The two stand upon the drift, red and blue, distance between them, their little beedy coneman eyes filled with resolve.

Red Coneman: “It is too late, you cannot hope to stand against me! Your defeat was certain when you stood before me!”

Blue Coneman: “You cannot break my spirit, with my two feet I shall rush to triumph!” The words at an end two run towards each other!

Red Coneman: “We both arrived at the middle at the same time again” Blue Coneman: “I trained and everything, boo! Still a draw!”