The arena was bustling with chatter and excitement as the eager fans started filing down the aisles and into their seats. Children, decked out in their favorite memorbelia as their parents scarfed on nachos and hot dogs, laughed and cheered for their in-ring heroes to come out and perform. Though the stadium had not yet dimmed the house lights to begin the show, it didn't stop an already familiar face from rearing his head past the curtain, looking out onto the crowd.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Salem said to an eager response from the crowd, a reaction that drew a Cheshire-like grin from the man who stepped out from behind the curtain.
Microphone in one hand, a jar of change in the other, Salem kicked the heels of his boots across the stage, the jingle of change heard with every heavy skip of his feet. He was wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt, a white design embroidered across the ribs that matched the tribal pattern tattooed down Salem's arms. Across the back of his shoulders, the shirt read "Karmic Killer", a foreboding warning to those who'd dare cross the volatile warrior. Bringing the mic to his lips, Salem smiled as he addressed the crowd.
"Don't adjust your television screens...there's no cause for alarm. I'm indeed Salem Croft, and I am indeed your future Undisputed WWF Champion." he said, gazing out at his audience as they listened patiently, eagerly. "No fireworks...no thumping music. Take away the pyro and the flair, and I'm just as much of a man as anyone else in this building. I sweat, I bleed, I punch my card in the morning...and my opponents at night. Some people call what I do a game, or 'entertainment'. But for me, this is my life. I didn't choose to be a wrestler - this is something I was called to do, and I was called to it because I'm quite frankly the best damn athlete in this business."
Taking a few steps towards the ramp, Salem basked in the enthusiastic cheers from his fans in the stands. However, his smile had long since receeded into a stern stare of focus, the look Salem got when he stood toe-to-toe with danger. The man exhuded confidence as he looked out into the countless faces that surrounded him, starting to speak again.
"...And I'm sure there are people who disagree with me about that. They have every right to - I'm new around here, but I warn every wrestler on this roster to not take me lightly. I will prove myself to be the most dominant man in this industry. As I told Jed last week, this isn't an opinion, it's an inevitability. You can dislike me, you can threaten me, you can try to blackball me...but my momentum is a runaway train, and you can't derail it. These people, this business is aching for a change and I am the harbringer that will deliver it. Anyone who thinks otherwise...well, you can take a trip down this ramp to Salem's Lot, and I'll be happy to put you to sleep in my four-post bed."
As the crowd popped for Salem's startling statements, the ambitious young wrestler wasted no time on formality and instead went right into speaking once again.
"...But, on the topic of sleeping...I feel compelled to mention that I will not be facing Cyrus "The Dream" Leone, tonight." Salem continued, the fans letting out a chorus of boos in response. "Apparently, Jed feels that I'm better off competing in a tag-team match, this evening. It doesn't matter - I'll conquer two people just as well as one, but what does matter is the mental health of my former manager, Cyrus Leone. You see, Cyrus overheard my comment last week about not needing him, about his 'dream' being a delusion. Rather than take the truth gracefully, though, he felt compelled to puff out his chest and challenge me on Twitter. But the old man's fingers don't work as well as they used to, because he couldn't even hold his own in a written conversation with me. But yet, he expects me to think he can make me tap out in a ring."
Pausing a moment, Salem's face donned a sympathetic expression, but it was quickly broken up by a smile and soft chuckle.
"Cyrus...wake up." Salem said, his tone somewhat amused. "I laugh not because I'm mocking you, but because it's just so sad. It's sad to think that you still feel as though you're relevant. Do you remember when you first approached me? This was back at Wrestlemania, remember? You said, 'Salem, I'll come out with you to the ring. Salem, I'll tag with you. Salem, I'll help you in matches, I'll help get you promoted. Salem, I'm the total package.' But when I came out at Wrestlemania, when I was poised to show off my talent in front of millions on the Grandest Stage of Them All...when I asked you to wrestle me, and give me a chance to shine...you simply stood there."
Salem's eyes lowered into a glare of anger, his tone dropping from the smooth canter it was into a rough, rocky growl.
"But that was okay. I swallowed the bitter pill, Cyrus. I did it because you were my manager, you were a legend, and because you said you had my back. Well, you didn't. I'd reach out to you for help getting matches, for help with getting noticed, but you never had the time. Oh, sure - when I was about to wrestle Justin, you made a little comment on Twitter about being on the look-out for me...but not before promoting yourself in your tag-team title match, huh? I thought you were 'taking a break from the actual fighting', Cyrus? I thought you were 'wanting to help new guys out'? Or was the truth that you just wanted to cling to someone who still had it, someone who could still get it done in the ring, thinking that aligning yourself with a destined champion like me would kick-start your career again? The fact of the matter is, I never needed you. Everything that I am, everything that I've done, I've accomplished without your help. So have fun with Bison tonight, Cyrus. But if you ever think for a second that you're good enough to even lace my boots...I'll send you into an early retirement. Just ask Justin Spectacular."
The crowd cheered Salem on briefly as he mentioned the brutal assault he'd laid on the aforementioned villain during the last episode, a recollection that brought a smile to Salem's face once again.
"But, as I've said before...I'm going to change this company. I came out here and gave my two cents last week, and I challenged others backstage to do the same. Now...I hold in my hand the silent frustration of a locker room that is full of people who are due more than they've been offered by those in charge around here, and they've designated me to be their voice. No longer will those with disputes be forced to hold their tongues or lose their jobs - they have a redeemer, a proclaimer who will stand up for their honor and defend their right to prosper for their unnoticed hard work! The locker room has a new general, and this business has a new sheriff."
Tucking the microphone under his arm, Salem freed a hand to reach into the change jar and withdraw a pair of pennies, tossing them onto the entrance ramp before brandishing the mic once again.
"...And that's my two cents on the matter." he said before turning back around, vanishing behind the curtain as the lights dimmed for the show's beginning.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Salem said to an eager response from the crowd, a reaction that drew a Cheshire-like grin from the man who stepped out from behind the curtain.
Microphone in one hand, a jar of change in the other, Salem kicked the heels of his boots across the stage, the jingle of change heard with every heavy skip of his feet. He was wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt, a white design embroidered across the ribs that matched the tribal pattern tattooed down Salem's arms. Across the back of his shoulders, the shirt read "Karmic Killer", a foreboding warning to those who'd dare cross the volatile warrior. Bringing the mic to his lips, Salem smiled as he addressed the crowd.
"Don't adjust your television screens...there's no cause for alarm. I'm indeed Salem Croft, and I am indeed your future Undisputed WWF Champion." he said, gazing out at his audience as they listened patiently, eagerly. "No fireworks...no thumping music. Take away the pyro and the flair, and I'm just as much of a man as anyone else in this building. I sweat, I bleed, I punch my card in the morning...and my opponents at night. Some people call what I do a game, or 'entertainment'. But for me, this is my life. I didn't choose to be a wrestler - this is something I was called to do, and I was called to it because I'm quite frankly the best damn athlete in this business."
Taking a few steps towards the ramp, Salem basked in the enthusiastic cheers from his fans in the stands. However, his smile had long since receeded into a stern stare of focus, the look Salem got when he stood toe-to-toe with danger. The man exhuded confidence as he looked out into the countless faces that surrounded him, starting to speak again.
"...And I'm sure there are people who disagree with me about that. They have every right to - I'm new around here, but I warn every wrestler on this roster to not take me lightly. I will prove myself to be the most dominant man in this industry. As I told Jed last week, this isn't an opinion, it's an inevitability. You can dislike me, you can threaten me, you can try to blackball me...but my momentum is a runaway train, and you can't derail it. These people, this business is aching for a change and I am the harbringer that will deliver it. Anyone who thinks otherwise...well, you can take a trip down this ramp to Salem's Lot, and I'll be happy to put you to sleep in my four-post bed."
As the crowd popped for Salem's startling statements, the ambitious young wrestler wasted no time on formality and instead went right into speaking once again.
"...But, on the topic of sleeping...I feel compelled to mention that I will not be facing Cyrus "The Dream" Leone, tonight." Salem continued, the fans letting out a chorus of boos in response. "Apparently, Jed feels that I'm better off competing in a tag-team match, this evening. It doesn't matter - I'll conquer two people just as well as one, but what does matter is the mental health of my former manager, Cyrus Leone. You see, Cyrus overheard my comment last week about not needing him, about his 'dream' being a delusion. Rather than take the truth gracefully, though, he felt compelled to puff out his chest and challenge me on Twitter. But the old man's fingers don't work as well as they used to, because he couldn't even hold his own in a written conversation with me. But yet, he expects me to think he can make me tap out in a ring."
Pausing a moment, Salem's face donned a sympathetic expression, but it was quickly broken up by a smile and soft chuckle.
"Cyrus...wake up." Salem said, his tone somewhat amused. "I laugh not because I'm mocking you, but because it's just so sad. It's sad to think that you still feel as though you're relevant. Do you remember when you first approached me? This was back at Wrestlemania, remember? You said, 'Salem, I'll come out with you to the ring. Salem, I'll tag with you. Salem, I'll help you in matches, I'll help get you promoted. Salem, I'm the total package.' But when I came out at Wrestlemania, when I was poised to show off my talent in front of millions on the Grandest Stage of Them All...when I asked you to wrestle me, and give me a chance to shine...you simply stood there."
Salem's eyes lowered into a glare of anger, his tone dropping from the smooth canter it was into a rough, rocky growl.
"But that was okay. I swallowed the bitter pill, Cyrus. I did it because you were my manager, you were a legend, and because you said you had my back. Well, you didn't. I'd reach out to you for help getting matches, for help with getting noticed, but you never had the time. Oh, sure - when I was about to wrestle Justin, you made a little comment on Twitter about being on the look-out for me...but not before promoting yourself in your tag-team title match, huh? I thought you were 'taking a break from the actual fighting', Cyrus? I thought you were 'wanting to help new guys out'? Or was the truth that you just wanted to cling to someone who still had it, someone who could still get it done in the ring, thinking that aligning yourself with a destined champion like me would kick-start your career again? The fact of the matter is, I never needed you. Everything that I am, everything that I've done, I've accomplished without your help. So have fun with Bison tonight, Cyrus. But if you ever think for a second that you're good enough to even lace my boots...I'll send you into an early retirement. Just ask Justin Spectacular."
The crowd cheered Salem on briefly as he mentioned the brutal assault he'd laid on the aforementioned villain during the last episode, a recollection that brought a smile to Salem's face once again.
"But, as I've said before...I'm going to change this company. I came out here and gave my two cents last week, and I challenged others backstage to do the same. Now...I hold in my hand the silent frustration of a locker room that is full of people who are due more than they've been offered by those in charge around here, and they've designated me to be their voice. No longer will those with disputes be forced to hold their tongues or lose their jobs - they have a redeemer, a proclaimer who will stand up for their honor and defend their right to prosper for their unnoticed hard work! The locker room has a new general, and this business has a new sheriff."
Tucking the microphone under his arm, Salem freed a hand to reach into the change jar and withdraw a pair of pennies, tossing them onto the entrance ramp before brandishing the mic once again.
"...And that's my two cents on the matter." he said before turning back around, vanishing behind the curtain as the lights dimmed for the show's beginning.
