Opening the Gates
The go-home episode of RAW before Backlash: WarGames didn't start with pyro.
It began with silence.
And then: thunder.
A single spotlight hit the stage.
Inside the ring stood a structure—massive, looming, ominous. Not the steel cage the WWE Universe was used to.
This was WarGames.
Two rings. One giant steel enclosure. No escape. No disqualifications. Only pain, submission, and survival.
The commentary team whispered as if reverent in church.
Michael Cole: "We're not just heading into a match… we're heading into the end of an era."
Corey Graves: "The only question left is who walks out with something left—because kingdoms fall hard. And outlaws fall harder."
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Judgment Day's Final Message
The lights dimmed, and Seth Rollins appeared on the tron — live this time. Still bandaged, but sharper. Focused.
He stood in front of a throne — not gold, not opulent. Burnt. Blackened at the edges. The broken crown rested in his lap.
Behind him: Finn Bálor, Damian Priest, Dominik Mysterio, and a returning JD McDonagh — a last-minute addition, the fifth man.
Seth raised the mic.
"You all think Jaxon Cross is the future. You think Reckoning is some righteous crusade. But let me ask you something..."
He rose from the throne, letting the crown fall to the floor with a clang.
"Who really gets remembered? The rebels? Or the kings that crushed them?"
He smirked.
"This Sunday, we don't win because we're stronger. We win because we've already been to hell. And we brought back souvenirs."
He turned toward the camera.
"Jaxon. You're bringing a crew to a slaughterhouse. Hope they've written their wills."
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The Last Outlaw Responds
Later in the show, Reckoning entered through the crowd — old-school Shield-style.
Jaxon stood alone in the ring, mic in hand, as the crowd gave him a "YOU DESERVE THIS!" chant.
He soaked it in, just a moment. Then let the fire speak.
"I've heard the talk. I've heard the warnings. I've watched the politics. The interviews. The promos."
He looked down at the ring mat.
"But this ain't about cameras anymore."
His eyes rose.
"This is about truth. About breaking the chains they wrapped around us for years. They told Kai Maddox he was too dangerous. They told Saint he was too wild. Talon? Too violent. Me?"
He paused.
"They told me I'd never be more than a sidekick."
The crowd booed at that.
He stepped forward.
"So this Sunday, we step into their cage. But we're not trapped in there with them."
Another step.
"They're trapped in there with us."
He dropped the mic.
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In the Shadows
Backstage, the camera followed Jaxon after his promo — sweaty, focused, pacing.
Then—Randy Orton emerged from the shadows of a hallway.
"Hell of a speech," Randy said quietly.
Jaxon didn't stop moving. "We're ready."
Orton smirked. "No. You're angry. There's a difference."
Jaxon finally turned. "You walking into that cage with us or not?"
Orton stared at him.
Then reached into his coat.
He handed Jaxon a matchbook. On it, scrawled in black ink:
"Let it burn."
Jaxon grinned.
"Welcome to Reckoning."
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Main Event Chaos
In the final segment of the night, WWE booked a preview — an eight-man tag: Reckoning (minus Orton) vs. Judgment Day (minus Seth).
It didn't last long.
The bell rang.
Talon charged. Kai wrestled like a surgeon. Saint flew from post to post like a demon with wings. And Jaxon?
Jaxon stood in the corner… smiling.
Why?
Because just as Bálor got the upper hand…
The lights went out.
Static hit the tron. Then…
Randy Orton appeared at the top of the ramp.
The crowd exploded.
Rollins appeared on the screen behind him — watching. Eyes narrow.
Judgment Day scrambled.
But Orton never ran.
He strolled down the ramp slowly… like a snake through tall grass.
And when he reached the ring apron—
RKO. Outta. Nowhere.
On Bálor.
The show ended with Reckoning standing tall, surrounded by carnage, blood, and steel.
The final shot was Jaxon and Orton — nose to nose — not in anger, but in fire.
Ready.
United.
WarGames was coming.
And kingdoms would fall.
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