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"Well...well...well."

Sans any entrance music, Salem's voice was heard across the speaker system of the arena, though the man in question could not be found on the ramp or stage. The crane camera panned around a bit, fans eagerly looking around with hushed whispers whilst the wrestling renegade remained at-large. Finally, the Titantron feed caught sight of the Charismatic Calamity, casually walking down to the ring from one of the aisles that led up to the arena foyer. Fans alongside him jeered as he passed, standing up to either take pictures or mock the young rookie as he confidently strolled towards ringside. Taped-up hand in the pocket of his signature black jeans, Salem held two items in his arms - a microphone in his opposite hand, and his trademark change jar tucked under his elbow. Salem didn't pause for any of the fans, but he did shake his head and laugh at those who ridiculed him. "Oh, yes! Boo me!" he encouraged, smiling smugly at his beloved audience. "Because you people know what real wrestling is - that you'd cheer for a Digiorno's drop-out over a real athlete like myself! Yeah, smart! Keep on thinkin', folks...doing this business wonders, I'll tell ya!"

Turning his sights back to the ring, Salem hopped the barricade that separated the front row from the ringside, change jar and microphone in his respective hands as the lad took a long stare at Joe, smirking from the stairs. Rather than enter the ring, however, Salem stood on the corner and winked at the teenager, laughing before hopping back down to the lightly padded concrete to circle the security rail, holding the mic back up to his lips.

"Ordinarily, I'd be wanting people to fill this jar - this symbol of change - with their two cents, their hopes for the future...but instead, Joe, I'm going to do you a favor. I'm asking that everyone in the front row please reach into their pockets and donate your spare change to me...the "Mighty Joe Young Recovery Fund"...to help with your medical bills after tonight."

As Salem paced around the ring, holding the jar out, some fans pitched change into the receptacle while others scorned the man for galavanting about, provoking incredulous looks of regret from the rookie. "I should be ashamed?!" he mocked, teasing the simple-minded audience members that provoked him. "You're right...I'm ashamed to be out here, 'entertaining' you imbeciles! So, you people want a show? I'll give you one."

Tossing the microphone down, Salem would sit the change jar on the apron near one of the corners, ascending the ring steps to climb the turnbuckle, sitting on it with a fiendish grin as he faced Joe in the ring. As he waited for the referee to ring the bell, Salem would bring his right wrist up, tapping it with his left hand as though indicating that time was running out for the young deliveryman before hopping down to the canvas, approaching the center ring.

Though Joe was already showing hesitancy and fear, Salem was firing on all cylinders as the long-awaited bell finally rang, the fearsome rookie approaching the center canvas with a grapple. Instead of offering a tie-up, however, Salem would immediately attempt to wrap an arm around Joe's neck, trying to establish a side headlock without giving the inexperienced delivery boy a fair chance. Like a lion stalking his prey, Salem would grit his teeth and growl sadistically if his attempt were successful, and would begin applying pressure to wrench the hold in.

Salem easily sunk in his hold, his muscular bicep and forearm constricting the breath from Joe's lungs. The pizza jockey was trying to put up a fight, but his punches were rather dull and uninspired. Salem's legs wobbled a little as he tried to assert his leverage onto Joe, trying to keep the teenager still while laughing openly at the audience. "Is this what you people wanted?" he chided, amusing himself with the way Joe fought to free himself. "C'mon, Joe! Make me work for it!" Salem said, releasing his grip altogether to instead take the young man by the wrist and sling him towards the turnbuckle, going for a forceful Irish Whip.

"Oooh!" Salem exclaimed, bringing a hand to his mouth in mocked shock. Bringing his palm away, Salem exposed a beaming smile that he flashed to the audience, chuckling to himself before turning his sights back to the slouched-over Joe. "You're supposed to stop before you get that far! Geez, like Forrest Gump, over here...a wonder they let you drive a car, son!"

Taking a moment to admire his handiwork, Salem would look on from afar as Joe was left stunned from the first offensive maneuver of the match. The crowd was already growing irritated at the sight of Salem so openly toy with his disadvantaged opponent, but their discontent only appeared to fuel Croft's efforts to belittle the man. After a couple seconds, Salem would walk over to Joe, looking down at the errand boy with a puzzled expression.

"You alright down there?" Salem asked, bringing his foot up to Joe's cheek to roll the man's face from side to side. "Anyone home?"

Salem smirked cockily as Joe was literally laid out at Salem's feet, prodding the wounded delivery boy with the toe of his boot. Grasping at the top rope with his hands, Salem lowered his heel and tapped it against the canvas, lightly stamping at the mat. "Yeah, I bet this springy ring just took your legs out from under you..." Salem teased, bringing his foot back up towards Joe's face. "That's why you gotta LOOK! BEFORE! You LEAP!" Salem shouted, emphasizing each exclamation with a stomp aimed at Joe's sternum, trying to further mingle insult with injury.

Salem gripped the top rope, stomping away at Joe for a moment before wiping his lip, a satisfied smile on his face as he walked back to the center of the ring, Cyrus' favorite delivery guy a broken pile of bones in the corner. Laughing aloud, Salem extended his arms and basked in the hatred of the crowd, doing a slow spin to allow all four sides of the arena to see the smug grin on his face. Salem was proud of his actions, and wasn't even worried about going for a pin or trying to end the match quickly. This was merely a soapbox for Salem to stand on, a platform from which he could promote his cause.

"Are you not entertained?!" Salem shouted, gesturing for someone to bring him a microphone. Walking over to pick it up from the apron, Salem lifted the mic to his lips and sat on the corner opposite Joe, and closest to the announcers' table. "You people can boo me...but I didn't ask to fight this kid, tonight. It wasn't me who chose to put him in the ring with a monster...this was done for your pleasure, not mine - I draw no joy out of beating this man within an inch of his life. But it's time you people wake up and realize just how dangerous of a man I can be."

Tossing the microphone back down, Salem would crouch in the corner, hunched as though he were getting in formation on a football field. With a sadistic smile, a wild look to his eyes, Salem waited for Joe to show some signs of life, biding his time until the pizza guy would attempt to get back up...at which time, Salem would rush forward towards the corner, raising his heel up to attempt a running boot to the side of Joe's head while he struggled to stand.

The crowd wailed with protest as Joe was helplessly spun around by the force of Salem's boot, the poor fellow draped against the ropes like a scarecrow. Only, Salem wasn't scared of Joe. Rather, the rebellious rookie did a lap around the ring, bringing his hand up to his throat to drag one finger across his neck in a threatening fashion.

"Off with his head!" Salem howled, signalling his finishing maneuver. Stomping towards Joe with a determined scowl on his face, Salem would heft the disabled deliveryman off the ropes, draping Joe across his shoulders. Standing next to the turnbuckle, Salem glanced down at the change jar he'd put down on the apron, nudging it just inside the ropes with his foot, drawing some critical boos from the fans near the ring.

"It's time you people start taking me seriously!" Salem growled, lifting Joe up above his head. From the position Salem held the man in, it appeared that, should Salem execute his Guillotine DDT, Joe's face would be driven right into the glass mason jar of coins. With bated breath, the crowd anxiously awaited to see whether or not Salem would actually go through with his veiled threat.