The titantron would light up at the start of the show, catching people's attention with the sight of Salem Croft standing in what appeared to be the outdoor parking area of the arena. Dressed in his typical black, buckled pants and snake-print wrist wraps, "The Copperhead" had a dull shine to his skin in the pale moonlight, illuminating the various cars, trucks, and vans that littered the lot. Though Salem couldn't hear the fans cheer for him, he nonetheless smiled and greeted the audience for what would be the first time since his performance at Winter Warfare, addressing the BBW Faithful with his serpentine microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Monday Night Massacre!" he said, putting emphasis on the show's name before starting to slowly pace down the row of the lot in which he stood. While he walked, Salem kept his eyes on the camera, the technician following silently to keep Croft in-frame.
"...Now, some of you might be wondering. 'Salem, why are you standing out there, in the dark and the cold, when you could be in here celebrating your victory over Jarel with all of us?' Well, the answer to that is simple..." Salem continued, the BBW World Title gleaming like a pearl around the champ's waist. "See, I came out here so I could catch someone before they made it inside, someone I didn't get to thank properly after retaining my belt at one of the biggest events of my career. Let's see if we can find him, shall we?"
With that said, the camera followed Salem as he wandered up one row and down another, surveying each automobile he saw and moving on to the next. He seemed quite nonchalant about the affair, almost as though he were car shopping. A few stragglers late to the arena or early to take a smoke break waved and hollered at the champ, who nodded and waved in response, but nonetheless kept on his mission of scouring the parking lot for the person in question. After a couple minutes of searching, Salem came to a halt next to a beauty of a vehicle, letting out an impressive whistle for the car with plates that read "W1LDCARD".
"Mm-mm-mm. Isn't that something special." Salem mused aloud, circling the car to appreciate the curves and contours that made the vintage '74 Cadillac Coupe DeVille more than just a car, but a piece of art. The paint was clean and freshly waxed, the chrome buffed to a silvery glow, but there was no sign of the owner anywhere in sight.
"Well, now - looks like Killman's already somewhere inside." Salem said, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "Well, ain't that a damn shame. And here, I was hoping to have that drink with him that I didn't get to finish at Winter Warfare..."
Turning around, Salem took a step towards the arena, but then paused, as though something had crossed his mind.
"You know...it's kinda funny. Ryan thought I couldn't hold my liquor, so I went out and bought some good stuff, hoping he'd share it with me. But since I'm performing tonight, it's probably best I just let him have it instead." he said into the camera, turning back around to face the car that'd been parked a few spaces from any others to avoid any potential scratches or scuffs. "On second thought, I'll just leave it here for him. I doubt he'll mind. Back it up, boys!" he shouted, waving to someone off-camera.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! went the pulsing alarm of a vehicle moving up into the frame of the camera, a dump truck, pulling up with its tailgate next to the passenger-side of Killman's luxurious, classic coupe.
"Heh..." Salem chuckled, resting his spare hand on his hip. "...You want to know how much 'Golden Grain' you can buy with a hundred-thousand dollar title defense bonus?" Salem asked rhetorically, the crowd responding across the arena with an overwhelming applause. Flourishing his spare hand outward, Salem signalled for the truck to 'bring it', cueing the driver to lift the bed upward and begin dumping what looked like hundreds of glass bottles atop the DeVille, piling broken glass and spilled alcohol all across the vintage vehicle. After the landslide of liquor had ended, Salem turned back towards the camera with a grin, chuckling once again.
"About that much...with enough left over to rent a dump truck." he said, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pack of cigarettes, patting it against his microphone-holding wrist to loosen a single smoke from it. Bringing it to his lips, Salem fished out a black Bic right after, striking a flame to take a hit of the full-flavored tobacco before looking over his handiwork with a smile.
"Drink's on me, tonight, Ryan. Careful, though - that s**t burns." Salem quipped with the cig still in his mouth, bringing his empty hand up to look at his forearm. "s**t! Look at the time!" the champ exclaimed, who wasn't wearing a watch. "If I don't get going, I'll be late for my match with Cyrus, tonight. Guess I'll be seeing you guys soon..."
Waving to the camera, Salem withdrew the smoke from the corner of his mouth and exhaled, tossing it on the ground next to the car. Almost instantaneously, a ripple of fire plumed up from the ground and engulfed the entire Cadillac, the cameraman flinching back from the sudden burst of heat and flame, Salem merely watching the flickering lights with a grin before turning around and continuing back up the row, heading towards the arena once again.
'Some sooner than others', Salem thought to himself, leaving the cameraman to anxiously pan between the burning vehicle and the world champion before the footage faded to black.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Monday Night Massacre!" he said, putting emphasis on the show's name before starting to slowly pace down the row of the lot in which he stood. While he walked, Salem kept his eyes on the camera, the technician following silently to keep Croft in-frame.
"...Now, some of you might be wondering. 'Salem, why are you standing out there, in the dark and the cold, when you could be in here celebrating your victory over Jarel with all of us?' Well, the answer to that is simple..." Salem continued, the BBW World Title gleaming like a pearl around the champ's waist. "See, I came out here so I could catch someone before they made it inside, someone I didn't get to thank properly after retaining my belt at one of the biggest events of my career. Let's see if we can find him, shall we?"
With that said, the camera followed Salem as he wandered up one row and down another, surveying each automobile he saw and moving on to the next. He seemed quite nonchalant about the affair, almost as though he were car shopping. A few stragglers late to the arena or early to take a smoke break waved and hollered at the champ, who nodded and waved in response, but nonetheless kept on his mission of scouring the parking lot for the person in question. After a couple minutes of searching, Salem came to a halt next to a beauty of a vehicle, letting out an impressive whistle for the car with plates that read "W1LDCARD".
"Mm-mm-mm. Isn't that something special." Salem mused aloud, circling the car to appreciate the curves and contours that made the vintage '74 Cadillac Coupe DeVille more than just a car, but a piece of art. The paint was clean and freshly waxed, the chrome buffed to a silvery glow, but there was no sign of the owner anywhere in sight.
"Well, now - looks like Killman's already somewhere inside." Salem said, a touch of disappointment in his voice. "Well, ain't that a damn shame. And here, I was hoping to have that drink with him that I didn't get to finish at Winter Warfare..."
Turning around, Salem took a step towards the arena, but then paused, as though something had crossed his mind.
"You know...it's kinda funny. Ryan thought I couldn't hold my liquor, so I went out and bought some good stuff, hoping he'd share it with me. But since I'm performing tonight, it's probably best I just let him have it instead." he said into the camera, turning back around to face the car that'd been parked a few spaces from any others to avoid any potential scratches or scuffs. "On second thought, I'll just leave it here for him. I doubt he'll mind. Back it up, boys!" he shouted, waving to someone off-camera.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! went the pulsing alarm of a vehicle moving up into the frame of the camera, a dump truck, pulling up with its tailgate next to the passenger-side of Killman's luxurious, classic coupe.
"Heh..." Salem chuckled, resting his spare hand on his hip. "...You want to know how much 'Golden Grain' you can buy with a hundred-thousand dollar title defense bonus?" Salem asked rhetorically, the crowd responding across the arena with an overwhelming applause. Flourishing his spare hand outward, Salem signalled for the truck to 'bring it', cueing the driver to lift the bed upward and begin dumping what looked like hundreds of glass bottles atop the DeVille, piling broken glass and spilled alcohol all across the vintage vehicle. After the landslide of liquor had ended, Salem turned back towards the camera with a grin, chuckling once again.
"About that much...with enough left over to rent a dump truck." he said, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pack of cigarettes, patting it against his microphone-holding wrist to loosen a single smoke from it. Bringing it to his lips, Salem fished out a black Bic right after, striking a flame to take a hit of the full-flavored tobacco before looking over his handiwork with a smile.
"Drink's on me, tonight, Ryan. Careful, though - that s**t burns." Salem quipped with the cig still in his mouth, bringing his empty hand up to look at his forearm. "s**t! Look at the time!" the champ exclaimed, who wasn't wearing a watch. "If I don't get going, I'll be late for my match with Cyrus, tonight. Guess I'll be seeing you guys soon..."
Waving to the camera, Salem withdrew the smoke from the corner of his mouth and exhaled, tossing it on the ground next to the car. Almost instantaneously, a ripple of fire plumed up from the ground and engulfed the entire Cadillac, the cameraman flinching back from the sudden burst of heat and flame, Salem merely watching the flickering lights with a grin before turning around and continuing back up the row, heading towards the arena once again.
'Some sooner than others', Salem thought to himself, leaving the cameraman to anxiously pan between the burning vehicle and the world champion before the footage faded to black.
