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The audience stirred to life, letting out shouts of excitement as Bison slid into the ring and called out Three, the former Asylum Champion refusing to back down to the brute's threats. Before the two men could chest up and get into one another's face, however, the solemn strum of an acoustic guitar would bring a pause to the building tension. All eyes went to the entrance ramp in anticipation for the defending champion to arrive.

"I can hear what you're thinkin'...all your doubts and fears..." Mark Collie would whisper as Salem stepped through the curtain and onto the stage. Instead of his usual taped forearms, Salem sported a pair of fingerless leather gloves, the unbroken hide squeaking as he rolled his knuckles, looking resolutely out towards the ring with his Asylum Championship draped across the shoulder. Without a word, the bare-chested champ started off down the ramp.

"And if you'll look in my eyes, in time you'll find the reason I'm here..."

Salem's steps were slow, patient. He didn't seem to be in a rush to get where he was going, instead taking time to fist-bump with members of the crowd, giving high fives without stopping to get too involved with the crowd. It was evident on his face that this match was the center of Salem's focus, and once he reached the apron Salem would snatch a microphone from the ring corner and ascend the steel steps, pausing to look over at Three and Bison.

"Cause in time all things shall pass away...in time, you may come back some day...to live once more..."

Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Salem would leap from the apron straight to the top turnbuckle, crouched like a jaguar ready to strike as he stood atop the corner, thrusting his belt high with one hand to a raucous response from the audience. As the crowd cheered the rookie champion in his first title defense, Salem could only stare intensely down at Three and Bison, dropping to the ring before handing the belt to the official. For a moment, the scar etched into Salem's shoulder stung - a reminder of his epic clash with Three, a symbol of the chip he carried on his shoulder since that last pay-per-view. He planned to carve two more notches into that, tonight.

"Or die once more...but in time, your time will be no more..."

The music faded out, but it appeared that Salem had more to say. Microphone in hand, the raven-haired rebel strode towards the center ring, approaching Bison and Three as the bell was about to chime. Drawing the microphone to his lips, he'd glance at Three before turning to Bison, the match officially beginning before he could speak. Dropping the microphone, Salem would immediately lurch forward with a hard right hand, looking to take the attack to Bison right off with a volley of blows meant to drive him into the nearest turnbuckle.

Salem was feeling confident about his coordination with Three, optimistic that their combined assault would be enough to bring the behemoth to the floor. However, it had seemed that Bison had other plans - snatching the rookie champion from the air by his throat, and Three soon after. The crowd exclaimed at the spectacle, Bison relishing his momentary advantage with a proud shout.

It was true - having the grip of a beast like the "Alpha Male" around one's throat was no fun activity. But in his hubris, Bison had left himself exposed and defenseless as both of his hands were occupied trying to restrain his two opponents. Salem wasn't about to relinquish his championship so easily, and as Bison went to lift Three and himself, his nimble footwork once again came into play...pushing off his back leg as he was lifted up to deliver a Flying Knee into Bison's jaw.