This fic is dedicated to MagicalHyena and others who have been constantly harassed and/or threatened by SuperLuigiTristan.
In the dimly lit confines of a living room, the soft glow of a widescreen TV illuminates the space with a flicker of life. The remote control, worn from countless cycles of channel surfing, now moves with a determined purpose, navigating through the sea of programs before finally landing on the sought-after spectacle.
There it is, an enduring classic that defies the passing of time, the Jerry Springer Show. Despite the years that have come and gone, its raucous energy and unabashed drama continue to captivate audiences, like a relic from a bygone era stubbornly refusing to fade into obscurity. Yet, against all odds, it still holds sway over the airwaves, drawing viewers into its tumultuous world even in the year 2012.
As the episode commenced, the fervent chants of "JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!" echoed through the studio audience, their voices rising in unison like a tidal wave of anticipation, intertwining with the familiar strains of the show's theme music that reverberated throughout the room, setting the stage for yet another electrifying installment of the Jerry Springer Show.
In a sudden burst of theatricality, the host emerged from the shadows, perched at the end of a balcony overlooking the stage, where he prepared to make his grand entrance. With the flair of a seasoned showman, he grasped the gleaming stripper pole, a signature prop of his entrance routine, and descended in a whirlwind of motion, his descent punctuated by the thunderous applause and cheers of the audience below. As he alighted on the stage with a flourish, his infectious energy electrified the atmosphere, eliciting a chorus of enthusiastic whoops and hollers from the delighted spectators. "Whoooooaaa!" he exclaimed, his voice a playful exclamation that mirrored the exuberance of the moment.
With practiced precision, security guard Jason Brandstetter stood sentinel at the base of the pole, his unwavering gaze fixed on the host above. As Jerry Springer descended in his customary fashion, Jason awaited him, poised to deliver the microphone and cue card with a swift efficiency born of countless rehearsals. Without missing a beat, Jerry accepted the mic and card, seamlessly transitioning into the next segment of the show.
With the formalities attended to, Jerry wasted no time in engaging with his adoring audience. He traversed the stage with an easy grace, his infectious energy drawing him to the outstretched hands of eager fans. Amidst the thunderous cheers, he exchanged greetings and handshakes, each interaction a testament to the genuine connection he shared with those who had gathered to witness the spectacle unfolding before them.
The fervent chants of "JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!" reverberated throughout the studio, a cacophony of excitement and anticipation that filled the air with palpable energy. Undeterred by the uproar, Jerry Springer continued his meet-and-greet with the audience, basking in the adulation of his loyal fans.
Meanwhile, on the screen, the episode's title, 'Digital Showdown,' flashed in bold letters, its significance hanging in the air like a promise of intrigue and confrontation. For a fleeting moment, the title lingered, capturing the audience's attention with its enigmatic allure, before giving way to the familiar strains of the show's theme music.
As the theme faded into the background, Jerry found his place amidst the second row of the audience, his gaze fixed on the camera.
Hey, welcome to the show!" Jerry exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, his voice cutting through the din of excitement. "Now, before we get started with the show, I wanna introduce our guest security. Matter of fact, 2 guest securities" Jerry emphasized as he held up 2 fingers. 'Our first one is an SVU detective of the NYPD. Please welcome Dominick Carisi to the show!"
Cheers erupted as Detective Carisi strode onto the stage from the left door, a warm smile gracing his features as he waved to the audience.
"Hey, Jerry," greeted the detective, extending his hand to the host in a gesture of camaraderie.
"Hi, nice to have you here," Jerry responded warmly, clasping Carisi's hand in greeting before the detective made his way to the front row to exchange handshakes with the head of security, Pete Kelly, and his colleague, Jason.
"Hey, nice to have you here," Pete greeted, his voice filled with genuine hospitality.
"Likewise," Carisi replied with a nod, acknowledging the warm welcome from the security team.
As Jerry addressed the audience, anticipation hung in the air. "And our next guest security is a member of the BSAA, please welcome Chris Redfield to the show!"
Following Jerry's announcement, the audience erupted into cheers, their excitement filling the studio with energy. From the right door, Chris Redfield emerged, acknowledging the crowd with a wave before approaching the host.
"Hey," Chris greeted with a nod, his demeanor poised and alert.
"Hi, nice to see you," Jerry responded warmly, extending his hand in welcome, grateful for Chris's presence on the show.
After exchanging pleasantries with Jerry, Chris made his way over to the front row, where the other security personnel awaited him. With a firm handshake and nods of acknowledgment, he greeted each member of the security team and sat down next to them, establishing a sense of camaraderie and mutual respect. The atmosphere was one of professionalism and readiness as they prepared to ensure the smooth running of the show and the safety of everyone involved.
"Now, my guests today are here to turn digital fights into a reality, please welcome Tristan to the show."
As Jerry's words resonated in the studio, the audience erupted into cheers. I emerged from the left door, feeling a mixture of nerves and determination coursing through me. The cheers gradually faded as I made my way to the center of the stage, taking a seat in the chair provided. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, setting the stage for the confrontation that was about to unfold.
"Tristan, nice to have you here," Jerry greeted.
"Hey, Jerry," I replied with a nod, feeling a surge of adrenaline as I prepared to address the situation that had brought me to the show.
"So what's going on?" Jerry inquired, his tone both curious and probing, signaling the start of the conversation that would delve into the heart of the matter.
"Well, Jerry, I'm here today to confront this cyberbully who's constantly harassing my friends," I explained, my voice steady despite the intensity of the situation.
"What socials does this person harass them on?" Jerry inquired, his interest piqued.
"YouTube. And I'm a YouTuber, by the way," I replied, eliciting cheers from the audience at the revelation of my identity. The support from the crowd bolstered my resolve as I prepared to delve deeper into the issue at hand.
The audience fell into a hush as Jerry posed his question. "What do you do on YouTube?"
"I game," I replied simply, my tone reflecting my passion for the activity.
"You game?" Jerry repeated, seeking clarification as the audience chuckled.
"Yeah. I game. You know, a bunch of video games I play," I chuckled, trying to convey the breadth and depth of my content to the host and the audience alike.
"What games do you play?" Jerry inquired, curiosity evident in his tone.
"Naruto, Resident Evil, Roblox," I responded, listing off a few of the games that I enjoyed playing and creating content around. Each title represented a different aspect of my gaming interests, from action-packed adventures to immersive virtual worlds, showcasing the diversity of content on my YouTube channel.
I cleared my throat before continuing. "Anyway, there's this guy who's harassing and threatening my friends, and he just won't leave them alone."
"His name's also Tristan, but we each have different channels and don't know each other in any way," I explained, emphasizing the distinction between us despite sharing the same name.
"Oh, two names, two channels?" Jerry quipped, eliciting a chuckle from both me and the audience.
"Yeah, two names, two channels," I replied, joining in the lighthearted moment.
"Anyways, this guy, like, he's making comments about my friends gagging and retching... He's threatening to hurt them… He's fantasizing about killing them… He's making videos about their channels being taken down when they're not. And he even said to one of my friends that her channel would get taken down," I continued, frustration evident in my voice.
"Ohhh..." murmured the audience, empathizing with the seriousness of the situation.
"Like, for what, exactly? She didn't do sh(bleep). Like, he's just like a selfish spoiled brat. He doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself," I concluded, my tone tinged with a mixture of anger and disbelief at the cyberbully's callous actions.
"I showed your producers the comments one of my friends received," I stated, gesturing towards the TV screen mounted on the window where the comment was now displayed for all to see.
Rising from my seat, I pointed emphatically at the words displayed on the screen, my voice steady as I read them aloud. "You're out of luck... because my dad is backing up my main account, and you're gonna be banned forever."
As I spoke, Jerry leaned in, his expression growing increasingly serious as he absorbed the gravity of the message. "That's pretty harsh," he remarked, his tone reflecting a mix of concern and disbelief.
"Yeah, it's beyond just trolling at this point," I replied, my frustration palpable. "I don't know what this guy's problem is. It's targeted harassment and intimidation, and it needs to stop."
"And I also showed your producers one of the meme videos he posted, being one of my friends gagging and puking, and a warning, it's disturbing," I added matter-of-factly as the video began to play on the screen.
As the footage unfolded, depicting the disturbing content created by the cyberbully, a collective gasp rippled through the audience. Jerry's brows furrowed in concern as he watched, his expression mirroring the shock and dismay of those around him.
The audience made appalled and disgusted sounds until the video ended. "You see, Jerry, this one traumatized my friend. And he just won't stop. He just won't leave them alone."
"So, I called the show to bring him here and put my foot down, and stomp his ass, to try and put this to an end," I declared firmly, my words met with resounding cheers from the audience, who shared in my determination to confront the cyberbully and bring an end to the harassment.
"Alright, well, let's bring him out, here's the other Tristan," Jerry announced, his words met with a chorus of boos from the audience as Pete, Jason, Carisi, and Chris walked up onto the stage. Chris set the chair under the iconic logo as the other Tristan emerged from the right door.
"You need to leave my friends the hell alone!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with anger as the boos gradually died down, allowing my words to pierce through the tension-filled air.
The other Tristan met my gaze with a smirk, his demeanor oozing with arrogance. "Why should I listen to you?" he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. "They're the ones who started it with me. They can't handle a little online banter?"
My fists clenched at my sides, my anger boiling over. "That's not what this is about! They didn't do a damn thing to you!" I roared, my voice reverberating throughout the studio. "You've gone too far, harassing them and making their lives miserable. It's time to stop!"
The audience murmured in agreement, their support fueling my determination. I took a step forward, closing the distance between us, my eyes blazing with intensity. "No more games. Leave them alone!" I thundered, my words carrying the weight of my righteous fury.
"Make me!" the other Tristan taunted, his voice dripping with defiance.
Without another word, I lunged forward, my anger propelling me into action. We clashed in a frenzy of fists and grapples, the sounds of our struggle drowned out by the cheers and gasps of the audience. Security rushed forward, attempting to separate us, but our combined strength made it difficult for them to intervene.
Despite their efforts, we continued to wrestle furiously, each refusing to back down. The tension in the air was palpable as we fought tooth and nail, fueled by our mutual animosity and determination.
The chaos on stage only intensified as the struggle persisted, the audience's excitement reaching a fever pitch as they watched the dramatic showdown unfold before their eyes.
As the bell rang 13 times, Pete, Jason, Chris, and Carisi leaped into action, their efforts to separate us becoming increasingly frantic. Despite their combined strength, we proved to be formidable opponents, locked in a fierce struggle that seemed to defy all attempts at mediation.
The stage was a whirlwind of chaos as we grappled and fought, the audience's cheers and gasps echoing in the air. Security personnel strained against our resistance, their expressions a mix of determination and concern as they struggled to regain control of the situation.
With each passing moment, the struggle seemed to escalate, our stubbornness and anger driving us to new heights of defiance. It was a battle of wills, a clash of egos that threatened to spiral out of control at any moment.
"JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!" chanted the audience as we were finally pulled away, the fervent cries punctuating the air with a sense of excitement and anticipation. Despite the chaos and turmoil that had unfolded on stage, the audience's enthusiasm remained undiminished, their chants serving as a testament to the enduring appeal of the host.
The audience's chanting faded, replaced by a momentary hush that seemed to hang in the air like a veil of anticipation. Then, as if on cue, they erupted into cheers as we simultaneously removed our shirts, baring our torsos to the audience.
The roar of approval reverberated throughout the studio, a testament to the electrifying energy that pulsed through the room. The sight of us standing shirtless on stage seemed to ignite a new wave of excitement among the spectators, who cheered and applauded with unrestrained enthusiasm.
With a sense of raw determination, we stormed towards each other, the sound of the bell ringing five times serving as a stark reminder of the intensity of the moment. Like characters from a scene in a Creed movie, we began exchanging punches, each blow fueled by adrenaline and pent-up frustration.
For a brief moment, we were lost in the heat of the moment, locked in a primal struggle that seemed to transcend the confines of the studio. It was a spectacle of raw emotion and physicality, a dramatic showdown that captivated the audience and left them on the edge of their seats.
As Pete tried to push us away from each other, the stage became a battleground, our fists flying in a flurry of motion as we traded blows with relentless determination. The audience looked on in awe, their cheers blending with the sound of our grunts and the impact of our punches.
As the show theme began to play, the screen in the studio seamlessly transitioned to a teaser of the next segment of our confrontation, captivating the audience with a glimpse of the drama yet to unfold. The graphics shifted again, offering a tantalizing preview of a later segment, ensuring that viewers remained engaged and eager for more.
After a moment of anticipation, the screen faded to black, signaling the end of the teaser and the start of the commercial break.