Jon, Sansa, Davos, Tormund, Brienne, Lady Mormont, and Bran are dragged in front of the Night's King in a dimly lit forest. Other white walkers and an army of wights stand around them.

"Which one of you pricks is the leader?

I am the Night's King, and I do not appreciate you killing my brother, also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my brother, you killed more of my people. Not cool! Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is but I think you’re going to be up to speed shortly."

[To Jon, about Bran] "This is your brother ain’t it. This is definitely your brother. Do you not make me kill the future serial killer, don’t make it easier on me. I have got to pick somebody.

I simply cannot decide. I got an idea. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, catch a dragon by his toe, if he hollers, let him go, my mother told me to pick the very best one, and you are it."

The Night's King draws his ice sword

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything cut the cripples fingers off and feed it to his brother and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry, hell you are all going to be doing that."

The NK brings the sword down in a high arc, and the screen cuts to black as we here screams from the group

Takin it like a champ!

Crack!