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The following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening and it is scheduled for one fall!

The lights went out as Drako stood in the ring, his music cutting off and leaving the arena full of darkness and white noise. Camera flashes speckled the crowd, looking like twinkling stars in the cold depths of space. But it was far from cool in the arena, both the audience and champion amped up for a fight.

IT'S AN OMEN!

The high-pitched synth courtesy of The Prodigy began to play, dry ice creating a mist that hung a couple feet off the ground as the name SALEM CROFT flashed across the screen, alongside images of Salem holding the Money in the Bank briefcase and fighting with the likes of AJ Warner, Kelly King, Tiger Hat, and Freakshow. The crowd booed, barely able to see Salem on the stage until pyro erupted from it's edges, lights raising a bit to show Salem, now bare chested, standing on the platform with his taped hands cuffed behind his back.

IT'S AN OMEN!

In a semi-circle of three on each side of him, security stood in place, rigid and at attention, watching Croft carefully as other guards filed down the ramp, forming a barrier between Salem and the crowd. Around his mouth had been fixed a mask of some kind, a spit guard to presumably prevent him from spitting blood on anyone. Sure enough, the clear plastic was spotted red, Salem's smile hardly visible through it.

IT'S AN OMEN!

As Salem walked down the ramp, his beefy went accompanied him, a row of three facing forward on either side, each sporting some form of taser or truncheon on their belts. Passing by those along ringside, Salem turned and winked, laughing to himself as people jeered and berated him.

NOW!
THE WRITING'S ON THE WALL
IT WON'T GO AWAY
IT'S AN OMEN
YOU JUST RUN ON
AUTOMATION

Salem moved up the stairs, stopping at the top step to stare delightedly at Drako as a guard undid his cuffs and mask before joining the other security detail in forming a perimeter around the ring.

"AND INTRODUCING HIS OPPONENT...STANDING AT SIX-TWO AND WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE POUNDS...FROM INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA...SALEM CROFT!"

Perching like a cat on the top turnbuckle, jumping from the apron up to it, Salem soaked in the negative reception as he eyed Drako, sporting a toothy, shark-like smirk. His black locks hung down in his face a bit, adding some darkness to the man's five o'clock shadow.

But as the house lights came back up, Salem hopped down and walked forward, pressing his chest up into Drako to try and push him back a couple steps. However, the referee wedged arms between them, trying to prevent it. Backing away, Salem's eyes never left Drako as he moved to the corner, laid back against it with his arms stretched out to hold the top ropes.

JR: "This Salem, I don't know whether he's a few cards short of the deck or just plain rotten! He's had his ups and downs but I can't tell if he cares about anything, anymore! What's a man like this believe in, King?"

King: "Your guess is as good as mine, JR! I never liked the kid, even before he was running things! But now he really gives me the creeps! Just keep him away from me, JR!"

JR: "Someone needs to keep him away from the champ, look at the poor man's arm! How's he supposed to fight a sick animal like that with one arm! (You know, someone should keep you away from ME, King.)"

King: "Well, they've got security around the ring, I hope they're not just for show! ...wait, what'd you say?!"

Salem didn't show fear as Drako came at him, instead urging him closer, smiling at the world champion. Taking the kick and the lefts, Salem staggered back into the ropes, coming off them and looking to push the one armed man back towards the center of the ring with a shove.

"C'mon!" Salem shouted, tasting copper on his tongue from where the jabs had reopened his bloody lip, some red drooling from the corners of his mouth, slapping his cheek. "Hit me for real, dammit! Make me FEEL it!"

Salem ate the kick to the head, stumbling a bit towards the corner where he put his back into it, smirking dreamily over at Drako, somewhat lost in the haze. "Yeaaah, that's more like it..." Salem said, not bothering to move as he slapped his chest, giving the wounded dragon another shot. "C'mon, gimme another!" he demanded, eyes widening in excited expectation.

Salem ate the kick to the face, briefly experiencing blindness and weightlessness as he staggered forward and fell down, body numb from the repeated head shots. Smiling with his eyes open, face down on the mat, Croft chuckled, coughing up a little blood as he laid down, eyes not focused on anything while he was lost in his own mind.

JR: "And Salem might be out cold after that whopper of a Superkick! The champ has a moment of opportunity here!"

King: "That kook caught all of that one, JR! He's not even fighting back! Quick, Drako, cover him!"

The crowd counted along, hoping that the sadistic Salem could be put away quickly, but at the two count Croft shouldered up, seemingly playing possum as he took advantage of Drako's cover to grab the bad right arm and get up to his feet, trying to pull Drako back up as well with a wrenched in chicken wing!

JR: "Drako with a two count, but now the champ's in trouble! I think Salem baited that pin to get another shot at his injured arm!"

King: "I wouldn't put it past that snake in the grass, JR! You can't trust that Croft any farther than you can throw him!"

As the pain paralyzed the champion, Salem sunk the submission in deeper, wrenching the bad arm behind the back and leaning in close so Drako could hear over the boos, Salem's voice like a devil on Drako's shoulder.

"Poor, silly little Drako...look how desperate and stupid you are, trying so hard to prove you're not still in a bigger, better dragon's shadow!"

Salem let Drako pull him quickly towards the ropes, almost realizing too late what it was the champ was trying to do - but, as the kick spun forth, Salem nimbly ducked it and the top rope, keeping the wristlock and trying to swiftly slam the injured arm into the middle cable while jumping off the apron!