SR: Why are there three chairs here, Dross? TD: Beg your pardon? SR: Beg all you want, but why the hell are there three chairs out here, are we expecting company, Dross? Are gonna have a visitor? Did Steve Owens finally agree to my request for an on air masseuse? TD: As a matter of fact, we will have a guest commentator for this big upcoming Intercontinental Championship match between Lord Byron and Tony Starks. In fact, it's a friend of yours. SR: Oh, this'll be fun. Like a game. See, that's what I like about you, Dross. Even when I'm bored out of my mind, you make things fun. Like during that one Luke Steele match when I started to fall asleep and your toupee fell off. Good times. Okay, I'll play... Is it Marv Albert? TD: We did this bit last week, Steve. SR: Well, I know it's not Christopher Reeve...the chair's already out here. TD: Does the phrase "beaten into the ground" mean anything to you? SR: Beaten into the ground... you're not bringing Quigley out here, Dross. We've talked about this before... you keep Quigley away from me or I'll start talking about his rubber suit and Barbra Streisand mask. TD: Will you stop? SR: Man, I hope so. We've just started this "Coronation Clash Crusade Caravan of Justice Ticket to Ride Chocolicious Heartbreak Express Tour"... and already I'm exhausted. Do you s'pose Warnett has any of those special green pills he's always popping before the matches? TD: Let's get to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Lord Byron [c] vs. Tony Starks ----------------------------------------- WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee draws a spontaneous round of applause as he enters the ring holding up a "Vote Yes on D and F" sign.] SL: The following contest is set for one fall and is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! Introducing first, our special guest commentator... SR: All right, spill it, Dross. Craig Kilborn? Janet Reno? Vallerie Bertinelli? Sally Jesse Raphael? Bulldog Brown? Who the hell is the guest commentator? [The lights in the arena dim... and the buzzing crowd noise now explodes into a cataclysmic roar as the familiar red spotlight shines in the aisle and the sonorous words over the P.A. are said in time to their flashing on the video wall: "Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime."] SL: This _is_ Creed! [The hometown crowd stands and thumps out the familiar chant... "Creed! Creed! Creed!" as "Ode to Joy" soars throughout the arena... and Creed appears -- walking into the aisle!] TD: It's Creed! And he is on his feet! SR: Wow. The man can put one foot in front of the other. Let's just go take the belt away from Byron now -- because that's the only way this punk's ever gonna get it. [Creed gingerly makes his way down to the announce table, the outreached hands of his fans along the way. Creed's customary all-black look is augmented not only by his blood red left glove, but also the brass topped cane of Lord Byron, which Creed is using to support his weakened knee.] TD: Quite a reception for this young man on his return to his home, the San Francisco Bay Area. Welcome home, Creed. [Creed takes a headset and sits next to Roberts, the Soundbite shaking his head in obvious displeasure.] SR: How many jobs do you need to have, kid? You're a broadcaster this week... last week you made the Watkins/Verhoeven match -- the only thing it seems like you don't want to do any more is wrestle. When do you plan on announcing what everybody with a brain has already figured out... that you quit? Cr: How 'bout you back off, Roberts? We got a man about to be introduced -- don't wan't nobody to miss it. [Sparkplug Lee struggles to be heard over the still shouting partisan crowd, finally signalling for "C.R.E.A.M." by the Wu Tang Clan to begin, leading to another roar as he retakes the mic...] SL: The challenger... he weighs 269 pounds and hails from Staten Island, New York... Tony Starks! [Good pop from the crowd as Starks appears at the top of the aisle, the big man's white towel draped over his head shields his reaction as the crowd comes alive for "The Staten Island Sensation". Starks gives a nod of his head to Creed at the announce position as he climbs into the ring.] TD: Tough man here in Tony Starks. And a big moment for him as he fights for the Intercontinental title. SR: Who cares? Just another guy past his prime. You know, I don't know what it is abou this guy, every week somebody or other is beating him up -- and every week he keeps comin' back for more. Hey, you oughta get along with him real well, Creed. [Starks stares dead up the aisle, awaiting the arrival of Byron as Sparkplug continues.] SL: His opponent... accompanied to the ring by Lady DeWinter and the former IIWF Heavyweight Champion, Otto Verhoeven... he weighs 265lbs and currently resides in New Orleans... the IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Lord Byron! ["Intermezzo" from Sibelius' "Karelia" Suite heralds the arrival of the European Alliance, DeWinter leading the way with the Championship belt aloft. The Butcher snarls at the jeering crowd -- whose heel pop is enormous as they see Byron entire the aisle. The "Pay - Back! Pay - back! Pay - Back!" chant rises throughout the arena as the none-too-happy Champion takes his place in the ring.] TD: Not an easy time to be Lord Byron. Just this week, he lost not only an unbeaten streak, but his ESWP belt as well, to young Firestarter... and now, just seven short days after his narrow victory over Tiger Claw he's putting the IC belt up again -- and against one of the IIWF's toughest in Tony Starks. Cr: He's a busy man. Gotta figure a man that busy maybe overlooking a few things. SR: Oh, he's not overlooking you, Creed. Lord Byron knows all about you after that cheap stunt you pulled last week, stealing his cane. You can't get away with that for long, punk. The European Alliance won't put up with that kinda crap. [Byron takes his place in the ring, relinquishing the belt and then begins a mocking limp, pointing at Creed and grabbing his right knee in a sneering jab at the injury the European Alliance inflicted upon the rookie. Ding! Ding! Ding! Each man approaches the other warily, Byron offering a collar and elbow and Starks seeming as if he'll accept... but he feints, dives - and drives through Byron's midsection, knocking the champion to the canvas and then peppering him with a rapid series of right hands. Starks hops to his feet and lays into Byron with sharp boots to the ribs, the crowd hot as Byron frantically rolls around the ring, trying to avoid the almost maniacal Starks, who is now chasing him around the ring... kicking Byron around the ring... booting Byron around the ring until the Champion is able to scramble to the ropes and slide his way to the floor! Big Pop!] TD: Oh my! Surprising start for the challenger, Starks shows a little of his nasty side. SR: I showed a little of my nasty side once. TD: Really, how'd that turn out for you, Steve? SR: Best weekend of my life. [Byron stands up now outside the ring, Starks looks to follow but is dissuaded from so doing by the imposing presence of Verhoeven at ringside. Byron takes a moment to collect himself, whispering briefly with the Butcher and DeWinter - and then moves back into the ring. Starks looks to attack - but is prevented by the official... allowing Byron to cleanly return to the ring. This time, it's Starks who offers the lockup, Byron accepts, quickly moving to a standing side headlock, and then dropping down into a single leg takedown of the challenger. Byron moves to the arm, establishing an armbar, and then attacking the exposed flesh, the Intercontinental Champion driving two, three, four sharp knees into Starks' upper arm and then measuredly returns to the bar. But now it is Starks, ready with a forward flip counter taking him to his feet and putting him in position for wristlock of his own -- but Lord Byron is remarkably agile, countering the Starks maneuver with a quarter turn into a...] TD: Swinging neckbreaker! Oh my! Cr: Damn. That's where that Byron gets it done. Not just that he so good on the mat... lot of guys can grapple. Byron can pop a high-impact move and leave you cold. SR: Having flashbacks, kid? Just stay right here next to Poppa Soundbite and he'll protect you while the menfolk squabble. [Byron gives a quick look to the announce position, obviously informing the rookie Creed that it could have as easily been he on the receiving end of the snapping neckbreaker - before he drops down to Starks. Byron applies a reverse chinlock, but interestingly relinquishes it quickly, instead preferring to gouge the challenger's eye and accept the break by the official. Starks is more irritated with the Champion than injured, getting quickly to his feet -- and then returning immediately to the mat as Byron knife's a dropkick to the knee! Byron stays to his feet, maneuvering around Starks, grabbing a double leg and putting him into position for a...] TD: Slingshot to the buckle! Byron sends Starks slamming into that top turnbuckle... and I believe that one hurt the challenger. SR: Hell, that one hurt me, Dross. And I've taken so much of Warnett's demerol that I figure I'm pretty much immune to most human pain right about now. Hey, rook, why don't you punch me in the stomach? [Byron lands a couple of quick boots, then scoops Starks to his feet... backing him to the corner with deadly reverse knife edge chops... and then Byron crouches down to lift Starks up! Up to the mid... to the top buckle! Byron moves to follow... up to the top buckle, latching onto a front facelock...] TD: What's Byron doing? I think Byron's going for that Northern Lights Superplex we saw him use to defeat Tiger Claw last week! He's going to the top! Cr: Too early. [Byron readies himself for the superplex... but Starks is ready -- grapevining a leg with his own, and grabbing Byron's free leg with an arm... the two men teetering on the tope rope -- and then heading for the canvas!] TD: Oh my! Starks executes a top rope rolling cradle and he's... got a pinfall attempt... [Pop as the two men smack hard to the canvas...Starks able to maintain a tight hold as Byron is trapped for a - 1... But the momentum from the top is to much for Starks to halt, and the roll continues, and now it is Starks who is underneath for a - 1...] TD: They're still rolling... rolling over... rolling... out of the ring! SR: What the hell was that? Cr: Ain't you guys ever seen a super flying rolling cradle before? [The combatants attempt to extricate themselves from each other out on the floor, Byron seming to have taken the brunt of the fall, but neither man showing a great degree of equilibrium. Starks jabs a forearm to Byron's throat and then moves to whip him into the retaining barrier -- reverse -- and it's Starks who is sent flying hard into the guardrail! Heel Pop! Byron charges toward the barrier -- but Starks is prepared, catching him in a backdrop that sends the Englishman out over the rail... and into the crowd...] TD: He hangs onto Starks! He takes Starks over with him! Both men are out into the crowd! SR: Yeah! Now we're getting hardcore! You ain't got the guts to be in a match like this, rookie. Cr: You sleepin' during Ring Wars III, Roberts? SR: For part of it, hell, yeah! [Big pop as the two men are in the crowd, standing amidst a collection of young black men clad in "Anyone...Anywhere...Anytime" t-shirts, Byron and Starks stand and begin to brawl wildly, each landing huge haymakers on the other as the young men cheer stridently for Starks, shouting "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!" The cheers seems to inspire Starks, as his punches now grow more and more rapid, firing away at the Englishman... Byron is being pounded... pounded down to the...] TD: Oooh, that was low, folks -- Byron hit Starks somewhere around Bakersfield. [Pop as Byron capitalizes by grabbing a front waist and setting up for a belly-to-belly, lifting Starks up particularly high and taking him, taking him over the retaining barrier and back out to the floor!! Big... Big Pop!] TD: Oh my! What a suplex from Byron... he lifted Starks clean over his head and all the way back to the floor! Unbelievable power! SR: It's no shame to retire because of an injury, rookie. A lot of good men had to do it. Of course, you wouldn't fit into either of those categories. [Byron hops to the top of the guardrail -- leaping down with an elbow that catches -- Starks' boot! Face pop as Byron now staggers away, Starks moving to his feet and each man is able to drag himself underneath the bottom rope and into the ring. Byron and Starks warily regard each other as they return to their feet, finally locking up and it's Byron with a wristlock and then a quick hammerlock that he wrenches on Starks. The challenger attempts a back elbow that tantalizingly misses its target -- close enough that Byron moves to a waistlock... and is forced to hold on as Starks instinctively runs to the ropes. Byron holds onto Starks. Starks holds onto the ropes. Byron drops down looking for a roll up... and Starks maintains his hold on the ropes -- quickly pivoting -- and is Irish whipped hard by Byron into a facelock... and a front layout suplex! Byron executes that patented front layout suplex, sneering to a big pop from the crowd as Byron quickly moves to the legs...] TD: And Starks rolls him up! There's a one... [...Byron jabs a thumb to the eye and hops to his feet, but is then thumped back to the mat with a dragon screw legwhip by a snarling Starks! Big Pop as Starks lays into the fallen Byron, punching him with closed fists to the knee which has just been taken out by that dragon screw!] TD: We might have a new champion! We might have a new champion right there! SR: Unfair! Unfair! How can a man attack another man's knee like that? Cr: Hard to figure. [Starks responds to the crowd's exhortations by viciously driving elbows into Byron's knee, pounding away... driving away at the Intercontinental Champion, now moving to a step over toe hold and lifting Byron quickly... into the... Big Face Pop!] TD: Texas Clover Leaf! Texas Clover Leaf! [Byron's down in the clover leaf only briefly as Verhoeven shoves the lower rope for his eager grasp. Starks breaks the hold -- but then dives back atop Byron and smothers the champ with a flurry of blows... Starks and Byron are tangled in those ropes near Verhoven, Starks drawing a huge crowd pop as he refuses the official's command to break and continues his assault on the Englishman.] TD: I don't know if we've ever seen this type of all out assault by Tony Starks before -- it almost seems as if he's less interested in winning the title than he is in putting Byron out of commission. Cr: Starks is a dangerous man. Know a little bit about his past; used to do a little backroom work. Man like that can be useful. SR: What the hell is your deal with Starks and Watkins -- you guys some junior black panthers or something? Cr: Yeah, that's it, Roberts. Couple of brothers at the same place at the same time, you think it's some kind of movement. SR: Well, you'd better be moving it on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky, rookie -- there ain't no way you want none of Byron. [The official manages to put himself between the two men, but not before Otto is able to get in a couple of shots on Starks. Byron is clearly badly hurt, limping, nearly doubled over with pain as he walks away from Starks, who senses his opportunity and attacks... ...and is hit with a righthand to the midsection - then a gutwrench suplex that takes Starks hard to the canvas! Heel Pop! Byron drops a leg over the throat of Starks, but does not look to apply a submission maneuver, instead lifting Starks to his feet -- whipping him farside -- and leveling the challenger with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker that stuns the crowd and leads to Byron's once again taunting the rookie Creed. Big Pop!] TD: He was playing possum, Steve Roberts. Byron is hurt -- but not hurt as badly as he was intimating. And now he is in control once more! Cr: Man is smart. Man is strong. Man can go, what can I say? The man can go. [Byron now looks to establish control, snapping a legdrop over the neck of the fallen Starks as Otto claps his approval and barks some type of suggestion to Byron in German. The Champion smiles, drops an additional two legs on Starks - and then begins to lift him to his feet while pointing in the direction of Creed.] TD: I don't think Lord Byron much likes you, Creed. Cr: I think he a little obsessed with me. Maybe it keep him up late at night. Two, three, four in the morning, maybe wondering if I'm the man who should be called the "best wrestler in the world". SR: Hah! The only reason Lord Byron would be awake at 3 in the morning is if you kept calling his house and asking if he had Prince Albert in a can, rookie. [Byron whips Starks nearside... then lifts him up for a...] TD: Chokeslam! NO! Reverse! [Byron's attempt to chokeslam Starks backfires, as the "Staten Island Sensation" uses the champion's momentum against him to execute a tremendous blockbuster suplex that slams Byron down to the canvas and brings a huge roar from the crowd... "Pay - Back! Pay - Back! Pay - Back!"] TD: The height was amazing. Tony Starks literally came from nowhere with that high-impact suplex. Listen to these people! Cr: Credit out to Starks, takes a man to stand in there with Byron. Maybe we gonna get two new champions tonight. Maybe we get three. SR: Okay, one -- what's with the glove, Michael Jackson went out with the Rubik's cube. Two -- not only won't we see the title switch here, I guarantee we won't see that ingrate Thunder become IIWF Champion tonight. This is Syndicate time and we are living in a Syndicate world. [Starks makes two quick pinfall attempts, but neither one is successful as the challenger continues to seem primarily interested in dishing out punishment. Starks uses a lateral press to gouge an eye, and hooks a leg in order to shoot a forearm to the "lower midsection." Starks drops and elbow to the throat - and attempts to lift Byron to his feet - but the Champion is there with a grab of the tights and an inside cradle... 1 -- 2 -- No! Kickout by Starks. Byron wobbles to his feet as Starks leaps toward him with a clothesline attempt that Byron dodges, and upon Starks' turning around he is hit on the butt of the jaw with a textbook standing drop kick that takes him to the ropes... and over the top as Otto pulls the rope down! Big Dropkick Pop!] TD: The man has really shown the arsenal tonight, we have talked about the different mindset that Starks is showing -- but what about Byron? Where are the constant submission attempts? We have seen him put on just a blistering offensive barrage. And look at the Butcher! [Byron has distracted the official, allowing Verhoeven to really go to work on Starks on the outside, laying into the challenger with big boots before dumping him back into the ring. Byron is methodical now, snapping consecutive suplexes, each with a bridge... and each with a nearfall. The Champion is clearly through with this man now, through with Starks and through with Creed on the outside -- not even giving his rival a glance as he brings Starks down again, this time with a german suplex and the cover... 1 -- 2 -- No! Byron does not hesitate -- his machine seeming to have kicked in to an extra gear -- as he stands the challenger to his feet, and then hits him with a succession of European uppercuts before whipping him farside -- leapfrog by Starks -- and on the pass Byron attempts a hiptoss -- blocked -- and is sent over with a hiplock takeover by Starks which has Byron flying nearly to the other side of the ring! Pop! Byron rises quickly..and is hit with a flying shoulderblock by Starks which takes the champion off his feet again! Pop!] TD: Starks will not die! He will not die! He is summoning energy from this crowd... and he is on fire! [Byron's next two rises are quickly stopped by Starks, who rocks the cool Champion with successive clotheslines and then a whip into a press slam that brings not only the champion, but the house down as well, the "Pay - back!" chant now taking on a double meaning, as it seems Creed is not the only superstar looking to settle a score with the Alliance. Starks drops as if to cover, but instead viciously lays in a series of kicks to the champion's head and shoulders! Starks is really looking to inflict punishment on Byron who covers up and attempts to roll away, attempts to roll out to the floor yet again...] TD: But he can't! No, no Mr. Byron! This dance ain't over yet! [Starks grabs the champion to his feet and wags an finger in front of his face, Byron attempts a feeble looking right hand... which is blocked by Starks, who counters with five, six, seven rights of his own that drive the champion back to the ropes! Pop as Starks winds up for the Irish whip -- and comes off the backropes with a clothesline that literally shatters...] TD: Nothing! Byron slipped the lariat and he's lifting... he is lifting... OH MY! SR: Turn out the lights, baby dolls. [Byron reached down with his slip of the clothesline and lifted Starks into a vertical suplex that he converted into a piledriver and knocked the challenger clean out.] TD: Remarkable display of power by the champion. What a maneuver. Cr: It's a square driver -- the power's generated through the vector motion. Impressive as hell. SR: Vector? The only thing you know about vector is that you've seen your last "vectory" in this sport, rookie. You are done. [Byron's square driver seems to leave Starks at his mercy, he eschews a cover now, bending over to slap at the challenger's face, smacking away at Starks as he taunts the fallen challenger. Byron gives one good kick to the ribs and then turns his back on Starks... now looking directly at Creed and making the motion for the belt around his waist. Byron's telling Creed that he'll never be able to wear his belt as he is completely ignoring the popping crowd that indicates that Tony Starks is rising... Tony Starks is getting to his feet... Tony Starks is about to take a shot at the defenseless... Byron nails the incoming Starks with a back elbow! Then moves behind for a snapping half-nelson and a crucifix armbar... that he is able to turn... Starks turns completely over into a suplex to the mat... and Byron maintains the hold as he tightly locks Starks in... nowhere to go... it's a la magesterial cradle and the official falls to his knees as there's a bridge by Byron... 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner... as a result of a pinfall... and _STILL_ IIWF Intercontinental Champion... LORD BYRON! [Byron hops to his feet with a huge smile, and takes a mock bow at Creed as Otto enters the ring, Lady DeWinter attempting to join... but she is commanded to the back by Byron as he and Verhoeven now circle the fallen Starks.] TD: Byron does it again, he sets the aggressive Starks up -- and then with a remarkable maneuver defeats his ever-so-game opponent. Cr: La magesterial cradle beat anybody. Almost anybody. [Byron now appears to have a bit of a gleam in his eye as he holds the championship belt aloft, holds it over Starks' head... and then he and Otto begin to put the boots to Starks! The European Alliance is putting the boots to Starks as the crowd begins to chant incrreasingly more loudly... "Creed! Creed! Creed!"] TD: You just sit here, Creed. This is bad business... Creed... [The rookie tosses away his headset and begins his limp to the base of the apron, the crowd roaring with his slow movement.] SR: Hah! They're setting up the kid again, Dross! They're setting him up -- his knee isn't ready! Creed's gonna get wiped out one more time! [Creed stands at the base of the apron, his weight upon Byron's brass topped cane as Otto and Byron continue to taunt him from the inside. Byron sneering at the rookie as he stomps Starks again... and again... and again!] SR: He's gutless, Dross! He's a coward! The rookie is scared to death of Lord Byron and the European Alliance! [Byron gets set to bring the belt down atop the head of Starks... Otto lifting Starks into the air as Byron winds up... the crowd screaming for the injured Creed to do something... anything... Creed then tosses the brass topped cane high into the air -- over the heads of Byron and Verhoeven... Big Pop!] TD: It's Mad Dog Watkins! It's Mad Dog Watkins! [Watkins leaps into the ring to a big pop, snatches the cane from mid-air and brings the cane down hard on the backs of Verhoeven and Byron! Big Pop! Watkins canes the Euros again... snapping the cane clean in half over the back of the Byron and then clotheslining Verhoeven over the tope rope while simultaneously Creed reaches up and pulls Starks free to the floor. The Cow Palace crowd roars its approval as Starks collects himself and charges at the Butcher, the two men wildly brawling into, and then up the aisle and disappearing into the back. Watkins advances on Byron, putting the boots to him as the Intercontinental champion is still out from the shots via his own cane. Creed hops to the apron and enters the ring, pointing at Watkins and then to the crowd... which begins a roar that belongs entirely to the veteran... "Mad - Dog! Mad - Dog! Mad - Dog!" Watkins looks about, then points at Creed and raises his hand aloft, yelling out: "Here's the man! Here's the man!" Watkins then begins laying the boots in on Byron again, motioning for Creed to do the same, motioning for Creed to attack the knee of the fallen champion. The rookie shakes his head, signifying that it's enough, that he and Watkins should go to the back... Creed turns to a huge roar, looking to exit the ring -- and is then clipped from behind by the leaping Byron!] SR: He got him again, Dross! I knew he'd get him again! I love it! [Byron clips Creed's knee and rips off a couple of right hands before Watkins is able to pull the champion off, backing him down... and Byron makes his way from the ring, grabbing the Intercontinental belt and holding it aloft as he exits the arena. Watkins helps Creed to his feet and gets in his face, Watkins clearly upset with the young man, explaining that he shouldn't have turned his back on the champion. Watkins makes a motion as if that Byron needed to be kicked again, needed to be put away. Creed nods slowly at the veteran, and accepts his help from the ring, the crowd gving their local favorite a standing ovation as he and Watkins exit.] TD: Well, Lord Byron is still Intercontinental Champion -- and maybe he was taught a little lesson in humility by Mad Dog Watkins. SR: The guy who was taught a lesson here was Creed. Watkins told him to finish Byron off -- and the rookie couldn't do it. Didn't have the stomach for it. Wouldn't pay the price. He's getting soft, Dross. Too much time with the kids, too much time in that chair -- he isn't man enough to hang with Watkins, much less Lord Byron. TD: I don't know if that's the case at all. I think Creed's trying to prove to Lord Byron that he isn't some brainless thug. Byron has questioned this man's intelligence -- and it looks to me like it was the rookie who came out on top tonight. SR: Who's got the belt? Who still hasn't wrestled since Birthday Bash? Enough said.