Samuels: Is it done?

Fairchild: I believe so, the editing department just sent the file over to me.

Samuels: About time.


Samuels: While preparing for my upcoming matches at Gauntlet City, I have take the time to study my opponents and where their heads are at. While I was making notes of their strengths and weaknesses, I dug up their promotional footage for this battle royal for my FTW title, and I was shocked when I realized a few things. The first, is that both Ronnie Wilkins and Kinwrathi, my so-called ‘competitors,’ use a very similar style of promoting themselves for their upcoming bouts. Now, I’ll admit that sometimes it’s just better to get into that ring and beat your opponent down. No words. No jokes. No games. Just a savage beating, teaching them a lesson for daring to step into that ring. Yet, sometimes you have to play the game, and my career in politics has prepared me extensively for doing just that. One of the very first lessons you learn coming up, is to take your opponents strategy, improve it, and then use it against him.


Samuels: Kinwrathi, Ronnie, you two are probably the closest things to capable opponents that I’ll be defending my title against this Sunday at Gauntlet City- And I’ve figured out the formula that you two are using to talk yourselves up enough to believe that you can take my belt from me. Laughable. What does this have to do with anything, you ask? Well simple, I’m gonna give you a taste of your own medicine. That’s right, you’re going to watch me waste ten minutes of your time with some stupid skit that belongs on trashy daytime television, having nothing to do with anything related to our match. And then afterwards, I’m gonna sit here and I’m going to talk about how great I am, and how pitiful you are. Sounds fun, right? Look on the bright side, guys, at least I remember that this is whole thing is entertainment. So sit back and grab some popcorn, or whatever kind of snack that aliens from Planet X like to munch on, and enjoy the coming attraction. I know I will.

The camera zooms out on Samuels’ face, revealing flowing blonde hair and and a white, deep neck v-shirt. Samuels is standing on a dock shrouded in mist, his hair flowing in the wind. He smiles, his pearly white teeth shining in the darkness. Beautiful Woman: My love! My love! I’m here. The camera shows a beautiful brunette woman, running full speed towards Samuels, a smile on her face. She stares intently at Samuels, now sitting upon a well groomed Clydesdale horse. He runs his fingers through his long, flowing hair. Samuels: Woman! We’re in the midst of war! The French draw nearer each passing day! As America’s president and top General, I must ready our forces. Why have you summoned me? Woman: My love, I have great news. My child... You are the father. The camera flashes to Samuels, with a disturbed look on his face. Samuels: Surely, it cannot be! ???: Why yes, yes it is. A man in a hood approaches the pair, nodding his head as he speaks. He stands next to the woman and places his hand on her shoulder, comforting her. Samuels: You! Stranger! How could you possibly know that this woman’s child belongs to me. Sorcery? Withcraft? Tell me. The man removes his hood for a moment and steps into the light, revealing his face. Stranger: I have my ways. The camera moves back to a shocked Samuels, sitting on a sparkling clean Harley, his hand resting in his curly, black hair. Samuels: This cannot be. I’ve been away stopping the Liberal Insurrection. And with news of the French invsasion and the atheists in California are threatening to leave the union- Which would be fine with me, but I’ll be damned if they keep all of that oil to themselves. Woman: But it is true! And you cannot go back to fight. I know that you are the toughest, bravest, smartest, most courageous and handsome man that America has to offer, but you must stay for me and our son- Fernando. Samuels: But what of my wife? She can never know that I have been with you, much less that we have a son together. Woman: I have a confession to make... The woman ducks her head out of the range of the camera and then reappears with short blonde hair. Wife: I am your wife. Samuels gasps and shakes his head in disbelief. Samuels: This cannot be. Wife: It is, and now we can be together. Just you, Fernando and I. Samuels: No, we can’t. I have my own confession to make. Samuels covers his mouth and nose with his hand, and upon it’s removal a mustache appears on his face. The distinct rattling of maracas are heard as he reveals his true identity. Fernando: Because, I am your son. I am Fernando. The woman faints as Fernando looks on. A concerned look adorns his face. He slowly makes his way towards her and upon reaching her, he leans down over her and whispers to her. Fernando: And I’m also a vampire. He throws his head back as fangs protrude from his mouth, he throws his head down toward her neck as the scene quickly goes black.

The camera opens back up the room with Samuels and Fairchild, with Samuels out of his chair and his face very close to the camera.

Samuels: See? That didn’t even make sense! It had nothing to do with my upcoming match! It was just 10 minutes of rubbage that I made you watch, and for what? I have no idea. Every single time I try to listen to Ronnie and Kinwrathi try to talk about an upcoming match they do this. They make me watch a scene from Days Of Our Lives or Mork and Mindy, respectively. This is wrestling, not daytime drivel. And speaking of Fabio and E.T., that brings me to the second part of their little game, the all-too-serious rant. I’m better you, you’re stupid, you’re not funny... blah, blah, blah. This part is even worse! But hey, if it’s the game they want to play, then I’m in. So, let’s go.


Samuels: Gentlemen. Take a look into these eyes. These eyes belong to the man that is walking into Gauntlet City the champion, and is leaving Gauntlet City the champion. You sad little men bicker on like your opinions matter, but let’s get one thing straight: They don’t. Kinwrathi, you want to talk about how I’m not funny? Maybe not, but the only thing humourous about you is that you think you’re better than me. You think I’m lacking in intelligence? Then tell me, why is it that everything I say seems to get repeated by you? You probably didn’t think I’d notice, huh? I did. When I called Michael Hall’s mental capacity into question, what did you do? The same thing. When I told World 1-international that he’d be the first one out of the ring this Sunday, what did you do. The same thing. Seems to me that you should pick somebody else to plagiarize, if I’m so unintelligent. Or maybe, you’re just inspired by my greatness, because right now you’re acting like my number one fan. And as far as me not being a threat? Listen up Ronnie, because this pertains to you as well: I’m the champion, not you two. I’m the favorite, not you two. And as champion, I’m the one who gets to assess the threats, not you two. And as far as threats go, you two aren’t. So keep on bickering, keep on wasting everyone’s time with your silly little skits, keep on ignoring the fact that I’m the most dangerous man in the match-- Because while you do, I’ll keep on winning, and I’ll keep my title. So you see this?


Samuels: You’re not laying your abnormally sweaty hands on this, Ronnie. You’re not laying your blood-stained, “Alien” hands on this, Kinwrathi. You’re not laying your taco covered hands on this, Ursula. You’re not laying your Kung-Fu hands on this, Dim Sum. None of you. None of you are taking this from me, so you’d best turn your attention toward that main event gauntlet and pray that you won’t be seeing me for a second time.

1X - GOAT.