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The arena was full of chatter during the first intermission of Execution's program, people gossiping about those who'd already been selected in tonight's draft or the many who'd yet to be chosen. The prospect of a second show was quite enticing, offering a plethora of new scenarios and opportunities for people of both brands, and people were buzzing like bees over what lie in store for the LWL brand in the near-future. But as people were filing in and out of the aisles, leaving for and returning with various merchandise and concessions from the arena lobby, a familiar voice rang out across the speakers that silenced the conversations before rousing the audience in applause.

"PEOPLE OF SAAAAAAALEM!" the Charismatic Calamity roared, the stage curtain whipping open as Salem practically ran out onto the stage, microphone in his hand and fire in his eyes.

The crowd erupted with cheers at the sight of LWL's beloved rookie, a man who'd just went through a siege of Hell to prevail over Freakshow during the recent pay-per-view, Personal Problems. Many who'd seen the match had considered it an instant classic, so it was of no surprise to many that the stands were presently shaking with the force of Salem's ovation. Still, the fresh-faced rebel seemed displeased with the reaction he was receiving, holding a hand up to his ear while pacing from one side of the stage to the other.

"Now, wait a minute - I know there's more of you out there than that! Where are my Salemaniacs at?!" Salem shouted, standing on the middle of the platform as the cheers grew louder, almost rattling the cameramen's focus as they scattered up and down the ramp, trying to catch a good frame of Salem standing on the stage. They were professionals, however - you couldn't see a hint of unsteadiness in their lenses, projecting close-up images of Salem as he brought the mic up to his lips again, the video feed playing back on the titantron for the nosebleeds to see.

"GIVE IT UP FOR...!" he started.

"YOUR FAVORITE SON!" the crowd replied, a surge of fire rising up from behind Salem that engulfed the whole stage momentarily, the start of his music playing in the background as the wall of fire rose up, then vanished. With a proud smirk, Salem started down the ramp, a swagger to his walk. "You're damn right!" Salem answered, ascending the ring steps while the lyrics started. Almost as fast, however, Salem once more addressed the microphone, ducking under the top rope in efforts to get into the ring.

"Cut the music." Salem said flatly, the bleacher noise growing even louder with the absence of Metallica thumping across the speakers. Even without the pulsing rhythm, though, the triumphant rookie appeared anxious pacing from one side of the ring to the other, an almost military-like poise to his walk and stare.

"At 'Personal Problems', Salem Croft showed each of you why he is the "Charismatic Calamity" by beating the bloody piss out of that weasel, Freakshow." Salem started, the crowd applauding while scenes played across the big screen from the event, showcasing Salem attacking Freak with one of Matt Shanahan's bats, dropkicking Freak to the canvas, nailing Freak with a Running Bulldog onto the arena concrete, and lastly shoving Freak into the 'Tree of Woe', causing him to burn from the flames that had by then engulfed the ring apron. Not once did Salem look up at the monitor, however, instead leaning against the ropes facing the main camera to stare down at the fans who were along ringside.

"...and earlier, Salem Croft showed you why he's the "Most Wanted Man in Wrestling" by being the first overall selection in LWL's first-ever roster draft - because whether you call it a random lottery or not, there's no luck behind the most sensational rookie this company has ever seen ending up at home on Saturday Night Execution."

Once more the air was rife with excitement as the crowd popped for the boldness Salem was showing off, turning his back as he did a small circle in the center of the ring before standing in the middle of the canvas, eyes gravitating towards the LWL logo at his feet.

"...but tonight, Salem Croft is going to give you something else to call him. Tonight, I'm going to show you another side of myself when I come out here and beat Snypa Rifle in this very ring...because my win over Freakshow wasn't a fluke. I'm here, I have arrived, and in this squared circle I am going to prove my worth to each and every individual in this company...because starting tonight, I won't rest until you people call me by a new name...your future LWL World Champion."

Salem's daring proclamation drew out a final volley of support from the audience before he nodded his head, looking up into the stands as he stepped towards the corner. Bringing the microphone away from his lips, the timekeeper approached and offered to take the device while Salem lifted the top rope, ducking his head underneath it.

Salem stopped in his tracks as he heard a sickening voice call out to him over the speakers, his skin crawling from the sensation of Freak's voice washing over him. Looking immediately up at the stage, the rookie backed away from the corner, returning to the center ring while the last few seconds of his match with Freak played out across the Titantron.

Following the bell, Salem was exhausted and collapsed in the corner, barely getting to his feet with the referee's assistance while medics descended the ramp to attend to the burned and battered Freakshow. But while the official raised Salem's arm in victory, his enemy was less enthused with the outcome. After breaking away from the medical team and security, Freakshow returned to the ring and confronted Salem, only to receive a boot to the gut and a jaw-breaking DDT for his troubles. With a satisfied smirk, Salem rolled out of the ring and hobbled out of the arena, escorted by ringside personnel.

Cutting back to the center ring, a similar smile was seen on Salem's lips as he stood on the canvas, having just seen the events played out for him for the first time since the event. It was kind of surreal, witnessing his moment of triumph played out from the eyes of someone else, and Salem found himself chuckling softly while the people shared their appreciation for Salem's act of violence. Raising an eyebrow and the microphone, the raven-haired rebel flashed Freak a wicked grin.

"...Your point?" Salem asked, the arena filling with the sound of fans' 'ooh's, goading on the heelish veteran in grade-school fashion.

Slowly, Salem's face lost its touch of boldness as Freak spoke, elaborating in great detail about the legal ramifications that came along with him having attacked the veteran during their post-match incident. It was true that The Marauder was known for his conniving tactics, but something about Freakshow's cockiness made Salem clench his jaw in frustration. He was too smug - no one throwing around technicalities this arrogantly did so without having some sort of assurance that they were unimpeachable. True enough, what Freakshow said bore its share of validity - he was technically a civilian once the bell had rang, but Salem had been too exhausted and angry to consider it. But still, did LWL management really threaten to terminate him if he attacked Freakshow? Was the cheeky b*****d actually filing a lawsuit against the company? If so, Salem knew that things between the two of them were surely far from over...but, what would Salem do about it, now?

Without ever looking away from Freakshow, Salem approached the ropes and ducked underneath the top cable, stepping onto the apron before hopping down to the padded arena floor outlying the four sides of the squared circle. Microphone still in hand, Salem methodically walked up the ramp, each step appearing to excite the crowd even more while Salem's brow grew ever-chiseled by the moment. Slowly, he advanced towards Freak until he was finally almost chest-to-chest with the man, the tanned terror towering over the target of his temper by several inches. Looking down at him, Salem almost seemed to growl as he brought the mic back up to his lips, speaking softly.

"Freak...I don't need to touch you...to hurt you." he started, methodically stepping around the bandage-sporting sleaze in a suit. Salem reached out, letting his spare hand hover over the various injuries and wounds he'd inflicted on the man, pausing to allow the memories of each to come back into his enemy's mind. "...Because, I've already proven my point." Coming to a stop before Freak once again, a smile started to creep on Salem's lips once more, the rookie leaning down so that his words could be whispered right against Freak's ear.

"...I'm better than you. I proved it then...and I'll prove it again, tonight...if you don't take your sniveling a** out of my arena this instant."

Pausing a second to let his words soak into Freak's brain - and also allow the stands a chance to hype up the tension of the moment, Salem's lips curled back into a pearly-toothed grin, like a shark tasting blood in the water.

"...So, bring on your lawsuit. Because if you think for a second...for just one second...that I won't slap that smug grin off your lips...I won't just burn you, next time. I'll bury you."

With that, Salem stepped forward, throwing his weight around by trying to bump Freak out of the way, walking past him as though he weren't even there on his way to the curtain, vanishing into the backstage with a wild pop from the crowd...dropping the microphone by the curtain as he passed through it.