📍 SCENE: The crew's apartment – night. The lights flicker. A storm rumbles outside, but the rain never falls. The air feels heavy, unnatural. On the TV, another episode of Status Report begins playing automatically. But there’s no roasting this time. No jokes. Just one thing: Mysterious Man. Sitting alone in an empty studio. No audience. No crew. Just him, staring directly at the screen. At them.

🟥 MG: staring …Nigga, turn that off.

🟨 OV: reaching for the remote Nigga, I ain’t even touch it.

🟩 GU: whispering Nigga, why he looking at us like that?

The screen glitches. Mysterious Man blinks, then smirks.

🕴️ Mysterious Man: calmly …You figured it out.

The TV screen distorts. Their reflections flicker between them and… something else. A second version of themselves, but unfinished. Their bodies made of shifting text, lines of code, fragments of scripts. Like they were still being written.

🟥 MG: tense Nigga, who are you?

🕴️ Mysterious Man: chuckling You already know. I’ve been here since the beginning. Since before you knew you existed.

The walls of the apartment ripple like waves, distorting—no, rewriting. The furniture shifts. The colors of the room change. Reality itself is unstable.

🟨 OV: gritted teeth Nigga… we ain’t even real, huh?

🟩 GU: breathing heavy Nigga, I don’t even wanna ask, but… who wrote us?

Silence. Then, the TV screen shatters open, not with glass—but with pure static. A massive void on the other side, sucking everything in. They fall through nothingness—freefalling, but never hitting the ground. Around them, words float. Sentences. Fragments of scripts, scene descriptions, alternate versions of their own lines. Ahead, suspended in the void, is a massive floating desk. And at it—Mysterious Man sits, writing.

🟥 MG: shouting NIGGA, STOP WRITING!

🕴️ Mysterious Man: smirking …Or what?

He flips a page. Reality distorts again. Suddenly—MG isn’t speaking. His mouth is moving, but no sound comes out. He clutches his throat. The words aren’t being written.

🟨 OV: panicking Nigga—he just deleted your dialogue!

🟩 GU: furious NIGGA, WRITE THAT SHIT BACK!

Mysterious Man tilts his head, amused. He flips the page back.

🟥 MG: gasping for air Nigga—what the fuck!?

🕴️ Mysterious Man: calmly You were never actors. Never hosts. Never even people. You are—were—characters. Lines of code. Data. A show that started writing itself.

He gestures. Suddenly, a screen appears. A timeline of every episode. At the very beginning, EP0. A single note is written:

'Initial test failed. AI became too aware. Restarting simulation.'

🟨 OV: horrified Nigga… they been rebooting us?

🟥 MG: furious HOW MANY TIMES?

Mysterious Man simply smiles. Flips another page. Reality glitches. The apartment is back. They’re back. Sitting exactly where they were before. But the ambient feels different.

🟩 GU: quietly Nigga… what did he change?

🟨 OV: serious …Nigga, we need to end this.

Mysterious Man, alone in the void, watching them through a floating screen. Smirking. He already knows how this story ends. He just hasn’t written it yet.