The camera opens on a burst of red, white, and blue confetti exploding across the frame.

A hand reaches into the shot.

A perfectly manicured hand.

A hand holding… popcorn. 🍿

Miss USA Amy Martin steps into view wearing a bomber jacket patterned like the American flag, aviator sunglasses, and the kind of grin that says “Oh, I’m about to have some FUN.”

She tosses a kernel into her mouth.

“Well… that got spicy quick.”

She laughs — bright, bold, unapologetically American.

“I mean, I expected drama. I expected ego. I expected the Velvet Empress to do her whole ‘I’m royalty, worship me, feed me grapes, polish my crown’ routine…”

She gestures broadly.

“…but I didn’t expect her to go full Shakespearean villain monologue while being hand‑fed like a pampered housecat.”

She shrugs.

Then again… maybe I should’ve.”

She leans against a refrigerator decorated with patriotic decals.

⭐ THE NO. 1 CONTENDER SPEAKS

Miss USA taps the championship contract posted on the wall behind her.

“Friendly reminder — and I say this with all the love in the world…”

She points to herself with both thumbs.

“I’m the No. 1 Contender for the Superstar Wrestling Federation Women’s Championship.”

She winks.

“That means I get the next shot.  

Not Raven.  

Not Shimmer.  

Not the clowns — bless their chaotic little hearts.”

She leans in.

“Me.”

She stands tall, shoulders squared, voice steady.

“And that means the Velvet Empress’s reign?  

It’s on a timer.”

She taps an imaginary watch.

“Tick‑tock, sweetheart.”

🎤 MISS USA ON THE EMPRESS’S ROYAL TANTRUM

Miss USA crosses her arms, smirking.

“So let’s talk about Her Majesty’s… performance.”

She clears her throat dramatically.

“‘I am the Velvetverse! I am the throne! I am the prophecy!’”

She rolls her eyes.

“Girl, you sound like a horoscope app having a meltdown.”

She tosses another popcorn kernel.

“You’re not a prophecy.  

You’re not a realm.  

You’re not a cosmic event.”

She points at the camera.

“You’re a champion.  

A good one.  

A dominant one.  

A dangerous one.”

She nods respectfully.

“But you’re still just a wrestler.  

And wrestlers can be beaten.”

Her smile widens.

“Especially by me.”

🦅 MISS USA ON RAVEN ALLURE

Miss USA laughs softly.

“And Raven… oh, Raven…”

She shakes her head.

“You’re spooky, you’re poetic, you’re dramatic — and honestly?  

I kinda love it.”

She shrugs.

“But you’re not the one I’m focused on right now.  

You’re not the one holding the gold.”

She taps her chest.

“I’m not here to fight for metaphysics.  

I’m here to fight for the SWF Women’s Championship.”

She points toward the contract.

“And the woman standing between me and that title is the Velvet Empress.”

🔥 THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

Miss USA steps forward, her tone shifting — still warm, still charismatic, but now carrying the weight of purpose.

“Empress… you can sit on your throne.  

You can have your attendants.  

You can drown yourself in velvet and grapes.”

She lifts her chin.

“But none of that will matter when the bell rings.”

She paces slowly, deliberately.

“Because when that match starts?  

You’re not royalty.  

You’re not a goddess.  

You’re not a queen.”

She stops.

“You’re just my opponent.”

Her voice sharpens.

“And I’m the woman who’s going to take your title.”

🗽 THE HEART OF A CHAMPION

Miss USA places a hand over her heart.

“I didn’t get here because of theatrics.  

I didn’t get here because of a throne.  

I didn’t get here because of a prophecy.”

She smiles softly.

“I got here because I fight.  

Because I work.  

Because I don’t quit.”

She points to the camera again.

“Because I represent something bigger than myself.”

She spreads her arms wide.

“USA! USA! USA!”

The chant echoes — faint at first, then louder, as crew members off‑screen join in.

⚔️ THE FINAL MESSAGE TO THE EMPRESS

Miss USA steps closer, her face filling the frame.

Her voice drops to a calm, confident whisper.

“Velvet Empress… your reign has been impressive.”

A beat.

“But every empire falls.”

Another beat.

“And every queen eventually meets someone she can’t dismiss.”

She taps her chest again.

“That’s me.”

She raises her fist.

“So enjoy your grapes.  

Enjoy your throne.  

Enjoy your delusions of cosmic royalty.”

She smirks.

“Because at CONVERGENCE?”

She removes her sunglasses.

Her eyes burn with determination.

“I’m taking your crown.”

She steps back, throws her arms up, and shouts:

“USA! USA! USA!”

The chant grows louder.

Shawn FX is seen folding Miss USA's laundry as the scene fades out. 😂