The arena is already shaking with anticipation. Steel, lights, tension—WarGames energy crackling through every level of the building. Four women stand in the ring beneath the spotlights, silhouettes carved out of gold and violence.Nyssa Al Ghul stands at the center, calm and radiant, microphone loose in one hand, confidence settled in her shoulders like a crown.To her right: Rhea Ripley, leaning against the ropes like a coiled predator. To her left: Charlotte Flair, posture flawless, chin lifted like royalty. Behind her: Becky Lynch, pacing with restless fire, ready to explode. The crowd roars their names—but Nyssa lifts her hand. The arena hushes. Nyssa’s voice is smooth, steady, charged with intent. “WarGames doesn’t need five stars,” she says slowly. “It needs five monsters.” A beat. “And I already picked mine.” Nyssa turns fully now, watching her approach—no mic between them anymore. Just eyes. Just heat. Just the quiet gravity that’s always been there. Rhea steps forward, nose-to-nose. A slow grin. Respect earned instantly. Charlotte circles once, appraising, and gives a small nod. Becky bumps Daisy’s shoulder on purpose. “Took you long enough.” The crowd detonates as five fists rise into the air together. WarGames stands complete. Five women. One ring. Unstoppable alignment. The camera pulls wide—steel, lights, bodies, unity. Victorious already. The noise fades just enough for Nyssa to lean in, her voice meant only for Daisy now, soft against the chaos: “Hey… when this is over— don’t go back alone anymore.” A pause. A breath. “Come live with me.”The crowd roars again as their hands remain linked in the center of the ring.