Another commercial played, this one a quiet and ominous set of imagery. It showed a few Valkhounds, sitting in a group in what might have been Orion--and this seemed, at least, to be live-action. "Not everyone can be trusted," the voice on screen said, and one Valkhound began to stammer as it stood. "Excuse me, I'll come back later. I have--I just have someone I need to talk to..." and then it slunk away, its mannerisms overly cowardly, glances shot over its back. "If you see strange behavior... Report it to an Overseer at once." Now the group went back to speaking--and the cowardly beast came rushing back in, a tiny band of skinny, ugly creatures at its back, crying out for blood: "Down with the Masters! Down with work! Down with our very own creators-" The camera zoomed in on the looks of betrayal in the faces of the Valkhounds remaining, flash-frozen, each one flicking after a half-second into negative colors. It was all very over-dramatic, and all overdone, as was the final warning: "Remember, if someone is acting strange, say something, before it's too late... or you might be their next victim."

Then, with a dimming and brightening of the screen, Rodd Danger was back!

There was a slash of animated lightning, a crash of thunder, and a swirling zoom in on Rodd cracking a sparkling whip. "We're back, folks, and I bet you wonder who we'll be chasing down today! Our target's a Beryl with the number Five-Two-Oh! And Beryl's been a real, real bad Valkhound. It's been out killing loyal friends like you and me, picking them off from the shadows..."

There was ominous music, for a moment, the distant thud of a drum, and firelight as an animated, overly-sinister cartoon like a spiky bear slowly prowled across the screen. This went on for several seconds before the spiky bear found its prey--a hapless little alien creature curled up in a corner. As it stalked, pounced and eventually (in sprays of gory animated blood) tore the alien creature to pieces, Rodd narrated. "It's been looking for good servants--scouts and workers--and killing them for no good reason! And Overseer Vargas's gonna put a stop to that, now, with my help." A short, cut off few words were heard, gruff, something like "That's not-" but the cartoon went on.

Now it showed Rodd creeping, tiptoeing in an over-the-top manner, around a pile full of bones. Overseer Vargas was barely-visible in the background, a hulking shape at first easily mistaken for shadow and swathed by magic darkness. It paused, well-animated in this case, and stared down at Rodd. Vargas's actual voice came through. "Get out of the open," he hissed. Rodd's own narration talked over him, even through Rodd's character didn't open his mouth to speak: "Haha, don't be silly, Overseer! Old Rodd won't be steppin' into any traps. RODDDD DANGER knows what he's doing!" A loud thrill of music played, the growl of the Overseer overwhelmed by it.

In the next scene, Vargas was not present; only Rodd, now from behind instead of from the side, tiptoeing through pools of dramatic lighting surrounded by darkness. "Now, here we can smell this nasty critter's musk. It's close by; Overseer Vargas has been tracking it for days, and with the help of our trusty magic whip, we'll get 'im!" The music became slow, tense, pulsing through the cinema with a low bassline, drawing up the tension... and then Rodd kicked a bone, the sound of it skittering away sparking a bright thrum of action-music. "Oh, no-" Rodd said, and Vargas's muffled voice could be heard, covered up, in the background. "-ing idiot, get out of the light. I don't know who-"

The music rose to an action-packed crescendo. The camera slowly panned in on an animated set of shadows, a pair of glowing eyes slowly opening...

And then, with a comic twang and a horrific laugh track, a Cave Rat came scampering out, scattering bones as it ran in over-the-top leaping runs.

When the canned laughter had died down, its uproar far too loud, Vargas was shown slipping through the darkness between the bone fortresses once again. At times he was bright purple, vibrantly visible, but the animators had done a good job of the dramatic nature of his vanishing into the shadows when he so wished. "So tell us, Overseer; how've you pinpointed our villain Beryl? Can you tell us a little--but not too much! Don't want them rebels gettin' wise--about your methods?"

Five--then six, the animators seemingly remembering the correct number--acid eyes flicked to Rodd on-screen. "He leaves bits of his meals behind. He hides it, but the scent is there, and I have dug these meals up, confirmed them. He has been," and there was a pause, as if Vargas was reluctant about something--"get that out of my face." (Pause explained. The voice returned, more distant again.) "-He has been working his way around this region in a large circle. Predictability is a liability and it will be his end. Now shut-" A trill of suspenseful music played. Rodd's voice cut back over the tune. "AND THAT'LL BE HIS END! Like the Overseer says, folks! We'll find our varmint right after this next commercial break--and that's a promise, or my name ain't RODDDDDD DANGER! R-Oh-DOUBLE-D DANGER!"

This cut to another commercial break: loud, exciting music playing over flashing, spinning images of pairs of different Masters. Each was shown back-to-back, or as close an approximation as their anatomy would allow: the albino elf Astraea with arms folded across his chest, his back to the wings of an ice phoenix; a lamb alongside and facing away from a great black dragon. Over these images, a loud, dramatic voice played. "THIS WEEK, ON NEST NANNIES: EACH PAIR OF MASTERS IS GIVEN ONE HOUR AND LIMITED MATERIAL TO FASHION THE ULTIMATE VALKHOUND. WHO WILL WIN-?" Other pairs were shown, Nemean distinctly missing from it; instead the scenes shifted, to show the other pairs of masters feverishly working with Nemean screaming down at them from mid-air. "THIS VALKHOUND IS HALF-FORMED!" she shrieked. "DID YOU EVEN ADD VENOM?! WHAT IS THIS EVEN?! HOW DID YOU EARN YOUR RANK!?" The booming voice repeated: "WATCH THIS WEEK, ON NEST NANNIES," to a clamor of horrific closing music that sounded like metal clashing.

The return of dimmer, animated lighting and the sudden influx through the theatre of more ominous, tense-toned music hinted that now, at last, they would see their finale.

Rodd's voice talked over it, his mouth animated badly to keep up with the words. He was lowering himself to kneel along one of the passages between two piles of remains, the animation depicting the sheen of purple and green across black bones. "Overseer Vargas and I have found some sign," he was saying, and his voice was quiet, now. Not solemn, but full of seething excitement--kept quiet to prevent him alerting his prey. His hand reached down, palm to the ground, beside a massive-clawed pawprint. "It's fresh, too, so we'll be seein' our rebel soon... And we'll be ready for 'im. Remember, folks, there's never a good end for a rebel." This was said with fake, saccharine melancholy, and then Rodd was creeping forward.

In the background, Vargas's hulking shape could be easily seen, lurking in the dark but animated to stand out.

The scene shifted; more tense music played over slow, creeping animations of Rodd prowling further and further, deeper into the piles of bones--which grew ever-taller to his sides. Always, in the background, Vargas could be seen slipping along--atop the bones, higher up and farther away. But Rodd seemed to be doing a decent job tracking on his own, one hand on his whip--and when the animation slowed, a trill playing, a close-up showed blue fingers reaching slowly for that whip. Then his eye were shown: pale blue, staring ahead, narrowing: and the sound of ragged, heavy breathing could be heard from somewhere just off-screen.

Action-! Violence-! Suddenly, abruptly, there was an ear-splitting roar: and a huge and jagged bear-like beast, solid silver muscle and thick, quilled fur (the tips glowing acid green) came barrelling from the shadows. The music reached a high-pitched crescendo, and Rodd engaged in battle: when the bear leapt for him he lashed his whip, magic flaring with overdone, animated sparkles along its length. Each time the Valkhound charged, Rodd's whip lashed it down, drawing blood or snaring a limb and jerking it to the ground. The roars grew more anguished and, despite Rodd's lips not moving in this scene, his action-packed voice could be heard yelling overtop it. "No rebel's got a chance against R-OH-DOUBLE-D DANGER! You shoulda stayed in your lane, traitor!" The music became quite upbeat as the terrible villain was fought down, and now the bear backed off, animated jaws again not moving, to a rather badly voice-acted voiceover.

"YOU HAVE UNDONE ME," the Valkhound roared, overly dramatic. "I PLANNED TO KILL YOU ALL, ALL YOUR LITTLE HELPERS AND HELPLESS SERVANTS, ONE AT A TIME! BUT YOU, RODD DANGER--DAMN YOU! YOU HAVE STOOOOPPED ME!" There was a pause, a crackle, the animation seeming almost to freeze--to skip. The music pitched even higher! THRUM! WHING! "BUT I WON'T GO DOWN ALONE..."

The Valkhound reared onto its hind legs, the ground (badly animated) shuddering, shaking the entire scene. It was at this point that the animated Vargas leapt down from behind, a slashing of spiked arms and massive jaws taking the Valkhound down from behind in sprays of animated blood.

Rodd cracked his whip, still upright, and crowed in triumph. "You got here just in time, Overseer! But that rebel never stood a chance... against Rodddddd DANGER!"

Music swelled. Vargas's muttered insult was lost under the roar of canned applause. "And that's all for this hunt, folks! Remember, always report any suspicious activity to your local Overseer... because you never know who'll end up like this. But if they do... Rodd Danger'll be there to save the day!"

A moment later, credits rolled, the silver-quilled bear-beast tumbling lifeless onto the piles of bones it had been living in, Rodd offering a cheerful tip of his hat in salute to the 'camera' from behind it.

What a wonderful show!