=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= SPECIALITY MOVE SUBMISSION MATCH: Lord Byron vs. Marty Warnett =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Sparkplug Lee takes to the ring once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following encounter is a speciality move submission match, in which the two combatants will only be able to claim victory if they force their opponent to submit to their trademark finisher. All other form of decision -- countout, disqualification and pinfall -- do not apply in this match. BL: Did you catch all that, Larry? LM: Of course I did, Becky. RA: Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the lovely Lady DeWinter, hailing from Lancashire, England, and weighing in at 275lbs, here is the master of the Aristoclutch... Loooord Byron! [Big heel pop as Byron appears at the head of the aisle, with DeWinter following close on his heels. He ignores the fans as he walks to the ring, but DeWinter taunts the jeering crowd. She draws Byron's attention to one particularly abusive fan who holds a homemade sign reading, "Lord Byrite Blows!" Byron merely sneers in that fan's direction, and continues down the aisle. However, the fan jostles down along the railings, and reaches the bottom of the aisle ahead of the stately Byron. She throws something into his path, and Byron, with his nose stuck a mile in the air, fails to notice the banana skin in his path. He slips and falls on his backside, to a huge pop! The "fan" then reveals herself to be Harlequin Comedy!] LM: It's the Harlequins! I guess their revenge on Byron has started already! You'll remember that last week Byron cost Tragedy a victory against Marty Warnett when he interfered... BL: If Tragedy had half a brain, he'd keep that tramp out of the line of fire. Byron is _not_ pleased. [Byron gets straight to his feet, humiliated, and looks fruitlessly into the crowd for Comedy, who has disappeared into the sea of faces. deWinter calms him down sufficiently for him to enter the ring and regain his composure, despite the jeers of the crowd.] RA: And introducing his opponent: from Cardiff, Wales, and weighing in at 245lbs, here is the IIWF's party maniac... Maaaaarty Waaarnett! [Huge pop as "Cold Gin" kicks in and Warnett jogs down the aisle, hi-fiving the fans as he comes. However, he seems preoccupied with Byron, and quickly enters the ring. Byron, still fuming from his embarrassment, leaps in and attacks Warnett, jumping him before the bell. Warnett is subdued by the fury of Byron's attacks, and Byron immediately starts working on Warnett's left leg. He executes a snap DDT on Warnett, taking the wind out of his sails, and then proceeds to continue working on his leg, snapping it back to stretch the hamstring, and twisting it to put strain on the knee. Warnett screams in pain, and the referee calls for the break. Byron, however, is too fired up to back off, and the official lays on the count - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Byron finally releases the pressure on Warnett's leg, and begins arguing with the referee. Warnett, meanwhile, drags himself to his feet using the ropes, only to have his legs taken out from under him by a vicious swipe from the Lady DeWinter.] LM: No! There was no call for that! BL: Guess that's her revenge for Warnett's attack on her a couple of weeks ago. LM: He apologised already for that! He brought her a rose! BL: If you think you can buy off a woman with a single rose, Larry, you have another thing coming. LM: What, you mean, it takes a dozen? ...argh! BL: Moron. [Warnett rolls to the outside, and moves towards DeWinter, but before he reaches her, Byron attacks him from behind, clipping his knee and sending him crashing into the steel crowd railings. Byron continues the assault on the outside, and Warnett, whilst taking the occasional potshot, is clearly troubled by the damage to his leg. Byron throws him back into the ring, and applies a figure four leglock on Warnett, a sick smile on his face.] LM: This is disgusting! Byron's using Warnett's own finisher on him! BL: And even if Warnett yells, "I quit!" at the top of his voice, the match won't finish until Byron puts him in the Aristoclutch! This is great. LM: You're getting as bad as Steve Roberts, Becky... hang on, Warnett's rolling over to reverse the hold! Yes, he's done it! Look at Byron, yelling in pain! [Byron inches to the ropes, and finally breaks out of the hold. He seems to have been slowed down by the leglock, and both he and Warnett take some time to get back to their feet. They meet in the centre of the ring once more and get into a slugfest, Warnett taking the upper hand. He whips Byron into the ropes and executes a powerslam on the blueblood, dropping an elbow on him while still prone, and making the cover - 1 - 2 - Byron kicks out!] LM: Warnett's clearly not going to go down without a fight here tonight, Becky. BL: Unlike, say, the Man Of Steel. LM: Please, that's disgusting. This is a family show. BL: Not any more. LM: Hang on -- here comes Lace, Stud Stetson's valet, down to ringside! What does she want?! BL: Just to flaunt her trashy self all over the place, I expect. [Lace saunters down to the ring, and begins making eyes at Warnett, beckoning him to come over to the side of the ring. Warnett lays Byron out with a big right hook, and rolls out of the ring. He begins berating Lace, but he is soon shut up as Lace begins rubbing him and pressing herself up against him.] LM: What's going on here?! BL: I told you she was trash. And trash with bad taste, it seems. [Suddenly, just as Warnett is beginning to enjoy himself, Stud Stetson leaps over the crowd barrier out of nowhere in his street clothing, and proceeds to attack Warnett's already weakened knee, stomping on it with heavy, toe-capped boots. The crowd erupt into huge jeers. Byron leaves the ring and drags Warnett away from the assault, while Stetson merely stands at ringside, laughing. He approaches the broadcast table, and Larry confronts him:] LM: Stetson, what the hell do you think you're doing?! Warnett's never had any problem with you! SS: Are you really that dumb, Morton? I told you I was going to make some noise tonight, and I am sure that did it. I warned the IIWF they won't like what I do but I could care less. Warnett, you're an adored competitor here and that is enough reason for me to attack you. Whenever I have a chance to trash these moronic fans' heroes I will take advantage of it. LM: You're sick! SS: Yeah, ain't I, though? [Stetson raises his arms to the crowd and begins to move away from ringside, but he is stopped by the equally sudden appearance of Harlequin Tragedy, who hops over the barrier and confronts him. The crowd buzz as the two newcomers have a dispute on the outside. Meanwhile, inside the ring, Byron locks the Aristoclutch on Warnett: Byron grabs Warnett's foot while he is face down on the canvas, and twists it around his own leg before throwing himself down to the canvas backwards in a very painful legbreaker. Maintaining this hold, Byron reaches back and pulls up Warnett's head before locking on a modified sleeperhold. Byron then bridges his back to exert the pressure, steadying his balance with his other leg. Warnett yells out in pain, but refuses to submit. The official continues to check on Warnett, who is unable to break the hold, but Warnett still refuses to submit.] LM: Warnett won't give up... and Stetson and Tragedy continue to have an altercation on the outside... BL: Wow, two things go on at once and Larry's brain goes into meltdown. [Security personnel come down to the ring and separate Tragedy and Stetson, dragging the "Superstar" and Lace back to the locker rooms. Meanwhile, the referee signals for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding!] LM: What's going on here?! Did Warnett submit? RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has stopped this contest, ruling that Marty Warnett is unable to continue. Therefore, the winner of this match: Loooooorrrd Byyyyrrron! [Big heel pop as Byron stands and rolls from the ring where he is congratulated by DeWinter. Meanwhile, Warnett rolls in the ring, clearly in tremendous pain. The official helps him to his feet.] LM: What a miscarriage of justice. Byron gets the victory due to that unprovoked attack from Stud Stetson... and give Warnett credit, Becky. He had a lot of heart -- he wasn't going to give up, no matter what. BL: That's why he's a loser, Larry. Sometimes you've just got to accept that to win in the long run, you've got to take a few hits in the short run.