A door swings open so violently it nearly detaches from the hinges.

A fog machine sputters.  

A broom falls over.  

A catering tray crashes to the floor.

And through the chaos steps—

Loki Van Dam.

Clipboard in one hand.  

Grenade‑shaped stress ball in the other.  

Eyes wide with the manic energy of a man who has seen the multiverse… and found it wanting.

Behind him, looming like a silent executioner, stands The Crimson Machine, hydraulics hissing, red visor glowing, arms crossed like a malfunctioning Terminator who’s judging everyone.

Loki doesn’t acknowledge him.

He just storms into frame, slams the clipboard against the wall, and begins.

“Curt Candid… you beautiful, cynical, truth‑slinging bastard.”

Loki claps.

Not sarcastically.  

Not ironically.  

But with genuine, chaotic admiration.

“You saw my promo.  

You saw the mop bucket.  

You saw the fog machine explosion.  

And you said, ‘Yes. This is the man speaking the truth.’”

He points at the camera.

“And you’re damn right.”

He paces, waving the clipboard like a sword.

“Because while everyone else is out here cutting Shakespearean monologues, corporate manifestos, thunder‑god prophecies, and rooftop vengeance speeches…”

He taps his chest.

“I’m the only one reading the actual script.”

He holds up the clipboard.

“And Curt? You’re the only one who admitted it.”

“But now we need to talk about the REAL problem.”

Loki stops pacing.

He stares into the camera with the seriousness of a man about to reveal the ending of a movie no one asked him to spoil.

“We are the night before CONVERGENCE.”

He raises a finger.

“The biggest event in the multiverse.”  

Another finger.  

“The collision of timelines.”  

Another.  

“The night destinies are forged, champions crowned, realities rewritten.”

He spreads his arms.

“And guess what?”

He leans in.

“NOT. A. SINGLE. MATCH. HAS. BEEN. OFFICIALLY. BOOKED.”

He throws the clipboard into the air.

It hits the Crimson Machine in the chest.

The Machine does not react.

Loki continues.

“Explain that. Make that make sense. I’ll wait.”

He taps his foot.

He looks at his wrist like he’s wearing a watch.

He is not wearing a watch.

“Seriously.  

Someone.  

Anyone.”

He gestures wildly.

“Adam Glory?  

Shawn FX?  

Big Business?  

Liger Llama?  

Thor Van Hammer?  

The Nexus Maestro?  

The janitor?  

The llama that keeps wandering backstage?”

He shrugs.

“Does ANYONE know what the card is tomorrow?”

He leans in again.

“Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Let’s break this down.”

Loki pulls a whiteboard from off‑screen.  

It has been drawn on with multiple colors, arrows, circles, and at least one doodle of a llama wearing sunglasses.

He points to the first section.

1. Adam Glory vs Shawn FX

“Is it happening?  

Probably.  

Maybe.  

Possibly.  

Unless someone changes their mind.  

Or the Maestro sneezes.  

Or the script gets rewritten at 3 AM.”

He circles it.

“Not official.”

He points to the next section.

2. Big Business vs Reality

“Big Business thinks he’s fighting the multiverse.  

The multiverse has not confirmed this.”

He circles it.

“Not official.”

Next section.

3. Liger Llama vs Whoever Survives

“Liger Llama is ready.  

Liger Llama is prophetic.  

Liger Llama is majestic.”

He shrugs.

“But Liger Llama has no opponent.”

He circles it.

“Not official.”

Next.

4. Thor Van Hammer vs The Crimson Machine

He gestures to the Machine behind him.

“This one IS official.”

He pauses.

“Except Thor doesn’t seem to know that.”

He circles it.

“Official… but only in the sense that the Machine is already here and Thor is already doomed.”

The Crimson Machine hisses.

Loki pats him on the arm.

“So Curt… you were right.”

Loki nods.

“You said I exposed the roster.  

You said I exposed the booking.  

You said I exposed the multiverse.”

He points at the camera.

“But now I’m exposing the entire EVENT.”

He spreads his arms.

“CONVERGENCE is tomorrow.  

And we have no card.  

No matches.  

No confirmations.  

No structure.”

He leans in.

“We are running the biggest show in the multiverse like it’s open mic night at a dive bar.”

“And THAT is why you and I need to join forces.”

Loki steps closer to the camera, eyes blazing with chaotic sincerity.

“Curt Candid…  

you and I are the only ones telling the truth.”

He raises a finger.

“We see the cracks.”  

Another.  

“We see the inconsistencies.”  

Another.  

“We see the continuity errors.”

He taps his temple.

“We see the multiverse for what it is:  

A beautiful, chaotic, poorly organized mess.”

He spreads his arms.

“So I propose…  

we fix it.”

“Name Ideas for Our Alliance:”

Loki pulls out a second clipboard.

1. The Fact Checkers

“We correct the lies.  

We expose the nonsense.  

We keep the gods honest.”

2. Honesty Incorporated

“Corporate truth‑telling.  

But with more violence.”

3. The Continuity Police

“We issue citations for timeline violations.”

4. The Reality Department

“Because someone has to run this place.”

5. The Fourth Wall Warriors

“We break it.  

We fix it.  

We break it again.”

6. Kayfabe Custodians

“We clean up the mess.  

Literally and figuratively.”

He gestures to the mop bucket.

“Curt, you and I together?”

Loki grins.

“We could fix the multiverse.  

We could expose the lies.  

We could keep Thor from declaring himself champion of galaxies he’s never visited.  

We could keep Adam Glory from rewriting history.  

We could keep Shawn FX from screaming at clouds.  

We could keep Big Business from buying the moon.  

We could keep Liger Llama from ascending into the astral plane mid‑promo.”

He nods.

“And we could keep the Crimson Machine from murdering Thor before the bell rings.”

The Machine hisses again.

Loki pats him.

“Easy, big guy. Soon.”

“FINAL TRUTH BOMB:”

Loki steps forward, deadly serious.

“CONVERGENCE is tomorrow.  

And the multiverse is not ready.”

He points at the camera.

“But Curt Candid and Loki Van Dam?  

We are.”

He spreads his arms.

“So Curt…  

what do you say?”

He leans in.

“Let’s fix this place.”

The Crimson Machine steps forward behind him, red visor glowing like a warning.

Loki smirks.

“And if anyone disagrees?”

He gestures to the Machine.

“We’ll fact‑check them…  

violently.”

Fade out.