Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 30, 2023 0:35:57 GMT -5
”I made sure she hurt this time,” he said to himself as he walked through the curtain, clenching his fists and popping his knuckles with each tightened, balled hand; it was an arthritic setback, to be sure, but it wasn’t like his hands were too important. He ached a little bit all over from Brooke’s attempts at lightspeed offense, but Donnie proved his durability once again, absorbing blow for blow; giving Brooke credit, she didn’t let up, as long as she had the energy to fight.
She was a damn Energizer Bunny.
But he sent his message, and it was directly to SYNN, appealing to her humanity and weakening the demons’ embrace around her soul. She had to rush in to rescue her little Brooke because the big bad man was ready to rip her damn head off as he bathed in her pain. The look in SYNN’s eyes, with the fire, the anguish; the, again, humanity: Donnie was peeling away the layers of the champion and finding the soft, squishy, worthless bits. He cackled to himself before going to gorilla position, to watch this Konstantine figure facing Donnie’s current archnemesis.
The guy was decent in terms of his physicality, someone to watch out for, but Donnie wasn’t otherwise bothered. After all, he was sitting on a simple draw since signing whereas Donnie sat at the top, running roughshod in his Outcast undefeated streak.
Alexander Konstantine... he bore the name of an emperor and an interesting DC comic book character, and that’s where the comparisons stopped.
”Harbinger of suffering, hm?”
Donnie kept to his own as he watched the monitor; as far as he was concerned, the heartbreak that SYNN was facing while staring down Konstantine was what the man could not fathom in contemplation; Donnie hurt SYNN much more deeply than this harbinger was capable of doing. However, things started to become... interesting, and not in a good way.
SYNN was floundering in the face of this stronger foe, something Donnie couldn’t as readily do. With all the mind games they played with each other, with the mental chess pieces moved about the imaginary board, there was no placing this rook in the form of Alexander Konstantine. Donnie was a bit nervous now, even whispering cheers for SYNN; he wasn’t going to let his nemesis be bested by some monstrous cretin who had nothing more than brute force.
It was like watching BRADDOCK; it was aggravating.
Donnie knew the combination of blows and snap DDT wasn’t going to do enough, not with how fresh Konstantine was at that point, having dominated the whole match otherwise. He absentmindedly rested his teeth against the knuckle of his index finger, his other arm laid across his abdomen, sitting under and supporting the once hanging elbow.
The Asai moonsault from SYNN was what changed the tide of the match, less Konstantine from the blow as the solid impact winded the behemoth of a man. That would have had Donnie going back to shower, pack his gear and head to the next town, if not for the streak of blonde hair and the smell of sage that buzzed past.
Donnie had to head her off at the pass; cutting back into the arena through the audience, he hopped the barricade and switched the sadist back on.
In any other situation, Donnie would have jumped Konstantine, a sign of his respect for both women, but SYNN needed to learn a lesson: stay down in the presence of Donnie Harris. The lariat that would have decapitated the temporary world champion would have kept a lesser competitor down, but this is SYNN.
As Lee Masters announced to the crowd of the match’s no-contest ruling, Donnie was about to come between the smaller woman and the larger man, until SYNN delivered a shock right cross to the MMA standout, and then the brawl kicked off.
Donnie hadn’t been in a tag team match since his partnership with, ironically enough, SYNN; they lost against twobitch-titty fuckwits challenging opponents who ran like the cowards they were proved difficult.
Changing the subject, Konstantine seemed like someone who could, at the very least, hold his own.
HOWEVER, the big man was untested, uncut, unknown. Donnie tried looking things up about the guy, only to come short. For the time, Alexander Konstantine could keep his anonymity. Not like it was going to matter to Donnie; they were going to be teaming up, facing Brooke and SYNN in the main event of the next show.
All the #1 contender could do with the little information he had was plan ahead for his own success, making his mental way through tag team matches, unfortunately including his failure of one, to gather some intel and gain some more experience; it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing and he knew that all too well.
Back to the indies, back under another pseudonym (or pseu-diddly-udonym if the reader is a Flandersist... Flandersite?), and back into the ring; all for naught: Charlottesville was a barren wasteland when it came to opportunities to hone the craft, but it didn’t mean it was entirely useless, as there were some students from the BJJ school in town that recognized Donnie from his days in the cage. He walked into the school like he owned the place, being introduced to the lead instructor by the students in question. The instructor looked him up and down, and he simply nodded. Donnie bowed shallowly in response to the recognition, whether good or bad, before stepping back and off the mat.
It was nothing, literally, as he watched this group of students that barely broke into their brown belts recklessly throw themselves around, but this was only his first day in Charlottesville; he fought every part of himself not to go back, walking back in the next day with his gear.
He had everyone tapped out after an hour, leaving the lead instructor to stare a hole through him. Donnie wore his black belt, staring back. They locked up, grappling, digging for holes, gaps, anything to get the upper hand, until Donnie used his weight and leverage to get into a better position from the rear, and, as the lead instructor instinctively flattened out to avoid getting hooked by Donnie’s legs, the MMA fighter gets a reverse headlock cinched across the more experienced fighter’s face, locking his shoulder.
The instructor taps to this modified Crossface, and Donnie releases the hold the minute he hears the hand on the canvas. Without another word, Donnie, disheveled from the tussle, grabs his duffel bag and takes a long drink from his water bottle. He says nothing to anyone and dumps the last of his water on the mat, disrespecting the dojo and leaving.
Hey, the man’s a heel, and this is no different situation.
Sitting alone in the room he booked at the Boar’s Head, he began to think about what will really need to be done. Obviously Konstantine can handle himself, but, if he can’t, Donnie is ready, willing and able to make the bigger man cry like a bitch; it’s in his song, after all.
SYNN is his primary focus, the one that bears the crosshairs; Brooke was so close to SYNN that the girl would easily be caught in the crossfire.
Their match proved how much of a good idea that is for her; as hard as she tried, there was no chopping down the great redwood that was Donnie Harris.
But Konstantine was basically a Douglas fir or a giant sequoia. Donnie wasn’t a large man, by any means compared to larger men, but the number 1 contender was still dangerous enough, and Konstantine would need to understand that failure to recognize this would mean a harsh punishment, one that may sideline the new signee for a very long time, and Donnie had no qualms about putting away someone like him.
A big tree like him would burn very nicely, and SYNN at the stake would make for a bright evening indeed.
And making Brooke watch her mentor burn away to nothing? It would be like icing on the cake, cherry on the sundae, etc.
The wasted time in that Brazilian jiu jitsu gym just left Donnie frustrated and disappointed. It reminded him why he got out of the amateur bullshit that left people more beaten and bruised than paid, especially when faced with the wall that was Donnie Harris; some got close but they never got past.
Just like Brooke; just like SYNN...
They would face that again next week, but Donnie still questioned Konstantine’s motivations; he wondered how in the blue hell he got a match with SYNN with no more than what looked like a forecast off a crooked meteorologist’s radar screen. Donnie did remember reading something about a stable he was once a part of; maybe he’s not all that new to the game, since Donnie was still green enough to know the difference, but it still bothered him. Again, the conspiracy wheels started turning.
Maybe SYNN just wanted to use him as a morale boost, to beat the vile green giant and make up for the fact she just watched her special little girl get absolutely wrecked by Donnie. Clearly, she had overcompensated, thinking Konstantine would have been a cake walk, only to be walked over until Brooke vainly tried to save the day, only for Donnie to remind SYNN to keep her eyes on him and not forget who the villain in her story truly was.
If anyone forgot, it’s Donnie, and it will ALWAYS be Donnie; as long as she held onto that undisputed title, as long as SYNN wore it around her waist, Donnie was not going to be far behind.
However, she had suitors lining up for that belt, and BRADDOCK definitely tried, until Donnie saved SYNN’s ass, only to end up nose-to-nose with the bitch. They didn’t fight, they didn’t try anything; the respect that Donnie and SYNN have to have for each other ran that deep.
At least, that’s what Donnie wants to believe.
All the great heroes have their foils, and all the great villains had the heroes meant to stop them.
SYNN and Donnie seemed to be OCW’s great Godzilla vs. Kong, matter vs. antimatter; Adam vs. Eve.
Konstantine and Brooke? Merely in the way: their existence and attempts to be involved were inconsequential and unimportant. They merely serve to be... well, there: place holders on a table setting, stones in the stream to cross on, planks in a bridge, slabs of concrete in the sidewalk.
They’re in the way, and Donnie made sure to show SYNN that at the last show, but not convincingly enough for Brooke to realize that her mentor needs to fight her own battles; he would need to show her again, and maybe Konstantine can be the one to do that, while Donnie pins SYNN down and allows this Harbinger of Suffering to do his thing.
Or Donnie will do it himself, as he expects to do.
He doesn’t expect to get any real help from Konstantine, that the big man will get in the way and fuck it all up.
That’s what happens when your faith in humanity is about as effective as religious faith: all for nothing and as worthless as a penny.
And SYNN, now showing that human side of herself, was now merely a plaything. Brooke was always just a yo-yo; SYNN was no better than Goth Spectacle Barbie now. Regardless of how much actual plastic was in the woman, SYNN was nothing more than a cheap doll, as cheap as the day she was priced from the factory; cut from a cloth of flawed existence, like every person that ever was, counting Donnie’s own parents, SYNN was just a berry on a dead tree. As much as she liked to think she was different, or picked on for being so different, she was as unique as an earthworm in the ground.
And, like the worm she is, Donnie was going to crush her underfoot.
Whether Brooke liked it or not; whether Konstantine got in the way or not.
She was a damn Energizer Bunny.
But he sent his message, and it was directly to SYNN, appealing to her humanity and weakening the demons’ embrace around her soul. She had to rush in to rescue her little Brooke because the big bad man was ready to rip her damn head off as he bathed in her pain. The look in SYNN’s eyes, with the fire, the anguish; the, again, humanity: Donnie was peeling away the layers of the champion and finding the soft, squishy, worthless bits. He cackled to himself before going to gorilla position, to watch this Konstantine figure facing Donnie’s current archnemesis.
The guy was decent in terms of his physicality, someone to watch out for, but Donnie wasn’t otherwise bothered. After all, he was sitting on a simple draw since signing whereas Donnie sat at the top, running roughshod in his Outcast undefeated streak.
Alexander Konstantine... he bore the name of an emperor and an interesting DC comic book character, and that’s where the comparisons stopped.
”Harbinger of suffering, hm?”
Donnie kept to his own as he watched the monitor; as far as he was concerned, the heartbreak that SYNN was facing while staring down Konstantine was what the man could not fathom in contemplation; Donnie hurt SYNN much more deeply than this harbinger was capable of doing. However, things started to become... interesting, and not in a good way.
SYNN was floundering in the face of this stronger foe, something Donnie couldn’t as readily do. With all the mind games they played with each other, with the mental chess pieces moved about the imaginary board, there was no placing this rook in the form of Alexander Konstantine. Donnie was a bit nervous now, even whispering cheers for SYNN; he wasn’t going to let his nemesis be bested by some monstrous cretin who had nothing more than brute force.
It was like watching BRADDOCK; it was aggravating.
Donnie knew the combination of blows and snap DDT wasn’t going to do enough, not with how fresh Konstantine was at that point, having dominated the whole match otherwise. He absentmindedly rested his teeth against the knuckle of his index finger, his other arm laid across his abdomen, sitting under and supporting the once hanging elbow.
The Asai moonsault from SYNN was what changed the tide of the match, less Konstantine from the blow as the solid impact winded the behemoth of a man. That would have had Donnie going back to shower, pack his gear and head to the next town, if not for the streak of blonde hair and the smell of sage that buzzed past.
Donnie had to head her off at the pass; cutting back into the arena through the audience, he hopped the barricade and switched the sadist back on.
In any other situation, Donnie would have jumped Konstantine, a sign of his respect for both women, but SYNN needed to learn a lesson: stay down in the presence of Donnie Harris. The lariat that would have decapitated the temporary world champion would have kept a lesser competitor down, but this is SYNN.
As Lee Masters announced to the crowd of the match’s no-contest ruling, Donnie was about to come between the smaller woman and the larger man, until SYNN delivered a shock right cross to the MMA standout, and then the brawl kicked off.
Donnie hadn’t been in a tag team match since his partnership with, ironically enough, SYNN; they lost against two
Changing the subject, Konstantine seemed like someone who could, at the very least, hold his own.
HOWEVER, the big man was untested, uncut, unknown. Donnie tried looking things up about the guy, only to come short. For the time, Alexander Konstantine could keep his anonymity. Not like it was going to matter to Donnie; they were going to be teaming up, facing Brooke and SYNN in the main event of the next show.
All the #1 contender could do with the little information he had was plan ahead for his own success, making his mental way through tag team matches, unfortunately including his failure of one, to gather some intel and gain some more experience; it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing and he knew that all too well.
Back to the indies, back under another pseudonym (or pseu-diddly-udonym if the reader is a Flandersist... Flandersite?), and back into the ring; all for naught: Charlottesville was a barren wasteland when it came to opportunities to hone the craft, but it didn’t mean it was entirely useless, as there were some students from the BJJ school in town that recognized Donnie from his days in the cage. He walked into the school like he owned the place, being introduced to the lead instructor by the students in question. The instructor looked him up and down, and he simply nodded. Donnie bowed shallowly in response to the recognition, whether good or bad, before stepping back and off the mat.
It was nothing, literally, as he watched this group of students that barely broke into their brown belts recklessly throw themselves around, but this was only his first day in Charlottesville; he fought every part of himself not to go back, walking back in the next day with his gear.
He had everyone tapped out after an hour, leaving the lead instructor to stare a hole through him. Donnie wore his black belt, staring back. They locked up, grappling, digging for holes, gaps, anything to get the upper hand, until Donnie used his weight and leverage to get into a better position from the rear, and, as the lead instructor instinctively flattened out to avoid getting hooked by Donnie’s legs, the MMA fighter gets a reverse headlock cinched across the more experienced fighter’s face, locking his shoulder.
The instructor taps to this modified Crossface, and Donnie releases the hold the minute he hears the hand on the canvas. Without another word, Donnie, disheveled from the tussle, grabs his duffel bag and takes a long drink from his water bottle. He says nothing to anyone and dumps the last of his water on the mat, disrespecting the dojo and leaving.
Hey, the man’s a heel, and this is no different situation.
Sitting alone in the room he booked at the Boar’s Head, he began to think about what will really need to be done. Obviously Konstantine can handle himself, but, if he can’t, Donnie is ready, willing and able to make the bigger man cry like a bitch; it’s in his song, after all.
SYNN is his primary focus, the one that bears the crosshairs; Brooke was so close to SYNN that the girl would easily be caught in the crossfire.
Their match proved how much of a good idea that is for her; as hard as she tried, there was no chopping down the great redwood that was Donnie Harris.
But Konstantine was basically a Douglas fir or a giant sequoia. Donnie wasn’t a large man, by any means compared to larger men, but the number 1 contender was still dangerous enough, and Konstantine would need to understand that failure to recognize this would mean a harsh punishment, one that may sideline the new signee for a very long time, and Donnie had no qualms about putting away someone like him.
A big tree like him would burn very nicely, and SYNN at the stake would make for a bright evening indeed.
And making Brooke watch her mentor burn away to nothing? It would be like icing on the cake, cherry on the sundae, etc.
The wasted time in that Brazilian jiu jitsu gym just left Donnie frustrated and disappointed. It reminded him why he got out of the amateur bullshit that left people more beaten and bruised than paid, especially when faced with the wall that was Donnie Harris; some got close but they never got past.
Just like Brooke; just like SYNN...
They would face that again next week, but Donnie still questioned Konstantine’s motivations; he wondered how in the blue hell he got a match with SYNN with no more than what looked like a forecast off a crooked meteorologist’s radar screen. Donnie did remember reading something about a stable he was once a part of; maybe he’s not all that new to the game, since Donnie was still green enough to know the difference, but it still bothered him. Again, the conspiracy wheels started turning.
Maybe SYNN just wanted to use him as a morale boost, to beat the vile green giant and make up for the fact she just watched her special little girl get absolutely wrecked by Donnie. Clearly, she had overcompensated, thinking Konstantine would have been a cake walk, only to be walked over until Brooke vainly tried to save the day, only for Donnie to remind SYNN to keep her eyes on him and not forget who the villain in her story truly was.
If anyone forgot, it’s Donnie, and it will ALWAYS be Donnie; as long as she held onto that undisputed title, as long as SYNN wore it around her waist, Donnie was not going to be far behind.
However, she had suitors lining up for that belt, and BRADDOCK definitely tried, until Donnie saved SYNN’s ass, only to end up nose-to-nose with the bitch. They didn’t fight, they didn’t try anything; the respect that Donnie and SYNN have to have for each other ran that deep.
At least, that’s what Donnie wants to believe.
All the great heroes have their foils, and all the great villains had the heroes meant to stop them.
SYNN and Donnie seemed to be OCW’s great Godzilla vs. Kong, matter vs. antimatter; Adam vs. Eve.
Konstantine and Brooke? Merely in the way: their existence and attempts to be involved were inconsequential and unimportant. They merely serve to be... well, there: place holders on a table setting, stones in the stream to cross on, planks in a bridge, slabs of concrete in the sidewalk.
They’re in the way, and Donnie made sure to show SYNN that at the last show, but not convincingly enough for Brooke to realize that her mentor needs to fight her own battles; he would need to show her again, and maybe Konstantine can be the one to do that, while Donnie pins SYNN down and allows this Harbinger of Suffering to do his thing.
Or Donnie will do it himself, as he expects to do.
He doesn’t expect to get any real help from Konstantine, that the big man will get in the way and fuck it all up.
That’s what happens when your faith in humanity is about as effective as religious faith: all for nothing and as worthless as a penny.
And SYNN, now showing that human side of herself, was now merely a plaything. Brooke was always just a yo-yo; SYNN was no better than Goth Spectacle Barbie now. Regardless of how much actual plastic was in the woman, SYNN was nothing more than a cheap doll, as cheap as the day she was priced from the factory; cut from a cloth of flawed existence, like every person that ever was, counting Donnie’s own parents, SYNN was just a berry on a dead tree. As much as she liked to think she was different, or picked on for being so different, she was as unique as an earthworm in the ground.
And, like the worm she is, Donnie was going to crush her underfoot.
Whether Brooke liked it or not; whether Konstantine got in the way or not.