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“Welcome in the secret studios.” RJ whispers into the mic; he and CJ are hiding under a table, “We sneaked into the studios this morning, and we’re taking a look around, to see what Wilford and Bim are up to behind the scenes and in front of the scenes of your favorite shows.”
RJ looks out under the tablecloth and then back to the camera.
CJ zooms in, “Right now, Wilford is live on stage; meanwhile, we’re going to see what Bim is up to.”
RJ crawls out underneath the table, and CJ follows him, “Stay low and follow me to Bim’s dressing room.”
The Jims crawl to the other side, avoiding Wilford, who is busy interviewing a man in a purple shirt on stage.
The Jims crawl over to a door, where in big letters it says Bim Trimmer in a star.
“This must be Bim’s dressing room, let’s see if he is inside.”
RJ opens the door, letting CJ film inside.
Bim is in front of a grand star mirror, smiling to himself, holding up a clipboard.
“The only game show that gives you a chance to win your dream job.” He says in a sing-song voice with a big smile, “My name is Bim Trimmer. Let’s meet our contestants... Uh,”
Looks down at the clipboard in his hand, “Oh, what were their names again? I'd better not mess this up live.” Hits himself with the clipboard, “Why are names so hard to remember?”
RJ closes the door, “He’s practicing for his show.” RJ says into his microphone.
RJ whispers, “Let’s hope we’ll be able to catch one of those when he records them.”
They get back to the main part of the studio and hide underneath the same table again.
CJ films underneath the tablecloth at Wilford. RJ is next to him, “Looks like that interview is getting pretty heated.”
CJ zooms in on the interview so they can hear what they’re saying.
“-murdered their entire families?!”
The guy’s eyes widen, “No! No, no I have not, no, no, I-”
Wilford points at him, “So, you admit it, you heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen. THE Markiplier, has just admitted to never murdering anyone.”
“Now, I didn’t say that.”
“Nani?” Wilford says, bewildered.
“Can we get back to the questions, please?”
Wilford twirls his hair, “Sounds like someone’s getting a little impatient?”
“Well, yeah, this show is getting ridiculous.” Wilford backs up, offended by the man’s words.
“These questions don’t even matter,” The man continues, “the audience is drunk or high or something, and you’re an idiot.” Wilford takes out a knife, “Like, why would anyone listen to you, ever,”
Wilford stabs the man with the knife, “No.” Stab, “Stop.” Stab, “No.” Stab, “No, no, no.” Stab.
“Stop,” The man begs.
Stabs, “You’re starting to like it.” Wilford laughs.
The man mumbles something incoherent as Wilford keeps stabbing him.
“No, stop.” Wilford states, “What did we learn?”
The man lies dead in his chair. Wilford smiles, “That’s right.”
Wilford puts his hands on his hips as he stares into a camera on stage, “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’re back to the interview.” Wilford says as an audience clapping sound is being played.
“So, Markiplier, if I may call you that?”
Wilford smiles over at the dead man, before clapping his hands, “I’m gonna assume yes. So, I’ve heard you’ve done a great deal of charity work.”
Wilford pauses, smiling at the dead man.
“Okay, looks like someone doesn’t want to cooperate with the interview anymore. Well, thank you, Markiplier, for joining us. Sorry for disappointing all of your fans out here. But once again, you’re the great, generous, handsome man that you are. So, thank you.”
“And thank you all out there, every configuration of being for watching. My name is Wilford Warfstache. See ya.” He waves off as the lights dim in the studio, and Wilford gets up.
One of the crew members pulls him off stage, “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?”
“You killed him!” The guy yells.
Wilford laughs as he waves him off, “Oh, he’ll be fine. He’ll be back up soon.”
CJ films over to his brother, “Well, that… Sure was some interview.” RJ shakes his head, “Poor guy.”
RJ looks back up and gestures wildly, “Jim. Camera back on the stage.” CJ zooms back, just in time to see Bim drag the body behind the curtains.
Suddenly, the lights start flickering and buzzing around the studio, a telltale sign of Dark being near.
Dark appears in a black cloud and right away marches over to Wilford, making the guy who was yelling at him scatter away.
“Oh, hey, Darkling. What’s made you come down here so suddenly?”
“What did I tell you this morning?” Dark ignores the ask and snaps out as his aura swirls around him.
Wilford puts his hand on his chin, tapping it, putting on a display of exaggerated thinking, “That you love me?” He smiles at him, cheekily.
Dark sputters, “The other thing, Wil.”
“What other thing?” He quirks his brow.
“About murdering people.” He waves his arms around, frustrated, “I don't want any more dead bodies.”
Wilford looks around the studios, “Now, do you see any dead bodies here? I don't.”
Dark sighs, taking a hold of his arm, “We're going home.”
With another flash of the lights going out, and an absence of buzzing, they're gone.
“Well, he is gonna get punished.”
The crew slowly leaves, and the lights turn out around the studio.
“Jim, I think we've been locked in,” RJ whispers.
CJ turns the camera to him, “Well, viewers, that sure was an interesting report. I hope you viewers liked it; we certainly loved making it. We hope to do this again, but first,” He takes a look underneath the tablecloth, looking around the empty, dark studio, “we need to find a way safely out of here without getting detected.” He turns back to the camera, smiling, “I’m sure we can find a way out.” He looks away, “I hope.”