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Posted in: Chair Shots
Chair Shots Presents: DOA 2014 (Day Three Battles)
By Rob Simmons
Apr 16, 2014 - 11:00:58 AM

If you’ve followed Chair Shots, you’re familiar with the craziness that is forthcoming. Once we get to the finals, you the readers will play a huge part in determining the outcome. Don’t take it at all seriously; just take it as a bunch of guys writing some crazy stuff for your enjoyment. There’s no message here, just fun. Hope you all enjoy the insanity that is:

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Day Three


It was time for the last two battles of the first round. So far my Hounds of Justice made it through unscathed, but there is still one more battle to go to determine if they truly are the best group of all time. Let the final battles begin!

Oliver Presents


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Batista & Zack Ryder vs. Sheamus & Daniels


Sheamus surveyed the scene below them through the binoculars he’d fashioned from a pair of old bottles – from his vantage point on the side of the temple, he could see plenty of the beach at the edge of the island. They’d landed there just two weeks earlier but already the lack of food was starting to get to the partner he’d had forced upon him. He looked over his shoulder at Christopher Daniels behind him. He was sat in the corner of an opening in the edge of the ancient building, rocking back and forth and clutching that stupid volleyball he’d found on their short trek across the sand dunes to get here.

‘Whatya still got that volleyball fer, fella?’ he snapped
‘S’not a volleyball’, sniffled Daniels, his rocking becoming more pronounced. ‘S’Kaz’.
‘It’s who?’
‘Kaz’

And Daniels turned the ball around to show Sheamus. He’d crudely drawn eyes, a nose and a mouth on the ball in a rough estimation of his long time TNA tag team partner.

‘****s sake’

The Celtic Warrior shook his head and returned to surveying the golden beach. In the far distance, he spotted a prick of purple in the heat haze. As Daniels continued twittering to his friend, he refocused the binoculars – something was odd about the shape, and it didn’t quite look human. There was an odd extension to it, something stretched about two feet in front of its face. As he squinted his eyes, trying to make it out, the sun reflected off of it and he realised it was a camera.

‘Inevitable’, he thought to himself. ‘Only that guy would carry a camera with him everywhere’.

Sheamus turned to his partner, still rocking in his corner. ‘Time to go, fella’.
‘Go where?’
‘We’ve gotta take these guys out.’

Daniels turned away and whispered something to the ball, before holding it to his air. As Sheamus sighed deeply, his partner turned his head to face him again.

‘Kaz says it’s OK’

And with that, the two made for the beach. They’d had the plan laid for a couple of days, just waiting for their rivals to approach them. It was pretty simple, just like in cartoons – then again, their opponents were pretty simple. Simple works against idiots like Zack Ryder. Sheamus couldn’t help but wonder where his partner had gone, though – when they stopped at the edge of the sand dunes, he held the binoculars up to his eyes and he could clearly see that there was only the one person approaching them, his arm still outstretched and clutching a camera.

This was going to be easy.

Sheamus turned to Daniels, who was carefully holding the volleyball under his arm now.

‘You know the plan. Off you go.’

Daniels removed Kaz from his armpit and held him up to his face.

‘Should we go?’ he asked
‘…’
‘I know, but it’s a pretty easy plan to execute.’
‘…’
‘Well, there is that. And running on sand is pretty tricky’
‘…’
‘You agreed before! You said this was a great idea’
‘…’
‘OK then’, Daniels turned to Sheamus. ‘No, we’re not going. We’re the best tag team in the bi-zi-ness, and we’re not…hey, what are doing with Kaz?!’

Sheamus had snatched the volleyball away from Daniels. He’d had enough of this shit. If there was one thing he’d learnt from Triple H, it was that you should always throw the pawn onto the battlefield first. Daniels was a pawn, and Kaz – ****, now he was doing it too – this volleyball was even lower ranked than that. He looked meaningfully into Daniels’ eyes, before turning to face the beach and, with all the force in his leg, punting the ball into the middle of the beach.

‘NOOOOOOO KAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZ!!!’

Daniels charged past him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryder approaching. The dumb goof was still staring into the camera, and hadn’t even noticed the charging bald headed idiot and the volleyball, which had now come to a stop just short of the swash. Sheamus had slightly overshot his target, but he thought it was a good enough shot to start with. Besides, he knew he could Brogue Kick Ryder’s head off if he wanted to – he’d done it on Raw that one time. The trap was just an easier way to finish this all off. A smile broke out over his face as he remembered that night, but he was snapped from his reverie by the yelps of Daniels – he’d finally reached the place where the ball had landed and sunk to his knees. Sheamus could hear his sobs from the dunes, but they didn’t bother him. The whole idea was that Ryder would be alerted and head towards Daniels on the beach. The hole was pretty deep, and they’d lined it to prevent sand falling in around it. Covered it, too, using various flimsy bits of driftwood.

He looked around. Ryder still hadn’t realised Daniels was on the beach – the self-absorbed nobhead was still talking to his camera, focusing only on himself. Sheamus could hear him now, prattling on about his last resort or whatever stupid pun he had come up with for this trip. **** it, he though. Sheamus leapt off the dunes and grabbed the camera out of Ryder’s hands.

‘Oi, my camera!’
‘Come and geddit, ya purple prick’

And he started to run, this way and that, towards Daniels and the trap. Ryder gave chase – oh, this was too easy, Sheamus thought to himself – and as he leapt over the driftwood covered pit, he dropped the camera right in the middle of the cover

‘Crap’, he said out loud, although the shit eating grin on his face gave away his intentions, and sure enough as Ryder came charging on to the weak wood it gave way beneath his weight and he fell. The snap of his leg bones was so satisfying that Sheamus briefly forgot the final step of the plan. Shaking his head, he grabbed the shovel and frantically started piling sand into the hole, not stopping until Ryder was completely covered.

‘Hows that for buried, dickface?’

As Sheamus turned away from the now filled hole, Daniels approached him, his feet dragging and his head drooped.

‘What’s up fella? We won this one! No thanks to you, of course, but…’

Daniels held up the ball. In the swash, the rough drawings had been completely washed away.

‘Kaz’s dead’

And he turned up the beach and let out a howl so loud that birds in the distant forest took flight.

****


Batista had lost sight of Zack Ryder long ago, and was beginning to regret letting him go ahead as a scout. He’d maintained visual contact for five minutes, but then was so out of breath he’d had to have a sit down for two hours. And now he was struggling along the beach, a stitch in his side and his mouth dry. He looked back over his shoulder at the rock he’d sat on – it was only fifty metres away but it felt like he’d already walked miles. He was tired out, and as he tried to take another step his legs gave away and he fell on his face.

‘Just a short nap’ he though. ‘I’ve worked hard today’

He fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. Within thirty minutes, the tide had swallowed him up.

WINNERS: Sheamus & Daniels


Skitz Presents


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Dean Ambrose & Bray Wyatt vs. Santino Marella & Fandango


While The Wield were off strategizing and discussing their enemies’ countless vulnerabilities, Sandango had apparently opted to loiter around on the beach until trouble arrived. Marella paced nervously while Fandango bathed in the sun and sipped from a carton of milk.

Fandango: Why don’t you relax a bit? Soak up the summer rays and take a load off before we meet our inevitable doom. Santino… YO. OVER HERE. Hi. Give it a rest already, will ya’? That powerwalk is almost as ridiculous as your Italian accent.

Santino: Oh will you-a shut up!? I’m a-tryin’ to think of something clever!

Fandango: No but seriously… I know you’re from Canada. It says so right here on your Wikipedia page (waves smart phone in the air).

Santino: DO YOU WANT TO DIE OUT HERE!? Because we will unless you let me come up with a plan!

Marella marched over and began rummaging through a red duffel bag.

Santino: Aha! A map of the island. No we can locate the gold and the pirate ship and the b-

Fandango: You’re holding a treasure map from a children’s board game.

Marella tossed it aside and continued digging until he retrieved another object.

Santino: Yeah well thanks to my single-barrel binoculars, we can detect when Ambrose & Wyatt are coming minutes before they arrive!

Fandango: And that’s a kaleidoscope. Why do you try so hard? Treating everything like a Looney Tunes cartoon isn’t innovative, dude. It’s tired.

“Hey check it out, Bray. If it isn’t the lowest form of intelligence in the kayfabe kingdom.”

Sandango whipped around collectively and stared wide-eyed at the two trespassers.

Santino: (gasp) Bray Wyatt and Dean Ambrose!

Ambrose: Hey tranny. I hope you honeymooners blew each other already because we’re not here to dick around.

Dean stepped forward and withdrew a knife from his back pocket. Santino shrieked and cowered behind Fandango who had risen to his feet.

Santino: Take him first! He’s got more meat! We can all dine on Fandango for the next several days. I mean who wants Italian anyway? So many carbs hahaha!

Wyatt: SILENCE RODENT. Now… there’s no need to make this any more difficult than it has to be. Serve yourself up as a willing sacrifice and I’ll take your pain tolerance into consideration. You shalln’t suffer for long, my wayward son. The rain is coming and I intend to make a tent out of your skin.

Ambrose: Mmmm we better get started then.

Dean advanced on Sandango; his right hand clenched tightly around the knife with Bray in tow.

Santino: NOW FANDANGO! The ballroom dancer reached down suddenly and tugged on a thin rope that stretched towards the intruders. A rustling noise caused The Wield to freeze in place as a net exploded around them and trapped Ambrose & Wyatt. They rolled around clumsily while Fandango did a dance number and Santino celebrated with his air trumpet routine. Dean watched on in disgust.

Ambrose: Really? We let you clowns pull a fast one over on us?

Wyatt: Maybe we do deserve to die.

Ambrose: How about something a little more inspiring next time?

Santino: Excellent work, my friend! Those two buffoons aren’t going anywhere. This calls for a toast! I’ll be right back with the juice boxes!

Marella ran over to a shady spot further down the beach and searched around a collection of large rocks. Eventually, Santino found the six-pack of fruit punch tucked between two boulders. He turned back but quickly noticed that the net had been undone. The Wield were gone and Fandango was rubbing tanning oil on his chest nearby.

Santino: THEY’VE ESCAPED!!!

Fandango looked up, glanced at the empty net and returned to lubing his pecs.

Fandango: Yeah I let them go.

Santino: Why on Earth would you do that!?

Fandango: Ambrose said they could lead me to a hot dance club on the other side of the island.

Santino: …………AND!?!?

Fandango: Well obviously he lied. Oooh can I have a juice box?

Santino: NO YOU CAN’T HAVE A ****ING JUICE BOX! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?

Fandango: Nothing now that my skin is protected. I’ve gotta tell you, dude. Glad you finally decided to drop the corny acc-

A rock had sailed out of the jungle and smacked Fandango in the back of the head. He collapsed on the sand as Santino jumped back and peered into the jungle. Dean Ambrose stepped out from behind a tall bush smirking.

Santino: You throw like a girl!

Ambrose: Yeah I think your buddy would disagree. Now are you gonna die with some dignity? Or will I have to drag you off this beach like the little bitch you dress up as?

Santino: That was a gimmick god dammit! And it was over!

Ambrose: Nah March Madness is over. You’re just a bust. A complete and utter spoof of wrestling.

Santino: You take that back!

Ambrose: Go ahead and do something about it, little man. I’ll make that slap Cornette gave you in OVW seem like a friendly pat on the cheek.

Santino: That’s a sore subject!

Marella lost his cool and gave chase as Dean retreated into the forest. Ambrose continued to taunt Santino as they sprinted through a dense maze of trees. Marella soon realized he had ventured into the jungle alone and slowed up. Ambrose stopped and addressed his enemy.

Ambrose: What’s the matter? You blown up? Been training with Batista lately?

Santino: I know you’re up to some kinda funny business, Dean Ambrose! I’m a-going to finish you off before this turns into an uneven fight!

Ambrose: Well be all means… take the first shot.

Santino reached into his leotard and pulled out what appeared to be a long green nylon sock. Marella stretched it over his arm and prepared to stun Dean. Right as Santino was about to strike however, Bray came scurrying out of nowhere doing his crab crawl. Marella lost his shit and started back peddling. With his eyes locked on Wyatt, Santino fell backwards into a deep pit full of king cobras. The slew of snakes swarmed the body and bit Marella relentlessly. He died within minutes from the toxins. Meanwhile, Dean surveyed the scene from up above with a satisfied expression.

Ambrose: Irony bitch.

Moments later, Fandango came stumbling by; holding the back of his head which was bleeding profusely.

Fandango: Gahhhhh has anyone seen Santino? He’s supposed to be joining me for a drink on the beach. Could use an Aspirinnnnblthttaenffdnasaddlyumb-

Instinctually, Dean reached for his blade but Bray had already snuck up behind the groggy ballroom dancer. Wyatt clunked Fandango over the skull with Chris Jericho’s latest autobiography A WrestleMania Appearance Wasted and dragged him off. Ambrose followed.

When Fandango regained consciousness, he was on the beach facing the ocean; tied to a pillar. Ambrose stood there still with his arms crossed. Fandango could hear movement behind him.

Fandango: What the hell’s going on? And where is Santino!? Dead hopefully. Guys remember… the rules say that only one member of a team must be killed. We can all move forward without any more blood being shed!

Wyatt: I am the Eater of Worlds. And as this world’s personal executioner, I am grateful for the gifts you so graciously offer me.

Fandango: Gifts? Oh the juice boxes. Of course! Take as many as you want! I only ask that you leave me one.

Dean motioned for Fandango to shush as Bray came into view; donning a butcher’s apron and wielding a rusty saw.

Wyatt: Restrain the sacrifice.

Ambrose moved forward, knelt down and held Fandango’s legs as Bray lowered the saw. Fandango grew frantic and began breathing heavily.

Fandango: NOT MY FEET! MY PRECIOUS FEET! JUST CHOP MY HEAD OFF OR SHOOT ME YOU SICK ****S! NO NO! AGHHHHHHHH!!!

Wyatt hummed to himself as the saw grinded its way through Fandango’s flesh. The ballroom dancer shook the island with his cries while Bray amputated both of his feet. Fandango started blacking out again as Ambrose untied him. Bray stared Fandango in the eyes.

Wyatt: Now carry forth and crawl until you can no longer see the light of day. Linger at the ocean floor until the pain fades away.

Fandango slumped forward and drug himself across the sand. Bray observed with a raised eyebrow. He leaned in towards Dean.

Wyatt: Holy shit. It actually worked.

Ambrose: Dude he’s concussed and footless. The guy is fried. Has no ****ing idea what’s going on.

Bray shrugged. He and Dean watched on triumphantly but just as Fandango’s outstretched hands had reached the water….



Fandango had triggered a landmine and spontaneously combusted. Bodily debris showered down onto the survivors who stood planted in stunned silence for a few moments.

Ambrose: Hate to sound clichéd but at least he went out with a bang.

Dean extended his fist outwards for Wyatt to hit but Bray simply laughed and strode away singing; swaying his arms from side-to-side.

Ambrose: Sorry man! Force of habit.

WINNERS: Ambrose & Wyatt



Day Two


The first day of battle saw two teams fall. 3 out of the 8 competitors from TNA have already been eliminated in brutal fashion. I sit and watch from high above the fields of battle as the gladiators continue to fight for survival. Let the mayhem commence!

Rob Presents


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AJ Lee & Samuel Shaw vs. Roman Reigns and EC III


Roman Reigns was in a particularly foul mood. Not only did The Master force him and the rest of The Shield to compete in this ridiculous tournament, but he had split them up. The other Hounds of Justice at least got fellow WWE partners. He got stuck with a WWE reject now setting up camp in TNA- none other than Ethan Carter III. He found him in a clearing, naked and sunning himself as if he were some Greek God. All Reigns saw was Derrick Bateman buck-ass naked.

“Bateman, get your clothes on. We’ve got to get the jump on AJ and Shaw before they get to us. I don’t know anything about that stalker whackjob of yours, but don’t underestimate AJ. She’s all kind of sneaky disguised in cuteness and a nice ass. Believe that!”

“I am Ethan Carter III. I have no idea who this Bateman person is. This has to be some kind of mistake. My Aunt Dixie would never subject me to this kind of contest. I should be out playing polo at the country club with Magnus and Spud, not here with the likes of you.

“Dude, you’re Derrick Bateman. We used to wrestle in NXT together. What kind of Kool-Aid do they make you drink over in TNA?”

“I know who I am, I am Ethan Carter III. And you my good man will kindly treat me with the respect a man of my stature deserves.”

“Well I know who I am too. I’m Roman Reigns, 147th in line to take over the title of Prime Minister of Samoa right behind Yokozuna and Barry Horowitz.”

“Um, Yokozuna is dead and Barry Horowitz isn’t Samoan.”

“We’re all Samoan. Every professional wrestler in the world is Samoan. That’s why there’s so damn many of us. Barry Horowitz is 1/18th Samoan on his Great Uncle’s side. Now enough of this bullshit, let’s get going before we get taken out.”


A cave….somewhere on the island

“”Look, I’m sorry. I never should have grabbed your ass.”

“It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told.”

“Come on AJ, Reigns and EC III are going to find us. We need to work together.”

“It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.”

Samuel Shaw wasn’t used to being on this end of things. He liked being in control. He liked keeping his women slightly afraid. Christy Hemme was afraid. She would still be his. But Samuel Shaw was learning that all women weren’t alike, especially AJ Lee.

“When the hell did you find time to dig a hole anyway?”

“Don’t you see Samuel, all you need for a good plan is a rope, a bucket, a hole and some chloroform. Now I bet you’ll think twice about grabbing another woman that doesn’t want to be grabbed. I belong to CM Punk. And he is THE BEST IN THE WORLD! You Mr. Shaw are nothing. Now it places the lotion in the basket.”

“Please AJ, we can win this thing.”

“It places the ****ING LOTION IN THE BASKET!”


Just outside the cave

“Did you hear that Carter? It sounded like AJ’s shriek. Last time I heard that was when Punk bent her over the Craft Services table and let everybody watch. Believe that!”

“Do you realize this is a $5000 suit? I’m never going to get this dirt and mud out. There’s not enough dry cleaning in the world. Wait, did you say you got to watch Punk pound one out with AJ?”

“Yeah dude, right on top of the deli tray. It was a sight to behold. Believe that!”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s my catch phrase man; you need one to get over.”

“What?”

“I said you need one to get over.”

“What?”

“I said…..never mind. Let’s sneak in quietly. They’ll never see us coming.”

“That’s not what Punk said.”


Back in the cave

Samuel Shaw was weeping uncontrollably at the bottom of the hole as AJ blasted him with a hose.

“Please stop. PLEASE!!! Where are you attaching a hose anyway? We’re in a cave.”

AJ continued to spray down Shaw, not seeing Reigns sneaking up on her. EC III was still outside, trying not to get dirt on his loafers.

“AJ, what the hell are you doing?”

“Oh hey Roman what’s up? This creepy bastard they paired me with tried to get all R. Kelly on me so I threw him in a hole.”

“When did you have time to dig a hole?”

“That’s what I asked her,” screamed a drenched Samuel Shaw from the aforementioned hole.

“Look Roman, I could give a shit about winning this thing, but I also don’t want to die. So Robin Thicke down there is already primed to take out if you want. You let me walk out of here and I’ll head back to Chicago to see Phil, OK?”

“Sounds good to me. Believe that!”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“That’s what I asked him,” yelled EC III from outside the cave, still getting dirt off his shoes.

Reigns watched as AJ skipped out of the cave, wiggling her gorgeous ass on the way out. Now it was time to dispose of Samuel Shaw. Reigns lowered a rope down and waited for a waterlogged Shaw to climb out.

“Man, thanks for getting me out of there, that chick is nuts! I appreciate you helping a brother out though.”

Shaw held his hand out to Reigns. EC III was still outside the cave cleaning his shoes.

Reigns looked at Shaw’s hand and shook his head

“You forgot how this works brah.”

Before he could react, Reigns speared Shaw around the waist, literally tearing him in half. Reigns looked down at his multi-pieced opponent on the ground.

“You should have put the lotion on the skin. Believe that, and Believe in The Shield!”

Outside, EC III screamed in agony as a bird shit on his silk shirt.

WINNERS: Reigns & EC III


Dannokaboom Presents


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John Cena & Seth Rollins vs. Samoa Joe & Willow


The bar in the resort was particularly busy this evening. All of the tables were taken and the waiters, dressed in white jackets, buzzed between the guests; carrying drinks on silver trays. It was Oriental night, with Nikki Bella on the stage singing western show songs in Chinese. The atmosphere was jovial, apart from one table in the corner.

Samoa Joe was sat in a dinner suit, looking intently at the men sitting opposite. John Cena sat a little higher in his chair, while Seth Rollins slouched slightly to Cena’s left. It felt like Cena and Joe were daring each other to speak. Finally, Cena broke the silence.

“So, it is true, you have it?”

“Yes it’s true. Your boy over their tried to take it from me without paying for it; he got hurt for his trouble.”

Rollins rubbed a bandaged hand, fixing Joe with a stare.

“I spared his life” said Joe confidently. Rollins rose from his seat, seeking revenge, but the tension was broken by Nikki Bella appearing. She kissed Cena on the cheek and asked to be introduced to Cena’s new friend.

“This is Samoa Joe. He has something I want, and he is about to give it to me.”

Joe smiled out of the corner of his mouth.

“You know what I need Cena. You pay me and you can have it.”

Cena reluctantly reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bag and sending it over to Joe using the Lazy Susan. Joe opened the bag; it was full of ancient looking coins.

“The deal is for the diamond Cena. Where is the diamond?”

Joe sent the bag of coins back to Cena, who angrily slammed the diamond, wrapped in a napkin onto the table. The package was sent around the Lazy Susan once more, along with a glass of Martini. Joe opened the napkin and smiled.

“Now, you give me the envelope” said Cena impatiently.

Joe casually threw over the sealed envelope. Cena opened it, showing the photos contained inside to Seth Rollins. Finally they could destroy the evidence of John Cena rimming that chicken.

Joe drank the Martini in one gulp.

Cena and Rollins began laughing; Cena pulled out a small vial filled with a blue liquid.

“What’s that?” asked Joe, beginning to feel the heat of the room.

“Antidote” Cena chuckled.

“Antidote to what?” asked Joe, beginning to sweat.

“To the poison you just drank Samoa Joe” laughed Cena.

Joe instantly felt the poison working. His temperature skyrocketed and he felt his airway tighten. In desperation, he grabbed Nikki Bella round the waist and held a fork to her neck. Cena only laughed harder, claiming that he could find another woman. Panicking, Joe fumbled the diamond back to Cena.

“Give me the antidote, Cena.”

The demand only made Cena and Rollins laugh harder, until the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking silenced the table. A waiter, with black and white face paint and a strangely enormous mask, pointed a gun hidden under a silver tray at the WWE pair. It was Willow, formerly Jeff Hardy backing up his partner. Joe once again demanded the antidote. Suddenly several corks popped from nearby champagne bottles. Willow suddenly lunged forward, falling into Joes lap with blood gushing form his chest. Rollins discretely hid the smoking pistol underneath the table.

Willow died in Joe’s arms. Nobody cared.

After witnessing the demise of the crack riddled pixie, Joe made a lunge for the antidote; knocking the tube into the middle of the dance floor. Suddenly several WWE jobbers, including Yoshi Tatsu and Curt Hawkins, rushed into the bar armed with Tommy guns in order to stop Joe taking the medication. Joe frantically searched the dance floor for the antidote, grabbing Nikki Bella after the diva picked up the medication. The pair hid from the bullets behind a giant rolling gong, jumping out of a window and into a waiting car driven by Hornswoggle.

“Step on it Hornround” yelled Joe as he fumbled with the lid of the antidote. The leprechaun floored the taxi; with Cena and Reigns in hot pursuit. Hornswoggle managed to get Joe to the airstrip before the pursuing WWE pair, quickly boarding a waiting cargo plane with Hornround and Nikki. Cena and Rollins pulled up just as Joe was shutting the door of the plane.

“Nice try Cena” shouted Joe over the sound of the propeller, shutting the door behind him to reveal the name of the airline. Cena Airfreight.

“Goodbye Samoa Joe” laughed Cena and Rollins.

The plane never landed. There was a rumour that Joe escaped the crashing plane on an inflatable raft, freed a load of child slaves in India and ended the Nazi regime with the help of Sean Connery; but those are just rumours at best.

WINNERS: Cena and Rollins


Come back tomorrow for our final two first round battles!

Day One


As I stood on the docks waiting for the combatants to arrive I took in the stillness that was my island. The waves crashed softly onto the shore, the birds sang high in the trees, and the air was still with serenity. That wouldn’t be the case for long as it was time once again for me to unleash the beast known as DOA. By my side stood the three men who just last year did my bidding, The Shield. Little did they know that things were going to be different this year, much different.

The competitors arrived one by one as I took my place high on the podium ready to address those chosen to stand in battle. 18 men from the WWE and 6 from TNA would find out just how well they could get along when their pairings would be entirely random.

“Welcome to DOA Island and beginning of the fiercest battle of your lives. As you look around at each other, you’ll notice a distinct absence of established teams. That is because this year’s tournament will be held BattleBowl style, with partners randomly paired together by the luck of the draw. 18 of you from the WWE will….

“Um, sir there’s only 15 WWE stars here.”

“No there isn’t Mr. Ambrose. Shield, please take your place among the competitors. This year you’ll have to EARN your way into the finals. As I was saying, 18 WWE stars and 6 TNA stars have made their way here. Some of you may know each other, some may not, but whatever happens you’ll have to learn to get along in order to survive. The rules are simple. Battles can happen at any time, so be on your guard as soon as you leave the beach; anywhere, anytime, anything goes. If you want to make it to the end, you MUST kill at least one member of your opposition. Trust me; there are plenty of ways to die around here. Now the pairings have already been drawn, but I see we are missing somebody. Where is CM Punk?”

“Um, yeah, well Philly kind of quit, so he asked me to take his place. You were kidding about the rules right? We don’t have to kill people do we?”

“Well this is an interesting turn of events. Yes Miss Lee you do have to kill to survive, and if you do you’ll be the first woman to ever win DOA. I’ll replace Mr. Punk with your name. Now, please make your way to the board and find your partners. I suggest you work out any differences you may have early, because DOA 2014 starts…………NOW!

Subho Presents


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Abyss & Bully Ray vs. Alberto Del Rio & Mark Henry


It was a pleasant day in the island. A pair of birds trying to enter the island was electrocuted by the electrified fence. Some piranhas were fighting over the last remnants of a fallen wrestler. Grunts and groans from the fighting men filled the atmosphere. Aah, what a day!

The serene atmosphere was only interrupted by the loud noise of a motorboat. Bully Ray entered the island in his signature sleeveless t-shirt and three quarter pants. Accompanied with a biker chain, he knew he was in for a fight. Before he could go anywhere, a loud voice from the sound system interrupted him.

“Welcome to the DOA Island, Bully Ray! You’ve been chosen by the DOA Administration to partake in this contest that would decide who is the toughest of ‘em all. Please locate your partner, Abyss, and strategize your fight with Alberto Del Rio and Mark Henry. It’s a fight to the death, and the only rule is that there are no rules. Good luck!”

Bully loved what he heard. Even though he hated Abyss, he knew that he was more than able as a teammate.

“Now, if only I could find that thumbtack of a monster!” he thought.

Meanwhile, Mark Henry was pulling a truck with his bare hands to kill time as he waited for Alberto Del Rio to arrive.

“Who in their right minds would pair a Mexican and a Black man?” he said to himself as the dangers of the Island kept playing in his mind.

Suddenly, the sound of a Mariachi Band filled the Island as Alberto Del Rio arrived in grand fashion aboard the MS Queen Elizabeth.

Mark Henry went and stood near the holding plane and visibly shook his head at the charade.

“Morning, Perro!” Del Rio shouted as he came down from the ship wearing a $1000 two-piece, and his trademark scarf.

“You do know why you’re here, right?” Mark asked him wondering why he always has to deal with such freaks.

“Traste no, hombre! It is my destiny to survive in this wretched Island. My name is Alberto Del Rio, but you, you already know that!”

“So how do you plan to defeat Abyss and Bully?”

“Traste no, hombre! It is my destiny to survive in this wretched Island. My name is Alberto Del Rio, but you, you already know that!”

“Yeah, I know. What’s your plan?”

“Traste no, hombre! It is my destiny to survive in this wretched Island. My name is Alberto Del Rio, but you, you already know that!”

“Enough! I’ve heard enough of this shit. You don’t understand the gravity of this situation. There ain’t no Vince McMahon here to save you!”

“Relajarse, perro! I can handle it. It is my destiny….”

“Call me perro ONE MORE TIME!”

“Bueno, bueno. I have something that you would love. Come inside my ship.”

Mark refused at first, but decided to go inside either way. There wasn’t much to do in the Island any way.

On the other side of the Island, Bully Ray saw the massive ship arriving at the Island. From the little he knew about his foe, he was sure that it was Del Rio who would come with the ship. He knew how to battle Mark Henry, but Del Rio; he was the unknown component in this fight. He had spent the entire past hour trying to find Abyss, but there was no trace of him.

“Hey, I don’t need anybody to fight my fight. I can take on those two alone. I don’t even want to share the prize with Abyss.”

As Bully contemplated his plan of action to defeat the two men alone, there was more bickering at the other side.

“Aah, here is my car collection, Mark. Look at all these beauties; Rolls Royces, Lamborghinis, Mercedes’, so much class!”

“Now, what am I supposed to do with these?”

“I know, Mark, this is beyond your level, but at least you can feel the greatness. These are export cars, imported straight from Mexico. This is as close you’d get to actually owning one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, take a look. Go on! I’ll just come back with a couple of martinis.”

Del Rio returned after a while, but only to see Mark Henry down on the ground, with Bully sitting on the hood of one of his Lamborghinis. His entire collection was ravaged, as Bully sat there with a sick grin on his face.

“You, perro dog! What did you do?!”

“Perro dog? Perro. Dog? Isn’t it too early to get high?”

“I’m not going to leave you; I’m going to break your arm. Feel the wrath of the Mexican Aristocrat!”

“Settle down, JBL! We can have a settlement. You see, my partner is nowhere to be found, and I don’t trust him, to be honest. This guy here was too unreliable as well, and I don’t know much about you, but you seem to be a man of reasonable tastes. We can be a team, and win this shit like *that*!”

“No, perro! You cost me a fortune by destroying my cars, and you’d pay for that with your LIFE!”

“You sure? I had no problem in dealing with this guy that calls himself the Strongest Man on the Planet, so what makes you think that you’ll be much trouble for me?”

Before Del Rio could respond, a hand broke through the bottom and Abyss came out from down below.

“Aah, there you are.” Bully said as Abyss stood there, breathing heavily.

“Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive.”

“Yes, it’s Dead or Alive. Now, c’mon! I’ve dealt with Mark; let’s put this Mexican beanbag to bed.”

“Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive.”

“Yes, it’s Dead or Alive. DOA. Fight to the death. Anything goes. Now, c’mon.”

“Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive. Dead. Or. Alive.”

“Aah, **** it! Just find Alberto.”

Del Rio, it seemed, had taken advantage of Abyss’ strange entry and ran away from the scene. Abyss and Bully kept looking for him, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

Suddenly, a car flew out from the side crushing both Abyss and Bully underneath it.

“Noooooooo!” someone shouted in the background.

Bully was dead on impact (hah!) but Abyss stood up somehow and took both his hands over his head and swiftly brought them down; but nothing happened.

“Nah, son! You ain’t Kane!” Mark said as he threw another car from the side, finally killing Abyss.

“Nooooooooooo!” another groan came from the corner of the garage. As Mark followed the sound, he found Del Rio unconscious, probably passed out at the sight of his cars being destroyed beyond repair.

Mark picked him up and came out to the bar inside the ship. He threw a little cold water on Del Rio’s face to resurrect him.

“My car… Perro...” Del Rio mumbled as Mark slapped him to bring some sense onto him.

“Wake up! We won!” Mark said.

“I told you, it is my destiny…”

*Smack!*

One slap was enough to send Del Rio back to sleep. Mark picked him up and came out of the obvious give away of the ship and went to his tree-house. He started exercising as he thought about the wars that awaited him, and how he would deal with his own loony teammate….

WINNERS: Del Rio and Henry


Ranting Randall Presents


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Luke Harper & JTG vs. Cesaro & Davey Richards


"Cesaro and Richards picked a good island to die on!" states Luke Harper, as he stares wide eyed at the dilapidated temple in front of him. He remains transfixed for a few minutes, utter a few "yeahs" every now and then, before he snaps out of the trance and begins to look around, wildly.

"Where the heck is my partner?" Harper asks himself, as he approaches a massive oak tree with a treehouse on top. "Yo neegray, you up there?! I know your kind get called monkeys because of your skin colour, but it don't mean you can play the part by living in a damn tree!" Harper waits a few minutes for a response and then boots the tree in frustration, before proceeding back towards the temple, whistling a happy, yet sinister sounding tune. Suddenly, a yodel can be heard being carried by the wind and Harper quickens his pace to set his trap in the temple, with or without JTG....

"Why did you do that for?" asks Davey Richards, as he watches Cesaro press a log over his head and toss it aside like nothing. "Weil die frische Luft macht mich immer so lebendig fühlen!" replies Cesaro, as Richards looks on confused. Cesaro shakes his head and they continue on towards a building they see in the distance. "So how did you end up doing this?" asks Cesaro. "Well, my current gig in TNA doesn't pay well and when they do, it's a few months late, so I thought I'd make a bit on the side. Hell, I'll still make money if I lose anyway, because I'll just flat out steal it like I did to that bum ass indy promoter a few years back!"

Richards suddenly yells out, causing Cesaro to swing round ready for a fight but realises Davey has accidentally stepped into a bear trap. After freeing Davey the trap by prising it open with his retard strength, Cesaro notices that Richards is suffering no ill effects by continuing to walk on. "How are you not hurting right now?" asks an astonished Cesaro. Richards turns round, surprised. "Claudio, you were in the Indy scene for years! How can you not remember what no selling is?" Cesaro gives a look of disgust, indicating that he never indulged in that sort of thing, before quickly grabbing a nearby sharp rock and slashing Richards across the throat with it. Richards laughs and spreads his arms wide open, as blood gushes from the wound. "Give me your best shot!" brags Richards, as Cesaro scurries about finding something suitable to hit Davey with......

A few hours later, the skies have darkened and Luke Harper reappears from the depths of the temple, looking sweatier than ever. He notices a small fire ahead with a figure sitting on a chair and decides to cautiously investigates. The figure notices the approaching wild eyes and stands up, putting their left hand across the chest to their heart. "WE, THE PEOPLE!!" declares Cesaro, with a massive grin on his face. "You can rest easy my friend, for you have won the battle this day!" Harper looks confused as Cesaro motions for him to join at the fire for a bottle of Eichhof lager. Cesaro begins to enlighten Harper about the ways he tried to inflict pain on Richards, including setting a pack of wild dogs on Richards to using a chainsaw to try and cut off his limbs.

"So how did he die?" questions Harper.

Cesaro smiles. "After getting tired of trying to get him to sell, we continued on towards the temple, when he crotched himself upon a log we were climbing over and he became motionless. After checking his body, I discovered that he landed on a small on/off switch where his genitals are supposed to be, which explains his no selling over the years. He was a robot!" Cesaro shakes his head and then looks around. "Where's YOUR partner?"

Before Harper can answer, mist appears before them, forming into a faint figure. Harper and Cesaro get ready to fight, but a voice calls out. "No need to fear my niggas, it's only JTG! Just here to congratulate you both on surviving." Cesaro and Harper look confused, as they both ask, "Did you die here too?" JTG's ghost laughs. "Hell naw dawgs! I've been dead for nearly 7 years now. I get paid to use a Life Model Decoy for public appearances if need be, just to keep Vince McMahon happy."

Cesaro and Harper look on amused as JTG slowly begins to fade off, before Harper pipes up, "Wait! Before you go.....How did you die?"

JTG replies, " Oh, I was burned at the stake after being tortured by Michael Hayes and his squad in the KKK......"

WINNERS: Luke Harper & Ghost JTG


Come back tomorrow for more DOA Insanity!

Until next battle,
Rob Out




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