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  1. #1
    The Brain
    Join Date
    May 2018

    Dead Or Alive 2019: Under New Management (First Round Battles)

    I look out over The Island.

    Ashes, as far as the eye can see.

    The departure of The Creator had left only dust. I reach down my hand and sift the sand. So fine, seemingly no trace of what had come before, yet every drop of blood, every inch of madness still present for those who knew how to look.

    A thousand worlds contained in each grain.

    Endless possibilities.

    “I will call them again”, I whisper softly. No one hears me.

    “Our power shall rise again. Darker, stronger...


    I turn and see the palace, at the heart of which lies The Control. It has arisen without a sound, sensing a new master had come.

    “So it begins...”



    Written by Rob S

    “¿Por qué trajo a su hijo?”

    “Brother I don’t know why he brought his damn kid. All I know is we were told we had to fight Bobby Lashley and his partner. Damn kid looks like a Bobby Lashley Shrinky Dink.”

    “No importa con quién peleamos porque soy Pentagon Junior y no CERO MIEDO”

    “Dammit brother will you pipe down. If they hear us you’ll have CERO VIDA. I didn’t come all the way to this shithole island to get taken out by the Jolly Green Giant and Sprout. The dude mentioned something about a cash prize, and if we can win this whole thing we might have enough money to save the Temple.”

    Not appreciating being scolded by Vampiro, Pentagon storms off towards the trees, Super Kicking some shrubbery along the way. Pentagon stops, as his heightened senses detect movement just ahead. Like a ninja, Pentagon creeps slowly forward, circling his prey from the rear. He leaps forth, grabbing the lurker from behind and scooping him into his arms, delivering a savage Package Piledriver. Pentagon hears bones break; another opponent vanquished. He screams into the night.


    Hearing the ruckus, Vampiro runs towards his partner.

    “Shit brother, there’s no way they didn’t hear that. Now if you’re done killing that deer can we please get down to business?”

    Pentagon looks down, seeing the doe-eyed animal below. He hangs his head in shame, muttering to himself.

    “Lo siento hermoso ciervo. Te lloraré por ti.”

    Lashley drops the weights to the ground, treacherously close to Lio Rush’s foot.

    “Damn man, you almost broke my toes. And have you seen these shoes? They were like $300. You know the Hype Man gotta look good.”

    “You heard that right? Tell me you heard that? I think it’s time.”

    “Man, there’s no way those Lucha Underground idiots are even going to show up. And if they did do you think they’d step to The ALMIGHTY BOBBY LASHLEY in a gym of all places? This is like your second home. Now hit me with those glutes.”

    Lashley turns around, flexing his ample ass muscles with vigor. Their power so great, it’s as if the air around them rippled from the movement. Lio Rush found himself oddly aroused.

    “There it is. That’s the pose that goes and goes. Now hit me with a double bicep. Gotta see the double bicep.”

    Lashley flexes again, both arms seemingly growing new muscle as they flex. Lio Rush was growing a new muscle too, one that was becoming slightly embarrassing.

    “Ain’t no way that some masked ninja freak and a decrepit announcer have any chance of taking us on. It’s just that simple.”

    Lashley let Lio talk, but he knew better. He’d watched video of Pentagon. He knew what the man could do, if he even was a man. There were rumours of an ancient spirit inhabiting his body, the spirit of an ancient Aztec warrior. That wasn’t anything to be taken lightly. If they were going to win it would have to be Vampiro they took out. His body was beaten and broken from years of battle. Yes, it must be Vampiro.

    Rush looked on at Lashley. Their relationship was complicated. He’d let his boss down more times than he could count, but he also helped him reclaim the Intercontinental Title. He wasn’t going to let two lowlifes interfere in their ultimate victory in DOA.

    Pentagon had made his way to the roof of the gym with ease. Vampiro on the other hand was struggling to scale the building, gasping for air and in need of assistance.

    “Brother, come here and pull me up will you? I’m not as young as you are.”

    Pentagon chuckles at the old man. If he wasn’t needed for this tournament he’d snap his neck himself. Hell, he still might when it’s all over.

    Vampiro, wheezing from exhaustion, collapses on the roof, but Pentagon knows there is no time for rest as their advantage is lost thanks to him and his monumental battle with the deer. He looks through the skylight at their opponents below and without hesitation leaps through the glass into the fray.

    “What the fuck? Couldn’t you have given me a minute?”

    Lashley and Rush look up to see glass raining down on them from above along with a black clad figure wielding nunchakus. Taking advantage of the falling glass, Pentagon strikes Lio Rush with a beautiful kick to the chest as he descends towards the floor. Rush stumbles backwards, tripping over medicine balls like they were marbles on a floor.

    As Pentagon gains his balance, Lashley grabs a 50lb dumbbell, tossing it towards the head of the mysterious ninja. Pentagon ducks, sweeping the leg out from Lashley in the process sending him to the floor. He knows that with the small child down it’s a one on one battle, and no one can take Pentagon by themselves.

    Lashley recovers, trying to locate Lio. From the corner of his eye he sees Rush still stumbling around the medicine balls like somebody’s drunk uncle at a 4 th of July party. Pentagon comes forward, nunchaku spinning wildly at his prey. Lashley looks around, grabbing the weight bar like a sword.

    “Bring it you skeleton looking freak. I’ll take your head off and when I’m done I’ll skull fuck you with Lio Rush.”

    Lio catches his balance, looking at The Almighty unhappily.

    “HELL NO!”

    The two warriors are in a standoff as Lashley continually blocks Pentagons blows with the weight bar. Bobby swings the steel mightily, but Pentagon leaps over the strike, catching Lashley across the face with his foot.

    “He golpeado las cejas de tu cara.”

    “Nah man, The Almighty didn’t have any eyebrows to begin with. Wait, how did I know what he just said?”

    Lio grabs the 5lb free weights, chucking them at Pentagon like body building throwing stars, and quite frankly it’s about all Lio could lift. Pentagon ducks the first two, but the third one strikes him in the forehead, sending him reeling to the floor.

    “Hah! Did you see that Bobby. I knocked him down. Did you see it? Did you? Please give me positive reinforcement.”

    “Yes Lio I saw you knock him down. Now get your ass over here so we can finish this.”

    Lashley picks up his fallen opponent, dragging him towards the weight bench ahead. Pentagon, still clearing his head, looks around for his partner, still nowhere to be found.

    “Lo enviaré directamente al infierno”

    As the big man continues to drag him, Pentagon reaches down into his boot for the blade. He barely gets a hold of it, but grab it he does. With one quick motion he slices the Achilles of Lashley, sending him stumbling to the ground. With his grip released, Pentagon jumps on the back of the fallen Lashley, ready to end this once and for all. Before he can bring the blade down, Lio Rush drop kicks Pentagon to the back of the head, sending him falling forward next to the Intercontinental Champion. Rush sees that Pentagon has dropped the blade. Both men scramble for the weapon, both grabbing it at the same time. Lio knows that Pentagon is the stronger man but he won’t let The Almighty fall.

    Pentagon has fought alone, and to be fair he prefers it that way. He gains momentum, rolling Lio Rush to his back. Lashley is down but not out, but it will be the child that will fall instead. He muscles the blade towards Rush’s face. He will win this battle. He is Pentagon Junior and he is CERO MIEDO!

    Lio Rush knows he has let his partner down again. He cannot hold off Pentagon.

    Pentagon knows that there is no one that can defeat him. The blade nears the jugular.


    “This battle is over. Congratulations to Bobby Lashley and Lio Rush. They advance to the next round.”

    Pentagon is confused. Lio Rush is confused. Bobby Lashley is passed out, but still confused. How?


    “Vampiro had a heart attack on the roof.”

    Lio Rush cannot help but laugh. Pentagon rolls off his opponent in disgust.

    “Hijo de Puta”


    Match #2: MARYSE & THE MIZ vs. GEDO & JAY WHITE


    Written by kingzak13

    “I got the parasol and the tanning cream, time to own this beach” Said The Miz as he began setting up the parasol above Maryse.

    Maryse was laid down on a towel watching as her husband set everything up. “I can’t believe WWE sent us on an island vacation”

    Miz finished setting up the parasol and took a seat next to his wife “I guess it some sort of loyalty gift. We should send a muffin basket or something to say thanks” Miz says as he begins rubbing the sun lotion on his pregnant wife.

    Meanwhile about 300ms away in some bushes.

    Jay White arrived carrying a plethora of weaponry; he places them down next to his partner in crime. Gedo has not broken focus on the It Couple, watching them intently through a pair of binoculars. Jay hears a small amount of rustling below the two and looks down. White quickly looks away in disgust.

    “Put it away Gedo” White says in hushed angry tones.
    “Fuck that, I’m not dying with blue balls” Gedo replies
    “We aren’t dying period, now grab some weapons and once they are dead maybe you can sort yourself out … far away from where we sleep”
    Gedo grunts in agreement as he grabs a hold of a sword, a bow and arrow and a club, same as what Jay had already on him. The two approach the couple chilling on the beach.

    Miz looks up and sees the two approaching him, “Look sweetheart, some sort of gladiatorial entertainers” Maryse sits up to look at the two while Miz addresses them “Sorry but we’re just here to chillax, we’ll pass on the show but thanks for the offer”

    The two Bullet Clubbers exchange a look, before Jay opens his mouth.

    “You two do know you’re here for a tournament right” Jay says

    “Damn, knew there would be a catch to an island getaway, figures that WWE send their best to win it for them” Miz said.

    “It’s not a wrestling tournament” Gedo says as he unsheathes his sword.
    “This is DOA, a death tournament, we’re here to kill you” Jay continues
    “Well one of you at the very least” Gedo says
    “d..d..Death” Maryse exclaims as her hands move to protect the unborn child
    The Miz looks at the two armed men, “I see, before you kill us, can I make a request”

    “I guess” Jay says.

    “Think fast” The Miz says, as he quickly grabs a handful of sand and throws it at the two’s face “RUN” he screams as he grabs Maryse’s hand to help his wife up and the two make their escape.

    Gedo draws his bow and an arrow and fires despite the sand in his eyes, the arrow misses the two as they continue to run.

    The Bullet Club get the sand out of their eyes, and they look around to see that The It Couple has slipped through their grass.

    Jay hands Gedo an earpiece “contact me if you spot them” before he heads back into the jungle to see if they went that way. Gedo heads up the beach.


    The It Couple reach a clearing before stopping. Maryse collapses to her knees, exhausted.

    “It’s okay, we can handle this” The Miz says in an effort to reassure his wife.

    “IT’S NOT OKAY MIKE” Maryse yells, “We are stranded on an island with a couple of psychos hunting and trying to kill us, and to make matters worse, everything we brought to the island is left on the beach”

    “Not everything” Miz says as he pulled his cell phone from a pocket in his swimming shorts.

    Miz dials 999 to try and see if he could get help.

    “DOA Island support, my name’s Steve how may I direct your call”

    “Hi Steve, listen, we’ve been entered into this tournament without our knowledge and we need to get off of this island as soon as possible”

    “Alright, I’ll text through some instructions on how to get off of the island” Steve replies.

    “Thank you, I don’t use the word often but you’re AWESOME” Miz says as he hangs up the phone.

    Moments later his phone buzzes and the two look at Miz’s phone to see what has been sent

    Miz immediately tries to call the number again but his phone freezes and lets out a puff of smoke.

    “We are going to die on this island” Maryse says

    “No, I’ll find a way to get you out of here, even if …” The Miz says as he embraces his wife.

    “Don’t talk like that” Maryse says, tears welling in her eyes. “We can make it out … all three of us”

    The couple hug

    “Ok so how do we escape an island” The Miz says
    “Boat” Maryse says,
    “No, even if there are boats, they are probably guarded” The Miz says.
    “Plus escaping by boat sounds like such a cliché” Maryse says

    As the two continue to brainstorm, it begins raining on the island. The two quickly take cover under a nearby tree.

    The Miz looks around and spot a nearby mountain with a small opening
    “Come on, lets head to that cave, we can hide their and think of a plan” The Miz says and the two head towards the mountain.


    The It Couple reach a cliff face, the cave is up about 20 foot.

    As luck would have it, their was a rope ladder dangling from the cliff, Maryse begins to climb the ladder, The Miz holds the bottom to stabalise the ladder.

    Maryse reaches the top and The Miz begins climbing the ladder. As he gets close to the top, an arrow hits the ladder string, severing it. The ladder still attatched but dangling, Miz spins around to see, Gedo with a bow and arrow, sat in a nearby tree. He takes aim at The Miz, and fires.

    The Miz releases the ladder, choosing the fifteen foot drop over the arrow.

    Gedo takes aim at the recovering Miz with a third arrow.

    However fate smiled on the awesome one, a bolt of lightning struck the tree at the base, causing it to fall. Gedo leapt from the tree near the bottom to minimise impact, however he hits the ground hard, dropping a sword.

    The Miz quickly grabs the sword and charges at Gedo looking for an easy kill, he swings but it’s blocked by another blade of Gedo’s.

    Gedo gets to his feet and the two men begin a duel, Gedo swings but Miz dodges, Miz lunges but Gedo blocks. The two trade blows, steel on steel.

    The two lock blades once again, The Miz takes advantage of the closeness and hits a big right hand to Gedo’s face, Gedo drops the sword and stumbles back a bit, Miz rears up a swing when an arrow flies in and cuts his forearm.

    Miz turns and see Jay White stood there; he quickly draws his sword and charges towards The Miz.

    Miz retreats, two on one wouldn’t end well for him.

    The Bullet Club draws their bow and arrow and fire at him.

    Miz dives into a bush just off the path he was taking, the arrows whiz past his location and fall just short of a bear.

    The bear turns to look at the direction the arrows came from, The Bullet Club see the bear too drawing their swords and backing away slowly.

    The bear lets out a roar before charging towards the two.

    The Bullet Club attempt to run but the bear was surprisingly fast.

    The Miz looks up at the cliff to see Maryse gesturing to a tree nearby, it is a tall tree with a branch in line with the cliff face.

    The Miz quickly heads to the tree, before beginning to climb it.

    As he does, he hears a scream from above; The Miz looks up and sees a wolf approaching his wife.

    Miz redoubles his efforts and climbs the tree as quick as he could.

    He reaches the branch and quickly runs and leaps, just about landing on the cliff top. He draws his stolen sword and runs to protect his wife.

    The wolf leaps at Maryse, who ducks in cover, The Miz charges in and hits the wolf with a shoulder tackle, the beast tumbles back a few foot.

    “Get in the cave sweetheart” The Miz says.

    Maryse heads into the cave, as the rain pours down around the two.

    The wolf charges The Miz, Miz swings his sword at the wolf.


    Maryse is sat on the floor of the cave near the back, safe from the storm and from any other wild beasts. The growls and the sound of steel on stone echoing throughout the cave.

    Maryse places a hand on her baby bump, the baby was surprisingly active for its age.

    “It’s okay little one, daddy will keep us safe” she says, both to calm the baby and reassure herself.

    She looks up and sees The Miz standing there, bruised, clawed, bleeding but still alive.

    The Miz walks over, and slumps down next to his wife.

    “Are you alright” Maryse asks

    “I’ll be fine” The Miz says, “I managed to send the wolf over the edge of the cliff, lost the sword at the same time”

    “But what if those two comeback” Maryse asks.

    “I couldn’t see them or the bear when I looked over the edge” The Miz says “so hopefully that bear has done it’s job”

    The It Couple snuggle together for warmth. Maryse yawns as her head presses into The Miz’s chest.



    The It Couples eyes slowly flutter open to see what they had feared standing in the entry way of the caves. A flash of lightning illuminates a blood drenched Jay White and Gedo.

    Maryse clutches her knees to her chest, as much as she can with the baby anyway. Miz clutches her, looking for what would likely be the two’s last embrace.

    “You made this way harder on us that this had any right to be” Jay says, “So I guess kudos for that, but in the end, the Bullet Club always hits it’s mark”

    “Really, Really” The Miz says as he gets to his feet “That is the one liner you use before killing me, You are looking at the most must see wrestler in WWE and that cheap, lame quip is the last thing I’m going to hear” Miz berates the two who look at each other in disbelief

    “We have been tracking you for the past twenty four hours, without sleep, and just had to fight and kill a fucking bear, so sorry for not offering a good one-liner, BUT I’VE BEEN KINDA BUSY” Jay yells at the It Couple “Now if you don’t mind, we are going to kill you now, hopefully that doesn’t fucking disappoint you” the two begin to advance on the couple.

    “Hold on” The Miz says.

    “No, no more talking, it’s time we finish this” Jay says

    “wait, you said you only needed to kill one of us” The Miz says

    “Yeah, to advance to the next round, we need to kill at least one member of the enemy team” White says

    “I volunteer” The Miz says.

    Maryse looks up at her husband,

    The Miz turns back to Maryse, “I promised I would get you out of here, and I don’t break promises”

    The Miz collapses to his hands and knees, Jay had shot him in the back with an arrow.

    “It’s a noble thing you do” Gedo says

    The two approach The Miz’s body.

    Maryse look on in terror as the two prepare to finish The Miz.

    Maryse lets out a guttural scream, and suddenly a jet of flames shoots from between her legs. The stream of flames narrowly misses the Bullet Club

    “What the actual fuck” Jay says, the three men all look at Maryse in shock.

    The fire stream dies down, now arcing into the ground, the flames quickly forms a circle, and then moves inwards forming a pentagram.

    A clawed hand shoots out of Maryse’s vagina, followed by a second. The hands grab a hold of her outer body and begin to push themseleves out. A blood drenched head, eyes wide and crimson, the creature grins, display it’s fang like teeth and forked tongue.

    The creature launches itself out of Maryse’s vagina at the Bullet Club. The demonic creature lands clawing onto Gedo’s chest, before it sinks it’s teeth deep into his neck, causing a big spray of blood.

    Jay grabs at the creature and pulls it off of Gedo and throws it at the cave wall to their right. Gedo collapses to the floor, blood pouring from his neck.

    The creature catches itself on the wall and begins crawling along and onto the ceiling, it quickly reaches above Jay’s head, Jay quickly thrusts his sword into the ceiling, stabbing directly through the demons chest.

    Black blood oozes down the blade and the demon goes limp, it’s body slides down the sword which despite a pull by Jay, remains stuck in the ceiling. The body reaches Jay’s hand and the eyes light up, the claws sink into Jays upper arm and pull, ripping his arm from his body.

    The creature falls from the sword, the wound healed by the time it hit the ground. It launches itself at the screaming man.

    The It Couple look on in terror as blood and body parts litter the cave.


    Meanwhile in 2004

    “And the winner of Tough Enough season four is” “Daniel Puder”

    The TV turns off, Miz sat watching the show again, his dream crushed. He wasn’t The Miz anymore, he was back to being just Mike

    Mike sighs and heads to his apartment kitchen.

    He grabs a can of beer from the fridge.

    “I would give anything to be a wrestler” Mike mutters under his breath. “I’d do way better at it than Puder would”

    “Anything” a voice behind him says.

    He turns around to see a demon leant in the doorway.

    The Miz falls to the ground, screaming and scrambling to get away.

    “Yeah they all have that reaction” the Demon says dryly “and that is why I mute your voice, I’m the only one who can hear you right now”

    “What do you want” Mike says in between catching his breath.

    “This isn’t so much about what I want” The Demon says “I’m more interested in what you want, you see I’m one of those demons that goes around and grants peoples wishes and dream in exchange for a small cost”

    The demon opens his hand and in a small puff of flame, a contract and a pen appear floating in the air.

    “Just sign this and you can have everything you wanted” The Demon says “You can be a wrestler, you can main event WrestleMania, you can have a wife that is way out of your league”

    “I didn’t mention anything about that” Mike says

    “Do you not want a hot wife?” The Demon asks

    “I didn’t say that, anyway how do I even know your real” Mike quickly replies

    “Well if I’m not real then this isn’t going to affect your life, but if I am real” The Demon says as he grabs the floating pen and offers it to Mike

    “And what do you want in return” Mike asks, knowing that these deals are bound to comeback to bite him some how

    “Nothing much” The Demon says “Just the spirit of your first born son”

    Mike looks at The Demon, then at the contract and then at the mirror. Mike takes the pen and grabs the contract,

    “Pleasure doing business Miz” the demon says.

    Just as the demon says this, Mikes cell phone begins to ring. He answers

    “Hi Mike, its Jim from WWE”


    Back in 2019

    The creature has ripped the two members of The Bullet Club to shreds

    “AWESOME” The demon baby yells as it begins playing around in a puddle of blood and chewing on the severed arm of Jay White.

    Maryse is still looking at the scene in horror.

    The Miz turns to his wife, and says

    “So in sticking with the classic actors, I think we should call him Charlie”


    The violence has begun, still strange and disturbing, still absurd and gory. The precious lifeblood of The Island was flowing once again.

    More would come soon.

    Much, much more...

  2. #2
    Forgotten Ponder Super Hoody's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2018

    When I saw Pentagon, I was thinking there’s no way his team would lose. I thought wrong lol.

    As for Miz and Mrs. Fucking hell.....

  3. #3
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    May 2018
    YAY! The Island lives, as I knew it would. There is certainly no destroying DOA Island, and it's as if things have started anew. Go figure!

    Anyway, let's talk battles.

    That first battle is some damn fine stuff right there. I'm not sure I've read anything from that guy before but he's creative as hell. I mean he captured the spirit of Lashley and Lio and of Pentagon and Vampiro. It had humor, action, brutality and physical fitness. What more could you ask for? Great stuff from that guy. He's a real gem! ;-)

    Zak's battle is all kinds of crazy. I mean I was really digging it originally and then it took a hard left turn into bizarre. I did not see demon baby possession coming at all. Of course that would be how The Miz got where he is today. It makes complete and total sense now. Duh! My one regret is that Jay White didn't use a Switchblade. I mean come on, it was right there.

    Great fun! More please.

  4. #4
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    May 2018
    I want to reach into my screen and cuddle this. It make me so happy to see it back.

  5. #5
    Senior Member Gooner's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2018
    Newcastle upon Tyne
    I nearly choked on my tea at work while reading this...

    I can't remember seeing this type of column in the past, but obviously from the feedback, it's a real crowd-pleaser. Looking forward for the next instalment!

    I've tried taking up column writing, check it out here!

    Words from a Gooner #2: 7 Treatments for Wrestlemania Fever

  6. #6
    Fantastic! This was the most purely fun reading I've done in a while. I got totally absorbed in both narratives, leaving behind any expectations. Great plot twists and comedic moments in both of these, can't wait to see what comes next.

  7. #7
    The Brain
    Join Date
    May 2018
    The spectators to the bloodshed are gathering... their lust for violence feeds The Island. Strength is regained.

    This is why I have come back. Let the carnage continue...

    Match #3: Konnan & LAX vs. Famous B & Texano


    Written by Benjamin Button

    Wearing a ballcap, Santana pinched a tick off his face. Feeling it’s drain release, he wondered how his compadre, Ortiz, could stand to keep an afro. What bugs from the island must be infesting it? In a cabin in one of the few parts of the island that had electricity (because it was located in the area around the manufacturing plants), the men stood and watched the TV. Santana hoped the DVD given to him of the Unites States President would tell him what day they lived in or at least what month. He’d lost track. But by the seasons that’d come and gone¸ he figured it to be sometime in 2026.

    President Mike Pence proclaimed, “greetings to those on the unknown island. Greetings to you from the descendants of the United States settlers! With relocations of both legal and illegal immigrant males from the southern border and the black males, who have felonies, to your new destined land; we believe as businesses grow there, we will have the highest employed minority rate in our country’s history. While you cannot vote from the island, your thoughts and prayers are with us. We’ve recently received a report of how you’ve used for trading the guns and bullets we pay you for working in the plants. We are thrilled that your second amendment rights built an economy!”

    The cabin door creaked open. Santana saw Ortiz eye the DVD remote control in his hand.

    “Yo, turn it off. He’s here.” Ortiz said.

    Santana couldn’t make his hand lift the remote. He felt resentment restrain him. He looked ahead empty of thought, void of expression, but filled with anger.

    A shadow of a bald head and a stout body emerged at the door at the end of the cabin. The man stood there two seconds then screamed, “turn that fuckin’ gringo off!”

    Santana couldn’t lift his hand to turn the DVD off.

    The man in the shadow, Konnan, emerged in the light. He swaggered back and forth at Ortiz and Santana with a hard grimace underneath his shades. Then he said, “you fuckin’ republicans now, putos?”

    Ortiz replied, “it aint like that, K-dawg, we were just—”

    Konnan put his hand in Ortiz face, “the hand don’t know English or Spanish.” He turned and looked at Santana and yelled,” Santana! Why you still watching this!”

    Finally, as Santana heard Konnan yell his name, his regret toward Konnan took words. Why should he listen to Konnan now? Listening to Konnan got him on this hellhole in the first place.

    From the TV Mike Pence said, “I know you are without women on the island, but I’ve been watching lifespans of our feline friends here in the United States grow longer. That reports to me you are withholding yourselves from unnatural relationships amongst yourselves. Thank you, also, for not—”

    Santana watched Konnan unlock his serious face from his own and turn it to the TV as Pence said, “well, not taking hold of your own loins and wearing out all our American cats’ nine lives with them.”

    Santana looked away; Konnan looked at him

    “Really, essay?” Konnan said. “Them fuckin’ republicans got majorities in the house, the senate, the Supreme Court, and they get the Mexicans, too?” He then yelled, “Fuck! He’s talkin’ about gays and masturbaters killing gatos!”

    The remote trembled in Santana’s hand, but he didn’t flinch as he looked away from Konnan.

    Pence on TV said, “it’s time again we dishonor a war veteran.” The camera sunk to Pence’s feet and showed John McCain’s tombstone. Pence turned towards that which read “in loving memory of John McCain,” and a stream of urination could be seen shooting from Pence onto the grave. “Why’d you have to thumbs down that vote, John? Why didn’t you vote to repeal Obamacare? And why’d you get captured?” Pence cried.

    Santana with a voice somewhere between a whisper and the threshold of normality said, “is there a specific time of year they piss on him?”

    “No, g,” Konnan said, “they do it randomly.” After a few seconds of silence except the sound of the long stream coming from Pence, Konnan said, “why you trying to make reason of this?”

    Santana wanted to know the day, the month, but he said nothing. Then, the DVD scrambled.

    “Good,” Santana heard Konnan say. But when the DVD unscrambled, he heard Konnan say “what the—”

    Santana looked. On the DVD, with a cowboy hat on his head and a bull rope around his shoulders, Texano stood. While rubbing the mane of a black stallion coming from a stable behind him, he spoke a message in Spanish. He said all he wanted to do was work in the plant, earn some guns and bullets, hopefully send something to his family, but Konnan took it all from him. Then, he said, “Konnan, I’m going to kill you.” As he said this “423 Get Fame” flashed at the bottom of the screen.

    With that, Santana felt the mouth of a semi-automatic kiss his forehead; Konnan’s face, partially obscured by the gun, threatened to pull the trigger. Konnan said, “now you may like to start getting loquacious, Silent Bob! Where’d the hell you get this DVD? Make like a “me to” victim and start talking!”

    “Pero! Let him go,” a voice some feet away shouted.

    Santana saw standing in the doorway next to Famous B., Texano with a Winchester semi-automatic rifle drawn. Texano said, “I said let him go.”

    As Konnan pulled his weapon, Santana breathed in the words his mother once told him. “Mi jo!” She always broke up the syllables of that word and exclaimed it. “Stay away from Konnan. I don’t want to find you—find you with innocent blood splattered on your face!” Unlike Konnan, Santana knew proper English and Spanish. His mother taught him manners, but she once stood in front of those dreams—those dreams that’d become anything but lucid. He had no control. But now he ran. He ran as free as he could and stood behind Texano.

    “Shoot me, baboso! Do it!” Konnan’s voice screamed.

    Famous B in his blue suit and small cowboy hat pulled two handguns on Ortiz but looked at Konnan. “You have a HELL of a bounty on your head, Konnan. We’re bringing you in!”

    Texano chuckled. “No, we’re not taking him alive.”

    “Texaaaaano?” Famous B replied.

    Santana shook his head, for he knew they didn’t have time for infighting; that Konnan had something up his sleeve. But he heard Texano yell back at Konnan, “I trusted you but you—"

    “You mean I showed everyone you were packing horseshit?” Santana heard Konnan say. “You freak.”

    “Shut up!” Texano cried. “When I got brought to this island by ICE, separated from my family, I resolved I’d work in the plant. I resolved I’d earn guns and bullets and get respect and somehow make the best of this; somehow send money back to my family. Then, you came along, and I trusted you. When the work got to me because I wasn’t making anything, I kept asking you ‘where can I find ladies, where can I find ladies?’ Over and over, you told me that you all had sex with animals: goats and pigs and horses. I was disgusted by it, but you kept telling me you all had sex with them! Then, finally in my weakest moment I—”

    Famous B’s face squished like a plastic can in disgust. “Texaaaano?” He said.

    “I’ll say it.” Texano went on, “I fucked a stallion in the ass and blew him, too. And then, you gathered everyone to embarrass me…And that’s not even the reason I’m going to kill you right now—”

    Santana lowered his head. He thought to himself how boring Texano’d been before that moment; how boring his own life had been before Konnan. But all the pain Konnan gave to everything he touched… It was time to put a stop to it; but time to stop the bleeding or not was the blood worse than life without it? Even, if it was could he really stand there and let this happen? Could he?

    He heard Texano again. Texano said, “I’m killing you not because you embarrassed me, but because you cursed me to fall in love with the stallion. Marco, I call him. Do you know what it’s like to love something with all your heart that’s not able to love you back? But now your going to be not like me but like Marco, unable to reciprocate or give back. Fuck you!

    The gun went off. A moment later Famous B screamed over Texano’s corpse. “Texano, what happened to you. Oh god! What happened to you!” Famous B screamed. Then he turned to see Santana holding his own gun. “EYE! EYE! EYYYYYE!” Famous B yelled.

    Another gun from Ortiz sent Famous B to the ground.

    Santana wore the paint that the back of Texano’s head had squirted on his face. He let it run as he made eye contact with Konnan. Konnan frowned for a few long seconds but then nodded at Santana. Santana nodded back without the will to wipe Texano’s remains from his complexion.

    WINNERS: Konnan & LAX

    Match #4: Lana & Rusev vs. Maria & Mike Kanellis


    Written by Spinmaster

    As drones scan over the carnage of the island, shouts and screams can be heard from the various battles of the opening round. These sounds are common place to this land, but in the distance a sound comes that is not. To the far east of the island there comes a noise that, in some ways resembles singing, but could also be a dozen cats jumping to their death from the steep cliffs.

    The drone nearest to this sound is sent to search out what is causing the commotion. As we zoom in it becomes clearer that the noise is a medley of songs terribly sang. Rusev and his blushing bride, Lana, are moving through the outskirts of the island accompanied by the sounds of “Rusev Day” and “Lana is the Best. Lana Number One”.

    All seems calm and peaceful for the Russian lovers. The drone follows are the walk happily through the trees, staying out of sight, but singing at the top of their lungs. One second, they are in the deep cover of trees and the next they are in a clearing, as if someone had magically changed the landscape of the island.

    Immediately Mike and Maria Kanellis drop down behind the ravishing Russians. Mike holds a Singapore cane while Maria is oddly holding a blow horn. Mike swings the cane at Lana’s face, creating a large gash, and knocking her to the ground. Mike turns to Rusev and finds him waiting with a pair of nun chucks.

    The two men go blow for blow, cane vs chucks, while Maria annoyingly screams encouragement through the blow horn. After 5 straight minutes of abuse, the two men are breathing heavy, bleeding, and covered in welts. Rusev gives a huge swing but Mike positions the cane perfectly, allowing the chucks to wrap around it, and be pulled from Rusev’s hands. With the swiftness of a gazelle Mike untangles the nun chucks, wraps them around Rusev’s right forearm, and breaks it with a sickening snap. The pain is too much for the brute to handle, as he passes out while screaming.

    Maria shouts in celebration, but suddenly it becomes a scream of pain. Lana gained consciousness, grabbed a tree branch from the forest, and swung it straight at the side of Maria’s knee. Maria’s leg snaps in two and she hits the ground in agony, unable to gain control of herself, as Lana continues to smack away.

    Mike realizes that something is wrong, but when he turns to look, he is met with a tree branch to the face, shattering his nose, and sending blood spurting across the grass of the clearing. Lana continues to beat on Mike, while behind her Maria stumbles to her feet, retrieves the nun chucks from the ground, and wraps them around the throat of the Russian bombshell. She chokes her out until Lana seems to lose consciousness once again.

    Rusev wakes to find himself surrounded by the love birds. He returns to his hard-fought battle with Mike, this time with one working arm, while Maria slinks towards the edge of the woods and begins searching in the bushes. Rusev shockingly gains control of the fight when his ear is shockingly sliced from his head by a katana that Maria has seemingly found in the woods. This naturally causes Rusev to stop in his tracks, as blood pours from the side of his head. Before he can gain any control of his thoughts, Mike catches him in the face with the tree branch, shattering his jaw.

    The Kanellis’ pose over Rusev, believing that the battle has been won. This moment of egotism is just what the Russian needed. Rusev grabs the sword from the hand of Maria, turns it swiftly, and stabs her through the stomach, dropping her to the ground, as blood fills the clearing. Mike pounces on Rusev, knocking him down, and beating him with the Singapore cane. When he believes Rusev is sufficiently beaten, he rises and goes to his wife who is going quite white but is holding on. Mike removes the katana from Maria’s stomach and turns back to Rusev, ready to strike with the death blow.

    Instead of seeing a beaten Rusev, he finds a surprising sight. Rusev is laughing maniacally. Kanellis, confused and taken aback, asks him what is so funny. Rusev responds confidently that this battle is about to end. He tells Mike that Lana is standing behind them holding their little bundle of joy. Mike sneers, and asks, how their dog is supposed to help them now. Rusev laughs again and states that he’s thinking of the wrong bundle of joy.

    Mike and Maria turn around, while Rusev takes off towards the trees, in time to see Lana tossing a grenade at their feet. Before they can react, the Kanellis’ are destroyed in an explosion of the greatest love the island has ever known. As the fire burns Rusev and Lana stagger proudly from the wreckage, with broken bones and covered in blood, as the island speakers proudly proclaim that Lana is the best, Lana Number One.

    WINNERS: Lana & Rusev

    Time means nothing, and place even less. The only dimensions that matter on The Island are Life and Death. No matter where and when it happens, each rush of victory, each precious drop of blood spilled in defeat, it all serves as a sacrifice to one purpose. The violence must continue...
    Last edited by mizfan; 03-29-2019 at 11:07 AM.

  8. #8
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    May 2018
    Nice! Both battles were sufficiently brutal in their own unique ways. I couldn't help but feel sorry for Teeeeexaaannoooo though. He seemed like such a sad lonely soul. Glad to see LAX advance, should be interesting to see what a gang brings to Round 2. Rusev and Lana have a weird history on the island, perhaps one of the saddest yet most fulfilling histories of any former competitors. Chris Jericho, a sole winner of DOA once gave his gift to have Lana and Rusev together once again. It was a wonderful gesture. I wonder if their previous life in DOA will be explored as we continue.

    Great stuff. DOA forever!

  9. #9
    I do enjoy the silly nature of these thus far.

  10. #10
    @rob: I will be writing one of the 2nd rounds, not sure if I will be getting picked for Lana and Rusev but I honestly will continue their story if I am doing heir round.

  11. #11
    Mediocrity at it's finest kingzak13's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2018
    It's the most wonderful time of the year, DOA is here.

    Glad to see positive reception to my story, i'm curious to see where things go in the next rounds.

    It is sad to see Rusev and Lana back again, and after so much torment from the island they seem to have just become overrun with bloodlust.

    Loved the stories thus far.

  12. #12
    The Brain
    Join Date
    May 2018
    The blood flows...

    But not enough.

    Never enough! The Island demands more!

    Match #5: Brock Lesnar & Paul Heyamn vs. R Truth & Carmella


    Written by Burn11nMyLight

    "Please proceed to your designated location" a stern, female voice commanded over the intercom. One assumed they were intercoms, anyway, as those looking for the source could only see thick tree canopies above, dirt and miscellaneous bugs below, and dense thickets and foliage before them. The duo had been hacking their way through the forest for days, but the view never changed. More thickets, more foliage, more dirt.

    "Truth, do you have any idea where we're going?" The Princess of Staten Island inquired, not for the first time.

    "Look, I already apologized Carmella, but I told you, I thought the map was one of them menus they leave in your mailbox and I threw it away!" R-Truth responded, also not for the first time. So the duo kept hacking, shoving, and squeezing through the thorns and vines that lay in the way of their unknown destination.


    "Approximately one-quarter of a mile north-northwest is our destination" warbled Paul Heyman, guiding his incredibly large companion who was cutting their path through the same wall of green irritation. Heyman noted that despite his friend's incredible size and strength, he was struggling to clear the brush at a rate commensurate with his physical abilities. It was perplexing, but considering the alternative, he'd take the slow progress of Brock over the no progress doing it himself.

    His friend, his business partner, Brock Lesnar, wielded a machete that looked like a steak knife in his monstrous paws. Every time Heyman spoke to update their directions, Brock stopped, looked at Paul, smiled almost blankly, and then returned to the manual labor he seemed to enjoy. As if turning off his brain and using only his truly-gifted physique brought him joy, no matter the task.

    The duo had woken up on a beach. A beautiful beach, the kind they show on the front of vacation brochures: sapphire water, ivory sand, and not another person for miles. At first, Mr. Heyman thought he had dozed off during a vacation snooze, but his wits, ever quick, returned to him nearly instantly. And that is when he realized he was not on vacation, though he could not quite remember where he had been before he woke up. Paul looked around in a panic, trying to gain any additional information about his situation. He was wearing an entirely-inappropriate business suit, the kind Saul Goodman would think was tacky. Sand gently blew into his face, and he attempted to rub it out of his eyes, which made the problem both better and worse. Once he had cleared the sand, and tears, he saw a small satchel with the strap pinned down by a rock. And his client, Brock Lesnar, still unconscious beside him.

    Heyman shook his friend, who woke from his slumber violently, almost smashing down on his advocate's chest with a fist the size of a bowling ball, before he stopped flailing. Paul, ever impressed with his friend, saw the man leap to his feet with the agility of a cruiserweight and himself attempt to take in the situation.

    "I don't know where we are or what happened" Mr. Heyman informed him. "But there's a bag up there on the beach, and nothing else as far as I can see. Maybe it has information pertaining to our predicament."

    Brock just stood still, looking at Heyman. Paul knew he had strung together too many syllables and Brock had likely only understood half of what he had said. He didn't call Brock "The Beast" merely because of his size, after all; farm animals only understand basic commands.

    "Let's grab the bag and see what's in it" Paul said. Brock nodded, and the two moved up the beach. The heat was already roasting the manager alive; he felt like a turkey 2 hours into Thanksgiving morning. His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered just thinking about that delicious snack.

    They reached the sack, and Brock handed it to Heyman. Paul looked inside. It contained a rolled-up paper, a large blade, and a smaller note pinned to the side wall of the satchel. He opened the larger paper first. It appeared to be a topographical map of an island. A very diverse island, with jungles, mountains, deserts, lakes, and every other feature you could imagine. There were many icons strewn throughout the map, and they aligned with a key on the side. "Lab" "Pit" "Arena" "TV Studio" "Lion Cages" and more.

    A red X was drawn on a beach on the northern side of the island, with "You" simply written in red marker above it. Heyman kept reading the map but could ascertain no other immediately pertinent information. He went to set the map aside in favor of the pinned note, when he noticed writing on the back of the map. "All is not as it appears. Your sickness is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness."

    "Oh, that is ominous. Thank you, oh wise, vague voice in the sky" Heyman sarcastically whispered. Putting the map back in the bag, he fished out the note. Brock was staring ahead into the jungle, paying him no attention at all. Typical.

    The note was small, and said simply, "You are on an island full of danger. The most dangerous part of the island, though, is the other occupants. To leave The Island, make your way to the Therapist's Office. The others may not leave.

    "What kind of cut-rate Saw knockoff is this?" Paul annoyedly asked to nobody in particular. Turning back to the map, he found the "Therapist Office." It was about 1.5 miles inland, right through the jungle. Good thing he had all the muscle in the world with him, or he wouldn't be able to breach the first 100 feet of that wall of brambles.

    "Ok, according to this note, we have to go to an office and kill the other people that come in. I think we can handle that. It's that way" Paul informed his partner, handing him the machete. Brock grabbed it, aimed in the direction he was pointed, and began chopping his way through.

    Paul had always been good at directing his tools.


    "I swear, Mela, if I get bit by one more bug, I'm gonna start biting them back!" R-Truth exclaimed while swatting his latest attacker. Carmella seemed oddly immune to the swarms, even as she took her turn slashing at the brush ahead of them. Truth's sweat seemed like nectar to the irritants, but they stayed away from the Princess as she hacked away.

    "Just keep focused, ok Truth? We don't know where we're going so we gotta be on the lookout!" she responded.

    They had been cutting their way through the forest for what seemed like hours. Because it had been. It had been three hours of exhausting work, trying to make their way inland, because, as Truth had put it, "That's what you do in horror movies, and it always works out good!" Carmella wasn't so sure, but she trusted her partner and didn't have a better plan at the moment, so three hours of grueling labor had passed.

    They were surrounded. By massive, vine-encased tree trunks. By thorny brush, like ropes with razor blades. Even the grass at their feet seemed to have a sharpened edge. The tiny path they had cleared behind them offered little daylight, and if either of them had been claustrophobic, they'd be in a panic by now.

    R-Truth, though, did not despair. He never did. His sunny disposition, never-say-die attitude, and internal toughness were all due to the man he grew up admiring. His idol, his hero, his mentor: John Cena. When Truth was in a tough situation, he asked himself, "What Would John Cena Do?" Everything he had accomplished in his 21 year career he attributed to his role model.
    John Cena would fight through this, so Truth would have to endure.

    Carmella was making good progress on the impediment in front of them, her gym time clearly paying off. But it was hard to measure progress when everything looked the same no matter how far you got. Almost like a casino, time seemed to stand still inside their little jungle pocket dimension.

    Until R-Truth saw something. A tiny, shiny speck through the leaves ahead. He excitedly tapped his partner on the shoulder. She spun around, an automatic reaction, which lodged several tiny thorns into her arm and shoulder, eliciting a wince.

    "Mela, look!" he pointed at the small gap in verdant wall. She grabbed her wounded arm with one hand, feeling the warm trickle she knew was about to lead to a crimson shower. But hopefully not malaria. As she squinted at the gap that Truth pointed at, she too saw the glint shining back at her.

    "Truth, that's a building!" she jubilantly responded, with a tiny, cute cheerleader hop that was an almost automatic reaction when she became excited.

    "Almost there!" he replied, trying to hold in his own enthusiasm. He knew his hero would show him the way.

    Carmela took a few more whacks at the brush, then stopped.

    "What is it?"

    "Well, we don't know if that's even where we're supposed to go" Carmella responded, letting her blade arm droop toward the ground. "And we don't know what we're gonna find once we get there. It could be anything."

    Truth thought hard. Very hard. His face bunched up like an upset baby, or Daniel Craig. After a few seconds he thought, again, "What Would John Cena Do?" and came to a conclusion.

    "Well, John Cena wouldn't just rush out into a trap, he's never done that. He's be smart about it. Scout the area, see if he can learn anything first. So we should do that."

    Carmella looked at her partner inquisitively. She knew about his obsession with John Cena, but she wondered if he had ever actually watched him wrestle. Still, he had come to the right conclusion.

    "Yeah, let's cut a path just big enough to squeeze through, then check out the building sneakily, see what's what" she concurred.

    She switched arms, as her right now had small ruby rivers trailing down it, and after a few more minutes of hacking, had etched a hole large enough for the two of them to fit through. They circled the mysterious building cautiously, learning what they could before entering.

    ************************************************** ****

    Being buried in the jungle was a blessing and a curse. Paul was spared the direct beating of the sun, which threated to turn him into the world's largest, juiciest lobster. But the humidity that replaced the light was taking its own toll. He had completely abandoned his designer sports jacket, and his tie was now a makeshift headband. If any of his other business associates had seen him in this state they'd have run away both laughing and horrified.

    But Brock never judged him. They had a mutual understanding from day one. Each man had his clear strengths and weaknesses, and yet together they compensated almost completely, becoming, in essence, one perfect being. Like Danny DeVito and Arnold in Twins.

    Paul knew that Brock never judged Paul's physique because he didn't need him for his muscle, he needed his mind, and his gab. And Heyman didn't judge Brock's mental acuity because he didn't need a competing intellect, he needed a brute to do the heavy lifting. They complimented one another and were also not threated by the other. It was symbiosis.

    They had, after a few hours of toil, made their way to the designated inland structure. It was not at all what Heyman had expected from a “Therapist’s Office” but what did his expectations matter when he was stuck on a mysterious murder island?

    Heyman looked around and saw no other parties. He did notice a second trail coming out of the thicket, but its creator or creators were nowhere to be found.

    "We don't know what or whom we're going to find inside" he instructed his partner. "So let's be careful and not rush into anything."

    They approached the building at a normal pace, like this was just another arena. However, they had never entered a stadium like this. It was tall. And perfectly round. And the textbook definition of "Tin." The walls seemed to be made of tin, the windows were tin-tinted, and it was blinding in the sunlight unless you looked at it from just the right angle. Paul thought it looked like a laboratory out of a one of the 1970s-era science fiction comics he used to read.

    He nodded to Brock, who opened the massive front door, and without a sound the two men entered their destination.

    ************************************************** ****

    "Yo Mela, look at all this weird stuff!" Truth was wandering around, examining the interior of the single, massive room within the building. There were an impossible array of dials, levers, and buttons, with little or no indication of what any of them did. Tiny TV monitors were built in to everything, with green text and squiggly lines causing more confusion than clarification for him.

    Carmella was less interested in what was in the building than he was. She'd been in studios and around big lights and cameras since she was a teenager, and this looked like a TV studio to her. She was used to that spotlight. But without any indication of what they were doing here, because her partner had thrown their information away, she was left trying to play Sherlock with the world's weirdest assortment of clues. So while Truth bounced around from device to device, she sat down on some steps, losing herself in contemplation. She realized that it was hopeless to try and piece this puzzle together without the corner pieces, which were still locked in her partner’s head.

    "Truth, think really hard for a second, ok?" She asked. He turned toward her, clearly focusing. "What did the papers you find say before they got 'Lost in the wind?'"

    R-Truth's face scrunched again. "Hmmmmm" he exaggeratedly mumbled, stroking his chin where no beard grew. "I know it said we were gonna meet some people here. And something about getting off the island. But that's all I can remember."

    Internally, Carmella was disappointed. But it was more than he remembered before, so maybe more would come back to him as time went by. For now, all they could do was wait for these mystery people to join them.

    They did not have to wait long.

    ************************************************** *********

    The main door to the massive room swung open suddenly, startling R-Truth. Paul Heyman walked in first, followed by his business associate. Paul was exhausted from the jungle trek, and had probably not sweated that much since Jazzercise in 1988. But he had to reveal no weakness if he was going to get out of this alive.

    His eyes quickly adjusted to the light in the room, and he saw in front of him two people he knew mostly by reputation. R-Truth, the veteran of the ring, and Carmella, the Princess of Smackdown.
    You know, on a show with a Queen and an Empress, being Princess isn't exactly something to brag about, he thought to himself. A tiny smirk crossed his lips.

    It widened when he realized that these two were the ones standing between him and freedom. Not a terrifying monster like Braun Strowman. Not a devious mastermind like HHH. No, instead it was lowly Carmella and R-Truth. Heyman relaxed ever-so-slightly.

    "Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears we have arrived" he proclaimed in his typical circus carny manner.

    "Oh, that was a really good movie!" Truth responded. Heyman glared at him, but it did nothing to dampen Ron's excitement.

    "Ok, I was going to compose a beautiful soliloquy for the two of you to hear, one last time, before you meet your unnatural end, but I just waded through two miles of jungle and I really do not have the patience" Paul shot back at them, his agitation clear and palpable.

    Truth stared on, disappointed that they weren't going to discuss Amy Adams. Carmella, though, gleaned his meaning. She leaned over and whispered to her partner, "Ummmm I think he wants to kill us!"

    Something clicked in Truth's brain, the revelation obvious across his face. He whispered back, "Oh, right, yeah the note said we had to kill whoever else was in the building. Now I remember!"

    Carmella looked sick. Horrified. Nauseous. She was an artist and an athlete, and outside of her 11th grade ballet instructor, she'd never wanted to kill anyone in her life. Now, however, she was being told by both of these men that someone was going to die today. She could barely contain the bile.

    "Ahhh, I can see that the weight of your predicament is finally setting in" Paul Heyman gloated. He lightly elbowed his partner, who was now bouncing side-to-side like a predator who knows his prey is vulnerable. "I am truly sorry that it has to be this way, I am, but if it has to be us, or you, well, I choose us!"

    Carmella and Truth both glanced at one another, at the same time, with the same looks of concern and confusion.

    "When we escape, I'll make sure they know this was not your fault. And I will find out how this happened and there will be hell to pay. But unfortunately, this game dictates that one side must murder the other, so murder it shall be!" It was hard to read Heyman as he spoke, because his vigor as an orator could be perceived as enthusiasm, when deep down he felt the same disgust for violence as Carmella did.

    Well, at least violence in his own, personal violence. He was less concerned when it was caused by someone else, to someone else.

    Carmella turned again to her partner, who was only a foot or so from her. "I know what the note said, but we can't kill him..." she stated.

    "Unfortunately that is true" Heyman added cockily, looking back over at his Beast, still bouncing in place, ready to pounce.

    Truth nodded in agreement. "John Cena is the protector of the less fortunate. Of the differently-abled. He visits sick kids in the hospital!"

    Heyman was still grinning like a hyena, but it was starting to droop ever so slightly. What were they talking about? Why didn't they seem as concerned as they should be?

    Using his greatest weapon, he interjected. "Ummm, excuse me, you really seem less concerned with getting torn asunder by my client, Brock Lesnar, than you should be. And while I do not relish, at all, the forthcoming disemboweling, it can be paused momentarily while you explain yourselves."

    The tag team looked at one another again, still confused, with a hint of sadness. "Being on different shows, I thought he knew. I thought it was a bit, but he really doesn't know, does he?" Carmella asked her partner.

    "Nope. It's sad. We can't do this" he replied.

    "Do what!" Heyman screamed at them, the veins in his forehead and neck strained against his skin like his jacket had been before being discarded. "Stop whispering about some secret and tell me or I swear to god I will not hold my beast back any longer!" Paul settled slightly, secure in the knowledge that he held the trump card. He always had.

    Carmella sighed, took in a deep breath, and then explained. "Paul, there is no Brock Lesnar. There never has been."

    Heyman looked at her with complete, total confusion. His mind could not process what she was saying. It was like telling them the sky was the ocean and they were actually a fish breathing through water right now.

    "You come out every week and talk about the 'Reigning, defending, undisputed champion' someone called 'Brock Lesnar’, but he isn't real, Paul."

    "Seriously, nobody on Earf is named 'Brock Lesnar' that's a ridiculous name" R-Truth helpfully contributed, blind to the irony.

    "We all listen because you're a great speaker. And you're so nice backstage. But I thought it was just a gag. It's entertaining for sure. But you really think there's a Brock Lesnar? Standing beside you right now?"

    "What are you talking about!" Paul vehemently interjected. "He's standing right here!" Paul turned to point to his man, but...there was nobody there. His heart skipped several beats, the shock crashing down from head to toes like a wave.

    "What is happening? Brock Lesnar has been the Universal Champion since Crown Jewel in November! He's real!"

    Carmella shook her head sadly. "No, Paul, Crown Jewel was Roman Reigns vs Braun Strowman. Roman won. He always wins. He was Universal Champion until he got sick. Nobody named 'Brock Lesnar' has ever existed. I'm sorry."

    Heyman's head was spinning. For the first time in his life, he couldn't think. The shock that had rushed down his body had come back up, and was now oscillating up an down instead of dissipating.

    "But...but...but...we beat Roman at Crown Jewel. And WrestleMania. Brock always wins. He's always champion..." Paul tried to rationalize away what he could not comprehend.

    "Those things didn't happen, bro" Truth told him. "You really think there would be a WWE champion who just didn't show up for months at a time? Come on, man, that's just too unrealistic." Truth slowly stepped toward Paul, not wanting to startle him further. He put his arm around Heyman comforting the man. “A champion you have to talk for, one hundred percent of the time? Like, Gillett’s Razor says that’s too unlikely so it’s not real, man.”

    "Look, I know something about imaginary friends. Me and Little Jimmy, we had some good times. And it was hard, but eventually I realized, he ain't real. It's just me, it always been just me."

    Heyman was still trying to snap out of this incomprehensible nightmare. He looked over at Truth, who had clear, honest compassion in his eyes. He looked down at himself, and noticed his arms were absolutely covered in gashes, his blood-stained shirt sleeves practically glued to the wounds. Dirt caked everywhere it could. And he was holding the machete he had handed to Brock hours earlier.
    "Handed" to "Brock".

    "Oh my god..." Heyman exclaimed, his head now swirling like a washing machine. He collapsed to the ground, the shock now flashing like a strobe light throughout his entire body, hundreds of times a second. His vision was becoming blurry, and then black.

    "Mela, what's happening?" Truth yelled out, dropping to his knees beside Paul.

    "He's having a stroke! Quick, give him some water or something!" she yelled back as she ran to them.

    Truth looked around, but there was no water. No liquid except blood and sweat. No tools except machetes and electronics. Heyman went into full seizures, his body violently shaking as Truth held him.
    "No, not like this! Hang in there, buddy!" Truth cried out, pressing his forehead to Paul's as he continued to shake, just trying to hold him still. Carmella was now beside them and she, too, dropped to her knees, hoping the compassion of their touch would pull him out of this illness.

    His shaking did stop. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his body went limp. Carmella and R-Truth were frozen, and tears flowed down their cheeks.

    An incredibly loud buzzing noise came from the hundreds of speakers in the building at once, startling them out of their miserable daze. Followed by the same, stern voice as earlier. "That was unexpected, but you have completed your task. Please stay where you are and await further instructions."

    Carmella and R-Truth looked into one another's exhausted, glassy eyes, neither wanting to know what The Island had in store for them next.

    WINNERS: R Truth & Carmella

    Match #6: Drake Maverick & the Authors of Pain vs. Andrade & Zelina Vega


    Written by 205 Clive

    “Fighting Ire With Fire”

    On an island in the middle of Mid-Card Purgatory, a group of individuals diverse in culture, attribute, and size are indulging in tropical cocktails of an evening. A lazy ring of palm trees surrounds its occupants; most on sun loungers, one blond male drunkenly swaying too close to the bonfire thanks to one pina colada too many….

    “Weeelll in the West Midlands, born and raised, in a sweat gym is where I spent most of my days….” Akam and Razor, their considerable weight earning worrying squeaks from beneath them, exchange glances atop their sunglasses before returning to their umbrella laden drinks. Across the stretch of sand, Zelina Vega's knuckles whiten around her armrests as she lets out an audible sigh, Andrade soaking up the rays beside her. Drake Maverick continues, “....Now I'd like to take a minute - but I'll be quick, it might rain. I'll tell you how I became the manager of Authors of Pain…”

    Vega’s patience snaps like a dry twig. “No you won't, you insufferable little Ken doll lookin’ motherfucker!” She rushes to her feet, the commotion upending the heeled boots by her chair. Creamy alcohol sprays from Andrade's nostrils as his hollowed out coconut shell falls to the sand, contents staining the patch beneath him. He surveys his spoiled shirt with mild annoyance, but shows little further care as he resumes chuckling at the burn thrown Maverick’s way. “Well excuuuuse me, missy!” Maverick retorts. “Some of us are just trying to liven things up a little. S'not my fault you're a torn faced cow!”

    Andrade alights from his lounger, wagging a disapproving finger back and forth and sounding off in heated Spanish. Vega pipes up, “That's it. I've had enough of this. Andrade, deal with this Oompa Loompa idiot before I do.”

    “Awww hold on, hold bloody well on. Not so fast, alright?” Maverick's panicked backtracking, coupled with his already impaired balance, sees him stumble almost directly into the bonfire. Once recovered, Maverick magics his 205 Live blazer out of thin air and whips it expertly around his person. “If you wanna settle this, let's do it the right way.” He turns to a camera that isn't there, slicks back his hair, and gets in the zone. “This week, on Dead or Alive….Live... two “Create A Wrestler” behemoths, who just so happen to be my bodygua - urrmm I mean clients, the Authors of Pain, will face El Idolo himself, Andrade, to stand up for this smarmy Brummie right here, in a first time ever ‘Bonfire Deathmatch’.”

    As if a cord has been pulled taut from their gargantuan backs, Akam and Razor jump up, launch their drinks into the fire, and bark a series of indeterminable threats at Andrade and Vega. As they charge in the duo's direction, Vega shrieks and sprints for the nearest tree, shimmying up its trunk with lightning speed. Before Andrade has even had the chance to process how the numbers advantage is simply not on his side, AOP rugby tackle him out of his sandals, his head crashing off the metalwork of the lounger behind him.

    “Ooohh you beeaauuuty!!!” cackles Maverick in a pitch higher than a boiling kettle. “Get the bastard! Get him, get him! Aaaaaaahahaha!” Maverick jumps for joy, again, a little too close to the fire, as his attack dogs pick up coconuts strewn across the sand and smash them down upon Andrade's now blood soaked head. The war cries bellowed in their native tongue compete with the volume of the roaring waves in the distance.

    Andrade, barely conscious, happens upon one of Vega's high heels. He whirls it round, sinking the business end deep into Akam's Achilles tendon. The sickening thwock of sharp-meets-tender is instantly answered with a scream so piercing, both Razar and Maverick wince and cover their ears. “Yes, Andrade! Don't stop, go for that other oaf too!” Vega calls excitedly from high above. Akam hobbles and falls to the sand, gingerly cradling his wound in a puddle of blood like a pathetic child fallen from his bike. Andrade picks up the other shoe and swings wildly for Razar's lower extremities. The remaining standing Author dodges the swipe in the nick of time, only to lose his balance and stumble into two dead tree barks propped conveniently against one another. Sensing his opportunity, Andrade's adrenaline pulls him to his feet and he charges for Razar, crashing his knees into either side of his abnormally large head. Sadly, with his knee pads left in Charlotte Flair’s car, Andrade’s knees take some significant damage. “Follamé!” wails Andrade, landing in a heap on top of his fallen foe.

    Maverick is a like a deer caught in the headlights. “How the bloody hell is this happening?” he whimpers. With the cogs turning in his quickly sobering brain, Maverick rushes to the fire and tentatively hauls out a log, the flame following angrily at the other end. Surveying which of his henchmen have taken the least damage, he eventually heads for Akam. Suddenly, a gust of wind hurls the flame towards Maverick’s head. Through years of unrepentant hairspray abuse, the natural flammable that is Maverick’s head ignites with unbridled joy. The living matchstick drops his weapon of choice, screams obscenities not suitable for repeating, and drops to his knees to dunk his head in the sand. Two hisses ring out; one from the extinguishing of his head, and that of the stream of urine emanating from his khaki shorts. A shivering sigh of relief escapes his traumatised form.

    Akam is finally to his feet. All three of them. He waddles over to a stirring Andrade and picks him up. Through sheer dumb will alone, he hoists his opponent onto his shoulders into the powerbomb position. Spotting the closest palm tree to the fire, he hops towards it. He thuds Andrade’s back into the root, and pivots round with the bonfire now in his sights. What looks to be the winning move of the match, however, is brought to a halt. The impact of the powerbomb to the tree has knocked a coconut loose from its branches. It lands squarely on Akam’s head, who accordions to the ground like a sack of Spuds….

    Andrade is safe for the moment. With the bonfire mere yards behind him, he looks to haul Akam’s immovable heap of flesh towards impending doom. He doesn’t get very far, however, as Razar has regained consciousness. He roars in fury and beats at his chest, then groggily makes his way towards the fire. Andrade drops Akam’s arm and races towards Razar with a superkick in mind. The Author catches his leg, however, and clutches him close, T-bone suplexing him high up into the air.

    Razar is now stalking his prey, laughing at the ease with which he will be able to throw his game to his death. Maverick has unearthed himself from the now wet and mushy sand, but is simply too shell shocked to realise that victory is in his team’s sights. He hobbles around aimlessly, asking nobody in particular if anyone has seen “that KENTA bloke” recently. Razar picks up Andrade and looks to launch him lawn dart style into the fire. The ominous quiet that has fallen over the site is suddenly shattered. “Ayayayayayayayayay!”. Out of nowhere, Zelina Vega drops from her vantage point and lands on Razar’s shoulders. She swings herself down and back, Razar thrown head first into the hungry flames. His cries of terror become louder and louder as his body and soul are consumed. A low rumbling laugh can almost be heard from within the fierce heat. Andrade looks on stunned as Vega rights herself and dusts off her hands after a rare job....well done…..

    With cartoon birds still circling Akam’s unconscious head, Maverick bleating in outright confusion, and the snoring of a satisfied fire that is, for now, sated from the sacrifice of the first name in the WWE Yellow Pages (I think?), Andrade and Vega limp off into the sunset as the victors.

    WINNERS: Andrade & Zelina Vega

    Reality itself begins to bend under the weight of the Island reborn.

    The madness of the first round has ended... but those brought for sacrifice have only begun to suffer.


  13. #13
    I love how many "Upsets" there are. Pretty much every cute/funny/well-liked WWE team is beating the bigger, meaner teams that would probably murder them in a dark alley in real life.

    But it makes for more fun stories

  14. #14
    Really loved the Burn11nMyLight story. Liked the Saw Goodman reference, since he's one of my favorite TV characters and kind of reminds me a little of a young Paul E. Dangerously. Also, you got two Saw references in one piece, one for the breaking bad character, another for the horror movie.

    I loved how you fleshed out the characters and their resistance to kill. I wanted to write something along those lines when I first heard the idea but switched gears to make it more fitting for my folks.

    You actually showed the "nice" side of Heyman that he's known more of now in his old age. Brock was portrayed perfectly as a meathead. Great twist at the end...I got no love for R Truth but I love what you did with him and Carmella. R Truth was a lovable character here and it made perfect sense to not have them actually kill Heyman. The stroke itself was as violent as any death on this thing, because it was described in its grueling detail.

    Going into their journey before their battle gave us a chance to get to know them in the world in which you wrote about. Thought the whole thing was great.

  15. #15
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    May 2018
    Really, really liked Burn's entry into this. The thought of Brock Lesnar not actually existing is a great little twist in terms of the psyche of Paul Heyman. So are we all part of the Heyman delusion? Or have we been really seeing something else? It's quite a thought provoking quandary I find myself in now. Anyway, the fact that Truth and Carmella had to do absolutely nothing is also great, in that some of the greatest victories in DOA history have been at the hands of the losing team itself. Hell, my own battle ended with Vampiro having a heart attack. Sometimes luck on the island is better than skill.

    Clive's entry is just as enjoyable because it comes down to an outright brawl, as it should have been with the Authors of Pain being involved. They know nothing else except violence. Zelina being the one with the killing blow is awesome though, as she's really the dangerous one of the duo being very stealthy and small. I loved the "Spud" pun in it as well.

    Nice job all. After what, 7 years or so, it's good to see that DOA Island is still enjoyed by everyone.

  16. #16
    Senior Member
    Join Date
    Sep 2018
    I love the concept of this being managers and their wrestlers.

    The spirit of Lio Rush was captured to a great degree of fun and I'm actually happy that they proceeded to the next round.

    Zaks piece did a complete 180 but it was freaking AWESOME. Lol at at the anti Christ baby. Looks like Maryse had a trick up or sleeve... or, well, her vagina.

    Whoa, that was deep and fucked up at the same time by Benjamin. Nice plot twist at the end. It must have surely been lonely on that island.

    It will be interesting to see where the Rusev/Lana story goes heading into the next round. Hopefully their past can somehow be revisited.

    Holy shit Burns piece was amazing! He clearly put a lot of thought into it and it read like something out of a book with a fantastic plot twist.

    Andrade is awesome! I'm glad Clive chose them to be victorious. Vega is a cheeky little minx, is she not?

    Fantastic work for the 1st round and I really enjoyed this!

  17. #17
    Thanks everyone! I had a stroke of inspiration apparently Don't expect anything good for the rest of the year lol

  18. #18
    Member #25 SirSam's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2018
    These were great. Shout outs to Clive and Rob for setting my second round entry up, lots of fun stuff to continue over. I think Rob absolutely nailed the characters in his one and is a very hard act to follow and I also loved the concept of Burn’s piece, very cool idea and very well executed.

    I am a little sad Switchblade and Gedo bowed out early, that sadistic S.O.B. would fit right in with DOA. I guess the way he went out was suitably gruesome and messed up in all it’s time travelling chaos.
    Last edited by SirSam; 04-10-2019 at 12:21 AM.

  19. #19
    Senior Member 205 Clive's Avatar
    Join Date
    May 2018
    Glad you all enjoyed my entry! I was a but unsure if the word count wasn't enough, considering the length of some of the beautifully violent tomes before me! This is great stuff, something I'd love to see WWE do with some of their cartoon stuff!

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