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Everything moved very fast for Freakshow. As he came speeding down the ramp lights flashed, fat fans and their ugly kids, or some semblance of them, speed by Freaks side vision. It was all a lot to take in. In all the excitement he seemed to forget that he was, indeed, rushing rapidly towards a chain link cage. That soon became apparent to Freak as he found bargaining hard, "Wait! WAIT!" He cries out, thrashing and kicking in his restraints. "HELP-"

"ACK!"

Freakshow snaps out of his restraints and finds himself slung hard into the side of the cage. He smacks against the unforgiving steal, instinctively clutching his fingers into the opening and sliding down the side of the wall like a pigeon that's just hit a window. Ungracefully he slumps down against the side of the structure, unable to tell up from down and night from day. "Uuuuugh.." Freak groans, the side of his face pink and marked by the steel.

Freakshow found himself grabbed by the head and hoisted up to his feet. While he was sure that wherever Salem was taking him had to not be good, he opted for the past of least resistance and more or less cooperated for the youngster for the time being. Through the door himself, barely able to stand without Croft, Freak heard the sound of the entrance shutting right behind him.

Freakshow is slung back into the ring. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and starts pushing at the ground with his feet, scooting himself backwards towards the center of the ring, away from Croft. The cut above his eyebrow seemed to be leaking by it's own accord. In the middle of the ring he sat, trying to blink through the blood, shooting looks all around him for an escape despite knowing full well that he'd expended every option that had presented itself. His prior strategy of mere survival, it appeared, had worn itself out.

Freakshow knew exactly what Salem was planning on doing when he saw him on that apron. He'd taken the move before and he knew, as a general rule, when to expect it. Knowledge, however, isn't necessarily power, especially after eating a cage wall. As Freak stood up to try dodging the maneuver, all he knew to do in reaction was bring his arms up infront of his head and take the whiplash. The kick propels Freakshow backwards, up and over the ropes, down to the floor in a flailing heap.

Freakshow lays on the ground for a good thirty seconds or so before he has any idea of what to do. Wrapping his fingers around the mesh surrounding the ring he slowly begins to pull himself up to his feet. Once vertical he leans against the side of the cage for support, unable to provide to adequately with his own legs. He hears Croft threats from somewhere behind him, unable to respond with much other than an exhausted sounding, "Eeeeh.." He whines, floating in and out of cognition.

Freakshow jolts in response to the clubbing shot to the back of the head. He finds himself ground into the links, the metal digging into his skin, into the cut above his eyebrow. He puts his palms against the wall, trying with futility to direct the momentum in a way that was at least somewhat advantageous to him. It didn't make any difference, left, right, up, down, it hurt real bad. The fans, on the other hand, were just having a ball. At their juncture there appeared to be a snowballs chance in hell at best for the New Yorker.