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"Ah-ah-ah!" Croft declines the deal with the devil himself, once again bringing the fans to their feet. Freakshow is grabbed by his hair and hoisted up fluidly to his feet. At this point Salem cared little for the material, tangible possessions and success Freak valued so much, he was only occupied with inflicting pain. The bone of the elbow crashes right against the crooked nose of Freak, sending him right down to the floor just as soon as he was picked back up.

His feet flip out from under him as he crashes into the floor. Surprisngly, he almost immediately pops up back to his feet, almost a bit too soon, his mind ready to stand but his body unable. Sluggishly he turns on instinct to escape the ring, before again realizing he was trapped, loopily staggering right back towards Croft, exposed for more offense.

Freakshow comes stumbling right into the third european uppercut of the match. His head snaps back then forward quickly, his legs crossing as he's disoriented by the hard strike to the throat. Wildly flailing and gesticulating to gain his footing, he does a nearly 360 degree spin before falling down onto the mat, kicking and flopping over onto his stomach. He pushes him hands up onto the floor, his arms give out on him as he plants face first into the match. For whatever reason something was compelling Freakshow to get back on his feet, as if he were safer up there than on the ground. The second time he is successful, bouncing up unsteadily like one of those rubber dolls... Not one of those rubber dolls. Moving even more sluggishly he reaches for the ropes, back to Croft.

Freakshows hands come within inches of the ropes, which wouldn't have helped him much anyways, considering the flames burning on the aprons. Salem catches him, getting under his arm to life the veteran off of his feet. Freakshow kicks his legs as he feels himself leaving the ground, his grip tightening around his opponents head for dear life. He shut his eyes, bracing himself for a crash landing via backdrop, a move he was plenty familiar with. Instead Croft switched up mid grapple, transitioning into a neckbreaker! The ring shakes as both hit the mat, Freakshow whiplashing hard against the floor with a thud, curling up to clutch at his head, with his other hand he grabs at the bottom rope, hanging to it for life, his left leg pointed towards Croft at an odd angle.

Freakshow white knuckles the bottom rope when his foot is grabbed. Coincidentally it was the boot that he been untied earlier, a gesture that he baffled some of the audience members who paid attention. A sweat covering his body, he finds it difficult to keep a grip on the steel cable, slowly losing his handle on the little salvation that he had left. "Shiiiiit!" He grits his teeth together as his body is stretched by one armed man, his neck aching from the devastating Last Rites, his back sore, his head rattled from the two consecutive shots. In desperation his kicks and shakes his legs, perhaps knowing more about what he was doing than he let on.

Croft goes careening into the official. Freakshow, looking like he'd been through a hair, grabs onto the middle rope with both hands, take a deep breath, and starts hauling himself up frantically, taking breaks as it was certainly no easy task. A couple of times his hands slip, the flames are just barely not touching the hind of Freak, although he's certainly feeling the heat, in the environment of the inferno match it seemed that every action took double the energy. He looks forward towards Salem as he is midway through his scramble back up to his feet, getting ready for something or another.

Freakshow looks towards Salem, who was distracted with the wounded official. He leans back into the ropes, but not too far, of course. The elastic-ish material sends him forward as he springs off of his foot right back towards Croft! Aiming to bash him across the head with a lariat. Only he had made a slight miscalculation, as mid stride Croft had turned from the referee, starring dead center at Freak. Unfortunately for the sneaky tag team specialist, it was too late to stop or change course, hurtling towards the opponent he came, arm extended out to his side.

Salem dissapears from Freakshow line of vision. This comes as a great surprise, as suddenly the other ropes, and more specifically the fire, approached Freak at a rapid rate. With too much momentum built up pull the breaks, he would have to take it full-on. "Aaaaah!!" He lets out a frightened shriek, the flames engulfing the aprons, smoke ominously rising as he straightens up his posture and goes careening straight over the top rope! The only place where he was in more danger than in the ring with the vengeful Croft.

Freakshow had taken a significant amount of attack of the course of the competition, several signature moves, a baseball bat to the testicles, a crowbar to the gut. He was, for all intents and purposes, at the end of his rope, beaten down and past his prime. However, it's been said that there isn't much better of a motivating force than a hot flame lit under your a**. This was exactly where Freak found himself, hanging on to the top rope for dear life, kicking and scrunching up his legs in fear of avoiding the slightest contact with the fire. While the man was never well known for his upper body strength, it was all that kept him in the match has he hung precariously over the fire, like a pig on the spit.

The fire singes and reaches for Freak as he hangs, a look of raw, true fear on his face, confronted with something scarier than any pissed off opponent. He swings his legs, his arms shaking. Freakshow had never skinned the cat, he had never tried to skin the cat, logic would dictate that given his energy level, he would be unable to skin the cat. They had tried to teach him how to skin the cat in wrestling school, but he was absent that day, sick with the flu. If he had been present that day, surely he would have failed anyways. However, being under the flame gave Freak something that allowed him to reach deep into his withered, slimy heart, giving him the strength to pull himself up, and yes, skin the cat. He lands back in the ring on his feet, his heart pounding in his throat, his eyes wide open with adrenaline as slowly he turned towards Croft, distracted. A look of relief cross his face.

That's when he noticed that his leg was fire.

At first he didn't feel anything, in fact, he saw it before he felt anything. A strange reaction from the first row, he began to look back, before catching a giant glob of yellow eating away at the hamstring of his left pantleg. He was too shocked to scream, to run, to stop drop and roll. All he could do was look down at it, rising up his leg, then back at Croft. <********!" In that split moment he had a decision to make. His leg was on fire. To put it would would alert Salem of his presence, putting things squarely in his favor during the last act of the competition. To put it would potentially end everything for Freak. So, the matter of a moment, the options weighed, Freakshow makes the decision to make a manic dash towards Croft, running at a speed and manner that only a man on fire would run at. His arm spread out crooked, he'd try and remove the mans head with his finisher, the Lariat.