Live from the Wyoming Center at CAM-PLEX | Gilette, WY | Crowd Size: 9,208
SEGMENT ONE
As Dynamite comes onto the air, we see a brief, static-filled shot of the infamous skyline that once loomed behind Benny Mouse’s desk. The image barely lasts a second before dissolving into the opening video package. As the package concludes, the camera pans across an electric crowd as Arn Anderson and Kevin Kelly welcome us back to Dynamite.
Arn Anderson: To say that BWM Inc. has been filled with chaos over the past several months would be a dramatic understatement. In the absence of BWM Inc. leadership, some would even say things have been erratic! But tonight, tonight we’ll finally get some answers! The video tape left for Molly Mouse will be played, and we’ll finally find out who will be taking the reigns as Acting Director of Operations!
Kevin Kelly: Plus, the long-awaited showdown between the AEW Television Champion, the Ring General Gunther and the Beast Incarnate Brock Lesnar! A match months in the making, and it all comes to a head tonight! But before we get to all that, we’re kicking things off with a celebration!
Before commentary can continue, the arena lights shift to gold and blue, and an over-the-top display of pyro explodes from the stage. As the music hits, the crowd erupts in boos as the AEW World Heavyweight Champion, Logan Paul, steps onto the stage, clad in a custom blue and gold suit, the championship slung over his shoulder.
The ring has been transformed into a spectacle, balloons and streamers, a massive “Prime Era” banner hanging from the rafters, and a hydration station filled with bottles of Paul’s signature energy drink. The AEW ring crew diligently begins handing out bottles to front row fans, as a few eagerly grab for them while most others react in confusion.
Logan enters the ring, adjusts the championship, and raises a bottle of Prime to the camera with a cocky smirk. He takes a sip, reveling in the moment before bringing the mic to his lips.
Logan Paul: Damn, does it feel good to be on top! [The crowd boos louder as Paul’s grin widens.] A little over a year ago, I walked into AEW and told the world that in the future, companies wouldn’t be searching for the next Dragonfly, they’d be searching for the next Logan Paul! And now? Now I stand before you as YOUR AEW World Heavyweight Champion!
Logan pats the title on his shoulder and gazes around the audience.
Logan Paul: I know, I know… some of you are mad. Some of you think I ‘took shortcuts,’ that I ‘played dirty.’ But let’s be real… I saw an opportunity. And I took it. And now? Now there ain’t a damn thing anybody can do about it!
The crowd erupts in boos once more, with chants of “Logan sucks!” echoing throughout the arena.
Logan Paul: Oh, you guys are adorable. Seriously. But while you sit there complaining, the rest of the world? They get it. Hell, the boys down south, the guys at the World of Wrestling? They’re all in agreement. They’ve already dubbed the 7th Era exactly what it is… the PRIME ERA! Honestly? I couldn’t have named it better myself!
Logan grins and spreads his arms as the camera zooms in on the massive Prime Era banner above the ring.
Logan Paul: This isn’t just about me. This is about what I represent. This is about influence. About star power. About being the guy who moves the needle! Sure, this belt has been around the waists of some all-time greats, but let’s be honest… none of them have had my reach. My brand. My ability to make this title bigger than it’s ever been!
Logan Paul: And for the record? I don’t care if you love me or if you hate me. I care about one thing, and that’s being undeniable. And now that I’m standing here, dripping in gold, and sipping on Prime? You better believe the Prime Era is only getting started!
He raises his drink, prompting another round of boos and a few fans sarcastically toasting back.
Suddenly, the crowd’s tone changes as “Better Than You” blares throughout the arena, and the camera cuts to the entrance ramp as MJF storms out, his face full of rage. The fans lose their minds, the energy in the building skyrocketing as MJF makes a beeline for the ring, eyes locked on the man who stabbed him in the back at Elite Warfare.
Logan, sensing danger, smirks and gestures toward the entrance, prompting a swarm of AEW security to rush forward, forming a human barricade between him and MJF. With a cocky grin, Logan lounges against the ropes, sipping his Prime as MJF grabs a microphone at the foot of the ramp.
MJF: Against my better judgment… I trusted you.
The crowd roars as MJF glares up at Logan.
MJF: Against the advice of my biggest fan—a guy who now runs some rinky-dink, third-rate wrestling operation called ULW… Useless Losers Wrestling.
The crowd laughs, and MJF sneers before continuing.
MJF: I waited MONTHS for my shot to get my hands on Sami Zayn. MONTHS to reclaim MY AEW World Heavyweight Championship. And while I can’t blame you for seizing an opportunity—an opportunity that I, frankly, would’ve taken myself—what I can’t do is forgive a betrayal like that.
Logan Paul: Oh, come on, Max, don’t be so dramatic.
Logan waves a dismissive hand, smirking as he steps toward the ropes.
Logan Paul: I stood beside you for over a YEAR. I waited patiently—from May all the way to January—for you to handle your little Sami Zayn problem. But eventually, I started asking myself… how long was I supposed to wait? Was I supposed to put my whole career on pause while you sorted through your shit?
Logan takes another sip of Prime, then leans forward.
Logan Paul: Now? Now it’s your turn to be there for me—just like I was for you in 2024.
MJF: [scoffs] You know, Logan… I always knew you were a scumbag. Hell, that’s what I LIKED about you in the first place. But there’s one thing you need to understand… NOBODY out-scums the Generational Talent!
MJF: You took what was mine. And now, just like you said, I’m willing to wait as long as it takes to take it back.
As MJF and Logan Paul stand locked in a tense staredown, the moment is shattered by the sound of the opening chords of “Elevated,” as the audience again erupts, this time for the Aerial Assassin Will Ospreay! He strides about halfway down the ramp, soaking in the roar of the fans before bringing a mic to his lips.
Will Ospreay: Oi, lads, I hate to interrupt your little lovers’ quarrel, but I’ve had somethin’ on my mind ever since Elite Warfare…
Ospreay smirks, pacing slightly on the ramp.
Will Ospreay: I don’t know if you remember, Logan, but I do—I’m the ONLY man in history to pin you clean in the middle of that ring!
The crowd erupts again, chanting “Ospreay! Ospreay!” as Logan Paul clenches his jaw, his cocky demeanor faltering.
Will Ospreay: Now, far as I’m concerned, that ought to put me right in the mix for that title on your shoulder.
Ospreay points at the belt draped over Paul’s shoulder, as MJF rolls his eyes.
Will Ospreay: See, I signed with AEW last summer because THIS is where the modern stars come to shine. This ain’t the place where blokes who’ve been doin’ this for DECADES hog the spotlight like they do in those other companies.
The fans pop again, at his thinly veiled reference to CM Punk and The Rock’s championship reigns.
Will Ospreay: Right now, the world’s looking at three of the biggest stars in wrestling today. The average age between us? 28 years old. THAT’S the future of this business, mate!
Will gestures towards Max and continues.
Will Ospray: Max, I get why you’re pissed off. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not waitin’ in line for my shot. I’m gonna earn it… and then? I’m gonna TAKE that AEW World Heavyweight Championship!
MJF smirks, adjusting his Burberry scarf as he slowly brings his mic up.
MJF: You got a lot of nerve comin’ out here, Billy Goat.
Ospreay raises an eyebrow, amused.
MJF: Let me remind you of something—you’re talkin’ to the ONLY man in AEW who’s pinned YOU since you got here in August. Which, by the transitive property of kicking ass… that means I can kick Logan Paul’s ass too!
The crowd erupts, and Logan snaps.
Logan Paul: [shouting] ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Will, you got LUCKY at Elite Warfare!
Logan tights his grip on the belt, his eyes burning with frustration.
Logan Paul: The fact remains, I won the match that REALLY mattered! I walked out as AEW World Champion, and I did it ALL ON MY OWN!
MJF and Ospreay both scoff, clearly not buying it. Logan takes a deep breath, composing himself before stepping toward the ropes.
Logan Paul: So if you two wanna sit here and argue about who’s next in line—fine. But let’s get one thing straight: NEITHER of you are taking this title from me. Not now, not ever!
Suddenly, a voice is overheard coming through the loud speakers, muttering the words, “None of this matters.” As the tron flickers to life, Hangman Adam Page appears on the screen, seated in a dimly lit bar, leather jacket draped over his shoulders. He swirls a glass of whiskey in his hand, eyes dark and distant.
Hangman Adam Page: [taking a sip] You three just wasted 20 minutes of everyone’s time… Because all this posturing, all these little arguments… none of it matters. At Sympathy for the Devil, I earned the right to enter number 60 in Elite Warfare, or to take the first title shot after. I chose the latter. That means, as far as I’m concerned, I’m the uncrowned AEW World Heavyweight Champion.
The crowd boos loudly, but Hangman barely acknowledges them.
Hangman Adam Page: So, I’m gonna do you boys a favor. I’ll take that title off Logan’s hands. And after that, you two can fight over the scraps.
The tron fades to black, and suddenly MJF lunges at Will Ospreay, and the two explode into a brawl on the ramp! The wall of security rushes in, desperately trying to pry them apart. Logan Paul frantically paces inside the ring, watching the chaos unfold—until he realizes he’s in danger. Without hesitation, he grabs his title and bails through the crowd, disappearing into the sea of fans before anyone can touch him.
In the High Minded locker room, the door bursts open as Lady Love and Midget Hogan waltz in, freshly tanned and radiating post-honeymoon energy—well, at least Lady Love is. Midget Hogan, on the other hand, has the expression of a man who left paradise too soon and immediately regretted it. He’s still got a lei around his neck, but it looks less festive and more like a noose.
Meanwhile, Matt Riddle is sprawled across the couch, tossing a Hacky Sack in the air like he’s doing important research on gravity. His trademark grin spreads across his face as he eyes the returning couple.
Matt Riddle: Yo! You guys are back! Finally!
Riddle looks to Midget Hogan and continues.
Matt Riddle: No hard feelings about Elite Warfare, little dude. I’m actually proud of you, bro. You lasted way longer than I thought you would.
Lady Love scoffs.
Lady Love: He lasted way longer than usual, that’s for sure.
Midget Hogan glares at her, immediately hopping onto a nearby bench like an angry chihuahua trying to get eye-level.
Midget Hogan: What’s that supposed to mean? [Turning to Riddle] And bro! I was in there for a solid [pauses, counting on his fingers, giving up immediately] —a real long time, brother!
Lady Love, still dripping in vacation elegance, crosses her arms and gives Hogan a look reserved for misbehaving toddlers and IRS agents.
Lady Love: Yeah, long enough to miss two whole days of the honeymoon!
Midget Hogan freezes, eyes darting like a guilty man caught with both hands in the cookie jar.
Midget Hogan: Babe, we talked about this… ‘til death do us part, but also… ‘til that battle royal bell rings, brother! Besides, our honeymoon lasted like three months!
Before Lady Love can smite him with her glare, a voice gravelly enough to sand wood cuts in from the corner of the room.
It’s Macho Man Randy Savage, still wearing the “Chief of Vibes” sash from the wedding. The fact that it’s slightly singed suggests he’s been through at least one suspicious explosion since the ceremony.
Macho Man: OHHHH YEAH, almost forgot—while I was officiatin’ that union of carnal devotion, I found somethin’, yeah. Mysterious, intrigue-filled, yeah.
Midget Hogan: What? Weren’t you the usher?
He reaches into his fanny pack of destiny and flings a crumpled envelope at Midget Hogan, who snatches it with the enthusiasm of a raccoon finding a discarded cheeseburger.
Midget Hogan: Oh hell yeah, I love mail!
He rips it open, eyes lighting up like he just won the lottery. But as he reads, his expression shifts.
From joy… to confusion… to something resembling that moment in a horror movie when the protagonist realizes the call is coming from inside the house.
Lady Love immediately clocks it.
Lady Love: What? What is it?
The room falls silent. Even Riddle’s Hacky Sack plummets to the ground in slow motion.
Midget Hogan’s grip tightens on the paper, knuckles going white. Finally, he reads aloud—his voice shaky, suspicious, and slightly high-pitched.
Midget Hogan: Your happiness is built on a lie. Your wedding was a sham. She knew… and she never told you. But you’ll know soon enough. We all will.
The room freezes. Lady Love’s face is impossible to read. But her fingers twitch. Just a little.
Midget Hogan slowly turns to her, eyes narrowing.
Midget Hogan: [voice barely above a whisper] …Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a son?
Match #1 | Exhibition Match
Piper Niven vs. Timeless Toni Storm
The camera cuts to the ring as Piper Niven is already pacing in her corner, rolling her shoulders, ready for a fight. Timeless Toni Storm makes a grand entrance, and as she enters the ring awaiting the bell, she lounges in the ropes, adjusting her gloves, her usual air of Hollywood aloofness on full display.
Kevin Kelly: This match should be a hard-hitting contest, but let’s not forget—Piper Niven was holding that Knockouts Hardcore Championship before the wedding… and then, well, something happened.
Arn Anderson: Something happened, alright! The belt disappeared faster than my ex-wife’s alimony payments. Lady Love snatched it in the chaos, and it went so far under the radar, I think even the guys who write the episode previews forgot it happened.
Kevin Kelly: You’d think a 12-foot woman committing a literal title heist would be something we’d all remember, but that just goes to show you how chaotic the wrestling landscape’s been since the final stretch of 2024.
The bell rings, and Storm casually steps forward, looking completely uninterested in whatever Niven plans to bring. But Piper isn’t here for nonsense. She charges in like a runaway train, colliding into Storm with a body block that flattens her into the corner!
Storm stumbles out, adjusting her gloves, blinking in disbelief. She glares at Niven like she just got insulted at a dinner party.
Toni Storm: [shouting in disbelief] That’s no way to treat a lady!
Niven smirks and slaps her across the face.
Kevin Kelly: That’s also no way to treat a lady!
Arn Anderson: Speaking of ladies… did Midget Hogan just accuse Lady Love of having a secret love child? Is this Groundhog’s Day, because I could’ve sworn I’ve seen this one before!
Storm reels back, dramatically clutching her cheek like she’s auditioning for a silent film. She waves toward the hard cam as if calling for a close-up.
Kevin Kelly: Toni’s cuttin’ a reel in real-time. Somebody call the Academy.
Storm, snapping out of her theatrics, suddenly ducks a haymaker and fires back with a thunderous European uppercut that sends Niven stumbling. She follows up with vicious forearms, but Niven absorbs them and flattens Storm with a lariat!
1… 2… Kickout!
Storm, shaking out the cobwebs, rolls to the apron. As Niven reaches over, Storm grabs her by the hair and yanks her throat-first onto the ropes! Piper stumbles back, and Storm rushes in with a running hip attack!
1… 2… Kickout!
Storm calls for the Storm Zero, but as she hoists Niven up, Piper shifts her weight and counters with a back body drop! Storm scrambles to her feet—BAM!
Niven catches her with a running senton!
1… 2… Storm gets her foot on the ropes!
Piper pulls Storm up, looking for the Piper Driver, but Storm drops down, slips behind, and hits a desperation chop block!
Storm scrambles up, grabs Niven’s head, and with a burst of strength, plants her with a swinging DDT! Storm stumbles to the corner, eyes wild, adjusting her knee pads. She rushes forward—
BOOM! A second hip attack, full force to the jaw!
Storm hooks the leg—
1… 2… 3!
Storm slowly rises, tilting her head back like she just won an Oscar. The ref raises her hand, and she gives a slow, deliberate curtsy before rolling out of the ring.
Kevin Kelly: Piper Niven gave a hell of a fight, but Timeless Toni Storm—like any good Hollywood star—knows how to deliver a killer ending.
Storm smirks at Niven from the ramp, tossing a fake air kiss before strutting off, leaving the former Knockouts Hardcore Champion sitting in the ring—beltless, but not beaten down.
Winner: Timeless Toni Storm
Match Time: 9:04
SEGMENT TWO
Match #2 | AEW Television Championship
‘The Ring General’ Gunther (C) w/ Ludwig Kaiser vs. Brock Lesnar
The moment Brock Lesnar’s music hits, the crowd erupts. The Beast Incarnate stomps to the ring, cracking his knuckles, his eyes locked on his prey. Gunther is out next with Ludwig Kaiser, his AEW Television Championship strapped around his waist. No fear in his eyes—just cold, calculated intensity.
Kevin Kelly: It’s been brewing since August. Brock Lesnar finally has Gunther in a one-on-one match, and you better believe he hasn’t forgotten what happened at Elite Warfare.
Arn Anderson: He got his hands on Gunther that night, and buddy, Gunther felt it. But this is different—this is a fight Gunther signed up for. And when you sign up for a fight with Brock Lesnar… you better be ready to survive.
Kevin Kelly: And folks, a quick programming note, Dynamite returns next week with our traditional format; and hopefully with our new Acting Director of Operations. Of course, that still remains to be seen, as we were promised we’d get some insight on that tonight and thus far, nothing!
Just as the bell is about to sound, Gunther shakes his head no and nonchalantly exits the ring! The champion makes it about halfway up the ramp as the crowd showers him in boos. Suddenly, Lesnar jumps out of the ring and charges him! The two behemoths collide like wrecking balls, immediately trading thunderous forearms!
Lesnar steers Gunther back towards the ring, with Sr. Official Michael McMahon barely able to call for the bell as they reenter and Lesnar buries a knee into Gunther’s ribs and slams him into the corner. Gunther absorbs it and fires back with a knife-edge chop that echoes through the arena!
Kevin Kelly: That chop just rearranged Lesnar’s internal organs!
Lesnar, instead of wincing, just grins. He grabs Gunther by the throat and throws him into the opposite corner! A barrage of shoulder thrusts follows, each one rattling the champion’s ribs.
Gunther pushes Lesnar away, but Lesnar EXPLODES out of the corner and tackles him to the mat! Ground-and-pound from The Beast! Gunther covers up, but Lesnar rains down hammer fists before the referee forces him back.
Gunther rolls to his feet, shaking out the cobwebs. Lesnar charges in again—but Gunther chops him out of the air!
Arn Anderson: Oh, my god. Brock Lesnar just got stopped mid-run like he hit a brick wall!
Lesnar stumbles back, shaking his head, and Gunther follows up with a brutal short-arm lariat! Lesnar drops to a knee, but Gunther lifts him up and just SLAPS THE HELL OUT OF HIM!
Lesnar absorbs it— AND SLAPS GUNTHER RIGHT BACK.
Both men start trading stiff palm strikes and forearms, neither backing down. Lesnar ducks a wild swing—German Suplex! Gunther lands hard but rolls to his knees. Lesnar grabs him again—SECOND GERMAN SUPLEX!
Gunther is rattled. He stumbles to his feet—THIRD GERMAN SUPLEX!
Kevin Kelly: Brock’s throwing Gunther like he’s a cruiserweight!
Arn Anderson: And Gunther ain’t a cruiserweight—he’s 250 pounds of European violence!
Lesnar grins and lifts Gunther up for the F-5—
Gunther elbows his way out!
Gunther grabs Lesnar’s arm and yanks him into a Fujiwara armbar!
Lesnar fights against it, rolling through, but Gunther keeps control and transitions into a cross armbreaker! Lesnar’s massive frame keeps him from being fully extended, but Gunther wrenches back with all his might!
Lesnar rolls into a pinning position—1… 2… GUNTHER KICKS OUT!
Both men scramble up, but Gunther blindsides Lesnar with a running boot to the jaw!
Gunther tries to hoist Lesnar up for a powerbomb, but Lesnar fights free and counters with a VICIOUS OVERHEAD BELLY-TO-BELLY!
Gunther lands hard and rolls outside to regroup.
Lesnar follows him out, but Gunther lures him in—he WHIPS LESNAR INTO THE RING POST! Gunther doesn’t waste time—he grabs Lesnar and drapes him over the barricade, delivering a brutal forearm to the spine!
Lesnar stumbles away, shaking off the impact, but Gunther follows and SLAMS HIM CHEST-FIRST INTO THE APRON!
Kevin Kelly: Gunther is the first man I’ve ever seen slow Brock Lesnar down with pure brutality!
Gunther rolls Lesnar back in and climbs to the top rope. The crowd gasps—
Gunther LEAPS—
LESNAR CATCHES HIM MID-AIR—F-5!!!
Gunther is planted!
1… 2… LUDWIG KAISER PUTS GUNTHER’S FOOT ON THE ROPE!
Lesnar sees it and IMMEDIATELY rolls out of the ring after Kaiser!
Kaiser scurries around the ring, Lesnar right behind him! But as Lesnar rounds the corner—Gunther blindsides him with a running big boot!
Gunther throws Lesnar back in, climbs up the apron, and prepares for a powerbomb—
Lesnar COUNTERS! He lifts Gunther up for another F-5—
Gunther shifts his weight—
ROLL-UP! GUNTHER HAS THE TIGHTS!
1… 2… 3!!!
Kevin Kelly: WHAT?! HE STOLE IT! GUNTHER JUST PINNED BROCK LESNAR!
Winner: ‘The Ring General’ Gunther
Match Time: 16:23
As McMahon calls for the bell, Lesnar immediately sits up, his eyes filled with fury. Gunther heads towards his corner to retrieve his AEW Television Championship. Before he can escape, however, Lesnar blindsides him from behind! The Beast is unhinged, grabbing Gunther and F-5’ing him onto the mat!
Kaiser tries to intervene, but Lesnar snatches him up and plants him with an F-5!
Arn Anderson: All hell has broken loose! Somebody get out here!
Suddenly, the crowd begins to stir, their heads turning towards the entranceway! Paul Heyman is here!
Heyman rushes into the ring, wide-eyed and desperate, pleading with Lesnar off-mic. Lesnar, breathing heavily, glares at Heyman. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to ignore him—but then he stops. Slowly, Lesnar exhales, nods at Heyman, and exits the ring.
The crowd is stunned as Heyman and Lesnar leave together, while Gunther and Kaiser lay motionless, bloodied, and beaten in the ring.
Kevin Kelly: What the hell did we just witness? Paul Heyman just walked out with Brock Lesnar!
Arn Anderson: And Gunther, for all his pain, still holds that AEW Television Championship.
Suddenly, the lights dim and Dominik Mysterio’s music hits!
Kevin Kelly: Wait a minute! WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!
Dominik Mysterio bursts through the curtain, sprinting to the ring with his Gold Rush Ladder Match briefcase in hand! His eyes are locked on Gunther as he slides under the ropes, barely hesitating.
Arn Anderson: No way! Is this really happening?!
Dominik shoves the briefcase into the hands of senior official Michael McMahon, shouting at him to cash it in! The referee looks at the timekeeper, nods, and calls for the bell!
DING DING DING!
Dominik wastes no time—he scales the top rope in one swift motion!
Kevin Kelly: Gunther isn’t moving! Mysterio’s going for it!
Dominik leaps off the top—FROG SPLASH CONNECTS! Gunther’s lifeless body convulses from the impact, but he’s completely out cold. Dominik frantically hooks the leg!
ONE! TWO! THREE!
The crowd explodes in a mix of cheers and boos as Dominik scrambles to his feet, disbelief painted across his face! McMahon hands him the AEW Television Championship, and Dominik clutches it to his chest like he’s just stolen the Mona Lisa.
Kevin Kelly: OH MY GOD! WE HAVE A NEW CHAMPION!
Arn Anderson: DOMINIK MYSTERIO JUST CASHED IN ON GUNTHER! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!
Dominik rolls out of the ring in a hurry, looking over his shoulder like he expects Gunther to suddenly wake up. He backs up the ramp, holding the title high above his head, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
Inside the ring, Gunther is still unconscious, Kaiser barely stirring beside him. The Ring General’s reign has come to an abrupt and shocking end.
Dominik stands atop the ramp, smirking as the camera zooms in on the AEW Television Championship in his hands.
Kevin Kelly: Gunther went to war with Brock Lesnar, and when the smoke cleared, Dominik Mysterio picked his spot like a damn vulture!
Arn Anderson: Love him or hate him, that was genius! He just took out one of the most dominant champions we’ve ever seen!
Winner and NEW AEW Television Champion: Dominik Mysterio
The show closes with Dominik holding the title high as the AEW logo fades to black.
As the AEW logo fades to black, the screen flickers with static. The crackling distortion lingers, stretching seconds into eternity, before the picture gradually stabilizes.
We re-open on a dimly lit office, the massive BWM Inc. window overlooking the New York City skyline dominating the background. The familiar silhouette of Danhausen sits in the foreground, bathed in a sickly, flickering fluorescent light. But something is… wrong.
His hands—covered in the white gloves that once belonged to Benny Mouse—twitch slightly on the desk before him. A top hat, unmistakably Benny’s, rests atop his head. Danhausen’s hollow eyes bore into the camera.
The silence is deafening.
Then, his lips part—
—but the voice that emerges is not just his own.
It’s distorted. A sickening fusion of Danhausen’s eerie cadence and the unmistakable raspy growl of Benny Mouse himself.
Danhausen/Benny: BWM Inc. has been in turmoil since last fall… and the blame lies squarely at the feet of the corrupt.
The voice shifts more towards Benny’s, deepening. The room’s shadows stretch unnaturally as if responding to his words.
Danhausen/Benny: Sami Zayn… Megan Mouse… the harbingers of ruin.
A gloved hand flexes. The fingers crack.
Danhausen/Benny: Megan’s gone home.
He tilts his head ever so slightly. The fluorescent light buzzes louder.
Danhausen/Benny: And Sami? Sami is somewhere he can no longer hurt us.
A beat. The static returns for a second, and with it, a brief, unsettling frame of Sami’s face, wide-eyed in horrified realization, before cutting back to Danhausen.
He leans forward. His expression remains unreadable.
Danhausen/Benny: The cost of this sacrifice was great. We risked it all—our legacy, our power… the greatest streak of dominance since 2003.
The voice fluctuates—now fully Benny’s, now Danhausen’s, then something that doesn’t belong to either.
Danhausen/Benny: But now the dust has settled. Now… ‘we’ have chosen the man to lead us in their absence.
A deep, unnatural laugh gurgles through the speakers.
Danhausen’s face snaps upward, eyes wide with an unnatural gleam. His teeth bare in a grin too sharp, too wide.
Danhausen/Benny: Tonight, on the other channel, they promise to expose Benny Mouse’s tactics.
A low, guttural chuckle.
Danhausen/Benny: A cheap, desperate ratings stunt. A pathetic illusion.
The static intensifies again—brief, haunting flashes of faded newspaper clippings from BWM Inc.’s darkest days flicker across the screen. Headlines whisper their horrors:
“DISAPPEARANCES AT BWM INC. – INVESTIGATION STALLED”
“THE COST OF POWER: BWM INC.’S UNANSWERED QUESTIONS”
“THE SHADOW OF BENNY MOUSE – LEGEND OR NIGHTMARE?”
Danhausen’s mouth moves again. This time, the voice is fully his own.
Danhausen: Why settle for second best… when we can have the real deal?
A slow creaking noise echoes from the darkness behind him. Something else is in the room. Something watching.
Danhausen tilts his head slightly, as if listening. A grin. A decision.
Danhausen: Beginning next week…
The screen glitches violently. The lights in the office flicker, distort, and then dim entirely—leaving only the glow of the New York skyline behind Danhausen’s shadowy figure.
Danhausen/Benny: Master Splinter returns… as the Acting Director of Operations.
The audio warps into a chorus of overlapping whispers, Benny’s voice the loudest among them. The static erupts into a deafening screech before the show immediately cuts to black!
World Of Wrestling: Murrey Universe 