Raw Results

January 12, 2026

The screen fades in from black. No pyro. No music. No commentary. Just the low hum of the arena bleeding faintly through concrete walls.

The camera steadies inside the RAW locker room. Intercontinental Champion Jey Uso sits alone on a bench, elbows resting on his knees. The Intercontinental Championship lies beside him, freshly polished, the gold catching the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Jey slowly tapes his wrists, focused, breathing steady—but his jaw is tight. This isn’t just another night. Footsteps echo. Jey looks up. The camera pans as Roman Reigns steps into frame.

Roman is dressed sharp—black hoodie, calm posture, that familiar, unsettling confidence etched across his face. He closes the distance slowly, eyes never leaving the championship.

Jey straightens up but doesn’t stand. He keeps taping, deliberately unbothered. Roman breaks the silence. “Funny thing, Uce…”He nods toward the title.“ Out of everybody in this family… you’re the first one to grab a singles title besides The Rock. ”Roman smirks, but there’s no warmth in it. “Guess things really do change when the Tribal Chief ain’t around, huh?”Jey finally looks up, meeting Roman’s eyes.“

“Things change when people stop waitin’ on permission.”

Roman’s smile fades instantly. He steps closer now, looming.“Careful,” Roman says calmly. “That belt? That spotlight? That all comes with responsibility.”

Roman reaches down and lifts the Intercontinental Championship just enough to feel its weight, then lets it fall back onto the bench with a soft thud.

“You don’t run this family.”Jey stands now, chest to chest with Roman.“And you don’t run RAW.”

The tension spikes.

Roman exhales slowly, clearly amused—but annoyed.

“You see, that’s where you’re confused,” Roman replies. “I don’t need a brand. I don’t need a show. Everything that family touches… belongs to me.”

Jey shakes his head.“You on SmackDown, Uce. That’s your island. This?” He gestures around the room. “This mine.”Roman’s eyes narrow.

“You really think that title’s yours?”

Jey doesn’t hesitate.“I earned it.”

Roman leans in, voice low and dangerous.“Then you should know when to give it up.”

Jey scoffs.“Nah. What I should know is that you ain’t the Tribal Chief no more. The Rock is.”

That lands. Roman steps back, slowly, nodding to himself like he’s filing something away.“Alright,” Roman says. “I’ll make this real simple.”He points at Jey. Then the title.“You got one week.”

Jey’s expression hardens.“One week to do the right thing. Hand that title over… and we keep this family.”Roman steps back toward the door.“If you don’t?”He pauses, glancing over his shoulder.“I’ll take it.”

Roman exits.The camera stays on Jey. Jey stares at the championship, jaw clenched, eyes burning. He slowly picks it up and slings it over his shoulder.

“No,” Jey mutters to himself.

“You won’t.”

The screen cuts to black.RAW. LIVE.

The feed snaps live inside the arena. Pyro erupts across the stage as the crowd roars, the RAW theme blasting through the building. The camera sweeps over the sea of fans before settling at ringside.

Michael Cole: “Welcomes everyone to Monday Night RAW!”

His voice carrying extra weight after what we’ve already seen tonight.

Cole immediately frames the night with urgency, reminding viewers that the landscape of RAW has been shifting fast—and not everyone is willing to fade quietly into the background.

Wade Barrett jumps in, laser-focused. “Chad Gable recently lost both the Intercontinental Championship and the United States Championship, that hasn’t broken him—it’s sharpened him!”

Barrett emphasizes that Gable is the kind of competitor who refuses to be defined by losses, a man obsessed with proving his worth every single time the bell rings.

Cole agrees, saying that Gable has made it crystal clear backstage that he will not be forgotten, ignored, or underestimated. According to Cole, Chad Gable isn’t interested in sympathy, excuses, or moral victories—he wants respect, and he’s prepared to take it by force if necessary.

Barrett closes the thought by warning the locker room that a desperate, driven Chad Gable is far more dangerous than a champion who feels comfortable. He says tonight may be the beginning of Gable reminding the wrestling world exactly who he is—and why overlooking him is a mistake no one can afford to make.

The camera cuts away as the crowd buzzes, anticipation building for what Gable might do next.

During the ad break, the broadcast cuts to a pre-produced clip labeled “Hit and Spear Podcast – Exclusive”.

The set is loud, colorful, and deliberately over-the-top. Bret Hart sits straight-backed and serious, arms folded, while Bill Goldberg leans back in his chair, grinning like he’s already waiting to interrupt. A giant neon logo reading HIT AND SPEAR glows behind them.

Their guest is Natalya, seated between them, calm but visibly intense.

Goldberg wastes no time, blunt as ever. “Natalya why did you attack Rhea Ripley during the last episode of Hit and Spear?” He frames it as a shocking moment that crossed the line from talk into chaos.

Natalya doesn’t flinch. “Rhea Ripley walks around like she’s untouchable, like the entire division exists in her shadow—and I am done being treated like a footnote.” She says Rhea calls herself the most dominant champion of this generation, but dominance means nothing if no one challenges it. Natalya looks straight into the camera and says it clearly: “I didn’t attack Rhea for attention. I attacked her because I want the World Championship.”

Bret nods approvingly, clearly impressed, while Goldberg lets out a low “huh” and smirks.

The clip then abruptly shifts to a graphic reading “SHARP SHOOTING with Bret Hart”, complete with dramatic western-style music.

Bret takes over the mic and immediately starts roasting.

“Thank you Bill Goldberg for being part of the show. It’s nice to have a co-host who knows two moves and still forgets one of them.”

Goldberg laughs it off, shaking his head, clearly used to it.

Bret then pivots, bringing up Will Ospreay. “Sometimes I need subtitles just to understand whether Ospreay is cutting a promo or ordering food.”

Bret deadpans that Ospreay might be one of the best athletes in the world, but listening to him talk feels like being dropped into a different timezone.

Finally, Bret takes aim at Bron Breakker. “All the speed and power in the world can’t help you if you’re “running on low battery upstairs.”

Bret jokes that Breakker hits the ropes harder than he hits complex thoughts, drawing a loud reaction from Goldberg, who nearly loses it laughing.

The segment ends with Bret smugly adjusting his sunglasses and saying, “That’s Sharp Shooting,” as Goldberg sarcastically applauds.

The screen fades out and the broadcast snaps back to RAW, the crowd buzzing.

Seth Rollins vs Dominik Mysterio

The opening bell rings and the energy in the building is already electric.

Michael Cole sets the stage immediately, calling this a massive opportunity for Dominick Mysterio against one of the biggest stars in the industry, Seth “Freakin” Rollins. Wade Barrett reminds everyone that Rollins is heading into the Royal Rumble with a date against Gunther, who just happens to be joining commentary tonight.

Gunther’s music hits briefly as he takes a seat at the desk, stone-faced, arms folded. He doesn’t even acknowledge the crowd. Before the lock-up, Gunther coolly says that Seth Rollins is “all noise, no substance,” and that Dominick may not win, but at least he understands his role—unlike Seth, who pretends to be great instead of proving it.

Rollins and Dominick circle, and Seth immediately out-wrestles him, snapping him down into a side headlock and rolling through with crisp transitions. Cole praises Rollins’ technical sharpness, while Gunther dismisses it as “dancing.

Dominick scrambles to the ropes, then cheap-shots Rollins on the break, drawing loud boos. Barrett notes Dominick’s willingness to bend rules, calling it survival.

Gunther smirks and says, “At least he knows Seth cannot be beaten clean.”Dominick takes control briefly, hammering Rollins in the corner with stomps and driving a knee into Seth’s spine. He talks trash, confidence growing, but Rollins explodes out of the corner with a sudden sling blade and a low dropkick that sends Dominick rolling to the floor. Rollins builds momentum—suicide dive connects, and the crowd is firmly behind him now.

Cole hypes Seth’s intensity, while Gunther casually remarks that Rollins wastes too much energy trying to impress people who won’t matter once Gunther chops him down at the Rumble.

Back inside, Rollins goes for a Falcon Arrow, but Dominick slips out and counters with a quick DDT for a close two-count. Dominick can’t believe it. He argues with referee John Cone, giving Seth just enough time to recover.

Gunther laughs quietly and says this is what happens when emotion outweighs discipline. Dominick tries to slow the pace, grounding Seth with a chinlock and short elbows. Barrett points out Dominick’s growth in ring awareness. Gunther adds a jab, saying Seth struggles the moment the match isn’t about speed and spectacle. Rollins fights back to his feet, fires off rapid strikes, and hits a superkick followed by a deadlift buckle bomb. The crowd erupts. Seth lines up for the Stomp—but Dominick rolls away at the last second.

Dominick counters again, this time yanking Seth into the ropes and snapping his neck across the middle rope. He follows with a springboard senton for another near fall.

Cole is shocked at how close Dominick came, while Gunther dryly says, “Close does not count.”

Dominick goes for the Three Amigos, manages two, but Seth blocks the third, spins out, and lands a ripcord knee to the face. Both men are down. As they get up, Dominick charges—Seth catches him mid-motion and plants him with a picture-perfect Pedigree. Seth doesn’t go for the pin immediately. He looks toward commentary.

Gunther stares back, unimpressed. Rollins shrugs, pulls Dominick up, and finally hits the Stomp dead center of the ring. One.Two.Three.

Michael Cole calls it a huge win for Seth Rollins, saying momentum is firmly on his side heading toward the Royal Rumble. Barrett praises Seth’s resilience and adaptability. Gunther slowly removes his headset. Before leaving, he leans toward the camera and says calmly that Rollins may win matches like this—but at the Royal Rumble, there will be no escaping power, no crowd to save him, and no tricks that stop inevitability.

Rollins stands tall in the ring, breathing heavy, eyes locked on Gunther as he walks away.

The tension is unmistakable.This rivalry is just getting started.

During the final ad break, a dramatic preview for tomorrow night’s NXT airs.

The screen opens in stark black-and-white footage of the NXT Championship lying inside a gym bag. The zipper slowly pulls closed.

Cut to Ethan Page standing alone in an empty gym, the NXT Championship draped over his shoulder like it already belongs to him. It doesn’t.

He smirks straight into the camera and says that championships aren’t earned—they’re taken. He reminds everyone that while Trick Williams was busy training, Ethan was busy thinking three steps ahead.

Quick cuts flash of Trick Williams storming through the NXT Performance Center, dumping out his gym bag, realizing the title is gone.

His expression shifts from confusion to pure rage.

The screen slams into color as bold text hits:STEEL CAGE MATCH NXT CHAMPIONSHIP

Footage shows the steel cage lowering, the door slamming shut, and both men staring each other down from opposite sides of the ring.

Ethan Page’s voice echoes over the montage, saying that a cage keeps everyone honest—and tomorrow night, it keeps Trick trapped with him.

The final shot is Ethan Page lifting the NXT Championship high above his head inside the cage as Trick grips the steel, jaw clenched, eyes locked in.

The graphic flashes:NXT — TOMORROW NIGHT

The preview ends abruptly, sending the broadcast back to RAW as the crowd buzzes, fully aware that chaos is coming in NXT.

The show returns from break and the atmosphere instantly shifts.

DIY’s music hits, and the World Tag Team Champions step onto the stage to a loud ovation. Johnny Gargano and Tommaso Ciampa hold the titles high, soaking in the moment. Michael Cole reminds us that DIY have clawed their way to the top through heart, resilience, and unmatched chemistry. Wade Barrett adds that they may not be the biggest team, but they are as cohesive as anyone in the division. DIY enter the ring, pacing, focused, ready for war.

Then the music cuts.A new theme hits.The crowd buzzes in confusion…

then erupts.

Chad Gable walks out onto the stage.

Cole sounds genuinely surprised, noting that earlier tonight it was made clear that Gable has no intention of fading away—but this? This feels different. Gable stands calmly at the top of the ramp, microphone in hand, eyes locked on the champions.

Gable says that for too long, Monday Night RAW has taken him for granted. For too long, greatness has been overlooked in favor of popularity. He says that ends now.

He announces the formation of a new stable.

American Made.

Gable declares that American Made isn’t about shortcuts or excuses—it’s about discipline, domination, and wrestling excellence. He says they are here to conquer Monday nights and take everything they deserve.

Then Gable smiles.

He introduces the future.

Out walk the Creed Brothers!!!

The crowd explodes.

Cole immediately puts over Julius and Brutus Creed as world-class athletes, calling them freakish combinations of strength, speed, and amateur dominance.

Barrett emphasizes that these two are not just prospects—they are weapons.

The Creeds step into the ring, staring down DIY as Gable stands proudly at ringside.

The bell rings.

From the opening seconds, the Creeds come out like missiles. Julius Creed explodes into Gargano with a thunderous tackle, while Brutus launches Ciampa with a belly-to-belly suplex that rattles the ring. Cole shouts that this is unreal power.

DIY responds with experience—quick tags, sharp strikes, and tandem offense slow the pace. Gargano lands a step-up enzuigiri, Ciampa follows with a running knee, and suddenly the champions have control. Barrett praises DIY’s ability to chop down bigger opponents piece by piece.

Gable watches closely, arms folded, barking instructions.

The match turns epic.

Brutus Creed absorbs punishment and fires back with a spinebuster so violent it nearly flips Ciampa inside out. Julius follows with a delayed vertical suplex that showcases ridiculous strength. Cover—two count only. The crowd is losing it.

DIY nearly retain after a picture-perfect Meet in the Middle, but Julius breaks up the pin at the last possible moment.

Cole yells that this is inches away from being over.

Gargano traps Brutus in the Gargano Escape, the crowd on their feet, but Brutus powers to his knees and deadlifts Gargano before slamming him backward into the corner to break the hold. Barrett calls it raw athletic will.

Chaos erupts.

Ciampa and Brutus brawl on the outside. Julius counters a superkick mid-air and plants Gargano with a massive Olympic Slam. He tags Brutus.The Creeds hit their devastating tandem finish—pure power, pure precision.

Cover.

One.Two.Three.

The bell rings. The arena explodes.

Michael Cole shouts that we are witnessing history as the Creed Brothers are the NEW World Tag Team Champions. Wade Barrett calls it the arrival of a dominant force, saying RAW’s tag division just changed forever.

Gable enters the ring, raising both titles high as the Creeds stand tall, chests heaving, gold around their waists.

Gable declares that this is only the beginning.

American Made stands united.

RAW fades out on the image of the new champions and a man that lost two titles holding two gold titles high, the crowd roaring, and an era clearly beginning.

End of show. 🇺🇸 🏆