Post by Donnie Harris on May 26, 2024 21:36:07 GMT -5
-The emptiness that Donnie felt the minute he got to the back, it was consuming.
Nothing mattered at that point.
All he could feel was the floor under his feet, his neck straining as his head hung low, and the despair from another wasted opportunity.
Nothing mattered at this point.
Even as he undressed in the middle of the locker room, ignoring everyone around him who could or did get a peek at his nudity, as he showered in silence and stood under the water streaming across his body, it was all he could feel, that and the lathering soap that he scrubbed into his skin.
Nothing mattered at all.
He didn’t even bother getting dressed. The clean clothing sat on top of his bag, and, sure he did eventually dress himself, anyone looking in could see the defeated Donnie Harris, laid bare, figuratively and literally, moving as slowly as a senior citizen. All the youth, energy, vigor, whatever one wanted to call it, it was sucked clean out of him. Everyone tried to talk to him, and he heard himself reply about being okay and seeing people at the next show, but it felt so hollow, so vapid and pointless.
Nothing mattered.
It took all of his willpower to get back to the hotel room and pack, took all of his remaining energy to undress for bed; took all of his numbness to pull himself out of bed the next morning in time for check-out. It felt like nothing to load up onto the plane, sit down, fly to Indianapolis, get off the plane, check into the hotel; etc etc etc.
Donnie just stopped caring.
Hell, even knowing that Damage would be facing him in a steel cage, it didn’t matter. Sure, the guy had a competitive showing against John Blaze, but who cared? Damage was just another guy with another belt. As Donnie unpacked in the city famous for the Indy 500, the PWA Streaming Service title belt glinted in the lamplight. Donnie lifted the belt, adorned with the 25-lb center plate that bore his name, even after a match with Easton Alexander; Donnie smirked and dropped it to the floor.
It’s not the world title; it doesn’t matter.
Donnie’s face went from the casual feeling of accomplishment to numbness in seconds and a sigh of discontent. All he did was place his clothing in a drawer, setting aside that which needed laundering for later, and turned on the TV, flipping the channel until he called to order a replay of EPW Shockwave.
Just to taunt himself, just to remind himself of his shortcomings and failure; just to further torture himself and suffer his inabilities. And it included the inability to expect BRADDOCK to come back and suckerpunch him.
The remote control almost seemed to explode in Donnie’s hand, the chair shot’s unprotected impact echoing through his body, his grip suddenly intensifying around the plastic control which causes it to essentially pop in his hand like a balloon. Shards of plastic flew around him, a couple now digging into his hand.
All the bullshit he had been through, all the preaching and pandering, only to be screwed out of even taking a clean loss: it burned up in his face, incinerated by that big fat fuck that couldn’t stick around.
The fire, as easily as it flickered, gathered fuel; as ready as it was to be blown out as easily as one would extinguish a match, the flame kindled and roared. Blood dripped from his hand like it leaked from the cuts that both he and BRADDOCK sustained many months ago, in their first tussle for the world title. They bled and they beat themselves like mad animals.
BRADDOCK still came out on top.
And fairness was something that Donnie wasn’t keen on right now. BRADDOCK was stripped unfairly, sure, but the way he came back...
No, Donnie was being a fucking idiot. SYNN did the exact same thing. She got in the way. She pushed her way into his line of sight. She got in the fucking way of the fucking bullet meant for fucking Clyde Newton!
What the fuck was going on? Dropping what was left of the remote control, Donnie buried his head in his hands, bleeding all over his face as the adrenaline stole all semblance of pain away. Even as the broadcast switched off on its own, Donnie sat there, steaming, stewing, raging, shaking from head to toe.
They played me, he thought to himself. I am an idiot. I can’t begin... I don’t understand, but I do.
Donnie got up, looked at his hand, looked at the pieces of plastic embedded in his flesh and sitting on the floor, clenching a white-knuckled tight fist with his uninjured hand.-
)Donnie Harris(
I have never wanted to hurt someone more. Legitimately.
-Donnie woke up the next morning, still steaming. He couldn’t think straight, watching the Shockwave broadcast again, but he did focus a bit more on the match between Damage and John Blaze, since his target for the Danger Zone this time was going to be Damage. Sure, he was now the Rebellion champion, but something else still bothered him.
And it was BRADDOCK using him as a vehicle for his comeback, just as much as it was SYNN when she came back.
Donnie felt filthy. He even stood under the water of the shower, scrubbing his body repeatedly to wipe away an imaginary stain on his skin; it just wouldn’t wash away. Eventually he did get out of the water, and his skin was raw, the itchiness starting to overwhelm him after another few minutes of his skin drying in the air.
And, as Donnie looked at himself in the mirror, some painful looking patches of skin flaking away because of the hard scrubbing, his phone began to ring with an unfamiliar number. He picks up the phone, cocks an eyebrow and answers.-
)Donnie Harris(
Hello? Who is this?
-There is a long pause, just pure silence. Donnie was not in the mood to play games. As he goes to put down the phone and hang up, a familiar female voice is heard.-
(Woman)
...Donnie? It’s, um, it’s Sarah: Sarah Hendricks.
-Donnie sighs; he didn’t need to know either first or last name once he recognized her voice.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
I saw Shockwave. It was heartbreaking to see how you were cheated out of the EPW World Championship. I know it’s easy to say ‘you’ll get it next time’ or ‘just wasn’t your night’, but I know how you think, what goes through your mind after such a devastating loss. It’s eating you up. I get it, I know.
-Donnie cuts off Sarah harshly, his voice almost a low growl.-
)Donnie Harris(
What do you want, Sarah, really?
-An awkward but short, silent pause takes up the space before Sarah feels comfortable enough to speak again. Donnie was clearly not having any of it.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
...look, maybe this was a bad idea. I know how things ended between us wasn’t the storybook ending either of us wanted. But after seeing what happened at Shockwave and how much of an introvert you can be. I wanted you to know if you needed to vent to someone you trust. Or... once trusted. I am here for you.
-Donnie scoffs, listening to her talk. Why was she talking about how they ended things or anything like that? Since when did she watch wrestling? Since when could he remember much of what they did? He stops for a second and sighs, covering his face and turning away from the mirror.-
)Donnie Harris(
Sarah, a storybook ending would have been living out the rest of one’s days together, but clearly that wasn’t the case, and yes, I’m probably way behind on keeping you in the loop with my life, and yes, I’m having a hard time with things after Shockwave. It’s just torture right now, and it’s taking a lot to keep my head on straight.
-He looks down at his bandaged right hand, where a nurse had to extract a couple small pieces of plastic from the remote control he had crushed and he couldn’t remove himself.-
)Donnie Harris(
That’s why I’m asking you, flatly I might add: what do you want? It’s good to hear your voice and that you’re here for me, but there’s usually much more to it.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time. But to be blunt and to the point, I need a favor. I know you don’t owe me anything. After I was honorably discharged from the military... don’t ask... I started training harder, especially after I saw some of your OCW matches. And now seeing you in EPW? Well... I was wondering if you could maybe put in a word or two about getting me a job there. I know this is a bad time with your upcoming match with Damage, so I won’t bug you about it any further. Just think about it.
)Donnie Harris(
Dinner.
-Donnie just puts it bluntly for Sarah to think about, not even hesitating; even he caught himself by surprise though.-
)Donnie Harris(
Finish whatever it is you’re doing there, meet me in Indianapolis, and we’ll talk about it over dinner. I want to see how truly serious you are about this, because this isn’t like when I was in MMA, and you thought my frustration was bad then.
-Silence, just silence from the other end; Donnie held his breath.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
You were always straight to the point. I am actually in Indianapolis for EPW’s Danger. I got nosebleed seats, but I thought it would be a good idea to show up and see it live, if I didn’t get a hold of you tonight. And yes I have good and bad memories of you during your MMA days. But to answer your question... Dinner? As long as it’s nothing like that taco stand we ate at in Detroit, or we’ll be fighting for the bathroom again...
Sarah laughs; Donnie just smiles, the first time he has done so in a good while.
)Sarah Hendricks(
When and where?
)Donnie Harris(
Where are you staying?
-Donnie starts to tap his finger on his elbow, still just standing in a towel, his arms resting across his abdomen.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
Oh some shitty Days Inn & Suite dirt hole: 80 bucks, free HBO and the opportunity to share a few nights with the roaches. To save a few bucks, right? I am my father’s daughter. But I can meet you whenever.
)Donnie Harris(
I’ll take the couch; come to the Hyatt Place Indianapolis. I’ll meet you in the lobby and we can talk about dinner and figure it out there. I always try to get somewhere close to the venue so I can walk.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I suppose sharing the bed would be inappropriate with our history, even if we sleep with our clothes on; the couch is fine with me. You need a good night's sleep if you’re going to take down this Damage guy. Or are you still restless before a fight?
-Donnie sighs, shaking his head. The fact that she remembers his seizure-like twitchiness pre-fight was frightening, but, at the same time, he missed having someone be that attentive.-
)Donnie Harris(
No, you can have the bed, and I’ll go on the couch; even if it doesn’t pull out, it should be fine. It is a king-sized bed too. History or not, I’ll sleep like a baby. My routine hasn’t changed: work out to exhaustion until three days before, eat like a king and then sleep like a baby, whether there’s sex or no sex.
-A light laugh from Sarah is heard.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
I do remember your routine cycle. And I am trying to adopt it for my own training. Stealing is the proper word. But I know for a fact that you sleep like a kitten, not only after sex but after you win a big fight.
-Donnie smirks.-
)Donnie Harris(
Firstly, winning the fights always helped the anxiety, and I gave it all; I had nothing left in the tank. I think that should tell you why I slept like a kitten, as you put it, after you drained me. And, secondly, feel free to plagiarize my routine. It works well enough for me, I guess.
)Sarah Hendricks(
It ain’t easy, that’s for damn sure. But it does work.
-A moment of silence: was she hesitating? It got Donnie a little freaked out, hitting on an ex like this.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
And Donnie... thanks. You taking this call means a lot. Anything after we hang up is really a bonus for me. So... thanks.
)Donnie Harris(
This is where you put down the phone and start packing. How long before you get here, do you think? I just have to get dressed; I was in the shower before you called.
)Sarah Hendricks(
Are you still using Old Spice shampoo? Regardless, I still pack light, so I'll get an uber once we get off the line.
-Old Spice? Girl knows too much.-
)Donnie Harris(
Yes I still use Old Spice. Why? Making it difficult to avoid opting to share this massive bed?
)Sarah Hendricks(
I like that Old Spice smell. The guys I've seen after you usually drench their bodies with that Brut aftershave stink that makes me want to vomit. But if you want to share the bed and can deal with my spontaneous feet kicking in my sleep, it’s an option.
-Donnie laughs at the comment about Brut making her want to puke.-
)Donnie Harris(
Well then it’s a good thing that you would usually sleep like a puppy, less a dreaming dog, after sex too, but maybe we can hit the gym here and I can see where your benchmarks are in terms of the workout. Doing it my way, I have burned myself out pretty badly if I’m not watching what I’m doing.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I would like that. Military training was one thing. But combat sports training is on another level. Anyway, we can catch up soon. Get dressed and what not: I’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.
)Donnie Harris(
And the clock is ticking.
-Donnie turns off the light to the bathroom and moves to his suitcase; he didn’t exactly pack a whole lot either. At least he got his laundry done.-
)Donnie Harris(
I know it has been a long time for us, so let’s not try to rush too much: savor the time we have, because we never know what’s coming tomorrow.
)Sarah Hendricks(
True. But remember it’s “Tomorrow” that’s always coming and never arrives. We’re always in the present. The now. And... I’ve said too much. What you said. See you soon.
-Donnie straightens up as he stares at the wall over the headboard, thinking.-
)Donnie Harris(
You’ve said exactly what you always say, Sarah, and I’ve missed it and you. Ride safely; I’ll be in the lobby when you get here.
-Donnie ends the call after a slow goodbye, dropping his phone to the bed. He pulls his wrestling shorts, which are his shorts for MMA, complete with sponsors that EPW has done nothing about, out of his duffle bag, looking down to see the Outsiders Streaming Service title. He extracts it from the bag as well, setting it and the shorts on a chair nearby, to have ready when necessary.
Sure, Damage was going to be literally bigger than many of Donnie’s opponents, but everyone says the same thing about big stuff. And sure, he proved himself by getting the Rebellion title from John Blaze, but, considering his standing as a former OCW world champ too, Damage has to be hungrier than that, just like how Donnie is hungrier for bigger, brighter gold than the Streaming Service title.
It’s not that Donnie didn’t care about it: a kudo is a kudo. However, there is bigger, there is better, and there is brighter. And, just now, as Donnie buckles his belt for his jeans, fastens his watch to his wrist and buttons up the buttons on his shirt, he was bracing himself for one of the brightest spotlights in his life.-
Nothing mattered at that point.
All he could feel was the floor under his feet, his neck straining as his head hung low, and the despair from another wasted opportunity.
Nothing mattered at this point.
Even as he undressed in the middle of the locker room, ignoring everyone around him who could or did get a peek at his nudity, as he showered in silence and stood under the water streaming across his body, it was all he could feel, that and the lathering soap that he scrubbed into his skin.
Nothing mattered at all.
He didn’t even bother getting dressed. The clean clothing sat on top of his bag, and, sure he did eventually dress himself, anyone looking in could see the defeated Donnie Harris, laid bare, figuratively and literally, moving as slowly as a senior citizen. All the youth, energy, vigor, whatever one wanted to call it, it was sucked clean out of him. Everyone tried to talk to him, and he heard himself reply about being okay and seeing people at the next show, but it felt so hollow, so vapid and pointless.
Nothing mattered.
It took all of his willpower to get back to the hotel room and pack, took all of his remaining energy to undress for bed; took all of his numbness to pull himself out of bed the next morning in time for check-out. It felt like nothing to load up onto the plane, sit down, fly to Indianapolis, get off the plane, check into the hotel; etc etc etc.
Donnie just stopped caring.
Hell, even knowing that Damage would be facing him in a steel cage, it didn’t matter. Sure, the guy had a competitive showing against John Blaze, but who cared? Damage was just another guy with another belt. As Donnie unpacked in the city famous for the Indy 500, the PWA Streaming Service title belt glinted in the lamplight. Donnie lifted the belt, adorned with the 25-lb center plate that bore his name, even after a match with Easton Alexander; Donnie smirked and dropped it to the floor.
It’s not the world title; it doesn’t matter.
Donnie’s face went from the casual feeling of accomplishment to numbness in seconds and a sigh of discontent. All he did was place his clothing in a drawer, setting aside that which needed laundering for later, and turned on the TV, flipping the channel until he called to order a replay of EPW Shockwave.
Just to taunt himself, just to remind himself of his shortcomings and failure; just to further torture himself and suffer his inabilities. And it included the inability to expect BRADDOCK to come back and suckerpunch him.
The remote control almost seemed to explode in Donnie’s hand, the chair shot’s unprotected impact echoing through his body, his grip suddenly intensifying around the plastic control which causes it to essentially pop in his hand like a balloon. Shards of plastic flew around him, a couple now digging into his hand.
All the bullshit he had been through, all the preaching and pandering, only to be screwed out of even taking a clean loss: it burned up in his face, incinerated by that big fat fuck that couldn’t stick around.
The fire, as easily as it flickered, gathered fuel; as ready as it was to be blown out as easily as one would extinguish a match, the flame kindled and roared. Blood dripped from his hand like it leaked from the cuts that both he and BRADDOCK sustained many months ago, in their first tussle for the world title. They bled and they beat themselves like mad animals.
BRADDOCK still came out on top.
And fairness was something that Donnie wasn’t keen on right now. BRADDOCK was stripped unfairly, sure, but the way he came back...
No, Donnie was being a fucking idiot. SYNN did the exact same thing. She got in the way. She pushed her way into his line of sight. She got in the fucking way of the fucking bullet meant for fucking Clyde Newton!
What the fuck was going on? Dropping what was left of the remote control, Donnie buried his head in his hands, bleeding all over his face as the adrenaline stole all semblance of pain away. Even as the broadcast switched off on its own, Donnie sat there, steaming, stewing, raging, shaking from head to toe.
They played me, he thought to himself. I am an idiot. I can’t begin... I don’t understand, but I do.
Donnie got up, looked at his hand, looked at the pieces of plastic embedded in his flesh and sitting on the floor, clenching a white-knuckled tight fist with his uninjured hand.-
)Donnie Harris(
I have never wanted to hurt someone more. Legitimately.
-Donnie woke up the next morning, still steaming. He couldn’t think straight, watching the Shockwave broadcast again, but he did focus a bit more on the match between Damage and John Blaze, since his target for the Danger Zone this time was going to be Damage. Sure, he was now the Rebellion champion, but something else still bothered him.
And it was BRADDOCK using him as a vehicle for his comeback, just as much as it was SYNN when she came back.
Donnie felt filthy. He even stood under the water of the shower, scrubbing his body repeatedly to wipe away an imaginary stain on his skin; it just wouldn’t wash away. Eventually he did get out of the water, and his skin was raw, the itchiness starting to overwhelm him after another few minutes of his skin drying in the air.
And, as Donnie looked at himself in the mirror, some painful looking patches of skin flaking away because of the hard scrubbing, his phone began to ring with an unfamiliar number. He picks up the phone, cocks an eyebrow and answers.-
)Donnie Harris(
Hello? Who is this?
-There is a long pause, just pure silence. Donnie was not in the mood to play games. As he goes to put down the phone and hang up, a familiar female voice is heard.-
(Woman)
...Donnie? It’s, um, it’s Sarah: Sarah Hendricks.
-Donnie sighs; he didn’t need to know either first or last name once he recognized her voice.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
I saw Shockwave. It was heartbreaking to see how you were cheated out of the EPW World Championship. I know it’s easy to say ‘you’ll get it next time’ or ‘just wasn’t your night’, but I know how you think, what goes through your mind after such a devastating loss. It’s eating you up. I get it, I know.
-Donnie cuts off Sarah harshly, his voice almost a low growl.-
)Donnie Harris(
What do you want, Sarah, really?
-An awkward but short, silent pause takes up the space before Sarah feels comfortable enough to speak again. Donnie was clearly not having any of it.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
...look, maybe this was a bad idea. I know how things ended between us wasn’t the storybook ending either of us wanted. But after seeing what happened at Shockwave and how much of an introvert you can be. I wanted you to know if you needed to vent to someone you trust. Or... once trusted. I am here for you.
-Donnie scoffs, listening to her talk. Why was she talking about how they ended things or anything like that? Since when did she watch wrestling? Since when could he remember much of what they did? He stops for a second and sighs, covering his face and turning away from the mirror.-
)Donnie Harris(
Sarah, a storybook ending would have been living out the rest of one’s days together, but clearly that wasn’t the case, and yes, I’m probably way behind on keeping you in the loop with my life, and yes, I’m having a hard time with things after Shockwave. It’s just torture right now, and it’s taking a lot to keep my head on straight.
-He looks down at his bandaged right hand, where a nurse had to extract a couple small pieces of plastic from the remote control he had crushed and he couldn’t remove himself.-
)Donnie Harris(
That’s why I’m asking you, flatly I might add: what do you want? It’s good to hear your voice and that you’re here for me, but there’s usually much more to it.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I’m sorry if I caught you at a bad time. But to be blunt and to the point, I need a favor. I know you don’t owe me anything. After I was honorably discharged from the military... don’t ask... I started training harder, especially after I saw some of your OCW matches. And now seeing you in EPW? Well... I was wondering if you could maybe put in a word or two about getting me a job there. I know this is a bad time with your upcoming match with Damage, so I won’t bug you about it any further. Just think about it.
)Donnie Harris(
Dinner.
-Donnie just puts it bluntly for Sarah to think about, not even hesitating; even he caught himself by surprise though.-
)Donnie Harris(
Finish whatever it is you’re doing there, meet me in Indianapolis, and we’ll talk about it over dinner. I want to see how truly serious you are about this, because this isn’t like when I was in MMA, and you thought my frustration was bad then.
-Silence, just silence from the other end; Donnie held his breath.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
You were always straight to the point. I am actually in Indianapolis for EPW’s Danger. I got nosebleed seats, but I thought it would be a good idea to show up and see it live, if I didn’t get a hold of you tonight. And yes I have good and bad memories of you during your MMA days. But to answer your question... Dinner? As long as it’s nothing like that taco stand we ate at in Detroit, or we’ll be fighting for the bathroom again...
Sarah laughs; Donnie just smiles, the first time he has done so in a good while.
)Sarah Hendricks(
When and where?
)Donnie Harris(
Where are you staying?
-Donnie starts to tap his finger on his elbow, still just standing in a towel, his arms resting across his abdomen.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
Oh some shitty Days Inn & Suite dirt hole: 80 bucks, free HBO and the opportunity to share a few nights with the roaches. To save a few bucks, right? I am my father’s daughter. But I can meet you whenever.
)Donnie Harris(
I’ll take the couch; come to the Hyatt Place Indianapolis. I’ll meet you in the lobby and we can talk about dinner and figure it out there. I always try to get somewhere close to the venue so I can walk.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I suppose sharing the bed would be inappropriate with our history, even if we sleep with our clothes on; the couch is fine with me. You need a good night's sleep if you’re going to take down this Damage guy. Or are you still restless before a fight?
-Donnie sighs, shaking his head. The fact that she remembers his seizure-like twitchiness pre-fight was frightening, but, at the same time, he missed having someone be that attentive.-
)Donnie Harris(
No, you can have the bed, and I’ll go on the couch; even if it doesn’t pull out, it should be fine. It is a king-sized bed too. History or not, I’ll sleep like a baby. My routine hasn’t changed: work out to exhaustion until three days before, eat like a king and then sleep like a baby, whether there’s sex or no sex.
-A light laugh from Sarah is heard.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
I do remember your routine cycle. And I am trying to adopt it for my own training. Stealing is the proper word. But I know for a fact that you sleep like a kitten, not only after sex but after you win a big fight.
-Donnie smirks.-
)Donnie Harris(
Firstly, winning the fights always helped the anxiety, and I gave it all; I had nothing left in the tank. I think that should tell you why I slept like a kitten, as you put it, after you drained me. And, secondly, feel free to plagiarize my routine. It works well enough for me, I guess.
)Sarah Hendricks(
It ain’t easy, that’s for damn sure. But it does work.
-A moment of silence: was she hesitating? It got Donnie a little freaked out, hitting on an ex like this.-
)Sarah Hendricks(
And Donnie... thanks. You taking this call means a lot. Anything after we hang up is really a bonus for me. So... thanks.
)Donnie Harris(
This is where you put down the phone and start packing. How long before you get here, do you think? I just have to get dressed; I was in the shower before you called.
)Sarah Hendricks(
Are you still using Old Spice shampoo? Regardless, I still pack light, so I'll get an uber once we get off the line.
-Old Spice? Girl knows too much.-
)Donnie Harris(
Yes I still use Old Spice. Why? Making it difficult to avoid opting to share this massive bed?
)Sarah Hendricks(
I like that Old Spice smell. The guys I've seen after you usually drench their bodies with that Brut aftershave stink that makes me want to vomit. But if you want to share the bed and can deal with my spontaneous feet kicking in my sleep, it’s an option.
-Donnie laughs at the comment about Brut making her want to puke.-
)Donnie Harris(
Well then it’s a good thing that you would usually sleep like a puppy, less a dreaming dog, after sex too, but maybe we can hit the gym here and I can see where your benchmarks are in terms of the workout. Doing it my way, I have burned myself out pretty badly if I’m not watching what I’m doing.
)Sarah Hendricks(
I would like that. Military training was one thing. But combat sports training is on another level. Anyway, we can catch up soon. Get dressed and what not: I’ll be there in 20 minutes or so.
)Donnie Harris(
And the clock is ticking.
-Donnie turns off the light to the bathroom and moves to his suitcase; he didn’t exactly pack a whole lot either. At least he got his laundry done.-
)Donnie Harris(
I know it has been a long time for us, so let’s not try to rush too much: savor the time we have, because we never know what’s coming tomorrow.
)Sarah Hendricks(
True. But remember it’s “Tomorrow” that’s always coming and never arrives. We’re always in the present. The now. And... I’ve said too much. What you said. See you soon.
-Donnie straightens up as he stares at the wall over the headboard, thinking.-
)Donnie Harris(
You’ve said exactly what you always say, Sarah, and I’ve missed it and you. Ride safely; I’ll be in the lobby when you get here.
-Donnie ends the call after a slow goodbye, dropping his phone to the bed. He pulls his wrestling shorts, which are his shorts for MMA, complete with sponsors that EPW has done nothing about, out of his duffle bag, looking down to see the Outsiders Streaming Service title. He extracts it from the bag as well, setting it and the shorts on a chair nearby, to have ready when necessary.
Sure, Damage was going to be literally bigger than many of Donnie’s opponents, but everyone says the same thing about big stuff. And sure, he proved himself by getting the Rebellion title from John Blaze, but, considering his standing as a former OCW world champ too, Damage has to be hungrier than that, just like how Donnie is hungrier for bigger, brighter gold than the Streaming Service title.
It’s not that Donnie didn’t care about it: a kudo is a kudo. However, there is bigger, there is better, and there is brighter. And, just now, as Donnie buckles his belt for his jeans, fastens his watch to his wrist and buttons up the buttons on his shirt, he was bracing himself for one of the brightest spotlights in his life.-