Fairchild: What on Earth are you doing? You’ve got a match to prepare for.

Samuels: That’s what I’m doing.


Samuels: Anything goes right? Cobra isn’t gonna have any idea what hit him.


Samuels: C’mon...

Fairchild: Are you crazy!? You can’t kill your opponents!

Samuels: does it. Madison tried to do it.


Fairchild: Yes, that may be, but you’re not them. We have to take the moral high ground.


Samuels: I know, I know. But this smug little punk is getting on my nerves. First, he tries to make himself seem all high and mighty by flaunting the title I was cheated out of at Gauntlet City in front of my face. Look how that worked out for him. He lost the title to ME. I tipped that vending machine over on the little cockroach, and God what a good feeling that was. Of my three title victories, that was the sweetest. Watching that smug little head of his being crushed under hundreds of pounds of steel, glass and Butterfingers. As far as I’m concerned, Cobra is already down in a hole, 0-and-1. And when it comes time for our match, I get to use all kinds of goodies. He’s going to have a lot more than a mouthful of of stale corn chips to worry about.


Fairchild: What the hell is all this? You can’t use this stuff in the match. A mace? A handgun? A.. What the hell? Is that C4? Where would you even get plastic explosive?

Samuels: I know a guy who knows a guy. What kind of politician would I be if I didn't have friends in high places?

Fairchild: High being the key term.

Samuels: Did I mention how much I hate this guy? If our match is extreme rules, then so be it. I’m going to get extremely extreme.

Fairchild: Extremely extreme?


Samuels: Come on that one wouldn’t be so bad!


Samuels: Okay, okay. I get your point. Nothing too extreme. But I’m still going to give this whelp the beating of his life.

Fairchild: Now you’re talking.

Samuels: He had the nerve to take a shot at me by using the American flag as a prop. Mock me? Sure. Mock my positions? Go ahead. But when he has the gall to take a symbol of the greatest thing in the world, and sully it’s image by pawing at it with his small, greasy, traitorous hands-- well, he’s going to see how a true, red-blooded American handles seeing the beautiful image of his flag desecrated. He made a big mistake. Before this week, Crimson Cobra wasn’t even on my radar. I couldn’t care less who he was or what kind of stupid stunt he likes to pull off the top of a rickety ladder. And even when I saw that card saying he and I were going to face each other, I still didn’t care. This was supposed to be a match just like any other.


Samuels: And then, Cobra, you had to make it personal. You had to parade that grotesque and unkempt head of yours on that screen, claiming to be better than me. Thinking that you can rattle me by using the flag. You know what you did? You made yourself look like an idiot. You could still be a champion right now, but I took that title from you just out of spite. You criticized my genius proposition to Shane to suspend the 24/7 stipulation of my title, and the irony is that if you would’ve done the same you’d be a champion, and I wouldn’t be taking this personally. But you slipped up, and you got cocky, and now you’ve got one angry Texan on your hands. I may not get to hit you with a mace, or inject you with... whatever that was in that needle, but I am going to get my bare hands on you and trust me, the thought of that should scare you more than any ladder, table or chair. Because those things give, and they break. But me? The only thing I’m going to give is the worst beating you could imagine, and the only thing that’s going to break are the spring-loaded little legs of yours. How are you going to do your Cirque du Soleil nonsense then? You’re not. I’m going to ground you, like the little boy jumping on his bed that I’m sure you were once. And you know what happens next? Neither do I. And that’s the best part. Filibuster? Always a good choice. Maybe I’ll set a table ablaze and give you a preview of Hell. We both know you’re going there. Or maybe I’ll set up one of those ladders you’re so fond of. And as you lay there broken I’ll climb. As you plead with the referee to stop the match, I’ll climb. As your eyes search the arena looking for some kind of escape, I’ll climb. And as you plead with me to let you go, I’ll climb. And when I’m at the top, the spot that you so strive to reach, I’ll look down at you, and I’ll smile. And then?


Samuels: Well, we’ll just have to see. I know, I know... nobody loves those ‘To be continued’ endings. But to be honest with you, Cobra, the possibilities have my mind just swimming. I can think of hundreds of ways to end you, and why should I limit my imagination when the time comes? No, I like the idea of hovering over your beaten and battered body with no idea of how to properly dispose of you. And the best part, is that now we’re finally on the same page. Because until our match, all that is going to be on my mind is just how I’m going to finish you off. And until our match, all that is going to be on your mind is just how I’m going to finish you off.

1X - GOAT.