Sans any music or video footage, a figure stepped out from behind the curtain during the first intermission of the evening. Such time was usually spent fetching food or merchandise, or getting things arranged backstage for the remainder of the show. But Salem never was the kind of guy to work on another man's schedule, and so it came as a pleasant surprise to those staying faithful in the stands to see the BBW World Champion make an unannounced appearance.
The copperhead-print wraps he'd worn before were wound up his wrists, and he carried with him the custom snake-like microphone that had already become a hit with the younger fans at the concession booths. In addition, the sleeveless t-shirt he sported had a graphic of Salem's face, veiled by his bangs though the glint of a viper's eyes could be seen through them. The gothic print scrawled across the chest read "STRIKE FIRST", and left many who saw it curious about what might be stamped on the back. Surely, though, most were more curious about what was in the burlap sack cast over his right shoulder, opposite the prestigious BBW World Title on his left.
"Heheh...hello, hello, hello..." the world champion said into the snake's mouth, his voice soft and almost eerie in delight. Those who hadn't already noticed Salem now stood and cheered with the rest, Croft walking slowly down the ramp while looking at those along the barricade with a grin.
"Forgive me for being so bold, but after witnessing recent events backstage, I felt a sudden need to warm myself up. Y'all don't mind sharing some of this spotlight with me, do ya?"
The crowd popped for the champ at his request as he serpentined down the ramp like a sidewinder, allowing those on each side to feel either his bag or the BBW World Championship. Salem made a lap around ringside, wanting to give everyone a chance to greet him. Inevitably, though, he slipped into the ring from under the bottom rope, slithering to the center logo before standing up to his feet. All eyes on him, Salem chuckled as he looked down at his microphone, recalling the kids he'd seen circling the ring with imitations of it. 'Was it wise for children to play with snakes?' he thought, before pulling the mic to his lips.
"See, a few minutes ago I felt a shiver run through me..." he continued, turning his eyes up from the canvas towards the stage, though his eyes seemed to be staring off miles away. His smile faded, weighed down into a chiseled expression that was colder than stone. "...a chill, when I saw what many of you did, that meeting between Matt Shanahan and my dear old friend, Freakshow."
Though the crowd booed at the mention of Salem's noted rival from months past, the ominous atmosphere seemed to draw out a smirk from the world champion before he turned his eyes off the entrance and around towards those in the stands. Sitting his sack down at the center of the ring, Salem shook his head and circled around the ring slowly, gesturing for the fans to silence as he spoke.
"No, no, no!" he urged, his expression almost sympathetic. "Don't boo Freakshow...cheer him, because if not for him, I'd not have had the opportunity to have a match worthy of being one of the best, last year! Without Freakshow, I never would have seen just how far I could push myself if I tried, without me beating him and embarrassing him so wholly, I wouldn't have had the confidence to become the man I am, today. So appreciate Freakshow - after all, he's here to help change this company...and despite what it says on the door, Freak, there's no bad blood between you and I, as far as I'm concerned."
The crowd continued to boo at the uncharacteristic remarks being made by the world champion, but they soon quieted as he walked over to the burlap sack, crouching down to open the mouth of the bag.
"In fact, I'm going to make an act of good faith..." he said, hunched over and rummaging through the inside of the satchel. "I've got a present for you, Freak...something I think you need..."
Pulling back from the bag, Salem sat something down next to him, and immediately the audience recognized what it was. The dusty mason jar. The random assortment of coins piled inside. The paper nametag held across its side with scotch tape. It was Salem's "Change Jar", a holdover from his monumental first year in the industry. Standing next to it, Salem stared down into the jar with a sense of recollection. Memories, hardships, triumphs...the hope that had been bestowed upon him by the thousands who now cheered his name in venues across the country. It was all there, carried with him all these months.
"You want to change this company, Freak...you want to make it better, then I suggest you take this. I can't say whether or not it did me any good, but what I can say is that in a year, I went from being a kid with just two cents to his name to being the world champion of Bad Blood Wrestling...so it has to count for something."
Following the glimpse into Salem's past, the lad leaned down and scooped out two pennies from the jar, holding them out in front of himself. He was taking back what he'd put into it.
"This is all I'm keeping." he said solemnly, looking at the pair of heads in his hand. "My two cents. And what they say is that if you plan on coming here and trying to hold me back like you did in LWL, if you want to come and ruin my dream made real, if you plan on trying to challenge the crown..."
His last words were growled more than they were spoken, and the crowd started to cheer during the pause as the familiar sting of Salem's venom started to settle in. Looking over at his shoulder at the world title, then down at the jar, he spoke again in his quiet, menacing canter.
"...Then I suggest you take that change and hit the nearest payphone, because you're going to need to call up every lowlife, every scumbag, every cretin who's simple-minded enough to work for your greasy money, because you'll need every dime you can GET to take this from me!"
Pennies hitting the mat, Salem grabbed the belt and thrust it up high, provoking the fans to stand and cheer, saluting the world champion. After a couple seconds, though, he lowered the belt and began pacing around the ropes, amped up on the adrenaline rush as he continued to spit poison into the microphone.
"Because tonight, I'm going up against one of your goons in a tables match...one of the very same people you sent after me in LWL, that man by the name of Jamie Bader...but unlike before, when you ran out to help him, Freak, this time you and your lackeys might want to stay away, because now, I'm never alone!"
Approaching his bag, Salem gripped the bottom hem of the burlap and tugged, setting loose a twelve-foot king cobra that now lay coiled around his change jar! Immediately, the venomous serpent stood up and flared its hood, swaying to and fro while camera flashes bathed the ring. Crouching behind the beast, Salem stroked the back of its head, staring down at it with a sort of reverence.
"They say a king cobra has enough venom to kill twenty men..." Salem whispered, almost as if it were just a passing thought. "I wonder...do you know twenty men who'd die for you, to take this off me, Freak? Would you really put your life in danger, to have my belt? You're hardly worthy of being called a man, yourself...I know you don't have the fortitude of nearly two-dozen. But him?"
Salem stroked the serpent down its back, almost as if to taunt it. When the snake turned and hissed, the champion smiled, jerking his hand back before setting his title down between them. As the cobra stared at its own reflection in the belt, Salem looked up at the crowd from his crouched position.
"Heh...I know what he'd do to protect me. To protect this belt. Because he wants it as much as I do...it's shiny. It's pretty. And it looks really good around my waist...and next to his tank. So c'mon, Freak. You want to make some change...come and get it." he said, standing up to gesture to the jar, still surrounded by the snake. "But I'm no garden snake. I'm the BBW World Champion. I'm the "Most Wanted Man in Wrestling", a fact you only further illustrate with how you've held this grudge for so long...but most importantly..."
Reaching down, Salem picked up the pair of pennies from the mat, behind the world title that his companion was so mesmerized by. Holding them up, he clicked the two Lincolns together, smirking.
"I'm Copperhead Croft."
Slipping his pennies into his pocket, Salem coiled his microphone back up before stuffing it into his burlap sack, following suit with his scaly friend. Once he'd tied the bag back up, Salem picked his title off the mat and smiled at it, staring similarly to how the cobra had before at his reflection within. Draping it back over his shoulder, Croft walked towards the corner while the audience cheered him out, slipping out of the ring and back up the ramp in much the same fashion as he'd entered...his jar, left atop the Bad Blood Wrestling logo in the ring.
The copperhead-print wraps he'd worn before were wound up his wrists, and he carried with him the custom snake-like microphone that had already become a hit with the younger fans at the concession booths. In addition, the sleeveless t-shirt he sported had a graphic of Salem's face, veiled by his bangs though the glint of a viper's eyes could be seen through them. The gothic print scrawled across the chest read "STRIKE FIRST", and left many who saw it curious about what might be stamped on the back. Surely, though, most were more curious about what was in the burlap sack cast over his right shoulder, opposite the prestigious BBW World Title on his left.
"Heheh...hello, hello, hello..." the world champion said into the snake's mouth, his voice soft and almost eerie in delight. Those who hadn't already noticed Salem now stood and cheered with the rest, Croft walking slowly down the ramp while looking at those along the barricade with a grin.
"Forgive me for being so bold, but after witnessing recent events backstage, I felt a sudden need to warm myself up. Y'all don't mind sharing some of this spotlight with me, do ya?"
The crowd popped for the champ at his request as he serpentined down the ramp like a sidewinder, allowing those on each side to feel either his bag or the BBW World Championship. Salem made a lap around ringside, wanting to give everyone a chance to greet him. Inevitably, though, he slipped into the ring from under the bottom rope, slithering to the center logo before standing up to his feet. All eyes on him, Salem chuckled as he looked down at his microphone, recalling the kids he'd seen circling the ring with imitations of it. 'Was it wise for children to play with snakes?' he thought, before pulling the mic to his lips.
"See, a few minutes ago I felt a shiver run through me..." he continued, turning his eyes up from the canvas towards the stage, though his eyes seemed to be staring off miles away. His smile faded, weighed down into a chiseled expression that was colder than stone. "...a chill, when I saw what many of you did, that meeting between Matt Shanahan and my dear old friend, Freakshow."
Though the crowd booed at the mention of Salem's noted rival from months past, the ominous atmosphere seemed to draw out a smirk from the world champion before he turned his eyes off the entrance and around towards those in the stands. Sitting his sack down at the center of the ring, Salem shook his head and circled around the ring slowly, gesturing for the fans to silence as he spoke.
"No, no, no!" he urged, his expression almost sympathetic. "Don't boo Freakshow...cheer him, because if not for him, I'd not have had the opportunity to have a match worthy of being one of the best, last year! Without Freakshow, I never would have seen just how far I could push myself if I tried, without me beating him and embarrassing him so wholly, I wouldn't have had the confidence to become the man I am, today. So appreciate Freakshow - after all, he's here to help change this company...and despite what it says on the door, Freak, there's no bad blood between you and I, as far as I'm concerned."
The crowd continued to boo at the uncharacteristic remarks being made by the world champion, but they soon quieted as he walked over to the burlap sack, crouching down to open the mouth of the bag.
"In fact, I'm going to make an act of good faith..." he said, hunched over and rummaging through the inside of the satchel. "I've got a present for you, Freak...something I think you need..."
Pulling back from the bag, Salem sat something down next to him, and immediately the audience recognized what it was. The dusty mason jar. The random assortment of coins piled inside. The paper nametag held across its side with scotch tape. It was Salem's "Change Jar", a holdover from his monumental first year in the industry. Standing next to it, Salem stared down into the jar with a sense of recollection. Memories, hardships, triumphs...the hope that had been bestowed upon him by the thousands who now cheered his name in venues across the country. It was all there, carried with him all these months.
"You want to change this company, Freak...you want to make it better, then I suggest you take this. I can't say whether or not it did me any good, but what I can say is that in a year, I went from being a kid with just two cents to his name to being the world champion of Bad Blood Wrestling...so it has to count for something."
Following the glimpse into Salem's past, the lad leaned down and scooped out two pennies from the jar, holding them out in front of himself. He was taking back what he'd put into it.
"This is all I'm keeping." he said solemnly, looking at the pair of heads in his hand. "My two cents. And what they say is that if you plan on coming here and trying to hold me back like you did in LWL, if you want to come and ruin my dream made real, if you plan on trying to challenge the crown..."
His last words were growled more than they were spoken, and the crowd started to cheer during the pause as the familiar sting of Salem's venom started to settle in. Looking over at his shoulder at the world title, then down at the jar, he spoke again in his quiet, menacing canter.
"...Then I suggest you take that change and hit the nearest payphone, because you're going to need to call up every lowlife, every scumbag, every cretin who's simple-minded enough to work for your greasy money, because you'll need every dime you can GET to take this from me!"
Pennies hitting the mat, Salem grabbed the belt and thrust it up high, provoking the fans to stand and cheer, saluting the world champion. After a couple seconds, though, he lowered the belt and began pacing around the ropes, amped up on the adrenaline rush as he continued to spit poison into the microphone.
"Because tonight, I'm going up against one of your goons in a tables match...one of the very same people you sent after me in LWL, that man by the name of Jamie Bader...but unlike before, when you ran out to help him, Freak, this time you and your lackeys might want to stay away, because now, I'm never alone!"
Approaching his bag, Salem gripped the bottom hem of the burlap and tugged, setting loose a twelve-foot king cobra that now lay coiled around his change jar! Immediately, the venomous serpent stood up and flared its hood, swaying to and fro while camera flashes bathed the ring. Crouching behind the beast, Salem stroked the back of its head, staring down at it with a sort of reverence.
"They say a king cobra has enough venom to kill twenty men..." Salem whispered, almost as if it were just a passing thought. "I wonder...do you know twenty men who'd die for you, to take this off me, Freak? Would you really put your life in danger, to have my belt? You're hardly worthy of being called a man, yourself...I know you don't have the fortitude of nearly two-dozen. But him?"
Salem stroked the serpent down its back, almost as if to taunt it. When the snake turned and hissed, the champion smiled, jerking his hand back before setting his title down between them. As the cobra stared at its own reflection in the belt, Salem looked up at the crowd from his crouched position.
"Heh...I know what he'd do to protect me. To protect this belt. Because he wants it as much as I do...it's shiny. It's pretty. And it looks really good around my waist...and next to his tank. So c'mon, Freak. You want to make some change...come and get it." he said, standing up to gesture to the jar, still surrounded by the snake. "But I'm no garden snake. I'm the BBW World Champion. I'm the "Most Wanted Man in Wrestling", a fact you only further illustrate with how you've held this grudge for so long...but most importantly..."
Reaching down, Salem picked up the pair of pennies from the mat, behind the world title that his companion was so mesmerized by. Holding them up, he clicked the two Lincolns together, smirking.
"I'm Copperhead Croft."
Slipping his pennies into his pocket, Salem coiled his microphone back up before stuffing it into his burlap sack, following suit with his scaly friend. Once he'd tied the bag back up, Salem picked his title off the mat and smiled at it, staring similarly to how the cobra had before at his reflection within. Draping it back over his shoulder, Croft walked towards the corner while the audience cheered him out, slipping out of the ring and back up the ramp in much the same fashion as he'd entered...his jar, left atop the Bad Blood Wrestling logo in the ring.
