TD: Okay, folks, we're down to the big three final matches here tonight.
    We're just one match away from that huge double main event, and
    before we get there, we're going to see an incredible battle for the
    Intercontinental Championship, a match between the two most in-form
    athletes in the IIWF right now.

[Cut to a video package showing Lord Byron at various triumphant moments
in his career: raising the IIWF Intercontinental Championship in victory
after defeating Marty Warnett; having his arm raised after beating "The
Spartan" Troy Walters to take home the ESWP European Heavyweight
Championship. Voice over:]

VO: Lord Byron... the double champion. He has won his last ten singles
    matches. He has been unwavering in his victory.

[Cut to footage of Creed executing the "Goodnight... Farewell... Amen"
on a number of hapless opponents. Creed standing on the mid-buckle while
in the glow of the red spotlights as his fans chant, "Creed! Creed!
Creed!"]

VO: Creed... the hottest rookie in all of sports. Fifteen matches
    unbeaten. He has dominated every opponent he has faced.

[Cut to the match between Creed and Lord Byron, several months ago.
Creed executes his whirling "Crimson Tide" chokeslam on Byron. Cut to
Creed making the cover for the pinfall victory. Creed stands and has his
arm raised in victory as the shot freezes, and slowly turns blood red.]

VO: It is no coincidence that Byron's string of ten wins came after the
    only clean pinfall defeat of his IIWF career -- a defeat enacted at
    the hands of Creed.

[The crowd's chant of "Creed! Creed! Creed!" can be heard faintly in the
background as the shot cuts to footage of the vicious assault on Creed's
knee issued by the European Alliance on May 3: Nurse Heidi has folded up
the wheelchair brought to ringside by Verhoeven and pushed it under the
bottom rope as Byron continues to inflict punishment on Creed's knee
with the cane. Climbing into the ring, she unfolds the wheelchair and
calmly pushes it towards Byron, who brings it crashing down on Creed's
knee. Byron has the Aristoclutch locked on tightly, and Creed thrashes
about in pain as he tries, futilely, to free himself. Again, the shot
freezes on a close-up of the wild-eyed Byron, and slowly turns blood
red. Creed's voice is heard over the top of this scene:]

CREED: Not a match of yours I haven't seen, Byron.  Went through all of
       them.  You win -- you lose -- you still Byron.  Byron the
       technician... Byron the machine. But I never saw what I was
       looking for.  Never once.  I never saw the thing I saw when I
       looked in your eyes last Saturday Night... Fear.

       I think you scared, Byron.  I think you scared. You not scared
       I'm gonna hurt you.  Getting hurt's part of the game. You scared
       'cause you think I'm better than you. You scared 'cause you think
       you gonna lose.

       You want some, Byron?  You gonna get some.

[Creed's voice fades under the growing "Creed! Creed!" chant. Byron's
voice cuts in, clear and supercilious as ever:]

LB: For four months, I have been forced to sit back and listen to that
    man brag about his fluke victory over me.  For four months I have
    had to watch him replay the event over and over again.  For four
    months, I had to dwell on the fact that one moment of stupidity my
    part, had sent this... this rookie streaking to fame and fortune.

    Everyone can be got to, Creed.  Everyone has a weakness.  And last
    Saturday night, I gave you one more to worry about.  The first time
    we met, Creed, you saw a man with other things on his mind.  With
    other people on his mind.  The second time, you met a man looking to
    show the world that you're not quite as indestructible as you seem
    to think.

    History will not repeat itself this time, my friend. I won't allow
    it to.  You can count on that.

[Byron's voice echoes away as the "Creed! Creed!" chant rises in volume
once more. The shot fades to black, and the "Creed!" chant dies away
with it. Cut back to ringside.]

TD: Fans, I can hardly wait for this match. Will the damage to Creed's
    medial collateral ligament be so severe that the red-gloved rookie
    be unable to cope with the focused onslaught of a very determined
    Lord Byron?

SR: Creed's a moron, Dross. He's wrestling with a career-threatening
    injury, just to prove a point. How stupid can the man be?

TD: Creed is determined, Steve Roberts. He is a determined individual.
    Even with an injured knee, his upper body strength remains
    incredible, and he's able to mix it up in a variety of styles. Don't
    count him out this early, Steve. Creed has a lot to prove tonight.
    Let's get up to the ring.

                   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                   IIWF Intercontinental Championship Match:
                   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
                             Lord Byron vs. Creed
                   -----------------------------------------
                                  WRITER: DS

[Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring once more and raises his microphone:]

RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
    fall, and it is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! [Big
    pop!] Introducing first, the challenger...

[The arena is plunged into darkness. Huge pop! The words: "Anyone...
Anywhere... Anytime..." resonate around the Coliseum, as the huge red
letters of the words illuminate the video wall above the entranceway. As
the tempestuous opening chords of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" blare out of
the sound system, the anticipation is almost tangible. As the first
choral chord comes crashing in, an intense red spotlight suddenly casts
a beam of crimson light down on the head of the aisle, in which stand,
ankle-deep in dry ice emanating from the entrance curtain, Creed and the
"CEO" Jack Montgomery. The "Creed! Creed!" chant starts immediately.]

RA: ...accompanied to the ring by the "CEO" Jack Montgomery, hailing
    from Oakland, California, and weighing in at 275lbs, here is...
    Creed!

[A number of red rocket flares shoot up from either side of the
entranceway to the roof of the arena. They explode in a shower of
crimson sparks, raining down on the ring, and at the same time, a bank
of red spotlights above the squared circle fade up, the silhouette of
the gloved left fist spinning on the canvas. At the same time, a trail
of red spotlights fade one by one onto the aisle, forming a path of
light for Creed to walk down. It is Montgomery who walks down the aisle
first. He is the picture of business-like efficience: Versace suit, hair
slicked back, cellular phone in hand. He nods at the fans as he walks
down the aisle, but doesn't speak to them. Creed follows behind, his
right knee in a heavy red brace, his left hand, as always, gloved, his
face, as always, a picture of focus and determination. "Creed! Creed!
Creed!"]

TD: Just listen to the reception that this man is receiving, Steve
    Roberts! I understand that he had an injection in his right knee
    earlier tonight in an attempt to make the pain of wrestling what
    could possibly be the most fiercely-contested match of his career to
    date more bearable.

[The strains of the Beethoven symphony continue to blaze away over the
sound system as Creed makes his way to the ring. He climbs up the
ringsteps and steps between the ropes, taking up a central position in
the ring, standing amidst the spinning image of the clenched fist. He
thrusts his gloved fist into the air, and simultaneously, crimson flames
shoot up from pots on each of the four ringposts. "Creed! Creed!
Creed!"]

TD: What an entrance! You can just feel the support of these people
    behind Creed!

BL: I hope they're ready to support him as he limps out of the ring at
    the end of this match too.

[The lights in the arena rise once more as Sparkplug Lee steps out of
the corner and speaks again:]

RA: And introducing his opponent... [The Intermezzo from Sibelius'
    "Karelia" Suite fades in over the PA. Huge heel pop!] ...accompanied
    to the ring by the lovely Lady DeWinter, currently residing in New
    Orleans, weighing in at 265lbs... he is the ESWP European
    Heavyweight Champion, and he is the IIWF Intercontinental
    Champion... He is... Lord Byron!

[The red rose, the emblem of Lancashire, is cast onto the mat of the
ring as the lights drop once more. Byron steps out into the aisle, his
face fixed in his characteristic sneer. His blond hair is tied back away
from his face, and he walks ahead of the Lady DeWinter, carrying his
ever-present brass-topped cane. DeWinter herself, on the other hand, is
wearing a stunning sparkly white evening gown, long and clinging. Her
long brown hair is artfully piled on top of her head, with tendrils
hanging down, framing her delicate face. She pays no attention to the
whoops and wolf-whistles of the rednecked males in the audience, instead
concentrating on following her Lord to the ring. Byron climbs the
ringsteps and then looks down at DeWinter, handing her the cane, which
she keeps hold of.]

TD: You'll remember, folks, that Byron's cane was a decisive factor in
    his last pay-per-view title defense at Ring Wars III, when Lady
    DeWinter cracked Marty Warnett with it no fewer than three times.

[DeWinter takes up station in one corner, as Byron looks across the ring
at Creed, and points at the heavy brace on the challenger's right knee
with a smirk before stepping between the ropes into the squared circle.
The referee signals for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding!]

TD: Okay, we're underway here!

[Byron saunters over to Creed, each man fixing the other with a steady
gaze. The two men stand toe-to-toe, neither one giving any ground to the
other. Byron gives a smirk -- a smirk which is then wiped off his face
by a huge left hand shot from Creed! Huge pop as the two men begin
brawling in the centre of the ring! Byron immediately lashes out with
his boots, kicking away at Creed's right knee. Creed takes a step
backwards, but isn't staggered for long, as he comes right back at the
IC champ, taking up his aggressive stance once more, and firing out with
hard rights and lefts whenever Byron comes within reach. Byron bounces
against the ropes and attempts to shoulderblock Creed, but finds the
black man to be an immovable object.]

SR: If you say a damned thing about irresistable forces, Dross, I'll
    show you an irresistable force connected to the end of my leg.

TD: I wasn't going to say a word, Steve -- oh my, Byron charges Creed
    again, and he's flattened by a clothesline!

[Big pop as Byron picks himself up and pushes his slightly-tousled hair
back out of his face. On the outside, the Lady DeWinter shouts words of
encouragement to her man, while the "CEO" eyes her suspiciously. Byron
bounces against the ropes once more, and this time ducks under Creed's
attempted clothesline, bouncing off the opposite side of the ring. Creed
wheels around, a little slower perhaps than he normally would, and Byron
hits him hard with a dropkick to the knee, felling Creed! Big heel pop!
Byron immediately goes to work on the braced right knee, stomping away
at it and trying to wrench the ligaments further. Huge heel pop!]

BL: I think we're seeing Byron's gameplan come into action here, boys.
    Creed's advantage in upper body strength is completely eliminated
    when he's down on the mat.

SR: A fact you've doubtless used to your advantage in the past, Becky.

BL: Watch it, buster.

[Byron attempts to drag Creed over towards the ropes, but Creed lashes
out with his free leg and knocks Byron onto his backside. Both men get
to their feet, and Creed steps up to Byron once more, striking him with
a furious left thrust kick that catches Byron squarely and sends the
blue-blood to the mat once more! Big pop! However, putting his weight on
his right knee seems to cause Creed a great deal of pain, and the
rookie's leg buckles slightly, his face showing the strain. Byron moves
in once more, and ducks out of the way of a swinging left fist, stepping
in close and snapmaring Creed to the mat. Byron goes straight back to
the knee, placing it over the bottom rope and then dropping his full
weight on it. Byron sits down on Creed's bad knee and attempts to put as
much weight as possible on it. Meanwhile, the "CEO" walks around the
ring, and pops Byron in the head with his cellphone while referee Chuck
Sanders checks on Creed. Byron is more frustrated than hurt, and rolls
out of the ring in pursuit of the businessman. Creed follows Byron to
the outside, and stalks behind him, slightly favouring his right leg.
DeWinter yells out for Byron to look behind him, and Byron wheels
around, only to be taken down to the mat with a vicious lariat. Creed
drops onto Byron, and beats on the IC champ, grabbing a nearby cable and
wrapping it around Byron's neck in an effort to choke him out. Big pop!]

SR: Heh, that's the tactic of a desperate man right there, Dross.

TD: Creed knows that he has to try and slow down Byron any way he can,
    Steve. If that means choking him out, he's going to do it.

[Sanders jumps to the outside and immediately tries to extricate Byron
from the cables, pushing Creed away. The rookie rolls back into the ring
as the referee allows Byron to get back to his feet. The Champion shakes
off the cobwebs, DeWinter rushing to his side, and then looks up at
Creed, who stands above him, waiting for him to get into the ring. Byron
climbs to the apron, but jumps back to the floor as Creed makes a grab
for him. Byron walks around the ring to another side and climbs to the
apron again. However, before he can enter the ring, Creed makes another
grab, and Byron drops to the floor once more. Byron walks around to a
third side of the ring, and again climbs to the apron, but this time
catapults himself over Creed with a sunset flip, and manages to pull the
red-gloved rookie over after him... Byron with the cover - 1 - 2 -
kickout!]

TD: The first near-fall of the match.

SR: Hey, Dross, did you know that Creed hasn't scored a pinfall since he
    beat Mad Dog Watkins at Ring Wars III?

TD: No, Steve, I didn't know that.

SR: It's right here in my "L'il Soundbiters' Book Of Facts", Dross. Only
    $79.95 plus handling for all the information you need to sound like
    a total dumbass quoting statistics the whole time.

TD: Fancy that.

[Creed kicks out with some force, tossing Byron off him. Both men get to
their feet, and Byron attempts to whip Creed across the ring. Creed
bounces against the ropes, and launches himself with his left leg,
spinning in mid-air, and hitting Byron with a flying right elbow. Big
pop as the IC champ goes down. Creed eschews the cover, instead dragging
Byron to his feet again and peppering him with chops and European
uppercuts, backing him into a corner. The crowd begin to rally behind
Creed as he whips Byron across the ring into the other corner. Byron
connects with the turnbuckles at great speed, the noise of the impact
resonating throughout the Coliseum. Pop!]

TD: Wow! I could swear the ring just moved about three inches towards
    us, Steve Roberts!

[Byron staggers back into the centre of the ring, and is caught by a
high-velocity lariat from a charging Creed that sends the champion
through a complete revolution in midair before he crashes to the mat.
Huge pop! Creed adjusts his left glove, and a flicker of pain crosses
his face as he lifts his right leg, before dropping on the IC champ and
hooking both legs for the cover - 1 - 2 - Byron kicks out!]

SR: It's going to take more than that to put Byron down.

BL: You're not kidding.

TD: What's that supposed to mean, Becky?

BL: Nothing.

TD: I have to wonder how much pain Creed is in right now. He's been
    using that knee almost as if it weren't injured, but it does seem to
    be troubling him from time to time.

SR: No, Dross, you've got it all wrong. We've seen very little of the
    weight-bearing moves that make Creed's offense so effective. Where
    have the suplexes been? Where's that flying powerbomb of his?

BL: Steve's right -- for once. Creed's not able to make use of all those
    torque-based moves that he favours under normal circumstances.

TD: It's a trade-off between motion and power, here with Creed. He's
    keeping out of Byron's way, but at what expense to his knee?

[Creed drags Byron to his feet, and applies an arm-wringer on Byron's
right arm, yanking it and trying to wrench it out of its socket. Byron
tries to grab hold of Creed with his free left arm, but Creed steps out
of his way and twists the arm a little more. Byron flips out of the
arm-wringer, applying a hammerlock on Creed's own left arm, but Creed
ducks out of the hold and uses an armdrag to throw Byron to the mat. Big
pop! Byron is quickly back to his feet and charges at Creed, who is
ready, and fells Byron with a drop toe-hold. Creed immediately drops on
Byron and slaps him across the back of the head repeatedly. Big pop!]

TD: Creed's trying to infuriate Byron! He's trying to rile up the
    champion!

[Byron roars with displeasure as Creed continues to slap his head from
side to side. Creed steps back from Byron, who gets to his feet and
complains to Sanders. Byron shakes the kinks out of his neck, and then
approaches Creed once more. Creed manages to slip behind Byron and apply
a standing armbar, again prompting Byron to lash out with his free left
arm, but Creed releases the armbar, and grabs Byron's pony-tail, quickly
sitting down, snapping Byron to the mat by his hair. Big pop! The
referee warns Creed for pulling Byron's hair, but the rookie appears to
be taking no notice of the official as he now slaps Byron in the face
two or three times. Huge pop!]

TD: Oh, is this wise? Creed's clearly trying to taunt Byron into losing
    his temper and making a mistake -- but he's got that injured knee.
    If Byron takes out all his frustrations on that knee, we could see
    that MCL injury become exascerbated.

BL: The danger with an injury to the medial collateral ligament is that
    you can quite easily also tear the anterior cruciate ligament --
    which is a potentially career-ending injury.

[Creed again takes a step back, allowing Byron to get back to his feet.
Byron charges Creed, and once more, Creed is quicker, this time able to
lock on a sleeper hold. Byron, ever the technician, slips out and behind
Creed, applying a half-nelson. Now Creed slips out and traps Byron into
a full nelson -- which he then uses to hit a devastating dragon suplex!
Huge pop! Creed makes the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout!]

TD: What a move from Creed!

[Creed seems to take a little longer than usual to get to his feet, his
face contorted slightly by the discomfort of executing the power move.
Byron also drags himself to his feet using the ropes, and then
approaches Creed, taking him down to the mat with a single-leg take
down. Byron twists Creed's knee backwards, trying to strain the injury
as much as possible. Creed yells out in pain. Big heel pop! Byron
repeatedly wrenches on the knee, until the "CEO" hops up onto the apron,
drawing the champion's attention away from Creed for a moment. Sanders
orders the "CEO" back to the arena floor, and Byron turns back to Creed,
going for the figure four leglock. Creed, however, lashes out and
attempts to gouge Byron's eye with his thumb. Byron clutches at his
face, but has the presence of mind to land a heavy boot to Creed's
"lower abdomen". Big heel pop! The referee warns Byron, who yells, "You
bloody idiot! He poked me in the eye!" Byron goes back to Creed, and
grabs both of his legs again. He drags Creed further towards the centre
of the ring, and then applies a figure four leglock. The referee drops
to the canvas and checks on Creed as Byron reaches out behind him and
grabs the ropes for extra leverage. Huge heel pop!]

TD: Byron's trying to maim Creed here... Perhaps it was a mistake to get
    the IC champ riled up.

SR: Of course it was a mistake, Dross. The smartest thing Creed could do
    right now is get out of that ring and take an early shower. He's
    putting his career on the line in this match.

[The "CEO" leaps to the apron and yells at the official that Byron has a
hold of the ropes, but Sanders seems more intent on removing Montgomery
from the apron than turning around to see Byron, who quickly releases
his grip on the ropes as the official turns. However, as he does so,
Creed summons up his strength and manages to turn Byron over, reversing
the hold. Huge pop!]

TD: Creed's got it reversed! He's reversed that figure four! His knee
    must be absolutely burning with the pain of that hold!

[Byron reaches out with his hands, reaching for the ropes -- and manages
to grab the bottom rope. The referee calls for the break, but Creed
refuses to break the hold. Sanders lays the count on Creed -- and the
rookie releases the leglock on the count of four. Byron drags himself to
his feet as Creed clutches his sore knee. Byron grabs Creed's leg,
extends it, and drops an elbow hard across the knee. Big heel pop! Creed
beats the mat in pain as Byron continues the onslaught with blows of all
kinds. Finally, however, Creed is able to take a swing at Byron with his
free left fist, catching the blue-blood flush on the jaw, and knocking
him to the mat. Big pop! Creed rolls to the outside of the ring under
the bottom rope and struggles to stand on the arena floor. Fans at
ringside shout encouragement to Creed, who grimly shakes his head and
begins limping slowly towards the aisle. Big jeers of disapproval from
Creed's fans.]

TD: I think Creed's decided that he's had enough, Steve Roberts! I think
    he's walking out on this match.

[The referee begins to count Creed out of the ring as Byron pulls
himself to his feet. The crowd chants, "Creed! Creed!", but still the
rookie heads up the aisle, tortuously, obviously in pain as he struggles
to put his weight on his right leg. Byron stops the referee's count
before slipping out of the ring through the ropes and heading up the
aisle after Creed.]

TD: Byron could have stayed in the ring and taken the countout victory
    right there. What's he doing?

SR: He's a proud man, Dross. Creed scored the only clean pinfall over
    Byron in his whole career. He could never be happy with a countout
    victory.

BL: He's started the job -- now he's got to finish it.

SR: I bet that's a phrase you've heard a lot in your time, huh, Becks?
    Ouch!

TD: Please, you two... Byron now, stalking up behind Creed...

[Byron cagily approaches Creed from behind. The crowd shouts its warning
to Creed -- who whirls around and tackles Byron with a shoulder to the
midsection, driving Byron hard into the steel crowd barriers! Huge pop!
Creed flails away at the IC champ with hard rights and lefts as the
referee's count reaches three. Creed stands, and wrenches a section of
retaining barrier from its orientation, slamming it down on Byron. Big
pop! Creed then proceeds to drop an elbow on Byron, driving the barrier
into his torso further. Huge pop! Byron tries to throw the barrier off,
but Creed continues to grind it into the champ with his boot. The
referee's count reaches seven, and the "CEO" leaps to the apron to
distract Sanders, thus breaking the count.]

SR: Yeah! If Creed pushes any harder, we're gonna have diced Byron!

TD: This is bad! Creed was playing possum there on the outside! He's got
    Byron right where he wants him now -- stranded in the aisle, with
    the referee distracted. Hang on -- here comes Otto Verhoeven!

[Huge heel pop as Verhoeven, who looks as if he has just stepped out of
the shower, charges down the aisle, water droplets flying off his
muscled torso as he runs. Before Creed realises what has happened,
Verhoeven is all over him -- nailing him with a boot to the back of the
head from behind. Creed goes down like a sack of potatoes, and Verhoeven
tosses the barrier off the winded Byron before going back to work on
Creed, dragging him to his feet and throwing him towards the ring, via
as many hard surfaces as possible -- the floor, the steel retaining
barriers and so on. The "CEO" leaps down from the apron and charges up
the aisle to tackle Verhoeven, but is nailed from behind by a shot from
Byron's brass-topped cane, wielded by the Lady DeWinter. Huge heel pop
as Montgomery goes down!]

TD: Oh no! Montgomery was just laid out by that cane! This is carnage!

[DeWinter tosses the cane to Verhoeven, who proceeds to drive it into
Creed's injured knee. Byron has picked himself up, and joins with
Verhoeven in pummelling Creed's weakened knee. The referee, meanwhile,
dashes up into the aisle and attempts to keep Verhoeven and Byron at
bay. However, Sanders finds himself tossed to one side, landing on his
backside. He picks himself up and heads back to the ring, where he
confers with Sparkplug Lee, while Verhoeven and Byron continue to work
Creed over.]

TD: It looks like Sanders is going to make some kind of announcement
    here...

[Sparkplug's voice booms out over the PA, temporarily distracting the
European Alliance from their attack.]

RA: Ladies and gentlemen, referee Chuck Sanders has ruled that unless
    Otto Verhoeven and the Lady DeWinter leave ringside _immediately_,
    Lord Byron will be _stripped_ of the Intercontinental Championship,
    which will be awarded to Creed!

[Huge pop from the crowd!]

SR: What?! That's a preposterous decision, Dross!

TD: The referees have ultimate jurisdiction in these matters, Steve
    Roberts. Verhoeven and DeWinter are history!

[The Butcher and DeWinter reluctantly back away up the aisle, the
Butcher yelling expletives in his native tongue at the referee. Byron
refuses to be swayed from his gameplan. He drops the cane, and hauls
Creed up to his feet. Creed now seems unable to put any weight on his
right leg, and he crumples to the floor as Byron throws him towards the
ring.]

BL: The referee may have taken a stand, but it could well be too late,
    Timmy. It looks like the damage has been done to Creed's knee.

[The referee climbs back into the ring and begins counting both men out
once more as Byron continues to throw Creed towards the ring. On the
count of five, Byron throws Creed into the steel ringsteps before
rolling back into the ring himself and breaking the count. Byron rolls
back to the outside and grabs the top half of the ringsteps before
slamming them down onto Creed's knee. Huge heel pop! In the aisle, a
number of security staff come down to the ring to help the "CEO" to his
feet and escort him away from ringside. Byron finally rolls Creed back
into the ring and pulls his hair back into the usual pony-tail, while
looking around at the jeering crowd. Creed rolls on the canvas,
clutching his knee in agony, as Byron climbs to the second turnbuckle,
and comes down hard with an elbow on Creed's knee. Big heel pop! Byron
makes the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout!]

TD: Unbelievable! Creed just will not quit!

SR: We could be seeing the end of Creed's career right here tonight,
    Dross!

[Byron drags Creed to his feet, and sets him up for a suplex, hooking
Creed's arm over his shoulders. He pauses to catch his breath -- and is
caught in a small package by Creed! The referee is out of position, but
quickly drops to the mat - 1 - 2 -- Byron kicks out by the narrowest of
margins! Huge outlet of breath from the crowd.]

TD: Oh my! We nearly had a new Intercontinental Champion right there!

[Byron is furious, and stomps away at Creed's knee, before dropping to
the mat and attempting to remove the heavy brace. Sanders warns Byron,
but the IC champ simply ignores the referee as he continues to work on
removing the brace. Creed, sensing the danger, lashes out with his left
fist, and manages to knock Byron off his feet. With the crowd on its
feet, chanting his name louder than ever, Creed drags himself to his
feet using the ropes. He seems unable to put much weight on his right
leg as Byron picks himself up. Creed limps into the centre of the ring,
and drags Byron to his feet. The rookie whips the champion into the
ropes, and grabs him by the throat. He uses Byron's momentum against
him, whipping him up into the air and rotating himself through 180
degrees, before driving Byron down into the mat -- but something goes
wrong! Byron manages to swing one of his legs up behind Creed's head and
catch him with what is essentially a mid-air enzuigiri! Creed hits the
mat hard, and Byron is also winded as both men are laid out on the mat,
Creed face down, Byron on his back, his chest heaving. Huge heel pop!]

TD: Incredible! Byron somehow managed to counter that chokeslam with an
    enzuigiri! Both men are down!

SR: Come on, Byron! Cover that red-gloved freak! Pin him!

[Byron slowly crawls over to his opponent, rolls him over, and covers
Creed... The referee drops into position: 1 -- 2 -- kickout! The
Coliseum explodes as Creed's fans pop for their hero!]

SR: What?!

TD: Incredible! Incredible! Simply...

[Byron cannot believe Creed's resilience as he kneels in the ring,
pushing the hair out of his face once more. He looks around at the fans
at ringside, all bellowing at the tops of their lungs for Creed to get
up. Creed simply lies, motionless save for his heaving chest, on the
canvas. Byron seems entranced, but after a few moments, he snaps out of
it and again goes to work on Creed's knee brace. This time, he is able
to rip it off, and he spits in Creed's face before rolling Creed over
once more, taking hold of his right foot, and twisting it around his own
leg before throwing himself down to the canvas backwards in a very
painful legbreaker.]

TD: Oh no... here it comes! That brace is off, and Byron's... oh, this
    is bad. Look at the pressure on that leg!

[Maintaining this hold, Byron reaches back and pulls up Creed's head
before locking on a modified sleeperhold. Byron then bridges his back to
exert the pressure, steadying his balance with his other leg. Byron has
the hold cinched in! He has applied the Aristoclutch on Creed! Huge heel
pop!]

SR: It's over! Ring the bell! Ring the bell!

TD: Oh my...

BL: Creed's not giving up. He's not giving up!

TD: This is incredible... The referee's checking on Creed, but he just
    won't give up. Can you imagine the pain Creed is in right now? Can
    you imagine the burning that must be consuming that right knee?
    Unbelievable.

[Byron keeps the hold locked on firmly. A close-up of Creed's face
reveals a visage twisted in agony. However, he refuses to give up, his
teeth clenched and his eyes screwed up in determination to survive the
hold.]

TD: This could damage that knee irreparably! The referee should stop
    this match!

[Suddenly, there is a huge mixed pop as Mad Dog Watkins, his head
bandaged from the wound he sustained earlier in the evening, dashes down
the aisle. He rolls straight into the ring and stomps on Byron's head,
forcing the Intercontinental Champion to break the hold. Huge pop! The
referee signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding!]

TD: Oh my! It's Mad Dog Watkins! Watkins has come to the aid of Creed,
    the man who pinned him at Ring Wars III... I can't believe it!

SR: What the hell's Watkins thinking about, Dross?! Attacking Byron?!

[Lord Byron, exhausted, struggles to his feet, but finds himself
clotheslined out of the ring by Watkins! Huge pop! Watkins drops to the
side of Creed, who rolls over onto his back, his face still etched with
pain. The referee hands the Intercontinental Championship belt back to
Byron as Sparkplug Lee makes the announcement:]

RA: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, as the result of a
    disqualification: Lord Byron!

[Huge heel pop as the exhausted Byron raises the IC belt in victory. He
points up at Watkins, who now looks down on the champion from the ring,
and gestures that he will pay dearly for his intrusion. Watkins simply
nods grimly as Byron backs away up the aisle, picking up his
brass-topped cane as he goes, and waving it menacingly at the fans who
jeer his exit.]

TD: Mad Dog Watkins may have cost Creed the match here tonight, but I
    think he has probably saved the young athlete's career. If he'd
    stayed much longer in that Aristoclutch, who knows what kind of
    damage could have been done.

BL: As it is, Creed's gonna need a trip to the hospital to check out
    that knee. If he needed surgery before this match, he's certainly
    going to need it all the more now.

SR: It's Watkins who could use the surgery if you ask me -- a mind
    transplant! Has he gone mad?

TD: I guess Watkins couldn't just stand by and watch Byron end the
    career of an athlete for whom he has developed a great deal of
    respect -- ironically, it might be true to say that Watkins may see
    himself as something of a father figure to Creed.

SR: Aw, don't you get started on that sentimental crap, Dross. The L'il
    Soundbiters don't want that crap.

[Watkins helps Creed to his feet, the younger athlete not resisting the
Mad Dog's assistance as he might have done previously. Gingerly, Creed
is able to walk from the ring, thanks to the help of the veteran
Watkins. The fans in the Coliseum are on their feet in support for Creed
and the Mad Dog as they slowly make their way up the aisle to the
strains of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy".]

TD: What a match that was... Creed's unbeaten streak comes to an
    untimely end. But the European Alliance have proved beyond all doubt
    that they truly are a real force here in the IIWF. First, Verhoeven
    defeats Tony Starks, and now Lord Byron has kept his
    Intercontinental Championship at the expense of Creed.