angela's tone suggested otherwise. As AMC offered nothing more, the exec got to his feet again. "Would you care to pay her more?"
"Thank you, but no." A raise was the last thing the diva needed, the way her demands were increasing. "No doubt one of the other actresses would be pleased to play her part."
"Oh, no doubt." Angela's smile was resigned. "Will Danai Gurira, Michonne's actor, be staying with us after season ten?"
The exec squinted at her. "Not her. She's quitting for MCU." He wiped sweat from his brow and lurched to his feet. "Pardons, my lady. Pardons." Angela watched him stagger toward the door, as he held a resignation letter and prepared to jump ship to FOX.
Elsewhere on the web, Collider played a leaking game, the website said something shocking to the audience, Rick Grimes the protagonist would be leaving the show one season after his son.
Then remaining viewers saw AMC openly advertising 'Rick Grimes' Last Episodes', and they were quite upset; bizarre and spoilery, it was news that made even the most loyal wonder whether they wished to continue watching. It was unpleasant to see that AMC could be as graceful with their spoilers as with their actors. Everyone wondered if the network had reached the bottle of the barrel as yet. They had spoiled every major character departure to the audience for years now including the protagonist, but as it was one of AMC's ratings ploys the viewers had grown tired and chose to remain by other channels and no ratings spike occurred this time. AMC has a gift for destroying loyalty. Hadn't their CEO said that the network had 'absorbed the ratings moderation of the show'?
Seated upon his white horse, TWD's protagonist was suddenly thrown off his mount and onto a piece of rebar. The noise he made was so loud that even those zombies nearby heard it, but the audience saw Rick begin to lift himself off the piece of rebar that impaled him and continue on his mission to lead zombies away despite bleeding profusely.
"Rick Grimes," the Greek deity Hephaestus suddenly called out, "Gimple has prayed his prayers, some contracts have been signed, and your actor has agreed to have you appear in 3 TV movies as he wants to spend more time with family, among other reasons of course, but he has not yet agreed to the script. A protagonist needs a deus ex machina, and you need to be airlifted via helicopter in the middle of a zombie apocalypse where fuel and spare parts are in short supply. What does our hero say? Is it proper that you should be sent to a hospital where top-notch surgeons can tend to a gaping wound in your torso, with state-of-the-art medicine and surgical equipment, when the world is largely swept back to pre-industrial times?"
A trio of side characters began to appear in Rick's hallucinations, shouting, "You will find your family!" Yet Carl was gone and had not returned for a flashback. The audience wondered whether it was the prospect of not being offered payment for filming flashbacks that angered the departed cast, or toxic upper management and Gimple backstabbing them previously. With so many deceased characters, it was not like to have all of them reappear, but it was different when the main character's son does not seem to count as 'family'. On Huffpost's own exclusive phone call, Angela had given the audience an 'explanation' in her haste to get out of the awkwardness of being unable to get Carl's actor back even for a flashback, but how many bought that explanation was another matter. Angela wondered how many of the actors here tonight would be gone before the year was done. Too many, she feared.
(Almost exactly 1 year after Carl Grimes was killed off on AMC's zombie show)
Angela got slowly to her feet. What just happened there? Doubt gripped her heart, where an instant before had been only weariness. It is nothing, she tried to tell herself, you are overseeing quality increases again despite your predecessor, you are running a show where ratings are back up by a titanic 1.4% and over 5 million again. But something must have shown on the screen. Even the execs took note. "Is something amiss?" one asked, a leg of lamb in his hands.
She did not answer him. Instead she went on the ratings sites. The live-action ratings had finally updated. With scarcely a moment's respite, they began to announce a very different sort of results. No one spoke the words, but Angela knew '4.54 million viewers' when she saw it. Gimple was hurrying toward a door. She hurried faster, driven by the anger. Six quick strides and she caught him. And who are you, the new showrunner said, to kill off Carl Grimes? She grabbed Gimple by the arm to turn him and went cold all over when she felt papers with even more showruining ideas beneath his silken sleeve.
Angela slapped down the laptop so hard she broke its cover. Carl, she thought, and Rick, Maggie, all absent.
Gimple shoved her aside. The ratings drowned all other news, echoing off the Internet. Angela gave Gimple an angry look and moved to block his way . . . and staggered suddenly as "'Walking Dead' Hits All-Time Lows" sprouted on a monitor. Angela saw a second article go online, saw it posted. Up in the gallery, half the writers had facepalms in their hands instead of pens or tablets. "First time we've reached historical viewership lows since season 1 nine years ago!" she screamed. She saw Cameron Bonomolo from wrestle a laptop off the table. Clickbait articles swarmed onto the Internet, one, two, three, as the public might be distracted from the ratings news. Twitter and Reddit was ringed by disgruntled ex-viewers, their rants rising and falling.
Angela's back was on fire. I have to reach the reviewers. But when she went onto a 'fan' forum a comment drove her to her knees. In a comic book or a stupid show, Rick Grimes still has a son. She saw Judith being denounced as a Mary Sue. Other Redditors had seized 'new Carl' Henry by bad acting and uninspiring plotline, but Angela saw his supporters smash dislike buttons in the Redditors' faces. Negan fans pushed into the forum, clad in plot armour from helm to heel. A dozen Carl fans packed the posts behind them. They were armed with thousand word essays and ratings graphs.
"Mercy!" Angela cried, but rants and Tweets and the clash of flame wars smothered her plea. A commenter buried 'Live ratings don't matter as much as DVR' under a critic's post. By then more reviewers were pouring online as well. Forbes critics! She took them for rescue for half a heartbeat, till one of them posted 'The Walking Dead' Isn't Dead Yet, But It's Dying - And It's Time To Die'. Hope blew out like a candle in a storm.
In the midst of slaughter, the Heir of the Alexandria Safe-zone sat on his carved oaken bed, watching greedily.
"Heh," he cackled at the one remaining laptop left after the apocalypse, "The Walking Dead ratings arises. Seems you lost nearly 2/3 of your viewers, AMC. Oh, but I'll make a post online, that will get them all back again, heh."
The teen with an empty eye socket and slicked hair, face spotted with blood, logged onto the forums. "Carl Grimes sends his regards." He plugged the laptop through the Hilltop's apocalypse Internet, and posted.
Gimple had broken his word, but Angela kept hers. She typed hard on her laptop and struggled on Microsoft Word until the fingers grated on keys. Ideas ran hot over her mind. Gimple's 'vision' was falling, failing, fading, and the viewership went boom doom boom.
Finally someone took the phone away from her. The ratings news burned like vinegar as she scrolled down Google Search. It hurts so much, she thought. Our characters, Gimple, all our sweet characters. Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Jesus, Carl . . . Carl . . . please, Gimple, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting . . . the falling ratings and the cast departures ran together until the show was torn and tattered, the show that the world had loved. Angela Kang raised her hands and counted the remaining original characters on her long fingers. Only two.
The Forbes reviews online made her laugh until she screamed. "Now with these low numbers The Walking Dead is usually no longer even ruling Sunday night" Paul Tassi wrote, "as program after program passes it," and Erik Kain wrote, "Let's put TWD out of its misery", and harsh words broke her heart just as AMC had broken Chandler's, and she thought, No, don't, don't ruin my show, everyone loves my show. Then the show was at its historic low, and its fall was swift and cold.