The screen of the titantron would go from black to a dimly lit state, barely anything to be seen other than a flickering match – its orange glow, dancing desperately for life. But like an ominous sprite, a Will-O-Wisp, it drifted through the darkness until it came to a pause…suddenly burning brighter and hotter than before with the sparking of a candle’s wick. This illuminated the nearby surroundings, vaguely revealing the features that were commonly seen in Salem’s private dressing room, while sharply bringing the man himself into detail as he sat on the quaint, wooden table that the candle was placed atop. Fans across the arena cheered at the sight of their former world champion, but “The Copperhead” seemed less than happy. His face was tense, eyebrows furrowed into a fearsome stare that drank in the shadows and swallowed them up in the centers of his eyes. His lips, terse and straight in obvious discomfort, like there were some lingering pain nagging at him. Whether from the loss of his title or the beating he suffered, it was unclear – all that remained obvious was Salem’s unpleasant mood as he softly began to speak, the shadows of the room twitching and stirring at the sound of his voice.
”On the last episode of ‘Monday Night Massacre’, I went toe-to-toe with a former friend of mine in Mr. Hiro Shin-Mozas...” Salem said flatly, the gradual shift in lighting allowing the burlap sack at Salem’s side to be seen stirring on the table, which had almost managed to blend into the wood before “The Copperhead” started talking. But the subtle slithering of his coiled cobra next to him distracted Salem not from what he was meaning to say, his dead eyes focused on the lens of the camera and nothing else.
”…And on that same night, I found myself put to my biggest challenge yet as BBW World Champion. I had to test more than my body, but my mind, my very heart to see if I could do the undesirable, if I could put my hands on a dear friend and hurt them until their will to go on gave out…and you know, I almost managed that. Even though Hiro pulled out every dirty play in the book, even though Hiro threw aside all the ties that bound us for the sake of taking my title, I still got the upper-hand. I still clamped on the “Constrictor’s Coil”, and felt the life, the very breath of one of my best friends fade away…” Salem said, his voice trailing off as his eyes trailed up, hands fluttering slowly through the air as if to simulate smoke, dissipating into the atmosphere, an almost amused smile on the young man’s lips while he recounted the scene in his head.
SLAM!
With a sudden slap of his palm down onto the table, the candle rattled in place, the hiss of his serpent heard through its bag as Salem’s eyes shot once more forward, his anger returning to the forefront of his face.
”But then, from out of thin air, a messenger comes with a letter for me. A simple, straightforward message, one that I learned as I felt the breath squeezed from my throat by Ryan Killman as Hiro kicked me in the back of the head…it was short, and sweet – written in the same decrepit ledger that’s been scrawled across this company’s halls since I became world champion: “You will suffer,” it said. “That which brings you joy will become your most unbearable pain,” and like a prophecy it came to pass…I lost my belt, and with it, the history-making title reign that had become so dear to me came to an end.”
At this point, a soft scraping could be heard breaking up the silence, an ongoing scratching noise that only drew attention to it when Salem quit speaking. It was his hand, fingers curling and stretching to claw into the wood with his nails.
”At first, I was numb.” Salem muttered, his spare hand reaching up to grasp at the chest of his shirt as though he were in pain. ”At first, I was heartbroken, knowing I was so close to victory, so close to proving myself as a worthy champion…only to have Ryan Killman once again rear his ugly head, doing Freak’s dirty work by continuing to make my life miserable. See, they thought taking away my world title would strip me of the glow, of the warmth that basking in it gave me. They thought I’d break down, that I’d crumble without that championship as my crutch to hang my name upon. Well, Freak…I’ve got a message for you…”
Slowly, Salem started to smile, taking the fist from his chest and extending his index finger, wagging it slowly from side to side.
”All that glitters isn’t gold. my friend.”
Abruptly, Salem stood upright, the movement looking unnatural and mechanical, giving him a haunting presence in the flickering glow of the candle by his side. Even some in the audience flinched back as Salem hunched over, looking into the lens like a curious, grinning dope.
”You see, Freak…having Killman come out there, letting him interfere in my match and cost me my world title…it was the worst thing you could possibly do. That title, it wasn’t lifting my spirits, but chaining my attention…I was so caught up in being champion, that I didn’t pay any mind to just how deep your thorn had sunken into my side…how painful of a problem you were becoming for me, and for this company. But now, without my obligations as the world champion holding me back, making me put the people first…” Salem said, pausing briefly as a loud burst of cheers rang out from across the arena.
”…I have all the time in the world to think. To plot. To prepare…for whatever my twisted mind can concoct to get back at you for costing me my first world title reign. Honestly, the thought kinda scares me to think of – just how far I’m willing to go, now that there’s officially nothing holding me back from tearing your throat out, just like Killman tried to tear out mine. But I’m sure I’ll think of something…I’m sure I’ll be ready. But the question is, Freak, will you? Are you ready to see the monster you’ve made of me, tonight when I go head-to-head with Blackjack, the man who made Hiro into the “Hated One”, once again? Because while he may spill more blood in this arena than anyone else, it’s my heart that pumps that passion, that drive into this company…and when I step out to that ring, tonight, I promise you that you’ll see “The Copperhead” keeps on ticking.”
Straightening up, Salem smirked down at the camera, resting one hand over on the burlap sack while the other rested at his hip.
”…Just like the ticking of the clock, the one that started the moment my reign ended…the one counting up to your eventual demise, Freakshow. Can you hear it? Tick, tock, Freak. Tick. Tock.”
With that, Salem leaned over and blew out the candle, the screen cutting once more back to black.
”On the last episode of ‘Monday Night Massacre’, I went toe-to-toe with a former friend of mine in Mr. Hiro Shin-Mozas...” Salem said flatly, the gradual shift in lighting allowing the burlap sack at Salem’s side to be seen stirring on the table, which had almost managed to blend into the wood before “The Copperhead” started talking. But the subtle slithering of his coiled cobra next to him distracted Salem not from what he was meaning to say, his dead eyes focused on the lens of the camera and nothing else.
”…And on that same night, I found myself put to my biggest challenge yet as BBW World Champion. I had to test more than my body, but my mind, my very heart to see if I could do the undesirable, if I could put my hands on a dear friend and hurt them until their will to go on gave out…and you know, I almost managed that. Even though Hiro pulled out every dirty play in the book, even though Hiro threw aside all the ties that bound us for the sake of taking my title, I still got the upper-hand. I still clamped on the “Constrictor’s Coil”, and felt the life, the very breath of one of my best friends fade away…” Salem said, his voice trailing off as his eyes trailed up, hands fluttering slowly through the air as if to simulate smoke, dissipating into the atmosphere, an almost amused smile on the young man’s lips while he recounted the scene in his head.
SLAM!
With a sudden slap of his palm down onto the table, the candle rattled in place, the hiss of his serpent heard through its bag as Salem’s eyes shot once more forward, his anger returning to the forefront of his face.
”But then, from out of thin air, a messenger comes with a letter for me. A simple, straightforward message, one that I learned as I felt the breath squeezed from my throat by Ryan Killman as Hiro kicked me in the back of the head…it was short, and sweet – written in the same decrepit ledger that’s been scrawled across this company’s halls since I became world champion: “You will suffer,” it said. “That which brings you joy will become your most unbearable pain,” and like a prophecy it came to pass…I lost my belt, and with it, the history-making title reign that had become so dear to me came to an end.”
At this point, a soft scraping could be heard breaking up the silence, an ongoing scratching noise that only drew attention to it when Salem quit speaking. It was his hand, fingers curling and stretching to claw into the wood with his nails.
”At first, I was numb.” Salem muttered, his spare hand reaching up to grasp at the chest of his shirt as though he were in pain. ”At first, I was heartbroken, knowing I was so close to victory, so close to proving myself as a worthy champion…only to have Ryan Killman once again rear his ugly head, doing Freak’s dirty work by continuing to make my life miserable. See, they thought taking away my world title would strip me of the glow, of the warmth that basking in it gave me. They thought I’d break down, that I’d crumble without that championship as my crutch to hang my name upon. Well, Freak…I’ve got a message for you…”
Slowly, Salem started to smile, taking the fist from his chest and extending his index finger, wagging it slowly from side to side.
”All that glitters isn’t gold. my friend.”
Abruptly, Salem stood upright, the movement looking unnatural and mechanical, giving him a haunting presence in the flickering glow of the candle by his side. Even some in the audience flinched back as Salem hunched over, looking into the lens like a curious, grinning dope.
”You see, Freak…having Killman come out there, letting him interfere in my match and cost me my world title…it was the worst thing you could possibly do. That title, it wasn’t lifting my spirits, but chaining my attention…I was so caught up in being champion, that I didn’t pay any mind to just how deep your thorn had sunken into my side…how painful of a problem you were becoming for me, and for this company. But now, without my obligations as the world champion holding me back, making me put the people first…” Salem said, pausing briefly as a loud burst of cheers rang out from across the arena.
”…I have all the time in the world to think. To plot. To prepare…for whatever my twisted mind can concoct to get back at you for costing me my first world title reign. Honestly, the thought kinda scares me to think of – just how far I’m willing to go, now that there’s officially nothing holding me back from tearing your throat out, just like Killman tried to tear out mine. But I’m sure I’ll think of something…I’m sure I’ll be ready. But the question is, Freak, will you? Are you ready to see the monster you’ve made of me, tonight when I go head-to-head with Blackjack, the man who made Hiro into the “Hated One”, once again? Because while he may spill more blood in this arena than anyone else, it’s my heart that pumps that passion, that drive into this company…and when I step out to that ring, tonight, I promise you that you’ll see “The Copperhead” keeps on ticking.”
Straightening up, Salem smirked down at the camera, resting one hand over on the burlap sack while the other rested at his hip.
”…Just like the ticking of the clock, the one that started the moment my reign ended…the one counting up to your eventual demise, Freakshow. Can you hear it? Tick, tock, Freak. Tick. Tock.”
With that, Salem leaned over and blew out the candle, the screen cutting once more back to black.
