Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 19, 2023 0:02:35 GMT -5
There always has to be another one, doesn’t there? Donnie can’t get SYNN to himself.
The bitch is playing hard to get; it’s getting harder and harder to stomach.
With all this time gone by already, with everything Donnie has had to do to push and prod and poke, there’s always someone around to get under his skin, in his way. It was now this BRADDOCK guy’s turn to want a chance at being made famous.
So be it, big guy. He now has transcended his feeble existence on the RISE brand, and is now going to be the next victim of pure violence. He’s going to taste defeat most exquisite, only to come crawling back, begging for more, wishing for Donnie to keep putting him down like the big, dumb, sick dog he really is.
But that can’t be what sticks in Donnie’s craw, and he knows this. He had to focus, get his head back into it, as difficult as it was proving to be with all these distractions and pulls and tugs and whatever. Donnie had to re-focus, and this time, hitting the gym wasn’t going to do it.
He had already called ahead to the MCW school in Baltimore, to continue where he left off in busting his ass and training like nothing he had done before. He knew that the grueling treatment he was giving himself was only going to last so long, so he had to plan accordingly, looking to the days leading up to his departure from the arena in Raleigh to his arrival in Baltimore.
It was sometimes pretty awkward, going to a decent restaurant solo, but it’s not like he had anyone to take with him; being the top villain and the closest thing to a #1 contender had its drawbacks, especially the recognition, as he dealt with jeering from some of the more... passionate diners that were fans of the product. However, between the steak, the wine and the overall quality of the night, he was still going to treat himself like a champion.
Like hell he was going to accept his defeat laying down either. The fact that SYNN needed to set something up in the first place, in that match against Easton Alexander, showed that the champ, as much as the people loved her, was floundering in the face of the stalwart pressure Donnie was putting on her. He knew it had to be relentless too, as he sat and watched his matches so far. They were far from clinics, but it was the fact that the cracks were showing, that SYNN was far from perfect, that the Anarchy world champ was buckling under the weight of Donnie’s competitive drive; she is destined to fail.
And it’s not like Donnie hasn’t had his brushes with championship gold in the past. To remind anyone who didn’t know, Donnie Harris is an upper echelon amateur MMA fighter. He has held belts, many of which relinquished when he shifted weight classes or switched organizations.
But to call oneself “upper echelon” and “amateur” in the same breath? It was not a true feather in Donnie’s cap, far from it. It still felt like a red hot poker under the skin, a dark reminder and his reason to constantly dump fuel on the fire.
Once finished his business in Raleigh, Donnie had himself packed and ready to fly to Baltimore. Of course, he kept to himself, as was his style, tuning the world out with a heavily nuanced playlist with multiple eclectic genres; he avoided most new music and focused on what was, is and should be good music.
Honestly, if he had a choice, he’d burn Taylor Swift alive using the bodies of various pop stars as fuel for Swift’s burning at the stake.
Moving on from the... whatever that can be called, he slept for most of the trip, a power nap that kept him fresh, given that he grabbed the red eye. Donnie was off the plane, luggage and carry-on in tow, in a cab and off to his hotel room at the Renaissance by the harbor. He got his laundry done, especially his wrestling gear, jumped into his king size bed and fell asleep in record time.
BRADDOCK couldn’t have been called up by Britlyn, could he? This wouldn’t be the first time that he has been played with. First, it was SYNN using Easton’s help, but this one was almost too good to be true for SYNN, to randomly have the big man roll the dice and get in Donnie’s way, only to turn around and get staked by the DDT that SYNN named so nicely after the author of the one and only Dracula. His neck still ached from the impact, but it didn’t hurt half as much as knowing that he has a list of people he will need to end in the ring, BRADDOCK’s name joining the list alongside SYNN and Easton Alexander.
As far as Donnie was concerned, any and everyone was on the list, including RISE’s talent pool, including the original OCW’s roster: if Donnie has to walk all over them to get to the top of the mountain, he was going to run through them instead, no matter what it takes.
And Donnie wasn’t afraid to make SYNN’s little prodigy hurt in the meantime.
Sure, Brooke wasn’t going to put up much of a fight, but it wasn’t going to be about her; it was never about Brooke Blakely. She’s cute and blonde and that’s probably why SYNN always looks like she was going to eat her; Donnie was confident any male or female would want to eat her; it didn't matter the orientation.
Donnie was more in tune with the idea of spit roasting her and pulling the charred, fully cooked flesh from her bones and making it more like a barbecue, with SYNN as the guest of honor to watch her little partner become nothing more than a snack.
Okay that sounded very SYNN-ful, but Donnie’s the one thinking it.
Hitting La Tavola in Baltimore for his last big meal before hitting the canvas at the MCWPWTC (yes that is a mouthful), Donnie supped on the delicious Italian fare set out in front of him. No wonder TripAdvisor had it rated so highly. However, as much as he enjoyed his meal, his head wasn’t completely set on what laid in front of him. Everything on his mind took some of the enjoyment out of the meal.
He was already planning out the match, wondering if he needed to be the aggressor, similar to how SYNN put the pressure early on, even though Donnie’s chin proved the superior, until getting caught off guard with the modified DDT, that is.
Brooke is someone he took a passing fancy with, but this was going to be breaking new ground for him. She had dealt with Axis, but Axis... who even is Axis?
She moved like crazy, did Brooke, enough to have Axis reeling, but Axis was clearly a veteran, and Brooke’s attempts to do so much so quickly, it reeked of trying to be SYNN. Everything lined up, from the constant frenetic energy to even the style of dropkick the blonde Blakely was dishing out to Axis. It was enough to put him down in nearly spectacular fashion: a second Shooting Star Press to finish the former Rebellion title contender off for good. It wasn’t a long match, but it seemed to Donnie that, with how hard and fast she was hitting Axis, maybe her stamina would sap more swiftly with the right holds, and not that stupid Dark Armbar.
Maybe a kimura like the one that almost put SYNN away, or perhaps something more along the lines of a pro wrestler: a Crossface or a Figure Four? Best part is, as he has learned in his time at the schools, the villains often leave those holds on a little longer than they should.
It does explain that asshole Rousimar Palhares.
With plan in place, Donnie entered into his extended training with MCWPWTC, which felt less punishing than his last placement in Raleigh. Then again, he took it easier on himself, even having a few matches under a pseudonym, just to change up his general style: less hard-hitting and more acrobatic, not losing any steps with his technical prowess. He took it upon himself to play the odd enhancement talent, even a gatekeeper for some of the talent that just needed more practice.
Every time he got into the ring, onto the training mat, Donnie felt one step closer to completing a journey, rarely focusing on his destination at the top of the mountain. He wanted to make sure he could work the match as well as he could win one. Every single drop of sweat, each blood cell rushing through his veins, the tears shed because of those drops of sweat getting into his eyes, it all had a singular purpose.
And it was his purpose that pushed him to keep going.
Donnie Harris is pushing to be crowned OCWs’ Undisputed World Champion.
The bitch is playing hard to get; it’s getting harder and harder to stomach.
With all this time gone by already, with everything Donnie has had to do to push and prod and poke, there’s always someone around to get under his skin, in his way. It was now this BRADDOCK guy’s turn to want a chance at being made famous.
So be it, big guy. He now has transcended his feeble existence on the RISE brand, and is now going to be the next victim of pure violence. He’s going to taste defeat most exquisite, only to come crawling back, begging for more, wishing for Donnie to keep putting him down like the big, dumb, sick dog he really is.
But that can’t be what sticks in Donnie’s craw, and he knows this. He had to focus, get his head back into it, as difficult as it was proving to be with all these distractions and pulls and tugs and whatever. Donnie had to re-focus, and this time, hitting the gym wasn’t going to do it.
He had already called ahead to the MCW school in Baltimore, to continue where he left off in busting his ass and training like nothing he had done before. He knew that the grueling treatment he was giving himself was only going to last so long, so he had to plan accordingly, looking to the days leading up to his departure from the arena in Raleigh to his arrival in Baltimore.
It was sometimes pretty awkward, going to a decent restaurant solo, but it’s not like he had anyone to take with him; being the top villain and the closest thing to a #1 contender had its drawbacks, especially the recognition, as he dealt with jeering from some of the more... passionate diners that were fans of the product. However, between the steak, the wine and the overall quality of the night, he was still going to treat himself like a champion.
Like hell he was going to accept his defeat laying down either. The fact that SYNN needed to set something up in the first place, in that match against Easton Alexander, showed that the champ, as much as the people loved her, was floundering in the face of the stalwart pressure Donnie was putting on her. He knew it had to be relentless too, as he sat and watched his matches so far. They were far from clinics, but it was the fact that the cracks were showing, that SYNN was far from perfect, that the Anarchy world champ was buckling under the weight of Donnie’s competitive drive; she is destined to fail.
And it’s not like Donnie hasn’t had his brushes with championship gold in the past. To remind anyone who didn’t know, Donnie Harris is an upper echelon amateur MMA fighter. He has held belts, many of which relinquished when he shifted weight classes or switched organizations.
But to call oneself “upper echelon” and “amateur” in the same breath? It was not a true feather in Donnie’s cap, far from it. It still felt like a red hot poker under the skin, a dark reminder and his reason to constantly dump fuel on the fire.
Once finished his business in Raleigh, Donnie had himself packed and ready to fly to Baltimore. Of course, he kept to himself, as was his style, tuning the world out with a heavily nuanced playlist with multiple eclectic genres; he avoided most new music and focused on what was, is and should be good music.
Honestly, if he had a choice, he’d burn Taylor Swift alive using the bodies of various pop stars as fuel for Swift’s burning at the stake.
Moving on from the... whatever that can be called, he slept for most of the trip, a power nap that kept him fresh, given that he grabbed the red eye. Donnie was off the plane, luggage and carry-on in tow, in a cab and off to his hotel room at the Renaissance by the harbor. He got his laundry done, especially his wrestling gear, jumped into his king size bed and fell asleep in record time.
BRADDOCK couldn’t have been called up by Britlyn, could he? This wouldn’t be the first time that he has been played with. First, it was SYNN using Easton’s help, but this one was almost too good to be true for SYNN, to randomly have the big man roll the dice and get in Donnie’s way, only to turn around and get staked by the DDT that SYNN named so nicely after the author of the one and only Dracula. His neck still ached from the impact, but it didn’t hurt half as much as knowing that he has a list of people he will need to end in the ring, BRADDOCK’s name joining the list alongside SYNN and Easton Alexander.
As far as Donnie was concerned, any and everyone was on the list, including RISE’s talent pool, including the original OCW’s roster: if Donnie has to walk all over them to get to the top of the mountain, he was going to run through them instead, no matter what it takes.
And Donnie wasn’t afraid to make SYNN’s little prodigy hurt in the meantime.
Sure, Brooke wasn’t going to put up much of a fight, but it wasn’t going to be about her; it was never about Brooke Blakely. She’s cute and blonde and that’s probably why SYNN always looks like she was going to eat her; Donnie was confident any male or female would want to eat her; it didn't matter the orientation.
Donnie was more in tune with the idea of spit roasting her and pulling the charred, fully cooked flesh from her bones and making it more like a barbecue, with SYNN as the guest of honor to watch her little partner become nothing more than a snack.
Okay that sounded very SYNN-ful, but Donnie’s the one thinking it.
Hitting La Tavola in Baltimore for his last big meal before hitting the canvas at the MCWPWTC (yes that is a mouthful), Donnie supped on the delicious Italian fare set out in front of him. No wonder TripAdvisor had it rated so highly. However, as much as he enjoyed his meal, his head wasn’t completely set on what laid in front of him. Everything on his mind took some of the enjoyment out of the meal.
He was already planning out the match, wondering if he needed to be the aggressor, similar to how SYNN put the pressure early on, even though Donnie’s chin proved the superior, until getting caught off guard with the modified DDT, that is.
Brooke is someone he took a passing fancy with, but this was going to be breaking new ground for him. She had dealt with Axis, but Axis... who even is Axis?
She moved like crazy, did Brooke, enough to have Axis reeling, but Axis was clearly a veteran, and Brooke’s attempts to do so much so quickly, it reeked of trying to be SYNN. Everything lined up, from the constant frenetic energy to even the style of dropkick the blonde Blakely was dishing out to Axis. It was enough to put him down in nearly spectacular fashion: a second Shooting Star Press to finish the former Rebellion title contender off for good. It wasn’t a long match, but it seemed to Donnie that, with how hard and fast she was hitting Axis, maybe her stamina would sap more swiftly with the right holds, and not that stupid Dark Armbar.
Maybe a kimura like the one that almost put SYNN away, or perhaps something more along the lines of a pro wrestler: a Crossface or a Figure Four? Best part is, as he has learned in his time at the schools, the villains often leave those holds on a little longer than they should.
It does explain that asshole Rousimar Palhares.
With plan in place, Donnie entered into his extended training with MCWPWTC, which felt less punishing than his last placement in Raleigh. Then again, he took it easier on himself, even having a few matches under a pseudonym, just to change up his general style: less hard-hitting and more acrobatic, not losing any steps with his technical prowess. He took it upon himself to play the odd enhancement talent, even a gatekeeper for some of the talent that just needed more practice.
Every time he got into the ring, onto the training mat, Donnie felt one step closer to completing a journey, rarely focusing on his destination at the top of the mountain. He wanted to make sure he could work the match as well as he could win one. Every single drop of sweat, each blood cell rushing through his veins, the tears shed because of those drops of sweat getting into his eyes, it all had a singular purpose.
And it was his purpose that pushed him to keep going.
Donnie Harris is pushing to be crowned OCWs’ Undisputed World Champion.