Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 4, 2024 20:29:30 GMT -5
-Donnie knew what was at stake, especially since he wasn’t even in the main event as the world champion.He knew better than to let anyone try to slip past him, even for a second. When it came to a man like Goth, Donnie Harris was well aware of him, but they had never faced each other before.
Even with the endorphin rush of the world title around his waist, the road was slowing Donnie down a bit. He wasn’t going right to the city where he was performing, and he could feel the sluggishness creep in, between the shows. A win in FWP, once again in another multi-competitor bout, was definitely a peak moment for Donnie, as he was able to outlast them and have one of them tapping out for dear life in a Crossface. Having to take red-eye flights or drive in and out of Florida was exhausting, but at least he had a place to recharge when he needed it.
He got to see his girlfriend this weekend, leaving on the 5th to get back to Richmond, VA, to prepare for the first match of his reign as the EPW World Heavyweight Champion. It was time to take what was already an established base of capability and ramp it up past eleven.
The war was still coming, especially now that Donnie possessed the company’s top prize. The mental pressure was immense, but the Eliminator was dealing with it very well, all things considered. His Twitter presence bolstered, his reputation generally positive, his circle of respect expanding: he was living every day he could as a champion of EPW, as both ambassador and representative, wearing the World Title around his waist to every public appearance where required, except to his FWP shows, out of respect for the generally new business. However, every match he has, every chance he gets to talk to the people, extend his challenges or words of wisdom or calls to action, much like his speech at the last episode of Danger, it had to be representative of who Donnie Harris wished to be.
Even with someone like Scotty Thorne with the Revival cash-in, J Mont talking his trash after Donnie openly allowed anyone to come after the World Title, Je$TyR putting him on notice, Morbid Wolf trying to intimidate the Eliminator by trying to lay claim upon the Championship, it meant that the champion was doing exactly what he needed to do: stir the pot, turn up the heat, get the backstage area boiling. It worked. It worked really well.
But it wasn’t going to be Thorne, Mont, Serious or Morbid to put Donnie through his first true test. It had to be non-title, and it would be against Goth.
And honestly, the less heard from Mr. ACE, the better.
Getting to the Jefferson Hotel in his black sedan, Donnie checks in and gets a small tour of the hotel, taking note of the pool and the hotel’s fitness center. It was a nicer gym than most places, but there was nowhere for a real warmup other than the treadmills, bikes, oh a stair master... Never mind, it would suffice. Donnie would have to find somewhere in the area to warm up for the actual match, which was something he had been lacking in doing since his six-man tag team match with SYNN and Je$TyR. He had fallen behind in his study of the game, even though his study of the game was twice every other week.
He needed much more action. And no, it had nothing to do with women.
It had everything to do with stimulating the competitive drive within Donnie Harris. As he is a champion, he had to be a FIGHTING champion. After all, he did just call out the entire roster. The target was already on his back for the assistance he had received from Britlyn during the match, and, as Donnie called it out, he wasn’t thrilled with the help he received, but, with Clyde’s contract running up and the danger (no pun intended) of him waltzing his ass off to Hollywood like some Samoan superstar with the top prize in EPW, Donnie begrudgingly understood Britlyn’s motivation to make sure that Clyde Newton found his way out as unceremoniously as he had planned, but on her terms.
It meant that, with two years’ experience and not too many accolades but a wealth of respect and recognition from peers, Donnie stood atop the EPW mountain, fist raised in defiance and authority, the target of a new degree of heat and a new wealth of competition. He looked down at them all, each vying for his throne, each trying, crawling, clawing their way to him...
The image, the idea, the very notion of being so high and so far removed from his compatriots and coworkers was intoxicating, almost driving him to obsession, but he resisted it. No one was any the wiser, as far as he could tell, preferring to throw himself into talking to and helping others. Being the benevolent champion was helping him get over this need to feel in command and control of those around him, but he knew that it was still dangerous to have these thoughts. It caused the downfall of the last champion, and the last thing that Donnie wanted to do was to turn into Clyde Newton. Sure, he was a strong champion, but his head became a hot air balloon, one that Donnie got to pop on his road to becoming the EPW World Heavyweight Champion.
Donnie just had to keep his focus, keep his motivation, and being the training machine he was helped him do exactly that. He was already packing in as many calories as he could, high in protein and carbohydrates, in the midst of a hard run every morning before doing anything else and before dinner every night. It was like he ate like a bodybuilder or a strongman those days, but the dietary restriction would crack down within days, every day he hit the gym, to use those built-up fat deposits for that big burst of energy as he worked the muscle into nothing more than cooked spaghetti in the place of sinew. All of that eating and exercise led to more sleep in the two days before the show.-
This show, however, was different. It was a memorial, dedicated to the loss of a friend and a comrade. Sudden death is exactly that: sudden. You don’t see it coming. You don’t expect it. That’s why it hurts so much when it happens. Sure, watching someone on their way out can be agony with anticipation, wanting the pain to end so that the soul no longer feels the pain of clinging to life, but this is one surprise that no one should have to experience. However, variety is the spice of life. All one can do is pray for that person to go to a better place, and cling to those memories of life tightly, remembering all the good and the bad, never letting the spirit of that person die with the body.
We’re not going to let you go easily, Gary, because we will always have a piece of you with us, as the people who were left behind. Safe travels, friend, until we meet again. May the road be a little less bumpy, a little more straight, and much more fun to put the pedal to the metal on.
-A grand throne room in a golden hall, above the throne hung a great silver crest that bore the EPW emblem. An individual walks across a red carpet, draped in purple and furs, great horned pauldrons upon his shoulders with a knight’s helmet and visor blocking his face; he walks to the throne, upon which sat a golden, jeweled crown, fit for a ruler. Drawing an ornate longsword from his scabbard, the knight removes his helmet and takes the crown in a gloved hand, placing it upon his head.
The king, as he turned to face the sudden congregation of peasantry, lords and other nobility, is no other than Donnie Harris. No one else stood at his level, as he was elevated a good six feet in the air over the others gathered in his hall. Donnie holds his sword high, the shimmer off the clean tempered steel catching the golden sunlight coming through the windows. The people cry out in celebration and laud, praising the new king that stood before them.
Donnie lowers the blade and sheathes it, standing tall and the people continue to cheer, all until he waves his hand like a mighty god among them. He keeps his hand extended, his open hand changing to a tightly clenched fist, as if possessed by the greatest anger imaginable.-
)Donnie Harris(
Behold, the king has come. The greatness upon heaven shines down in the form of one man. He has been chosen, by people and by providence. He shall carry the crown unto death, come war, come fire, come the flood; there is no force upon the earth, in heaven or in hell, to unseat the king from his throne, for he has been set upon the pinnacle of the people, to be remembered for all time.
-The crowd pumps their fists into the air, crying “HAIL!” Donnie opens his hand and the cheers cease their cheers; he sits upon his throne, and minstrels come forward and begin to play a jaunty tune, as servants begin to set a feast: tables, chairs, food and drink appear with the haste of urgency, as if the penalty of death chased them.-
)Donnie Harris(
Two years, two very challenging years, between running with OCW, being an Outcast, accepting Elevate, always being an Outsider: I have battled long and hard, very few breaks, very little rest, and I gathered my prizes, my accolades; earned my respect as both athlete and performer among my peers. And now, after those two years, maybe a bit more, I bear the crown; I am the king. I am EPW World Heavyweight Champion.
-Donnie leans back into the throne, sighing as he settles into the seat, albeit not as comfortably as he would like.-
)Donnie Harris(
It has been a crazy time for all of us, and I mean all of us. We, as a roster, have seen challenges from inside and outside of our ranks. Between the Twitter jousting and others being accused of things tantamount to plagiarism and treason, this home of ours has been assaulted by those who would tear us down and throw us to the ground. All we’ve done is skirt their advances, slip past the radar and go back to being invisible: no longer!
-As Donnie speaks, he has a table set for himself upon his elevated floor, a goblet of gold, filled with wine, and a plate of silver carrying a great amount of meats and cooked, steaming vegetables sitting upon it. Donnie takes hold of the goblet, chugging the wine with abandon. He places it back down, and it is promptly refilled without a word.-
)Donnie Harris(
We will come free from the woodwork, come out into the sun and shine even brighter. We are a motley crew, yes, but we are warriors; we are fighters; we are masters of our craft; we chase victory! We are the professional wrestlers of Elevate Pro Wrestling!
-The people cheer between mouthfuls of food or gulps of mead, continuing with their mirth making and merry goings-on.-
)Donnie Harris(
But the first challenge to my rule, the first man to stand up to me is one Mr. Goth; he wants to call himself the “Messiah of Pain”. Well, Goth, you have been here a very long time, and you have faced your own fair share of hardships, haven’t you? Well, call this your time to shine, if you want, not the management trying to push you down. If your resume is anything to speak about, you don’t have much room to complain, do you? Grand Slam Champion, Global Champion, Extreme Champion, and etcetera: you are in no position to complain of your place in the pecking order, especially now, as you’re not just facing another person in the ranks of EPW. You are signed to stand up against the measuring stick in our industry: me, The Eliminator. You are going one-on-one with Donnie Harris.
-Donnie picks up his goblet, and he raises it, getting to his feet. The music stops, the revelry ends, and the people stand, their own drinks elevated in whatever honor their king deems necessary.-
)Donnie Harris(
Goth, you have been an Outcast as long as I, maybe a bit shorter, and you are going to be a great challenge, a good warmup and a suitable gatekeeper to my reign. You are who the people will see as my first true test, the one who will examine whether or not I am worth the time of holding the World Championship. You can be as scientific and methodical with your approach to me as you want, but you have seen me work for the last year and then some. I hit hard, I hit fast, and I keep hitting until there is nothing left to hit. However, there is nothing to hold us back except the standard match rules, Goth, so bring the pain, make the champion hurt; do everything in your mother fucking power to make me suffer, because I’m not going to slow down. I’m not going to stop charging forward. I’m not going to let you feel like you can breathe. The Eliminator does not let up until that bell rings to mark the end of the match. Your efforts need to be the very best you can gather together, with all your underhanded tactics and other bullshit, because you know that my mind is as sharp as they come, in order to get to where I am now, and it has very little to do with my relationship with the boss; the boss trusts me, and she is the one who needs to approve what we do.
-Donnie drinks from his cup, and the people follow suit. He lowers his cup from his lips, taking a deep breath.-
)Donnie Harris(
No amount of poison will drop this great sequoia. Everything you have, everything you are, everything you can, Goth: that is what you need to bring to Richmond. If you cannot give me everything, then Danger is going to be a small pocket dimension of hell for you, because there is nothing holding me back from ending you in no uncertain terms; no level of violence is above or below me, as I am the benchmark now, and I will do all I must to maintain my World Championship and sustain my rule. You are a former champion in all these other places, so show me what it means to face the Messiah of Pain, lest I crucify you for being a false prophet.
-These ominous words hang heavily in the air as the scene begins to fade out, Donnie extending the goblet towards the camera with a grin before he drinks the wine, sits back down, and the scene fades to black.-
Even with the endorphin rush of the world title around his waist, the road was slowing Donnie down a bit. He wasn’t going right to the city where he was performing, and he could feel the sluggishness creep in, between the shows. A win in FWP, once again in another multi-competitor bout, was definitely a peak moment for Donnie, as he was able to outlast them and have one of them tapping out for dear life in a Crossface. Having to take red-eye flights or drive in and out of Florida was exhausting, but at least he had a place to recharge when he needed it.
He got to see his girlfriend this weekend, leaving on the 5th to get back to Richmond, VA, to prepare for the first match of his reign as the EPW World Heavyweight Champion. It was time to take what was already an established base of capability and ramp it up past eleven.
The war was still coming, especially now that Donnie possessed the company’s top prize. The mental pressure was immense, but the Eliminator was dealing with it very well, all things considered. His Twitter presence bolstered, his reputation generally positive, his circle of respect expanding: he was living every day he could as a champion of EPW, as both ambassador and representative, wearing the World Title around his waist to every public appearance where required, except to his FWP shows, out of respect for the generally new business. However, every match he has, every chance he gets to talk to the people, extend his challenges or words of wisdom or calls to action, much like his speech at the last episode of Danger, it had to be representative of who Donnie Harris wished to be.
Even with someone like Scotty Thorne with the Revival cash-in, J Mont talking his trash after Donnie openly allowed anyone to come after the World Title, Je$TyR putting him on notice, Morbid Wolf trying to intimidate the Eliminator by trying to lay claim upon the Championship, it meant that the champion was doing exactly what he needed to do: stir the pot, turn up the heat, get the backstage area boiling. It worked. It worked really well.
But it wasn’t going to be Thorne, Mont, Serious or Morbid to put Donnie through his first true test. It had to be non-title, and it would be against Goth.
And honestly, the less heard from Mr. ACE, the better.
Getting to the Jefferson Hotel in his black sedan, Donnie checks in and gets a small tour of the hotel, taking note of the pool and the hotel’s fitness center. It was a nicer gym than most places, but there was nowhere for a real warmup other than the treadmills, bikes, oh a stair master... Never mind, it would suffice. Donnie would have to find somewhere in the area to warm up for the actual match, which was something he had been lacking in doing since his six-man tag team match with SYNN and Je$TyR. He had fallen behind in his study of the game, even though his study of the game was twice every other week.
He needed much more action. And no, it had nothing to do with women.
It had everything to do with stimulating the competitive drive within Donnie Harris. As he is a champion, he had to be a FIGHTING champion. After all, he did just call out the entire roster. The target was already on his back for the assistance he had received from Britlyn during the match, and, as Donnie called it out, he wasn’t thrilled with the help he received, but, with Clyde’s contract running up and the danger (no pun intended) of him waltzing his ass off to Hollywood like some Samoan superstar with the top prize in EPW, Donnie begrudgingly understood Britlyn’s motivation to make sure that Clyde Newton found his way out as unceremoniously as he had planned, but on her terms.
It meant that, with two years’ experience and not too many accolades but a wealth of respect and recognition from peers, Donnie stood atop the EPW mountain, fist raised in defiance and authority, the target of a new degree of heat and a new wealth of competition. He looked down at them all, each vying for his throne, each trying, crawling, clawing their way to him...
The image, the idea, the very notion of being so high and so far removed from his compatriots and coworkers was intoxicating, almost driving him to obsession, but he resisted it. No one was any the wiser, as far as he could tell, preferring to throw himself into talking to and helping others. Being the benevolent champion was helping him get over this need to feel in command and control of those around him, but he knew that it was still dangerous to have these thoughts. It caused the downfall of the last champion, and the last thing that Donnie wanted to do was to turn into Clyde Newton. Sure, he was a strong champion, but his head became a hot air balloon, one that Donnie got to pop on his road to becoming the EPW World Heavyweight Champion.
Donnie just had to keep his focus, keep his motivation, and being the training machine he was helped him do exactly that. He was already packing in as many calories as he could, high in protein and carbohydrates, in the midst of a hard run every morning before doing anything else and before dinner every night. It was like he ate like a bodybuilder or a strongman those days, but the dietary restriction would crack down within days, every day he hit the gym, to use those built-up fat deposits for that big burst of energy as he worked the muscle into nothing more than cooked spaghetti in the place of sinew. All of that eating and exercise led to more sleep in the two days before the show.-
This show, however, was different. It was a memorial, dedicated to the loss of a friend and a comrade. Sudden death is exactly that: sudden. You don’t see it coming. You don’t expect it. That’s why it hurts so much when it happens. Sure, watching someone on their way out can be agony with anticipation, wanting the pain to end so that the soul no longer feels the pain of clinging to life, but this is one surprise that no one should have to experience. However, variety is the spice of life. All one can do is pray for that person to go to a better place, and cling to those memories of life tightly, remembering all the good and the bad, never letting the spirit of that person die with the body.
We’re not going to let you go easily, Gary, because we will always have a piece of you with us, as the people who were left behind. Safe travels, friend, until we meet again. May the road be a little less bumpy, a little more straight, and much more fun to put the pedal to the metal on.
-A grand throne room in a golden hall, above the throne hung a great silver crest that bore the EPW emblem. An individual walks across a red carpet, draped in purple and furs, great horned pauldrons upon his shoulders with a knight’s helmet and visor blocking his face; he walks to the throne, upon which sat a golden, jeweled crown, fit for a ruler. Drawing an ornate longsword from his scabbard, the knight removes his helmet and takes the crown in a gloved hand, placing it upon his head.
The king, as he turned to face the sudden congregation of peasantry, lords and other nobility, is no other than Donnie Harris. No one else stood at his level, as he was elevated a good six feet in the air over the others gathered in his hall. Donnie holds his sword high, the shimmer off the clean tempered steel catching the golden sunlight coming through the windows. The people cry out in celebration and laud, praising the new king that stood before them.
Donnie lowers the blade and sheathes it, standing tall and the people continue to cheer, all until he waves his hand like a mighty god among them. He keeps his hand extended, his open hand changing to a tightly clenched fist, as if possessed by the greatest anger imaginable.-
)Donnie Harris(
Behold, the king has come. The greatness upon heaven shines down in the form of one man. He has been chosen, by people and by providence. He shall carry the crown unto death, come war, come fire, come the flood; there is no force upon the earth, in heaven or in hell, to unseat the king from his throne, for he has been set upon the pinnacle of the people, to be remembered for all time.
-The crowd pumps their fists into the air, crying “HAIL!” Donnie opens his hand and the cheers cease their cheers; he sits upon his throne, and minstrels come forward and begin to play a jaunty tune, as servants begin to set a feast: tables, chairs, food and drink appear with the haste of urgency, as if the penalty of death chased them.-
)Donnie Harris(
Two years, two very challenging years, between running with OCW, being an Outcast, accepting Elevate, always being an Outsider: I have battled long and hard, very few breaks, very little rest, and I gathered my prizes, my accolades; earned my respect as both athlete and performer among my peers. And now, after those two years, maybe a bit more, I bear the crown; I am the king. I am EPW World Heavyweight Champion.
-Donnie leans back into the throne, sighing as he settles into the seat, albeit not as comfortably as he would like.-
)Donnie Harris(
It has been a crazy time for all of us, and I mean all of us. We, as a roster, have seen challenges from inside and outside of our ranks. Between the Twitter jousting and others being accused of things tantamount to plagiarism and treason, this home of ours has been assaulted by those who would tear us down and throw us to the ground. All we’ve done is skirt their advances, slip past the radar and go back to being invisible: no longer!
-As Donnie speaks, he has a table set for himself upon his elevated floor, a goblet of gold, filled with wine, and a plate of silver carrying a great amount of meats and cooked, steaming vegetables sitting upon it. Donnie takes hold of the goblet, chugging the wine with abandon. He places it back down, and it is promptly refilled without a word.-
)Donnie Harris(
We will come free from the woodwork, come out into the sun and shine even brighter. We are a motley crew, yes, but we are warriors; we are fighters; we are masters of our craft; we chase victory! We are the professional wrestlers of Elevate Pro Wrestling!
-The people cheer between mouthfuls of food or gulps of mead, continuing with their mirth making and merry goings-on.-
)Donnie Harris(
But the first challenge to my rule, the first man to stand up to me is one Mr. Goth; he wants to call himself the “Messiah of Pain”. Well, Goth, you have been here a very long time, and you have faced your own fair share of hardships, haven’t you? Well, call this your time to shine, if you want, not the management trying to push you down. If your resume is anything to speak about, you don’t have much room to complain, do you? Grand Slam Champion, Global Champion, Extreme Champion, and etcetera: you are in no position to complain of your place in the pecking order, especially now, as you’re not just facing another person in the ranks of EPW. You are signed to stand up against the measuring stick in our industry: me, The Eliminator. You are going one-on-one with Donnie Harris.
-Donnie picks up his goblet, and he raises it, getting to his feet. The music stops, the revelry ends, and the people stand, their own drinks elevated in whatever honor their king deems necessary.-
)Donnie Harris(
Goth, you have been an Outcast as long as I, maybe a bit shorter, and you are going to be a great challenge, a good warmup and a suitable gatekeeper to my reign. You are who the people will see as my first true test, the one who will examine whether or not I am worth the time of holding the World Championship. You can be as scientific and methodical with your approach to me as you want, but you have seen me work for the last year and then some. I hit hard, I hit fast, and I keep hitting until there is nothing left to hit. However, there is nothing to hold us back except the standard match rules, Goth, so bring the pain, make the champion hurt; do everything in your mother fucking power to make me suffer, because I’m not going to slow down. I’m not going to stop charging forward. I’m not going to let you feel like you can breathe. The Eliminator does not let up until that bell rings to mark the end of the match. Your efforts need to be the very best you can gather together, with all your underhanded tactics and other bullshit, because you know that my mind is as sharp as they come, in order to get to where I am now, and it has very little to do with my relationship with the boss; the boss trusts me, and she is the one who needs to approve what we do.
-Donnie drinks from his cup, and the people follow suit. He lowers his cup from his lips, taking a deep breath.-
)Donnie Harris(
No amount of poison will drop this great sequoia. Everything you have, everything you are, everything you can, Goth: that is what you need to bring to Richmond. If you cannot give me everything, then Danger is going to be a small pocket dimension of hell for you, because there is nothing holding me back from ending you in no uncertain terms; no level of violence is above or below me, as I am the benchmark now, and I will do all I must to maintain my World Championship and sustain my rule. You are a former champion in all these other places, so show me what it means to face the Messiah of Pain, lest I crucify you for being a false prophet.
-These ominous words hang heavily in the air as the scene begins to fade out, Donnie extending the goblet towards the camera with a grin before he drinks the wine, sits back down, and the scene fades to black.-
