Fans were scurrying in and out of their seats, up and down the aisles in effort to purchase merchandise or consume concessions before the night's festivities resumed, but amidst the commotion a hush would fall across the crowd as the lamps in the arena were suddenly cut off. Without a light in sight, many stood still and turned their attention to the ring with hopes that something was about to happen. The surprising turn of events had piqued the fans' interest, but their curiosity would quickly turn to animosity as they heard a lone voice call out through the speakers, addressing the audience.
"People of SALEM!" the familiar figure bellowed, a spotlight shining down onto the center stage as a chorus of boos started to flood the stadium. Standing in the white beam was the kneeling frame of Salem Croft, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and his signature wraps wound up to his elbows. In one hand was his microphone, and the other his jar of change. But though it couldn't be seen, it appeared that Salem had something tucked under his arm as he faced the stage floor...soaking in the antagonistic response silently for a second as he crouched to one knee.
"GIVE IT UP FOR!"
This time, there were no chants from the crowd as the pyro erupted around him, the set lights returning to normal as the freshman straightened up and smiled out to the audience. Instead, the passionate patrons jeered the lad as he started off down the ramp towards the ring, sans any music or video montage. It didn't seem his presence was something scheduled - for that matter, this was the first appearance the "Most Wanted Man in Wrestling" had made since before Falling Summer - but, that didn't seem to halt his motivation to make it to ringside, despite the crowd's clear desire to avoid it. Now caught in the softer glow of the house bulbs, fans along the ramp and watching the Titantron could see a golden statuette tucked under Salem's jar-holding arm as he brought his microphone up to his lips at long last.
"Yeah, I thought you might say something like that." Croft commented casually about the crowd's criticism towards his arrival in the arena, tonight. Once he'd made it to ringside, Salem strolled around the squared circle for a moment to continue speaking more intimately with those in the first few rows. "What can I say? You people hate me. You look down on me, you criticize my talents and my work ethic, and you mock me by cheering on others less deserving while I've toiled around in this company for over twelve months now. And what do I have to show for it?!" he spat, standing now at the mouth of the ramp after having gone full-circle around the ring.
Tucking his change jar underneath his opposite arm, Salem continued holding the microphone to his lips as he raised his odd golden figurine high into the air, the cameraman catching sight of the plaque mounted across the front.
"...Why, only Rookie Of The Year honors at the 2013 Best In The Biz Awards."
The audience's irritation built into a crescendo at this statement, but Salem only smirked back before lowering the award and tucking it back underneath his arm, walking over to the ring steps so that he could ascend onto the canvas for the first time in what felt like months. All the same, the sensation wasn't strange to him as he stood underneath the heavy glow, sitting his trophy down on the new "Era of Change" logo that was branded on the center of the mat. Pacing around the emblem, Croft stared at his prize as the coins in his jar clinked with every pace of his feet.
"...And that's kinda funny, because if you were to ask me...I'd tell you that the place where I've done the most good, the place where I've made the biggest name for myself...the place where I've felt the most at home...I'd tell you it was here, in the WWFG." he continued, not bothering to wait for the fans to quiet down before he went on speaking. "See, since the first episode of "Reboot", I've been trying to make a name for myself in this company, because it was the first company I ever had the chance to wrestle for. I came out here every card, and I ran my mouth on this microphone like no one else could, like no one else dared to - and in the ring, I was able to hold my own against the best of them. But despite that, I never once topped the list on your "Power Ten" rankings, an injustice that nagged at me, that pushed me to be better, to try harder, to learn quicker and fight tougher than anyone else around me! And I shed blood, sweat, and tears to make it this far, to come from being a nobody at last year's WrestleMania to Mr. Money In The Bank at this year's WrestleMania, and I did it all for...what?"
Pausing mid-step, Salem stood behind his polished trophy, blankly looking down at it as though he were expecting something to happen. By now, the crowd had quieted down significantly, either interested in what the rookie had to say or not interested in trying to boo during his entire sermon. All the same, Salem bent over and inspected his award more closely, sitting down the jar of change in its place before standing back upright.
"For this?" he asked rhetorically. "Even though you people hate me, even though you despise me, you same people felt that I was more impressive than Boxer Anarchy - the next contender to the WWFG Undisputed Championship. A man I beat to get my shot at claiming the golden ticket that is the Money In The Bank briefcase...so, should I be proud of this, even though my adoring public can't stand the sight of me anytime I come out to address them?"
Nonchalantly pacing around the canvas, Salem looked out into the audience from each side of the ring, gesturing as though he were honestly hoping for an answer from the fans other than the sure-fire flaming that they were presently pouring onto him. Still, this seemed to make the M.W. Deuce amused, as the lad laughed quietly on his way back to the middle of the ring, now smiling in adoration at his name emblazoned on the esteemed emblem.
"The answer, of course, is 'yes'. Of course I should be proud of what I've done, even if you people can't be proud of me for it. The fact is, in a year when this company has seen some of its darkest hours, I've been a beacon - a lighthouse of hope that the future of FG is something to be anxious for, even though none of you simpletons can understand my modus operandi..."
Glancing down at his jar of change sitting on the EoC logo, Salem tucked the trophy under his arm and reached down to pull two cents from the glass container, rubbing them together audibly as he looked out into the sea of shadows and camera flashes that surrounded him.
"...I am the change this industry needs. I've proven that I don't need you to like me to be successful in this business, and I'll continue to prove that until each and every one of you see me for who I really am...not the hero you hoped would bring you from the brink of extinction...not the devil that you feared would shatter your beloved dreams...but the person you paid to see because he was your favorite son - the athlete that only ever wanted his day in the sun, to shine for his true talent and be accepted and recognized by those he considered family, in the place he considered home! But the WWFG doesn't feel home to me, anymore...and I'm through nurturing this weakness of worrying about whether the world will embrace what I am. Because I don't need a home...I'm an outcast. And that's the way it should be."
Dropping his microphone into the jar of change, Salem walked towards the ropes and ducked under the top cable before standing out onto the apron and finally off the edge of the ring. With just his award in hand, the rookie marched back up the entrance ramp with a steely gaze that was focused on the black curtain leading backstage, a tapestry that matched the darkness swirling within the young man's eyes. His words had been crisp and decisive, the message of a man who carried the weight of conviction on his shoulders. Without even so much as a sideward glance, the Freshman Phenom slowly formed a smile as he made stride across the stage, vanishing as abruptly as he'd appeared.
"People of SALEM!" the familiar figure bellowed, a spotlight shining down onto the center stage as a chorus of boos started to flood the stadium. Standing in the white beam was the kneeling frame of Salem Croft, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and his signature wraps wound up to his elbows. In one hand was his microphone, and the other his jar of change. But though it couldn't be seen, it appeared that Salem had something tucked under his arm as he faced the stage floor...soaking in the antagonistic response silently for a second as he crouched to one knee.
"GIVE IT UP FOR!"
This time, there were no chants from the crowd as the pyro erupted around him, the set lights returning to normal as the freshman straightened up and smiled out to the audience. Instead, the passionate patrons jeered the lad as he started off down the ramp towards the ring, sans any music or video montage. It didn't seem his presence was something scheduled - for that matter, this was the first appearance the "Most Wanted Man in Wrestling" had made since before Falling Summer - but, that didn't seem to halt his motivation to make it to ringside, despite the crowd's clear desire to avoid it. Now caught in the softer glow of the house bulbs, fans along the ramp and watching the Titantron could see a golden statuette tucked under Salem's jar-holding arm as he brought his microphone up to his lips at long last.
"Yeah, I thought you might say something like that." Croft commented casually about the crowd's criticism towards his arrival in the arena, tonight. Once he'd made it to ringside, Salem strolled around the squared circle for a moment to continue speaking more intimately with those in the first few rows. "What can I say? You people hate me. You look down on me, you criticize my talents and my work ethic, and you mock me by cheering on others less deserving while I've toiled around in this company for over twelve months now. And what do I have to show for it?!" he spat, standing now at the mouth of the ramp after having gone full-circle around the ring.
Tucking his change jar underneath his opposite arm, Salem continued holding the microphone to his lips as he raised his odd golden figurine high into the air, the cameraman catching sight of the plaque mounted across the front.
"...Why, only Rookie Of The Year honors at the 2013 Best In The Biz Awards."
The audience's irritation built into a crescendo at this statement, but Salem only smirked back before lowering the award and tucking it back underneath his arm, walking over to the ring steps so that he could ascend onto the canvas for the first time in what felt like months. All the same, the sensation wasn't strange to him as he stood underneath the heavy glow, sitting his trophy down on the new "Era of Change" logo that was branded on the center of the mat. Pacing around the emblem, Croft stared at his prize as the coins in his jar clinked with every pace of his feet.
"...And that's kinda funny, because if you were to ask me...I'd tell you that the place where I've done the most good, the place where I've made the biggest name for myself...the place where I've felt the most at home...I'd tell you it was here, in the WWFG." he continued, not bothering to wait for the fans to quiet down before he went on speaking. "See, since the first episode of "Reboot", I've been trying to make a name for myself in this company, because it was the first company I ever had the chance to wrestle for. I came out here every card, and I ran my mouth on this microphone like no one else could, like no one else dared to - and in the ring, I was able to hold my own against the best of them. But despite that, I never once topped the list on your "Power Ten" rankings, an injustice that nagged at me, that pushed me to be better, to try harder, to learn quicker and fight tougher than anyone else around me! And I shed blood, sweat, and tears to make it this far, to come from being a nobody at last year's WrestleMania to Mr. Money In The Bank at this year's WrestleMania, and I did it all for...what?"
Pausing mid-step, Salem stood behind his polished trophy, blankly looking down at it as though he were expecting something to happen. By now, the crowd had quieted down significantly, either interested in what the rookie had to say or not interested in trying to boo during his entire sermon. All the same, Salem bent over and inspected his award more closely, sitting down the jar of change in its place before standing back upright.
"For this?" he asked rhetorically. "Even though you people hate me, even though you despise me, you same people felt that I was more impressive than Boxer Anarchy - the next contender to the WWFG Undisputed Championship. A man I beat to get my shot at claiming the golden ticket that is the Money In The Bank briefcase...so, should I be proud of this, even though my adoring public can't stand the sight of me anytime I come out to address them?"
Nonchalantly pacing around the canvas, Salem looked out into the audience from each side of the ring, gesturing as though he were honestly hoping for an answer from the fans other than the sure-fire flaming that they were presently pouring onto him. Still, this seemed to make the M.W. Deuce amused, as the lad laughed quietly on his way back to the middle of the ring, now smiling in adoration at his name emblazoned on the esteemed emblem.
"The answer, of course, is 'yes'. Of course I should be proud of what I've done, even if you people can't be proud of me for it. The fact is, in a year when this company has seen some of its darkest hours, I've been a beacon - a lighthouse of hope that the future of FG is something to be anxious for, even though none of you simpletons can understand my modus operandi..."
Glancing down at his jar of change sitting on the EoC logo, Salem tucked the trophy under his arm and reached down to pull two cents from the glass container, rubbing them together audibly as he looked out into the sea of shadows and camera flashes that surrounded him.
"...I am the change this industry needs. I've proven that I don't need you to like me to be successful in this business, and I'll continue to prove that until each and every one of you see me for who I really am...not the hero you hoped would bring you from the brink of extinction...not the devil that you feared would shatter your beloved dreams...but the person you paid to see because he was your favorite son - the athlete that only ever wanted his day in the sun, to shine for his true talent and be accepted and recognized by those he considered family, in the place he considered home! But the WWFG doesn't feel home to me, anymore...and I'm through nurturing this weakness of worrying about whether the world will embrace what I am. Because I don't need a home...I'm an outcast. And that's the way it should be."
Dropping his microphone into the jar of change, Salem walked towards the ropes and ducked under the top cable before standing out onto the apron and finally off the edge of the ring. With just his award in hand, the rookie marched back up the entrance ramp with a steely gaze that was focused on the black curtain leading backstage, a tapestry that matched the darkness swirling within the young man's eyes. His words had been crisp and decisive, the message of a man who carried the weight of conviction on his shoulders. Without even so much as a sideward glance, the Freshman Phenom slowly formed a smile as he made stride across the stage, vanishing as abruptly as he'd appeared.
