Expect Nothing but the Best [Battleground RP vs. BRADDOCK]
Jan 15, 2024 19:38:23 GMT -5
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Post by Donnie Harris on Jan 15, 2024 19:38:23 GMT -5
-Phoenix, Arizona: hot shit during the day; cold as fuck at night. How people could exist in what equates to a desert in the States was beyond Donnie’s will to understand; the man does hail from Seattle, after all. But it is a place to be. The next combat zone; the next warriors’ circle...
The next Battleground.
Nonetheless, Donnie found himself out at night, wearing a sweater to deal with the biting cold, but, past that, it wasn’t so bad. He actually walked right into a Home Depot, ignored by the staff, and by everyone else around him; probably for the best, all things considered. Between Dystopia and Battleground, which was a couple days from now, Donnie was going in a little beat up too, so the fresh air was helping.
Then again, BRADDOCK was once again the one in the crosshairs. That, in and of itself, was enough to get the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing. As the thoughts crossed through his head, Donnie started to jog.
It was their last match that put the bitterest of tastes in Donnie’s mouth. He underperformed, and he knew it. He was not to his own standard, and the shame from that moment followed him into his match with Damian Calaway, whether or not there was interference from the crowd. Beating Alexandra Calaway was... consolation, but it was not vindication. He was still seething. Especially after watching BRADDOCK get absolutely cheated by Asylum and, more importantly, Toxicita, Donnie could smell the blood in the water, but the injustice of the moment whipped him right back to their biggest and most impressive match, one that would probably make the rest of 2023 look like a wet noodle slapping contest. BRADDOCK and Donnie: they ripped the building down, brick by brick, with the violence of the contest. One split second and one lucky shot were all it took to bring Donnie down. It was a close fight, and, since then, the current World Champ had his number.
Donnie had a couple days to get back to his own, with Dystopia anticipated to be a massacre in its own right: one big match, BRADDOCK and SYNN included, and a few more big names, on the card. He already put his money where his mouth was, and he would cash in regardless. All he needed to do was show up and do his thing. After all, he never backed down. Sure he slowed down a few times, but backing down was not how he did things. Not against SYNN, not against Easton Alexander, never against Brooke Blakely or Asylum: whether Donnie was brave, crazy or stupid, it didn’t matter who or why.
If you’re in the opposite corner, you are going to fight for your life.
As Donnie jogged, the heat that radiated from the ground started to dissipate, each step in the older running shoes getting chillier as his feet began to sweat. He didn’t really have a route in mind, since he usually got his hotel room a few miles from the venue. If it wasn’t for dodging the crowd, he would walk to the arena, warm up that way, be ready to do a few more low-impact exercises to get ready for hell, plus a shower at the arena to make sure he was beyond refreshed. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, so he’d hop in a cab or an Uber and hit the arena in no time, leaving him to warm up with whoever is already there, and then he would just figure stuff out on the fly. The match would be the match.
Moving into a parking lot, Donnie started to shadow box, combining a karate kata with his usual boxing, he could feel the sweat start to bead on his forehead, the cardio starting to come into play. Counting steps was a worthless venture to him, as it was easy to cheat the FitBit. The GPS tracker? Well, it is a little more reliable, but then it doesn’t count moments like this one, where you stop, work in the moment to basically maximize your heart rate, and then continue. However, the moments where you do stop, you can just check to see how long it says you stopped. He didn’t wear a monitor, but he knew his body well enough to know what felt like redlining his pulse, and he worked as hard and as fast as necessary to jack up the sensation, stopping slowly before returning to the jog.-
-Donnie was sitting down, breathing slowly but heavily, as a cut man was taping up his hands. It was the last few strips too, and, once the job was done, Donnie pops up, clenches his fists tight and starts gloving up in a pair of boxing gloves. They were secured, nice and tight, as Donnie kept breathing, deep and slow.-
)Donnie Harris(
And it is the rubber match. BRADDOCK and I, one on one, once again, and it’s just for bragging rights, for clout. All things considered, my record against him isn’t great. However, things are different. There’s no pressure, there are no expectations; there’s no reason for me to be anxious or careful. All I need to do is worry about one thing: fighting.
-Donnie takes his hands back and punches the padded gloves together.-
)Donnie Harris(
We both know that these mitts here aren’t going to be in the way when we get in the ring, BRADDOCK. There’s no way I’d wear these. I’m a wrestler first, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to cave your head in if I get the chance. You have beaten me solidly, and I can’t let that happen again. I’m too proud to let that happen again. It hurts to think about. My last match with you wore me down mentally; I can’t believe I did so poorly. It’s the only fight in my career that I’ll never re-watch, knowing that I completely sucked. I have yet to forgive myself for it, but I’m hoping that this case, this match, this opportunity will be different.
-Donnie looks to one of the trainers in the room and the trainer lifts his padded hands.-
)Donnie Harris(
But how the mighty have fallen, am I right?
-Donnie starts a nice, slow pace, about 75% speed, as he starts to work on his combos.-
)Donnie Harris(
You haven’t been showing up to your matches, and I have to wonder why that is, big man. You’re the world champion, and I will not allow you to coast. I can’t allow you, after all those times you beat me, to just hold the belt and pretend to be big shit. No. It irks me to no end and it is an insult to this sport I’ve adopted and made my own.
-The pace started to pick up, the more Donnie frustrated himself. The punches remained as accurate as ever, however, and he went from 75 to 100% in a short time, the combos being laid out in quick succession.-
)Donnie Harris(
You better not cheat me out of this win, BRADDOCK. You better not laze about, drinking your beer, and not prepare for me. You know how dangerous I can be. You know how lethal I am. You won’t be fucking walking if you give me less than your best!
-Donnie keeps going hard, the sweat rolling down his face, his upper body’s muscles flexing and releasing at the key moments to create maximum impact for minimum energy loss.-
)Donnie Harris(
I won’t forgive you if you can’t perform, BRADDOCK. I have too much respect for you to expect anything less than your best, because you gave me your best every time. If I need to, I will humiliate you. I will shame you. I will make you humble in ways that would make Vaziri blush and look away.
-Donnie starts going from attacking to defending, moving with accuracy as he bobs, weaves and counter-jabs the pads.-
)Donnie Harris(
But the 17th will show me if you’re yourself. If you’re not, well, I should be stripping the world title from you. I’m still the #1 contender; there has been no named #1 contender since me, and I’m still ahead of people like Toxicita; she will need to go through me before she comes after you, but have you noticed how she’s too afraid to?
-Donnie blocks a pad and bops the trainer on the head, smiling as the warmup ends. He gets robed up in a traditional Rocky-style robe, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he works to keep his heart rate up. The sweat on his face is dabbed up with a cold towel, and then it is wrapped around his neck, to cool the blood in his body.-
)Donnie Harris(
Game time will come swiftly, BRADDOCK. I just hope you’re ready to face the music if you can’t play in time with me.
The next Battleground.
Nonetheless, Donnie found himself out at night, wearing a sweater to deal with the biting cold, but, past that, it wasn’t so bad. He actually walked right into a Home Depot, ignored by the staff, and by everyone else around him; probably for the best, all things considered. Between Dystopia and Battleground, which was a couple days from now, Donnie was going in a little beat up too, so the fresh air was helping.
Then again, BRADDOCK was once again the one in the crosshairs. That, in and of itself, was enough to get the blood pumping and the adrenaline flowing. As the thoughts crossed through his head, Donnie started to jog.
It was their last match that put the bitterest of tastes in Donnie’s mouth. He underperformed, and he knew it. He was not to his own standard, and the shame from that moment followed him into his match with Damian Calaway, whether or not there was interference from the crowd. Beating Alexandra Calaway was... consolation, but it was not vindication. He was still seething. Especially after watching BRADDOCK get absolutely cheated by Asylum and, more importantly, Toxicita, Donnie could smell the blood in the water, but the injustice of the moment whipped him right back to their biggest and most impressive match, one that would probably make the rest of 2023 look like a wet noodle slapping contest. BRADDOCK and Donnie: they ripped the building down, brick by brick, with the violence of the contest. One split second and one lucky shot were all it took to bring Donnie down. It was a close fight, and, since then, the current World Champ had his number.
Donnie had a couple days to get back to his own, with Dystopia anticipated to be a massacre in its own right: one big match, BRADDOCK and SYNN included, and a few more big names, on the card. He already put his money where his mouth was, and he would cash in regardless. All he needed to do was show up and do his thing. After all, he never backed down. Sure he slowed down a few times, but backing down was not how he did things. Not against SYNN, not against Easton Alexander, never against Brooke Blakely or Asylum: whether Donnie was brave, crazy or stupid, it didn’t matter who or why.
If you’re in the opposite corner, you are going to fight for your life.
As Donnie jogged, the heat that radiated from the ground started to dissipate, each step in the older running shoes getting chillier as his feet began to sweat. He didn’t really have a route in mind, since he usually got his hotel room a few miles from the venue. If it wasn’t for dodging the crowd, he would walk to the arena, warm up that way, be ready to do a few more low-impact exercises to get ready for hell, plus a shower at the arena to make sure he was beyond refreshed. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, so he’d hop in a cab or an Uber and hit the arena in no time, leaving him to warm up with whoever is already there, and then he would just figure stuff out on the fly. The match would be the match.
Moving into a parking lot, Donnie started to shadow box, combining a karate kata with his usual boxing, he could feel the sweat start to bead on his forehead, the cardio starting to come into play. Counting steps was a worthless venture to him, as it was easy to cheat the FitBit. The GPS tracker? Well, it is a little more reliable, but then it doesn’t count moments like this one, where you stop, work in the moment to basically maximize your heart rate, and then continue. However, the moments where you do stop, you can just check to see how long it says you stopped. He didn’t wear a monitor, but he knew his body well enough to know what felt like redlining his pulse, and he worked as hard and as fast as necessary to jack up the sensation, stopping slowly before returning to the jog.-
-Donnie was sitting down, breathing slowly but heavily, as a cut man was taping up his hands. It was the last few strips too, and, once the job was done, Donnie pops up, clenches his fists tight and starts gloving up in a pair of boxing gloves. They were secured, nice and tight, as Donnie kept breathing, deep and slow.-
)Donnie Harris(
And it is the rubber match. BRADDOCK and I, one on one, once again, and it’s just for bragging rights, for clout. All things considered, my record against him isn’t great. However, things are different. There’s no pressure, there are no expectations; there’s no reason for me to be anxious or careful. All I need to do is worry about one thing: fighting.
-Donnie takes his hands back and punches the padded gloves together.-
)Donnie Harris(
We both know that these mitts here aren’t going to be in the way when we get in the ring, BRADDOCK. There’s no way I’d wear these. I’m a wrestler first, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to cave your head in if I get the chance. You have beaten me solidly, and I can’t let that happen again. I’m too proud to let that happen again. It hurts to think about. My last match with you wore me down mentally; I can’t believe I did so poorly. It’s the only fight in my career that I’ll never re-watch, knowing that I completely sucked. I have yet to forgive myself for it, but I’m hoping that this case, this match, this opportunity will be different.
-Donnie looks to one of the trainers in the room and the trainer lifts his padded hands.-
)Donnie Harris(
But how the mighty have fallen, am I right?
-Donnie starts a nice, slow pace, about 75% speed, as he starts to work on his combos.-
)Donnie Harris(
You haven’t been showing up to your matches, and I have to wonder why that is, big man. You’re the world champion, and I will not allow you to coast. I can’t allow you, after all those times you beat me, to just hold the belt and pretend to be big shit. No. It irks me to no end and it is an insult to this sport I’ve adopted and made my own.
-The pace started to pick up, the more Donnie frustrated himself. The punches remained as accurate as ever, however, and he went from 75 to 100% in a short time, the combos being laid out in quick succession.-
)Donnie Harris(
You better not cheat me out of this win, BRADDOCK. You better not laze about, drinking your beer, and not prepare for me. You know how dangerous I can be. You know how lethal I am. You won’t be fucking walking if you give me less than your best!
-Donnie keeps going hard, the sweat rolling down his face, his upper body’s muscles flexing and releasing at the key moments to create maximum impact for minimum energy loss.-
)Donnie Harris(
I won’t forgive you if you can’t perform, BRADDOCK. I have too much respect for you to expect anything less than your best, because you gave me your best every time. If I need to, I will humiliate you. I will shame you. I will make you humble in ways that would make Vaziri blush and look away.
-Donnie starts going from attacking to defending, moving with accuracy as he bobs, weaves and counter-jabs the pads.-
)Donnie Harris(
But the 17th will show me if you’re yourself. If you’re not, well, I should be stripping the world title from you. I’m still the #1 contender; there has been no named #1 contender since me, and I’m still ahead of people like Toxicita; she will need to go through me before she comes after you, but have you noticed how she’s too afraid to?
-Donnie blocks a pad and bops the trainer on the head, smiling as the warmup ends. He gets robed up in a traditional Rocky-style robe, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he works to keep his heart rate up. The sweat on his face is dabbed up with a cold towel, and then it is wrapped around his neck, to cool the blood in his body.-
)Donnie Harris(
Game time will come swiftly, BRADDOCK. I just hope you’re ready to face the music if you can’t play in time with me.