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Freakshow stares up at his dominating rival. Things were not looking bright for the oily vet, not in the least. It was not as if anyone expected him to either, one does not simply step right back into the ring after an extended absence and expect to do very well. Returns are often left to those who take care of themselves, Freak was a well documented booze hound with old drug problems, and for all anyone could know, new drug problems. Usually when a return does occur, the picking of the opponents is selective to say the least. Instead of choosing smart, Freak found himself on the ground, a chill running up his spine, his fingers grasping at the mat as his crazed opponent positions himself for another killshot.

Salem stomping his way closer, Freak needed to think of something fast. The mic. He reaches for the nearby item in question, an object he'd used on numerous occasions to torture the audience and wrestlers, and one could argue the very reason he found himself in his current undesirable position. Croft lifts the weapon up high above his head, Freakshow shuts his eyes tight, not wanting to see any of this happen if his idea were to be unsuccessful. He shrieks loudly and in rapid succession into it:

"SINGLES! SINGLES! SINGLES!"

Freakshow opens his eyes, his heart had nearly stopped in those few seconds after he had changed the match. The match ending would have been the least of his worries had that shot connected. He'd been hit in the head with a bat once, that time he got lucky and did not want to risk it again. His first instinct is to get the hell out of there, as he often did. Not just out of the ring, but out of the godforsaken arena. It was an indy show, he'd thought to himself, what would it matter if he didn't even show up? This was no time to dwell on past decisions, however.

Looking up he see's Salem Croft and the referee, both holding the same object, struggling. Crofts back was to Freak for once in the match. That was all it took. It was the split seconds decisions, the improvisations, not any strength, not his speed, not even his smarts, for he was not nearly as intelligent as he thought, that allowed a bumbling drunk to squeak wins past opponents such as Malice, Mike Landry, and Matt Shanahan in the past. The man possessed a natural sense of timing, put on display as he swiveled onto his knees and lunged at the legs of Croft. He would wrap his arms around the thigh of the larger man, locking his fingers and falling back, using his momentum to try rolling him into a schoolboy. If successful he would use every last pound of his weight to try holding down the overturned legs of Croft for the flash pin.

Freakshow is powered off of Salem with a strong kick out. He flies back and hits the ground with a roll. Now with a little more energy, he pops up to his feet, grimacing a little bit at his still damaged family jewels, he turns to the microphone left on the ground and throws a hard punt at it, sending the object skittering out of the ring. He had set this as a singles match, and he would take the measure to keep it a singles match. Standing with a slight limp he turns to Salem and see's him back on the prowl. He was soon learning one of the difficulties in fighting the younger man was his constant forward motion, it was an assault from the moment the bell rang, he had little in terms of a break.

Quickly Freakshow would backpeddle away from the raging bull towards the ropes, not wanting to grapple just yet. The fans react poorly, because, hell, who runs away from a collar and elbow tie up? He would grab onto the ropes and lean out of them, hoping to force a break in the action. "Break! Get him back! Back em' up!" Freakshow demanded, his voice wavering, once again using the official as a means to get in the way of his opponent and create separation. Not only would this give some much needed breathing room, but it would also play into the growing impatience of Croft. He wanted to start this one clean, clean in his own terms at least.

Freakshow stays out from the corner for a few moments. The fans begin to pipe up with boo's and jeer's as Freak brought the pace to a halt. Classically trained, he knew his odds and ends, in his mind he had a better chance against Salem in an environment that benefited his often overlooked technical skills. Nervy, his eye twitching, Freak comes out from the safety between the ropes, he readjusts his package a little bit, kind of like a baseball player. He paces back and forth for a moment, trying to walk off the shot given to him outside the ring. Very easily Salem could go back at him, although he would avert the crisis by simply ducking out again.

"Thats right slick.. Ain't no garbage wrestlin'," Finally, when he was ready, and only when he was ready, he slaps his chest a couple times and goes hobbling towards Croft, cautiously, to offer a collar and elbow tie up

Freakshow locks up with Salem and soon realizes the error of his ways. Croft was a heavyweight, Freak, at 204, was smack dab in the middle of cruiserweight territory. The opposition quickly powers Freak into a side headlock. "Gah!" The man whines as he's shoved into the submission, his neck cranked and wrenched on harshly. He pushes futilely at the back of Croft, unable to force the bigger man off of him to the amusement of the crowd, the wrestler of almost 20 years was unable to escape the elementary move. So, to the anger of those in attendance the referee, he reaches for the tights of the opponent, using the leverage to edge himself close to the ropes to escape the headlock.. By rope break.. If permitted he would once again use them for refuge upon his release.

"That's right.. Easy does it punk.." Freakshow eyes his opponent as he backs to the center of the ring, staying in the ropes until he was 100% sure there would be no fast moves. He pushes himself out from the ropes and widens his stance a little bit, trying to get comfortable. With a lecherous, creepy expression he squats down a few times before edging close to his opponent to prepare for another collar and elbow tie up. For whatever reason he believed that it would work the second time. Flipping his bleach blonde hair out of his eyes, and attempting to block out the increasingly agitated fans, who came for blood, Freak steps forward to engage in another lockup.

The two men clash together once again for the lockup. And, as predicted, the rookie prevails as he muscles the new yorker back in the corner quickly. Freakshow nails the buckles harder than expected and lets out a gasp for air as his spine connects with the padded metals. "Break- Off!" He yelps at the official, who at this point was getting a bit frustrated with Freaks constant, forced involvement of the guy who's just trying to do his job. The opponent was to find that there is indeed a method to Freaks immense madness and shenanigans. This time, when, or if the referee gets between the two, as Salem is backing off Freakshow would lunge forward and reach over the referee to p***k his opponent in the eye with his taped up thumb.

"Yah!" Freakshow connects with the dirty maneuver! He throws a glance towards the ref, who was just as dazed and confused as Croft. Huffing, his chest out, the vet moved fast towards Croft, wanting to make a move before anyone head realized what had just gone down. The fans, of course, voice their displeasure, having just seen the unfavored star stall for a great deal of time, then swings things in his favor just as things were beginning to heat up again. He had taken advantage of what was becoming both Salems strength and his weakness: his fire.

Once within proper distance Freakshow reaches hooks Croft by the head and cradles him tight for a lighting fast, deep small package attempt! The second consecutive roll up, this time performed on a stunned, blinded opponent. The longer the match went on, the better it favored the more well conditioned Croft, Freak in his research was well aware of this.