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Try as he might, Salem was failing to wake the referee who lay helpless against the mat - that was, helpless to call the match in Salem's favor, what with Freak presently standing back in the ring following his impressive, gravity-defying feat of avoiding the flames and re-entering the ring by pulling himself back over the top rope with pure upper-body strength. However, it didn't seem he'd done enough, flames licking one of his legs and creating a foul odor of rotten lunch meat and cheap liquor that wafted up Salem's nose. Curious, Salem turned his head towards the ropes as Freakshow cursed, unknowingly staring straight into the debilitating Lariat that Freak was known so well for. Barely possessing the time to notice, let alone react, Salem felt his windpipe crushed as Freak's arm smacked right against his throat, knocking the rookie backwards from the force. Being that he was hunched over, it was all that much easier for the strike to topple Salem end-over-end, rolling from the blow back towards the center ring, clutching his throat from the flat of his back in a coughing fit.

Salem was a day late and a dollar short, the flames extinguishing from Freak's leg faster than the breath had from Salem's lungs, choked stiffly by the imposing pressure of Freak's Lariat to his vulnerable throat. Gasping, Salem hacked for air from the canvas, his limbs contorted from pain and suffocation as he gripped his neck with his still-good hand, trying to soothe the muscles and his trachea. The once-exhilarated crowd had silenced while Freak sat on the mat, gripping his scorched leg after having let them down by dropping Salem with his brutally simplistic finisher. Salem's head was being pricked by hundreds of tiny needles of pain that stabbed at his neck and head, leaving the charismatic crusader to wheeze with each breath as he lay on his stomach, still clutching his sore windpipe.

Had this still been a pinfall match, Freakshow just might have found himself the victor by the time it took Salem to get back up to his knees, struggling to focus and breathe through the pain that swelled up his throat. Unfortunately for Freak, however, the microphone had been left on the outside of the ring, useless to the two men presently fighting for dominance within the burning platform. The crowd was restless, irate, even, as Freak approached the breathless rookie from behind, chain in hand. From the crackling of the still-burning ring apron, Salem failed to hear the approaching chain as its length of links rattled across the mat, oblivious to what the audience was urgently trying to pass along to him. Still gripping his throat with his good hand, Salem rested his left forearm on one knee, trying to prop himself back up to his feet...but this only served to put him in perfect position for Freak's sneak attack to finally be executed, the steely chain pulled tightly up under Salem's chin. In an instant, the rookie's eyes went wide as he felt himself gagging, hands flailing about while Freak used his strength to leverage Salem back up to his feet. Once at a vertical base, Salem would use both hands to grip at the chain, struggling to provide enough separation to breathe as The Marauder tried to strangle Salem for the entire audience to see.

With all his energy and focus going into the battle for breath, Salem's hands were helpless to do anything to prevent the crafty Freakshow from dragging him across the ring, Croft's feet moving along with the man in short shuffles to try and keep from being pulled by his throat. His head was throbbing painfully, a culmination of blood loss, fatigue, concussive blows, and the humidity starting to compound and drain what remained of Salem's stamina. He was fading, that much Salem was certain of as Freak ascended the corner nearest the ramp, trying to add leverage to his chain by getting the high ground over the breathless brawler. Stepping up onto the first rung, Salem tried to fight back, the audience cheering as the brave rookie fought the chain with his weak hand, using his good elbow to deliver a series of desperate strikes to Freak, behind him, hoping to loosen the man's grip on the chain and free him from the blackness that was gradually starting to settle into Salem's vision.

Salem felt his throat expand as Freakshow's grip on the chain weakened, courtesy of the desperation elbows Salem was throwing into the malicious man's chin and face. It was a boost of morale, being able to breathe once again - there wasn't anything quite so scary as the feeling of choking, being lucid but unable to breathe, seconds away from unconsciousness or worse. Still, Salem wasn't feeling brave enough to fight back and stay in the corner, instead using the first chance he had to attempt pushing off the bottom turnbuckle, trying to separate the chain from Freak's grip by tugging the slack with both hands as he stepped way from the corner. If he were successful, though, Salem wouldn't manage to get far - fatigue finally knocking on Salem's front door, causing Salem to stumble forward and fall onto his hands and knees just a few feet from the corner where Freak stood.

Everyone was on their feet as Freakshow scaled the top turnbuckle, looking to capitalize on Salem's moment of exhaustion. The fans, Freak, even the referee was standing up, all eyes on Salem and what would inevitably happen next. From his hands and knees, the raven-haired renegade clutched the chain in his good hand, trying to fight through his fatigue and get back to his feet. The area was flooded with the anxious shouts of the fans, some cheering for Salem to move as others just wanted to see more pain wrought upon these poor men's bodies. Glancing over at Freak with a tired, pained expression, Salem wondered if this would be it as he saw his opponent scale the ropes and set up his famed knee drop, surely enough to put the rookie down for good. But in the rookie's second of fear, Freak stumbled on the top turnbuckle, an innocent slip of the foot that proved only a brief delay, but all the time Salem needed to go into action.

"Orrah!"

Salem howled, his voice bearing a timbre of pain, like a dying cry, as he tried to rush the corner with the last of his strength and nail Freak in the sternum with his chained-up fist as the man lost his equilibrium, fans roaring from the sudden burst of motivation coming from the cornered Croft.

Though Salem's strike had been true to its mark, the exhausted rookie was unable to stop himself from falling forward against the second turnbuckle, being all that he could do to rouse himself up and attack Freak on such short notice. As Salem caught his breath, he watched as Freakshow battled inches away to fight out of the Tree of Woe he'd been put into, draped across the back of the ring post with his legs haphazardly caught by the corner ropes. Though 'The Marauder' was clawing viciously, frantically to get back up onto the corner, the flames gradually began licking and scorching at Freak's face and shoulders, the referee finally approaching to call for the bell. In an instant, the ring chime was drowned out by the overwhelming ovation from the stands, fans getting out of their seats to cheer and applaud the two men who'd put life and limb at risk for the sake of this match.

Salem wasn't able to express his joy as he watched Freak start to singe and burn, medical teams and security guards approaching the ring to attend to the flames and Freakshow's injuries. But his tiredness didn't stop the referee from lifting Salem up by his good shoulder, bringing him back to the center canvas to hold his right hand high in victory. Standing amidst the resounding reception of the fans, Salem tried to put on a smile as he fought to stay standing, more than worn-out from the grueling war he'd waged against his credible opponent.

Salem was relieved that the match was finally over, doing his best to keep from falling to his knees in pain from having been put through Hell by the seasoned veteran. Color had returned to Salem's face after having been given a little bit to recover, but it seemed that Freakshow had other plans as the dasterdly heel broke away from the medical team that was attending to him, slipping back into the ring to give Salem a piece of his mind. As Freak approached, though, Salem would jerk his good hand out of the referee's grasp, looking to step forward and cut his enemy off with a boot to Freak's gut as he cursed Salem for winning, the scent of burning flesh starting to permeate in the ring from the man's presence.