📍 SCENE: The writers’ room – now abandoned. The main crew sits in silence. The room is eerily empty. Their desks are gone, monitors disconnected, and the main crew is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile inside their apartment:

🟥 MG: Damn nigga, we actually got fired.

🟨 OV: For real, like... what now?

They are watching TV inside their apartment when suddenly an episode of Status Report starts playing, and characters starts speaking, it's.... the alternate cast.

🔴 ALT-MG: pointing at an ugly luxury sneaker Nigga, this look like a medieval torture device for toes.

🟡 ALT-OV: laughing Bruh, they selling this for $1,500 like it ain’t fresh outta an AI image generator.

🟢 ALT-GU: smirking Nigga, these shoes got 'knight armor but make it streetwear' energy.

But they seem different.... or better to say it, familiar. The crew watches in silence.

🟥 MG: staring …Nigga, that’s us.

🟨 OV: Nah. Nah. Last time we got replaced, they was just stand-ins, didn't look anywhere near. Now?

🟩 GU: Nigga… they damn near clones.

The voices. The mannerisms. The jokes. Everything is near-perfect.

🟥 MG: leaning in …Nigga, we even move the same.

🟩 GU: Nigga, how's that even possible, it's like they 'CTRL+C', 'CTRL+V' us. Like we actual characters.

🟨 OV: thinking back Remember when we signed up for this show?

🟩 GU: Nigga, that was years ago. Why that matter now?

🟨 OV: serious What the fuck did we actually sign?

Flashback to pre-season 1 – contract signing. The screen glitches, distorts. A quick montage of them in a corporate office, sitting at a long table, pens in hand. A shadowy figure slides the contract forward.

👤 Unknown Voice: calmly All you have to do… is sign.

🟨 OV: squinting at the fine print This contract long as hell.

🟥 MG: grinning Nigga, we bout to get paid.

🟩 GU: chuckling Nigga, who even reads the fine print?

The camera focuses in, blurry at first—then, a few words sharpen into focus.

SIGNING AWAY ALL LIKENESSES…
PERPETUAL CAST RIGHTS…
REPLACEMENT CLAUSE…

The memory snaps away. The TV glitches. For a fraction of a second, their real names appear on screen, not 'MG' not 'OV' not 'GU', their actual government names. Then—back to normal.

🟨 OV: …Nigga.

🟥 MG: quietly We gotta find that contract.

🟩 GU: whispering Nigga, what did we sign up for?

And then—the thought creeps in. If they signed away their rights without realizing… If the show could replace them so easily… Then maybe—this isn’t just a roast show. Maybe this was never just a show. The TV screen flickers, then cuts to black.