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John Samuels · (04-08-2013)

Fairchild: You look like Hell.

Samuels: Watch your language, Ann!

The camera comes to life, showing the heaving chest of a heavily breathing John Samuels as he plunges into a large black chair in his office. He straightens out his tie and attempts to fix the back of his hair. He throws his arms in the air in frustration and slams backward into his chair. He gives Fairchild an agitated look before closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

Samuels: That bum Mister Mystery just jumped me in the parking lot. Where were you!?

Fairchild: Damage control, Senator. Our little field trip is getting us some pretty negative publicity. The parents of that little hispanic boy are threatening legal action. It really could not have gone any worse.

Samuels: I told you I don’t like kids.

Fairchild: Be that as it may, we have to lick our wounds here. I had to set up another event, and this time can we do it without incident?

Samuels: Great. What is it this time? Blood drive? Soup kitchen?

Fairchild: Church service.

Samuels: Well that’s not bad! It’s been tough getting in my weekly church service since joining the XWF roster. I think this is gonna do wonders, Ann. It’s time for some rejuvenation! Body, mind and spirit- Hallelujah!

Fairchild nods her head as Samuels leaves his chair, grinning wildly. A knock on the door sends Ann to her feet.

Fairchild: This must be Pastor Friday. I invited him to meet with us personally before we attend his service.

Samuels: How’s my hair look?

Fairchild ignores him and turns to open the door. She lets the young, sharply dressed man. He’s holding a bible and smiling ear-to-ear.

Friday: Well hello! Might I say that I feel truly blessed today, meeting such an honorable and God-loving man. Ms. Fairchild, you look lovely. I trust you’re having a blessed day?

Fairchild smiles and politely nods to the pastor. Samuels eagerly shakes the pastor’s hand before urging him to take a seat at the couch next to him.

Samuels: You are too kind, pastor. Ann was just telling me about the opportunity to make an appearance at your church this evening. And might I say, I am truly honored. As I’m sure you know, my faith in our lord has been unwavering. I’m out there, every day, making sure the people of this great nation know that the morals and standards I stand for, are the same that our Lord himself would want for his people.

Friday: Indeed, and what a glorious message it is. But--

Samuels: And tomorrow, pastor, just you watch. After I get done beating the Crimson Coward, I’m going to demand that Paul Heyman give ME his number one contendership. And from there, well, the sky's the limit. I’ll become the European champion in no time, and then I can really spread God’s word. And of course, the message of the Republican party.

Friday: Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Speaking of Crimson Cobra--

Samuels’s laughter cuts Friday off, annoying the young pastor.

Samuels: You mean the Crimson Ninny? Have you seen this guy, pastor? He looks like a drug addict, and he flies around like he’s hopped up on goofballs. I’m here, with an important, life-saving message to spread and this guy thinks he’s a jumping jack! He calls himself a Cobra, with deadly venom and whatnot, but he doesn’t remotely resemble one. A cobra is a terrifying reptile, one of nature’s most efficient killing machines. Truly a creature to be feared. And then there’s Cobra. He’s not terrifying in the least. He likes to play around on ladders and use obnoxiously grand hyperbole to describe how ‘dangerous’ he is. He’s not dangerous. He looks like Clyde, the glue sniffer at Home Depot that can never seem to remember my name. As a matter of fact, I think I’ve seen Clyde fall off a ladder once or twice. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Cobra is Clyde in disguise!

Friday begins to open his mouth but Samuels lets out a loud laugh that silences him once again.

Samuels: But then again, Clyde is smarter than Cobra. When Clyde takes a tumble off a ladder it’s because he’s a clumsy, bumbling idiot. When Cobra does it, he’s just an attention seeking moron. And what’s even more baffling? He’s the number one contender to Neo-Hirohito’s European title. What a joke. This isn’t backyard, Insane Clown Party wrestling! This is the XWF! And around here, we don’t tolerate degenerate, flag hating hippies like Cobra. Come tomorrow night, I’m gonna show that disrespectful clown who’s the real number one contender on Monday Night Madness!

The pastor clears his throat as Samuels ends his speech, determined to chime in. As Friday raises his hand to talk, Fairchild walks back into the frame and takes a seat next to Friday, who rolls his eyes.

Fairchild: Sir, I have some bad news for you.

Samuels: Can’t you see we’re having a conversation here?

Friday rolls his eyes again and crosses his arms.

Fairchild: Well, I should inform you that you the number one contendership to the European title isn’t on the line.

Samuels: Say what?

Fairchild: Well, while it is true than Crimson Cobra is the number contender for the European title, there is also a battle royal happening earlier on in the night.

Samuels: I hate those damn things. Remember how Ronnie cheated me out of my title? What a joke that match was.

Fairchild: Yes, yes, I remember. Anyway, the battle royal winner is promised a shot at Crimson Cobra’s number one contendership. Not you.

Samuels: So what do I get for beating him?

Fairchild: The satisfaction of winning, it seems.

Samuels: Oh horse hockey! Where is the logic in that? The number one contender isn’t challenging for the title tomorrow tonight, two other unworthy ‘competitors’ are. What’s the number one contender doing? Preparing to become a mockery tomorrow night. And some un-tested rookie gets a shot at him, even after I kick the tar out of him tomorrow? I think Paul Heyman is a brilliant man, but I think he may have taken some of whatever that no-good Jeff Hardy was on. Why am I even bothering competing in this match? It’s useless.

Fairchild: A dominant win here will force Paul Heyman to give you a shot at the European title. Number one contender or not, you’re going to be in a prime position. If that isn’t enough, however, you get to participate in your first ever Extreme Rules match.

Samuels: I saw that. What’s that even mean?

Fairchild: Anything goes. You can use weapons, no count-outs, no disqualifications.

Samuels: Well hot dog! That’ll make things interesting. I can use that gavel of yours again without worrying about distracting the referee.

Fairchild: Well, all weapons are legal so you’re going to have to deal with chairs, hammers, tables and maybe even a ladder.

Samuels puts both hands up to his face, feigning shock.

Samuels: A ladder? Oh noooo. The big bad flying Cobra will have his ladder? I’m terrified. What a joke. Ever heard of a flying cobra? It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of. And I’ll tell you another thing--

Friday: WILL YOU BOTH SHUT THE HELL UP!?

Samuels and Fairchild stop and stare at the pastor, red with anger yet slightly embarrassed of his outburst.

Samuels: Rude.

Fairchild: Very rude.

Friday: I came here to talk to you about a serious matter, not to hear you drone on about your stupid match! Crimson Cobra is enshrouded in darkness. He is tormented by spirits. And this makes him dangerous, more dangerous than you can fathom. Demons are real, as I’m sure you’re aware of, and they are powerful. The mere presence of one makes me quiver. Do you remember the stories in the good book? The story in Acts where the woman is granted super-human powers by a demon dwelling inside her? What if Cobra possess the same sort of ability... He’d surely be unstoppable. Mr. Senator, I must implore you to avoid the evil surrounding Crimson Cobra. Your pure, wholesome soul could be corrupted, in your current state.

Samuels: My current state?

Friday: I know that he haunts you still. The bloodbath. The game. He haunts your conscious and terrifies you to your very core. The aftermath of Gauntlet City has taken a particularly heavy toll on you. I can sense your faith wavering, the Lord has told me that I must save you. You must avoid Cobra at all costs! Skip your match tomorrow, and save your soul from the evil that follows him.

A knock at the door is heard and pastor Friday immediately slumps down into his chair, swearing under his breath. Fairchild walks to the door and opens it, revealing a man in a white t-shirt, bleeding from his head. He pants as he stumbles into the room, drawing stares from the trio in the room.

Beaten man: i’m sorry I’m late. So little prick in a Crimson Cobra t-shirt jumped me from behind and stole my clothes!

Samuels looks at Friday, incensed. The false pastor feigns a smile and bolts from his chair, only to be caught by a wide looping fist from Samuels. He pummels Friday mercilessly, repeatedly stomping and punching the helpless imposter. Fairchild ushers the real pastor out and closes the door. She smiles as the pastor looks bewildered.

Pastor: That’s who’s supposed to be giving a sermon at my church? That animal? No. Absolutely not, how dare you even think that I would allow that thug to preach in my church.

Fairchild: He really is a gentle, caring man.

The door flings open, Friday flying towards the camera. Samuels rushes behind him, pumeling him with a final kick to the rear end. The pastor shakes his head at Samuels, eliciting a look of aggravation from Samuels.

Samuels: What? Do you want some too!?

The pastor cowers in fear and quickly retreats. Fairchild shakes her head in disgust and storms away.

Samuels: What? What’d I do?

The scene closes with The Senator standing with his arms out, confused.

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