TD: Well, that takes us to our next match -- an Intercontinental Championship defense that certainly should be a spirited encounter. SR: Hey Dross, speaking of spirited encounters, what about Marv Albert in that Virginia hotel? That was weird, wild stuff. And I thought Morton was the kinkiest broadcaster going with his Chuck Norris pictures. Unbelievable. TD: Now, Steve Roberts, I've had the occasion to speak with Marv Albert a time or two at the odd broadcasters' convention -- and I found him to be a fine gentleman. I think it would be prudent to withhold judgment and let the judical process run its course. SR: Aw, come on, Dross, play with me. Look, we all know what happened in that hotel room -- Marv wanted to "drive down the lane" and the broad was playing an illegal defense. So Marv set a moving pick and now he's getting T'd up. It ain't tough to figure out. TD: Perhaps we should do away with the court system and simply let you determine innocence or guilt. SR: Nah. My plate's pretty full, Dross. I gotta do these cards... I have to save your lame show every week... I have to book these damn tag matches. TD: Steve Roberts, will you stop? You have no administrative responsibilities with the IIWF tag teams. SR: Obviously. TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lord Byron [c] vs. Tiger Claw ----------------------------------------- WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee seems enrapt with the video wall display of the BBC's documentary "Grain - Our Mysterious Friend", necessitating his delivering the ring introduction from his seat at the timekeepers' table...] SL: The following contest is set for one fall -- and is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! Introducing first, accompanied down the aisle by his manager Brian Lau, and the IIWF Heavyweight Champion, Casey "Blackheart" James... he weighs 220lbs and hails from Thailand... he is a former three-time IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Tiger Claw! [The familiar Thai boxing music, signifying the entrance of the veteran Claw, begins. The veteran members of the Syndicate make their way down the aisle. Claw is clearly locked in, twitching, jumping with nervous evergy as he walks the aisle. James points to the three-time IC champ, yelling, "That's the man... four times... four time champ!" All three men reach the ring to a loud Syndicate pop. Claw climbs to a mid-buckle and thrusts his hands around his waist in the international symbol for "I'm a gettin' that there belt!" and hears the big pop turn into an even bigger one... as someone begins a very purposeful walk to the ring.] TD: Well, we have some company. Here comes Brody Thunder! SR: Looks like he's here to wish his buddy Claw some luck. That's what I like about this Syndicate -- what a tightly knit bunch of guys. Good men. Ain't that America? You and me. Damn, Dross. Little pink houses for all of us. TD: Well, your pop culture references aside, it looks to me that Brody Thunder is having some very pointed comments for Lau and the Champ. [Claw is slowly going through a ritualistic warm up as Thunder has stepped into the ring and appears to be angrily confronting Brian Lau. The crowd has now risen to its feet as Thunder stalks closer and closer to his manager, the Syndicate leader now backed into the ropes, backing away from Thunder who is growing more and more demonstrative. The words, "damn liar," and "my turn!" are heard from Brody as his face is now contorting with anger sufficient that James stops posing and heads to the conflict.] TD: Well, it is heating up here, Steve Roberts! You cannot deny what you see with your own eyes! These people know it -- these people here all know that something is going down with Brody Thunder and the Syndicate! SR: There you go again, Dross. Look... I know what it looks like... but I'm sure the Champ can smooth things over. [Claw remains oblivious to the scene, firmly locked into a near trance-like state has he readies himself for battle. James has now stepped in between Lau and Thunder, obviously trying to calm Brody down, James puts his hand on Thunder's shoulder -- and Thunder knocks it away! Big POP!] TD: Oh Mmy! SR: What's Thunder doing? That ungrateful son of a --- [The crowd is now really hot as James takes a step back, looking around, sizing up the situation -- and then "Blackheart" lays the IIWF Championship belt on the canvas... lays it at the feet of Thunder! James is now pointing a big finger at Thunder's face, the overhead mic easily able to discern his saying "you don't want the IC strap... admit it, Thunder... you want the big belt. Admit it, Thunder... you want my gold!" Thunder looks down at the IIWF Heavyweight Championship belt, then up at James, saying, "if I wanted yer strap, big man... I'd take yer strap!" Big Pop! James now flashes hot, the veins bulging from his neck -- and he gets in Thunder's face, yelling at the "Lone Wolf", "You think so? You think you can take this from me, _bodyguard_? Then bring it!"] TD: Oh my! We're gonna see it! We're gonna see it right now! [Brian Lau and now Tiger Claw leap in between James and Thunder, each man grabbing the Champ and pushing him away from Thunder. The crowd pops wildly as a parade of officials now leap into the ring and grab Thunder. James is pushed from the ring by Lau and Claw, the Champion quickly regaining his customary composure... pushing his hair from his eyes... and takes a mic:] CJ: You know, Thunder, you could have been somebody in this business. You had a chance to be one of the greats -- but you just couldn't wait your turn. So I'm gonna teach you a lesson, cowboy. Next week. Next week, right here... you and me, Thunder. You and me... for the belt! [Enormous pop from the crowd! Many begin chanting "Thun - der! Thun - der!" Lau races back into the ring, and nabs the Championship belt, cradling it to his breast as he returns to the aisle and Brody takes the mic.] BT: That a deal, James? I got yer word on that, James? 'Cuz I ain't lacin' my good boots unless your fat ass is goin' ta be here ta kick! [James makes another run at the ring as Thunder leaps in his direction... the two men are swarmed under by security and the entire pack is led up the aisle, leaving only Claw, who is able to navigate his way back to the ring to await his match.] TD: A shocking turn of events, Steve Roberts. I have got to say... I have got to say... that if indeed that match does go down here next week -- if next week we will see Casey James vs. Brody Thunder for the IIWF Heavyweight Championshipm, it might be the biggest IIWF Saturday Night of all time! SR: Well, this is ridiculous, Dross. I don't know what got into Thunder -- I don't know what he thinks he's trying to prove. But if he thinks he's gonna come in here and beat Casey James... then, well, I just don't know what. [Sparkplug Lee strains, above the din of the IIWF Coliseum, to resume his introductions...] SL: His opponent... accompanied to the ring by Lady DeWinter... weighs 265lbs. and is currently residing in New Orleans... he is the IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Lord Byron! [Big heel pop as "Intermezzo" from "Karelia" Suite begins, and Byron appears in the aisle. The winsome DeWinter is at his side, proudly carrying the IIWF and ESWP gold of Lord Byron. The champ is as regally attired as ever, his custom black leggings and blond hair bob augmented by that brass topped walking cane -- so instrumental in many of Byron's victories. Byron is limping slightly but noticeably as he reaches the ring... holding the ropes open for DeWinter before smugly entering the ring himself. The heel pop now turning into a boisterous chant of "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!" leading the sneering Byron to begin yelling at many of the ringside fans.] SR: You know what, Dross... Byron might be at a disadvantage here. He had to wait a long time in the back while Thunder was out here whining to Lau. TD: Although, after that beating he took from Tony Starks earlier in the evening, I think the champ probably appreciated a few additional minutes to recover before this match. SR: A beating orchestrated by that punk Creed, Dross. Who the hell does that guy think he is -- too scared to get in the ring with Otto, but he'll let all of his _homeboys_ do the work for him? TD: I don't think that's necessarily the best way to put that, Steve Roberts. But these fans here certainly are solidly behind young Creed in his apparent quest for a rubber match with Lord Byron. SR: Rubber match. I thought you didn't want to talk about Marv Albert, Dross. [Ding! Ding! Ding! The preliminary distractions cast aside, Byron and Claw are able to lock up, something Byron does with vigor as he quickly applies a standing side headlock on the smaller Claw, looking to wrench away. Claw, flits out into a go-behind where he momentarily teases a hammerlock -- standing switch -- and the bigger Byron not only applies the hammerlock... but takes Claw down with it. Pop! Byron's target quickly becomes apparent: the legs. The IC champ snapping a Claw pin backward... then quickly punching in two kneedrops to an exposed hamstring... before applying a knee scissors that has Claw thoroughly befuddled -- and as the official checks Claw for an early submission, Byron attempts to maneuver into poistion for a chinclock.] TD: Byron is really looking for the early knockout here, Steve Roberts. He has popped this cross-knee scissors right on Claw. SR: The Champ's a little gimpy after that Starks cheap shot, Dross. He doesn't want to be out here with someone like Claw who can go all night. You know who else who can go all night, Dross, is that Marv Albert. The man's a beast. A sexual dynamo. TD: You aren't going to get off this, are you, Steve Roberts? SR: You know who else wouldn't get off it? [Byron's attempt at a chinlock was rebuffed with a jab to his throat by the resourceful Claw, who snaps to his feet to deliver a rapid series of sidekicks... a moderately successful back thrust... and then a snapping round/reverse round combination that has Byron staggering back and looking to bail out of the ring! Pop! But as Byron looks for escape, he is met with a springboard kneedrop by Claw that thumps the champ down to the canvas... from which he is pulled out to the floor by DeWinter! Pop!] TD: Just as Tiger Claw begins an offensive attack, DeWinter is there to save Lord Byron. She is invaluable, Steve Roberts. SR: Oh, I don't know, Dross. I've found that most women have a price... a fist full of singles usually does the trick. TD: I don't think Lord Byron would particularly care for your characterization of Lady DeWinter, Steve Roberts. SR: Oh, you were talking about DeWinter? I thought you meant Nightwing. Helluva little dancer that guy is. Shake it for me, baby dolls. Shake it for the Soundbite! [Claw hops to the apron, and comes down with a double chop to the chest of the rising Byron. Pop! Claw now swarms all over Byron, peppering him with a flurry of kicks to the Champion's shins. The already weakened Byron simply cannot withstand the assault of the quicker Claw and slumps to the floor... Claw returns to the ring, leaving Byron broken down on the outside as DeWinter looks on with obvious concern... Huge aisle pop!] TD: We have company... here comes Creed! SR: Just like that punk -- coming down when Byron can't defend himself. What a joke. [The red-gloved rookie returns in his red wheelchair, his San Francisco Giants cap remaining perched atop his newly shaved head. Creed does not acknowledge the fans, many of whom are now roaring "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!" as the rookie approaches the ringside area. Tiger Claw seems irritated with Creed's unobstructed appearance, and gives a quick look to the outside, apparently hoping that any member of the Syndicate might have returned from the previous Thunder/James tumult to deal with the unwanted intrusion. Satisfied that Creed will not interfere, in his current state, Claw leaps from the backrope into a springboard plancha...] TD: Oh my! Byron catches Tiger Claw's dive... into a hotshot over the guardrail! Wow! SR: Claw got distracted by the freak with the glove on out there... what the hell does he want -- Byron to kick his overrated ass again? [Byron's counter was brutal, the sound of Claw's neck snapping over the retaining barrier echoing throughout the Coliseum. Byron does not waste any time, picking Claw from the floor and driving four sharply-placed European uppercuts to the challenger's chin before picking him up, into a gutwrench suplex that lays the smaller man out on the floor. Big pop for the Champion! Byron now sees the wheelchaired Creed, takes a step to him and then shakes his head and smiles. Byron picks up the prone Claw and tosses him back in the ring. Byron stopping at the apron himself to give a rather ungentlemanly gesture toward the red-gloved rookie.] SR: Byron's gonna show the punk who the Intercontinental Champion is! Byron's gonna deliver some payback of his own on... Ouch! [Byron's momentary occupation with Creed was costly, as he took an upward thrust to the groin as he entered the ring. The veteran Claw takes advantage, not deliberating a moment as he drives two additional palm strikes into the same region of Byron's anatomy. Empathetic pop!] TD: I'm not sure if "pop" is the best choice of words right now. [Claw leaps to the top rope, not the buckle, the middle of the rope... and comes down to the back of Byron's neck with an inverted elbowsmash! Claw follows up, attempting to fell Byron with a drop toe hold -- mistake -- the Champ maneuvers into a hammerlock and looks for a takedown... but Claw slides out the back door...] SR: Just like Marv Albert! [...into a crescent kick that serves just to throw off Byron's equilibrium enough that he neglects to see that Claw has gone farside -- and is leaping into a spinning backfist that knocks a revolving Byron clean off his feet into a cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout by Byron.] TD: First nearfall of the match, Steve Roberts. We have seen Lord Byron perhaps a hair off his game tonight, whether from the attack by Tony Starks earlier or the current distraction of the rookie Creed sitting in that wheelchair... but right now, you'd have to say that Tiger Claw is in control of this match. SR: Tiger Claw doesn't need anybody's help, Dross. This guy's maybe the greatest Intercontinental Champion of all time -- no protege necessary. But don't think for a minute that anything that punk Creed does bothers Lord Byron. One man's a professional... a champion. The other guy's just some little boy wearing a glove. [Claw stays on the mat, grabbing an armbar and attempting to couple it with a chinlock. Byron is clearly dazed, having taken a bit of a beating, but Claw soon abandons his attempt to stay on the mat with the technically brilliant Champion, realizing that his best bet is to remain on his feet. Claw brings Byron along, both men now on their feet, Claw snapping off quick kicks to the shins before corner-whipping Byron hard into the buckle... Byron takes the jarring shot -- and misses a clothesline as Claw charges -- ducks under -- and then hurtles to the top rope from where he is set to come down onto the unsuspecting Byron with a hurricarana...] TD: NO! Byron caught him! Byron caught him! [Byron stops the takeover attempt, grabbing ahold of the smaller Claw who frantically attempts to escape the fate that is about to befall...] TD: Pildriver! Byron just executed piledriver on Claw -- and he is out! He is... there's the cover... [The official dives down for a 1 -- 2 -- NO! Claw is just able to get a shoulder up to the approval of the Syndicate loyalists. DeWinter slaps her hands together in obvious frustration while the red-gloved Creed noticeably wheels himself in for a closer look. Byron drags Claw more closely to the middle of the ring, positioning him in such a fashion that he is readily able to drop a series of measured elbows to the inside of Claw's leg. Byron continues to weaken the affected leg, continues to try and ground the martial arts expert Claw. Byron locks one leg... snapping back in a scissors of the knee that brings obvious pain again to the face of the former Champ. Claw attempts to break the hold as Byron tantalizingly holds his throat inches from Claw's readied palm... but the strike draws only air -- as Byron leans backward, shearing the pain through the entire body of Tiger Claw.] TD: That's what you get with Lord Byron. It's similar to a man like a Casey James or a Deathbringer, those men are always big -- no matter what you do to them, size is a great equalizer. For Byron, it is his intelligence. Maybe he is not on top of his game tonight, as he certainly was at Birthday Bash some two weeks ago... but look at Byron apply this cross scissors... look at how he stopped that hurricarana. Lord Byron always finds a way to counter, Steve Roberts. SR: What the hell's gotten into you, Dross? When did you become such a Byron fan? TD: Steve, do you even watch the broadcasts? SR: Well, what else is on? [Claw continues to resist the official's suggestion of submission, forcing Byron into frustration and finally into abandoning the hold. Byron stands, puts a well-placed boot to Claw's ribs, and then points to the rookie Creed, yelling "stay in your highchair, the Intercontinental Champion has business to attend," before spitting in the direction of Creed. The rookie has remained throughly impassive... rarely so much as lifting an eyebrow in response to a maneuver of either competitor. But as Byron applies a chinlock bending down deep to force the maximum amount of pressure onto the smaller Claw, Creed wheels himself closer to the action, now taking a place very much near the base of the apron.] TD: Lord Byron, I would suggest, is making a mistake now. He has turned the tide in this match, but yet is obviously distracted by Creed... and listen to these fans! [As Byron continues to wear away at Tiger Claw, the fans now taunt the IC Champion, renewing their chants of "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!" to the consternation of Lord Byron, who impatiently smacks at Tiger Claw's head and then yanks him to his feet. Byron sticks a finger in Claw's face, then turns his head to again focus on Creed...] TD: Oh my! Tiger Claw leapt from a standing position into a head scissors takeover of Byron! And look at Claw go! SR: My man Tiger Claw! New Intercontinental Champion! [Claw sits atop Byron's chest as the crowd pops in apprciation of the startling maneuver, Claw letting loose with a ripping series of rights and lefts that pound the IC champ into the canvas. Pop! Claw attempts to press Byron's shoulders to the mat, drawing a 1 -- but Byron rotates the opposite direction, rolling Claw into a cradle for a quick 1 -- 2 -- ] SR: Yes! Byron wins! TD: No! The official stops the count! The official breaks the count! Byron had his foot atop the ropes - and the official stops the count! SR: Can he do that, Dross? [Byron is hot with the decision, jumping into the official's face, failing to see that Claw is up and pulling him down, down to the mat for a... 1 -- ] TD: Claw's got the package! Claw's got a handful of trunks, too! SR: My man Tiger Claw! [The official's hand hits the mat a second time... 2... but that is all as Byron kicks out vigorously. Byron faces Claw, grabbing his arms quickly... and bringing him smashing to the mat with a butterfly suplex and a cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO! Claw kicks out! Byron pulls Claw to his feet, Irish whipping the former IC Champ, and catching him on the return with a feint and a side Russian leg sweeep that takes Claw hard to the canvas. Byron stands, dropping a big elbow... to nothing! Claw is just able to roll free from the blow, greeting a standing Byron with a spinning back kick and a cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO! It's Byron who gets a shoulder up, and then has to bury his head into his hands as Claw begins a barrage of chops to the prone champion's head and neck! Big Syndicate Pop!] TD: Tiger Claw is really putting on the offensive, Steve Roberts... Tiger Claw is letting loose with these furious karate chops. I don't know how much more Byron can withstand! SR: And NEW Intercontinental Champion! I like the sound of that, Dross! [Claw leaps from Byron, and begins making his way up to the top rope, Claw scurrying to the top... but followed by Byron! Tiger Claw is making his way to that top rope, looking to strike down on Byron and take the Intercontinental Championship for the fourth time... But Byron is behind him! And now both men are climbing the ropes. They reach the top buckle and stand face-to face, Byron's back to the ring as the two men grapple for position. Claw looks for a facelock... Byron buries his head into Claw's shoulder -- and grabs the front waist... and ... leaps...] TD: Oh my! That's a Northern Lights Superplex! A Northern Lights Superplex! SR: Yeah! And STILL Intercontinental Champion! [Huge pop as the two valiant superstars thunderously slam into the canvas. Byron attempting to bridge... but the wear and tear of the evening has gotten to him -- he can't seem to get the cover, he can't seem to get Claw's shoulders to the mat...] TD: Yes! Yes! Byron's got the bridge! Byron's got the bridge! SR: Foot on the ropes, Dross! Claw's got his foot on the ropes! Does the official see it? [The official is slow in making the count, Byron straining with all that he has to keep the bridge, Tiger Claw definitely has his foot on the ropes as the official gets set to dive down... Simultaneously, DeWinter is to the apron, wielding the brass-topped cane as she readies herself to instrumentally remove the offending Claw foot from the obtrusive rope. The official counts... 1 -- ] TD: Look at DeWinter... She's going to... It's Creed! It's Creed! [As DeWinter swings the cane, Creed hops to his good leg -- and grabs it from DeWinter! Big Pop! DeWinter turns -- and sees Creed holding the cane... 2...] TD: Claw's foot -- the official's looking! [The official jerks his head upward, but a fraction of a second too late, as to a big SHOCKED pop... Creed has yanked the rope away from Claw! Creed yanked the rope from Claw! The count reaches -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, as a result of a pinfall, and _STILL_ IIWF Intercontinental Champion... LORD _BYRON_! [Big Pop as DeWinter grabs the Chamnpionship belts from the timekeeper's table, and makes a move to the ring, pausing as Creed returns to his wheelchair... with Byron's brass-topped cane still in hand! DeWinter makes a move to grab for the cane, but Creed just slowly shakes his head, and wheels away! Creed wheels away with Lord Byron's cane up the aisle and back to the dressing room, his fans screaming along the way: "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!"] TD: Wow. A Northern Lights superplex from Byron. He maintains the title -- but what about Creed, knocking Tiger Claw's foot off the ropes, and helping Lord Byron to keep his IC belt! Amazing! SR: I knew it all along, Dross. Lord Byron is your Intercontinental Champion! And look at he and DeWinter leaving the ring... what great champions! [Byron staggers from the ring, DeWinter clearly trying to avoid telling him of the fashion in which he retained the belt, and of the location of his brass-topped cane.