TD: Fans, I apologise for the graphic nature of that match -- but it just confirms what we already knew, that it's going to be a brutal, bloody affair next Saturday night, when Petrow and Kowalski clash at the Bash -- with the IIWF Cruiserweight title on the line! SR: Whoo-hoo! Kowalski joins the elite club of athletes to have held two different titles in the IIWF! Finally, a Cruiserweight champ we can be proud of. [The disturbances in the stands are finally quelled, and a ring crew clears up the spatters of blood in and around the ring.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Creed & Tony Starks vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven & Lord Byron =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MG [Sparkplug Lee is wearing a black baseball cap with the words "Sparkplug says "Bite Me!" inscribed upon it as he raises the ring microphone to his lips.] SL: Wrestling fans, this tag team match is scheduled for one fall with no time limit. About to enter the ring at a combined weight of 545lbs, here are ... [Crowd pop as "C.R.E.A.M" begins to play] Tony Starks ... and Creed! [Big crowd pop as Tony Starks starts to walk down the aisle, the eponymous towel draped over his head. He stares intently at Otto Verhoeven, ignoring the "Otto Fears Starks" signs and not even bothering to slap hands with the crowd. After a few moments he reaches the ring and climbs up onto the apron. Suddenly the music stops and the lights dim. Blood red searchlights begin to roam the crowd and mist begins to fill the aisle as Creed's voice echoes over the PA system: "Anyone... Anytime... Anywhere..." HUGE pop as "Ode to Joy" begins and Creed enters the arena, a blood red searchlight following him as he walks the mist-filled aisle. Before him are projected images of blood red gauntlets, laying down a trail to follow to take him to the ring.] SR: Show off. [Creed enters the ring and immediately makes for the turnbuckle, climbing it and shooting the red gauntleted fist straight up into the air. Big pop!] TD: What an impressive entrance there from Creed, Steve. He really knows how to electrify a crowd. SR: Look out, Dross, I think Sparky is getting ready to exercise that whiny voice o' his again... SL: And their opponents ... [The theme from "Hallowe'en" begins to play as Otto Verhoeven and Lord Byron make the long walk down the aisle to the ring. Lady DeWinter, as usual, looks stunning in a long sleeved, low-cut, black evening gown. Byron is wearing the IIWF Intercontinental title around his waist with the ESWP intercontinental belt draped around one shoulder. Verhoeven looks pointedly at Tony Starks as Nurse Heidi pushes a wheelchair to ringside.] SL: Weighing in at a total combined weight of 605lbs, here are... Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven and Lord Byron.. the EUROPEAN ALLIANCE!! TD: I wonder what the wheelchair is all about? SR: Bad news for Starks, I should think. Mind games, Dross, mind games. TD: Hmmm... Well, regardless of any mental sparring, I'm really looking forward to this match-up, which promises so much. Tony Starks wants revenge against the alliance for the brutal attack he suffered on Wednesday War Room and Creed ... well, I guess everyone knows what Creed wants. What's your prediction for the match, Steve? SR: Are you kidding? The Alliance will walk it. They've got the experience, they've got the skill, they've got the weight advantage and most importantly of all, they've got the team work. Creed and Starks have never teamed before tonight, and that inexperience will cost 'em. Oh, and I almost forgot; The Alliance, they've got the babes. TD: Babes? Please, spare us. There goes the bell, and it looks like Byron is kicking things off on the Alliance's side. [In their corner, Creed and Starks appear to be arguing over who will start the match. Lord Byron stands in the centre of the ring, arms folded and a confident smile on his face, waiting for an opponent] SR: Look at that, Dross. See what I mean about teamwork? These two bozos can't even figure out who'll start up against Byron. [Tony Starks strides out to meet Byron, who offers the collar-and-elbow tie up. The men tie up and immediately begin struggling for dominance, with no clear winner for several minutes until Byron manages to trip the leg and bring Starks down to the mat, with a headlock applied to the facedown Starks. Long moments pass as Starks struggles to escape the hold. Eventually Starks manages to slip out, and slips an shoulder under Byron's arm, rolling Byron over onto his back. The official counts... 1... 2... kickout from Byron. Disappointed pop!] TD: Nice move from Starks as he simultaneously escapes the headlock and puts Byron in a pinning predicament. Tony Starks showing he's no slouch when it comes to mat wrestling, Steve. SR: Yeah, yeah. [Both men are now back on a vertical base as Starks irishwhips Byron into the ropes. Byron rebounds off the ropes just in time to meet Starks, who backflips him high in the air and half way across the mat. Starks follows with a big elbow to the back of Byron's head, completely flattening Byron. Starks moves in with a tight boston crab] TD: Lady DeWinters looks concerned, Steve. SR: No hassle, Dross. Look at where Byron is. He only has to move a little. [Byron stretches his hand out to the ropes, which are only twenty or thirty centimetres away, just barely out of reach. Slowly he begins to painfully move towards the ropes. Starks releases the hold and brings a legdrop down right across Byron's back. Byron's face contorts in pain, but he does not cry out. Starks grabs a leg and pulls Byron over to his corner. Big pop as Starks tags in Creed!] TD: Byron seems to have been caught napping at the beginning of the match, but here's a man who can certainly administer an effective wake up call. [Creed brings Byron up to his feet, and is about to set him up for a powerslam when Byron applies a thumb to the eye. Big heel pop as an inverted atomic drop followed by a short clothesline downs Creed. Shaking his head to dislodge whatever cobwebs might be in there, Byron quickly crosses the ring and makes the tag to Verhoeven.] SR: Alright! Now we're really gonna see some violence! Smart move from Byron, Dross. Bring in the fresh man, and watch him beat the snot out of 'em. [Verhoeven moves in quickly with a kick to the side of Creed's head, followed by a huge drop headbutt to the lower back. Dragging the stunned Creed to his feet, Verhoeven applies a bearhug, wrapping his huge arms around Creed's lower back and arms. Creed tries to get an arm free, but Verhoeven just clinches in tighter. A chant begins: "Creed! Creed!" SR: Just listen to these idiots. Why don't they chant for Otto, Dross? He's the one demonstrating superior athletic ability! TD: I guess that will remain one of life's great mysteries, Steve. [Verhoeven shakes Creed like a rag doll, but still Creed tries to free an arm. Long moments pass but Creed still struggles, until finally Verhoeven brings Creed down to the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex. Verhoeven hooks the leg, but Creed kicks out before the official begins to count. Verhoeven drags Creed to his corner and tags in Byron, to a huge heel pop! Byron drags Creed just out of reach of the ropes and applies...] SR: Figure four from Lord Byron! That's one of Byron's favourites, Dross. All that pressure on the leg really helps set up for the Aristoclutch! Ha! Look at Verhoeven gesture at Starks, Dross! Can we get a close-up? TD: I'd love to oblige you, Steve, you know that. Sadly, the producer is informing me that we can't show that particular gesture on national television. It certa... SR: [interrupting] What!? This is censorship! What about the first amendment? We got rights! Where's the IIWF lawyers when you really need 'em? TD: As I was saying, that particular gesture certainly appears to have infuriated Starks! [Starks is enraged, and tries to get into the ring after Verhoeven, only to be held back by the referee. Meanwhile Verhoeven drops a big leg over Creed's neck, followed by blatant choking. Big heel pop from the crowd!] TD: Turn around, referee! [In the ring Byron releases the figure-four and exits, leaving Verhoeven to quickly bring Creed back up and quickly take him down again with a DDT. Verhoeven hooks the leg. The referee, who has finally gotten Starks under control, is out of position. Rushing over, he drops to the mat and counts: 1... 2... kickout from Creed!] SR: Verhoeven should have got him there, Dross. Poor officiating. TD: Verhoeven isn't even the legal man, Steve. Byron didn't tag him. SR: Details, details ... [Verhoeven once again drags Creed to his feet, but this time Creed is waiting for him. A big elbow to the midsection has Verhoeven gasping, and Creed quickly twists and lifts Verhoeven onto his shoulders. A fall away slam has the crowds cheering. Creed uncertainly gets to his feet and staggers over to make the tag. Starks leaps the top rope and rushes over to Verhoeven, who is getting back to his feet. Starks grabs him and...] SR: The Cobra suplex! Starks is going for the Katha Jime! [Starks goes for the Katha Jime judo choke hold, but a low blow from Verhoeven has the crowds booing and Stark's eyes watering. Verhoeven levels Starks with a big clothesline.] SR: Effective counter. Hehe. [Verhoeven once again has the upper hand, and begins a series of devastating kicks to the lower back of Starks, before pulling Starks up. Grabbing Starks by the throat he lifts him up and chokeslams him on the back of his head! The crowd booes more or less constantly as he lifts up the practically unconscious Starks and pulls him to Byron's corner, tagging in Byron, who begins climbing to the top rope. Verhoeven is setting Starks into position for the...] TD: Spike piledriver! What a move from the European Alliance! SR: Tha-tha-that's all folks! [Byron drops over Starks and hooks both legs. The referee counts 1... 2... Starks barely manages to raise a shoulder. Verhoeven curses, but Byron simply sneers and drags Starks up and around so both men are back to back. A fallaway neckbreaker leaves Starks flat out, clutching his neck. Byron rebounds off the ropes and launches himself into the air for a slam, but there's nobody there! Starks has rolled out of the way, and is painfully making his way to Creed. Verhoeven rushes the ring and drops a leg over Stark's neck, before allowing himself to be pushed back to his corner by the referee. This has given Byron time to recover, and now he's back after Starks with a vengeance. Dropping a big elbow into the small of Stark's back, Byron moves in quickly with a reverse STF!] TD: What a move from Byron, Steve! You don't see many reverse STF moves in wrestling today. SR: Few men in wrestling have the skill of a Lord Byron, Dross. The man is a 100% Grade-A wrestling machine. And that's the bottom line. [A weakened Starks shows no sign of submission, though the referee is down there with him checking. Ringside microphones can make out "No! Never!" from Starks, who is shaking his head, trying to loosen the hold] SR: Nice try, Starks, but Byron's got it clinched in too tight. I love it when these "mat technicians" get beaten at their own game, Dross. I just love it to death. [Starks is still in the reverse STF, and sweat is pouring from him as he struggles to free the hold. Byron sneers as, realising that the move is not working, he breaks and drags Starks slowly to his feet. However, Starks quickly grabs him in a schoolboy rollup as the crowd cheers. Byron kicks frantically to free himself as the referee counts: 1... 2... Byron escapes just as the referee is about to count three! An angry Byron rolls under the ringropes as Starks painfully gets to his feet. Verhoeven charges out of his corner towards Starks, who ducks the clothesline attempt and drops the big man with a leg sweep. Big pop!] TD: This is it, Steve. This is the opportunity Starks needs to make the tag. But will he make it? [Starks slowly limps to his corner, where Creed is waiting with an outstretched arm. Behind him, Verhoeven is slowly getting up, and rushes toward Starks. Creed shouts a warning, and Starks launches himself toward his corner. The hot tag is made, and Creed slingshots himself over the top rope. The slingshot shoulderblock surprises Verhoeven, who finds himself down on the mat as Creed applies a firestorm of closed fists, followed by a blatant choke attempt. The referee starts to count, but Verhoeven, initially stunned by the ferocity of Creed's attack, takes matters into his own hands as he headbutts Creed right in the face. Big heel pop!] SR: Well, you know I hate to state the obvious, but that had to hurt. [Creed reels back, but recovers quickly enough to catch Verhoeven with a vicious forearm as Verhoeven tries to get back to his feet. Creed steps back, and allows Verhoeven to get to his feet. Grabbing Verhoeven, Creed Irish whips him into the nearby ringropes, and executes a spinebuster on the rebound! BIG pop as Verhoeven writes on the floor. Creed goes for the pin, but Verhoeven pushes him off before the official can begin his count. Wiping the blood from his nose, Creed drags Verhoeven up, only to be caught in a schoolboy rollup. Surprised pop!] TD: Otto must have been watching Starks carefully, Steve. [Creed easily breaks free, and is back on his feet quickly. Verhoeven also quickly stands, only to be met by a stiff snap suplex which sends Verhoeven halfway across the ring! BIG pop! On the outside, Byron appears to be conferring with Nurse Heidi, who nods her head, an evil smile upon her face.] TD: What's Heidi up to? [Creed tags in Starks, who appears to be keen to get at Verhoeven, who is slowly standing. Rushing over to grab Verhoeven, Starks launches himself at Verhoeven, who easily catches him.] SR: That's amazing power from Otto, Dross! That's 269lbs of flesh flying right at ya, and Otto stops it in midair! [Starks desperately struggles to shift his weight, and Verhoeven falls to the mat with Starks on top. The referee counts 1... 2... kickout! Disappointed crowd pop!] TD: I guess you'd call that a delayed action flying cross body press, Steve? SR: Beats me. Personally, I just thought Starks fouled up. [Starks and Verhoeven brawl in the centre of the ring, neither gaining an advantage, until the referee tries to break it up. The referee slides between both men and...] TD: Well, I certainly wouldn't want to be between those two. [...manages to separate them. However, Verhoeven rakes the eyes as they break, leaving Starks clutching his face, blinded. Verhoeven moves in on Starks, and drags him to his corner. Byron is waiting, and grabs Starks. The referee is about to begin a count when Verhoeven rushes over and slaps Creed in the face before rushing back. An infuriated Creed tries to storm the ring, only to be prevented by the referee. Meanwhile Byron chokes out Starks with the tag rope as Verhoeven rains blow after blow to Stark's midsection. BIG heel pop!] TD: Diabolical tactics from Otto Verhoeven and Lord Byron, Steve. SR: Are you surprised? TD: Not really, no. I'm surprised you agree with me about the "diabolical" though. SR: What? Well, I didn't mean it exactly that way, Dross. As you know, Lord Byron's a friend of mine, and I wouldn't... Aw, dammit, who cares? [Starks tries desperately to free himself. A big elbow sends Byron flying off the ring apron, and a series of punches has Verhoeven temporarily stunned. Seeing what is going on, Creed edges past the referee and launches himself towards Verhoeven. Starks eyes widen in alarm and he desperately shifts to the right, just in time to get out of the way as Verhoeven is splashed by a flying Creed! Big pop!] TD: What a move! That may have won Starks and Creed the match, and - I can't tell -- did Verhoeven hit his head on the ringpost? [Outside the ring Lord Byron is slowly getting to his feet as Lady DeWinter hovers nearby, clearly concerned. Inside, the referee begins a five count and Creed & Starks appear to be having a brief argument, but as they hear Verhoeven moan they turn and Irish whip him into a turnbuckle. The entire ring shakes as Verhoeven impacts with sufficient force to flip him over the turnbuckle and to the floor outside! Big pop!] TD: What an impact, Steve! That may have knocked Otto out. SR: Otto? Knocked out? Take more than that, Dross. [Lord Byron moves over to check on his tag team partner, but as he does so Creed whispers something to Starks, who nods his agreement. Both men move closer to the ropes where Verhoeven fell, and then suddenly Creed Irish whips Starks to the opposing ropes!] SR: What the hell? [Creed is now by the ropes where Verhoeven fell, and as Starks rushes towards him on the rebound, he ducks his head.] TD: Creed backdrops Starks over the ropes?! [Starks goes flying over the top rope, tumbling to land right on Otto Verhoeven, and clipping Lord Byron! HUGE pop, and the chant begins "Creed! Creed!"] TD: What a maneuver from Creed and Starks! SR: Disqualify him! Disqualify him! TD: Who? Why? SR: Creed! No, Starks! Both of 'em! They can't get away with that! [An angry Lord Byron staggers up, and looks down to see Starks lying on top of Verhoeven. Both men seem to be more or less out of it. He looks up to see Creed standing alone in the centre of the ring, the blood red fist in the air. A look crosses his face...] SR: Uh-oh... [Lord Byron climbs to the ring apron and through the middle ropes, before lunging for Creed. Creed blocks the first right hand, and both men go at it with righteous fury. The referee begins to count whilst outside the ring Starks slowly makes his way to his feet, and is about to reenter the ring when a hand shoots up and grabs him...] TD: Birthday Bash seems a little early as Creed and Byron go at it inside the ring whilst Verhoeven has just grabbed Starks outside it! Who's legal? SR: I think it's Creed and Verhoeven, isn't it? No, wait, that's wrong. No, it's Verhoeven and Starks, Dross. [Starks is fighting back, and has Verhoeven in a headlock. Meanwhile, Byron has the upper hand and he irishwhips Creed into the ropes. Nurse Heidi grabs the upper rope and pulls it down. Starks rushes toward the nearby turnbuckle, intending to smash Verhoeven's skull into it, but Verhoeven grabs Starks and pushes him ahead! Starks impacts the ringpost face first! He goes down fast, and Verhoeven looks around just as the big Heel pop begins. Meanwhile, Heidi still has the rope down as Creed richochets toward it, sending Creed flying over the top rope to land at Verhoeven's feet! The heel pop picks up the volume! A dazed Creed tries to stand, but is grabbed by Verhoeven... The bell rings... Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: What happened? Who wo- Oh my gosh! Verhoeven with the Slaughterslam! A slaughterslam outside the ring must surely have knocked him out, Steve. [In the centre of the ring a pleased Lord Byron raises his hand in victory as Verhoeven slides under the top rope. However, the referee grabs the hand and pulls it down. Byron and Verhoeven stand around, looking confused, as the referee confers with Sparkplug Lee, who is standing nervously near Verhoeven. Gulping, he raises the microphone..] SL: Wrestling fans, as both the legal men, Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven and Tony Starks, were unable to get back into the ring in time to beat the referee's ten count, this match has been declared a double countout! [The crowd boos. Otto Verhoeven looks enraged and, grabbing the baseball cap from Sparkplug Lee, tears it into shreds. Big heel pop as the crestfallen Lee looks down at the tattered remains.] TD: There was no call for that, Steve! SR: I dunno, shows good fashion sense, I guess.