Post by Donnie Harris on Aug 26, 2024 23:42:09 GMT -5
-The event: OCW Cursed Countdown.
The roster: competitors like Donnie Harris, Matt Knox, Mack O’Connor, Duce Jones, L.C. Pinkston, and a gnat.
The stipulation: eight men, eight rooms. Pick a room, and, if you’re in a room with someone else, you fight for it: loser’s, or losers’, out; winner remains. A haunted house as the venue, a curse to cleanse, and the opportunity to become OCW’s World Champion...
Of course, it being OCW, there was always the special venue, something out of a fantasy or, in this case, a horror story.
As the story goes, or at least has been told, OCW was always into some occult-like bullshit, burying problems and raising solutions in this house. In the end, it would take time to dig through the place, finding the treasure in the old house: the OCW World Title. From there, the champion rules the roost, owns the castle, fits the bill...
What was Donnie getting into?
First of all, ever since winning the EPW World Championship, to usher in a new stage of evolution for Elevate Pro Wrestling, Donnie Harris was on a bender. Between signing with a new company in Florida Wrestling Prestige and sending an application to Zion Wrestling, and getting involved with a beautiful security executive, who had playfully kidnapped him and has since awakened something in Donnie that he had NOT expected to deal with: Donnie Harris, having started calling himself the Eliminator long after OCW’s last major event, had been keeping himself very busy.
And this was between his workout regimen for matches too, which was its own heavy workload. He either ate like a king or worked like a dog, all for the sake of honing his body and tempering his mind to a fine cutting edge, steel that could cut steel. The rest of the time, Donnie rested, slept as long as he could. It was the strict adherence to this routine that gave him his push to the stars in EPW, and it definitely made him look good in the eyes of Marcus Welsh, whose email caught Donnie by surprise many months ago.
Of course, Donnie was no stranger to controversy, whether or not EPW had a direct hand in it. Nevertheless, Donnie must still have had his peers to back him up, because a champion is only as good as his competition, only as strong as the opponents he faces, and he had a fair share of powerful adversaries after beating Clyde Newton. Donnie was thankful that SYNN wasn’t his opponent, because it wouldn’t have felt right. Hell, the hug they had after the show, behind the scenes, felt so good, and he cried alone, joyously, after he was left to get ready to get some sleep. Sure, he got to spend some time with his girlfriend after the show, but he was still so overcome with emotion that he didn’t perform.
Rachel didn’t need him to, and they cuddled and slept. It was so... pleasant. Donnie didn’t know such a feeling existed. And it felt so good. The next morning, well, was an outstanding performance; he was back on the road, to perform for FWP before his next two weeks off.
But, as August worked its way closer, as time continued to crawl forward, Donnie needed to prepare. Practice in FWP led him into his newest undefeated streak of two wins in two multi-competitor matches. He made a speech in EPW, as the new World Heavyweight Champion, calling his coworkers to task and reminding them that, as the original Outcast, Donnie Harris was here to stay and there wasn’t a damn thing to be done. Public appearances, training, eating, sleeping, loving: Donnie Harris’ life was nothing compared to what it was.
And it all started in OCW. Going into therapy, getting into the professional wrestling business, getting known, meeting people like SYNN and Alice Knight, going to war and constantly finding ways to improve far beyond what the cage could teach: Donnie Harris had everything he got because of signing with Online Championship Wrestling.
Their way of showing their appreciation? A direct invitation, one of the first, to the Cursed Countdown show.
Donnie felt like a custom character made in a wrestling video game, and it was almost that easy. Of course, nothing was truly that easy, but it is the simple fact that, for everything Donnie was doing, had done and could do, he was in line for a major title shot in OCW, which he was out and away far from even touching when he had started, until he joined the Outcasts and kept active with the Outsiders, and he was excited with the prospect.
Even though his primary ambition now was to become a Triple Crown champion wherever he ended up, be it FWP, EPW, Zion, UCW, or OCW (if OCW got enough of a roster trusted by Marcus Welsh), to capture and possess as many proper World Titles was definitely the cherry on the sundae, icing on the cake, and Donnie had enough of a sweet tooth to want to have it all. And he planned on taking it all home, if not to prove EPW supremacy and loyalty, but to show OCW his appreciation for everything that company allowed Donnie to experience.
Donnie didn’t give much of a damn about who was in the way, not yet, because he needed to make sure his body was prepared for the endurance battle that was the Cursed Countdown stipulation. As previously discussed: enter rooms, fight for rooms, move forward through rooms; last man standing will be the OCW World Heavyweight Champion. No amount of spectral anomaly, ghost sighting, poltergeist throwing shit or people getting in the fucking way was going to stop Donnie Harris.
He planned on one thing: eliminate everyone and everything that wants to get in his way, but there was one person that he was looking forward to ending for free... fucking Haitian gnat bitch; fuck you.-
-Of course, as August wears on through, Donnie would lose his first match in FWP, get suspended for shelving the man who beat him, but he wasn’t all that bothered about it, to be quite honest. In the long run, it didn’t matter to the Eliminator; if anything, it drummed up some attention, got people talking, got Donnie’s name in their mouths and into the conversation of what’s going on in FWP. Essentially, Donnie was doing exactly what needed to be done on a business level: putting butts in seats.
And the rivalries that formed were as precious as the friendships to follow. The brotherhood, and there is no better way to describe it, was more tightly knit and intricately woven than anything he would have expected from any other job or sport. Even with those he blocked, just to avoid the drama, those he keeps around are worth their salt. Even those he wishes he had a closer relationship with, are every bit as valuable as each and every dollar Donnie made through merchandise sales, contracted salary, and bonuses from TV and pay-per-view buys.
Donnie kept his focus, however, and it was squarely on general preparation at this point. Cursed Countdown, while far from the rearview mirror, had to sit as a persistent goal, while show after show, match after match, company after company, came and went. It wasn’t just FWP and EPW actively attracting him at this point, but also Black Flag Wrestling, to whom Donnie signed a contract; still waiting on Zion Wrestling’s Monday Night Mayhem roster; considering companies like Sin City Wrestling, CU:LT and 1WM. Donnie’s sense of belonging, while still a draw for him to continue his growth, development and maturity, became tainted by a pervading paranoia that made things difficult.
His connection to others began to wane. He could feel alone in a room full of people, even as he spoke to officials, staff, executives, and all with a smile and a warm handshake. However, it rang hollow, and it felt exceedingly empty. It all felt like and became a drive and pursuit of power. Championship gold wasn’t just a simple trophy anymore; it became paramount to maintaining his position of athletic authority. The Triple Crown was his primary objective, and it wasn’t until recently that the drive for it became so aggravatingly necessary in his career.
The World Title, a midcard title, the tag team titles: whichever company he sought out, these were his targets, regardless of whether they lined up like ducks in a row or they were the proverbial eggs in one’s basket. He could hold all three or one at a time, and it would still reflect upon him as a Triple Crown Champion: the ability to possess the three top prizes at any given time in any given company, and the respect granted by the management of said company to grant him the winning opportunities for each.
Did it mean Donnie Harris would have to be a people pleaser, in order to earn the opportunity presented to him for such a feat of athleticism and trust? He had hoped it would not need to be so. He wanted to prove himself, through his own abilities and merits, to be given the chance to be the top contender, to be a champion. Then again, Donnie knew he could do it. His tenure in OCW and EPW proved it, as Marcus invited him in and Britlyn allowed him the opportunity to bear EPW’s flag as the World Champion. His potential as a rising star, being two years into one of the most cutthroat businesses in sports and entertainment and recognized as a World Champion anywhere, seemed to be almost limitless.
And he didn’t have any plans on stopping. It was his own curse. It was a curse to either be good or be gone; be a champion or be nobody. It was a curse of his upbringing through the acts of an abusive and demanding father that expected nothing but one thing: perfection.
With every day he hit the gym, it was always about meeting and exceeding his personal bests, as strictly as possible. If Donnie had a spotter, it was always more reps, sets and weight; if alone, Donnie would set the bar for himself only slightly lower, knowing and understanding his limits better than any book in the Bible. His body was still a temple, with his constant consumption of rich food, daily exercise and attentive adherence to gaining as much sleep as possible; it was why he spent practically full days in bed on the days where he opted for sleep over the more strenuous workout routine. Such was the stringent nature of his regimen. He was far from a Greek god in terms of proportions or power, but his dedication and his desire would make Zeus blush, and it wasn’t just the body he strived to attain, but also in his conquests of the fairer sex.
None of it mattered. None of it could matter. None of it would matter after suffering a loss, and losing was inexcusable. This, among many other things, poisoned Donnie’s mind, his exercises becoming drilled into him akin to a death march. His need for fitness and physique became insatiable, as every day he worked out, he barely ate. He didn’t focus on the calories; he prioritized the gains. It was like he worked out like a strongman, preparing for the big lift: Eddie Hall ready to lift the ton. It was all part of the plan, as twisted and out of sorts as it became. Sure, it would destroy him as he got older, but Donnie was still at his peak, a pinnacle unto himself in terms of fitness and skill. Every day was training, practice, and improvement.
And the calories he consumed between his rest and exercise cycles seemed to make up for the net loss, as he would feel bloated after every meal, even as he ran through Central Park every morning and night, preparing for his match with J Mont in EPW on August 28th.-
-Outside of an abandoned asylum, the sunny skies shine down with ominous light. The camera pulls back, away from the growing shadow of the decrepit building to show a single person, standing under the darkness cast by the structure. He had his hands on his hips, staring at a fixed point higher up, to the third or fourth floor, through a window that was now no more than a void into a darker place.
He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, a black belt of woven nylon through the belt loops. He then turns his head, revealing the side profile of Donnie Harris. He looks back to the building and takes a deep breath, wondering what awaited him through the taped-off front door.-
)Donnie Harris(
We’re more than a month away from spooky season, and OCW is planning on running myself and ten others through one hell of a ringer, in the form of the Cursed Countdown: wandering through a haunted house and eventually coming to a point where the last person standing is OCW’s new World Champion. With that championship victory, literally, comes the house: a castle for a new monarch. Now, I’ve already used the royalty motif in a previous match prep, but nothing has changed since then. I am still someone to, if not outright fear, respect, as all I have done since OCW closed the first time was improve, develop and grow. I went from one of OCW’s most improved wrestlers to a world champion, and I didn’t need any special treatment for it, although I am sure others would say otherwise.
-Donnie turns to face the camera in full as he was speaking, squaring up with the frame as clouds begin to roll in. The scene slowly darkens, but there is still some light from the sun shining through, between the thin layer of encroaching cloud cover and the gaps between the clouds.-
)Donnie Harris(
I don’t want to talk about anyone going into the house with me, because all, save one, are people I can respect and/or have worked with in the past. Can I say I’ll hold back? Oh hell no. I have proven in the two years since starting in this business that Donnie Harris does not hold back. I go in, I maim, I walk away. Does it mean I win all the time? Nope, but it doesn’t mean I’m just going to lie down for whoever is placed in my way. Everyone here worth their weight and worth the fans’ time knows what kind of person the Eliminator is, whether your name is Allton, Vhodka Black, Henri the Gnat-Gnat Toussaint, or Bob Grenier. I have faced many worthy and worthwhile competitors in my short time, and, win or lose, I learned from the experience; I grew from the experience. I became a better wrestler and a better competitor for each W and L in my record, whether that loss was to PIC or TLS, or that win was against someone with the talent of Alexandra Calaway.
-A gentle rumble came from the distance, and Donnie barely reacted, pausing long enough to watch as the clouds started to thicken, blocking out the sunlight and darkening the sky. The camera panned up to look at the cloud cover closing in, but Donnie just kept going.-
)Donnie Harris(
EPW has helped to make me a much better wrestler, facing elite names there. I have made my way to Florida Wrestling Prestige, and I have become a better character. I will go to Barcelona at some point, to perform with the Black Flag promotion, where I can be a better traveler. I hope to continue to get better, as I wish to travel to the Japanese promotions, learn strong style, and learn to be better in all aspects of my combat game. All of it has, can and will build upon my skill set and strengthen my resolve, yes, but it all starts in the house that Cursed Countdown has built and will burn to the ground.
-The rumble begins to get closer, and Donnie looks up, directing the camera in tighter, as the crew and talent hunker down, entering the abandoned facility in time to escape a torrential downpour.
It was as if the weather was forcing them away, or, perhaps, it was drawing them in.
There was very little light, save that of the spotlights and ring lights used by the crew.-
)Donnie Harris(
This is exactly something to expect when going into anything remotely haunted: the unexpected. Does it frighten me, scare me, spook me? I’m not even bothered by it. And this asylum is no different. It probably housed all manner of tortured souls due to the lack of care in mental health back in the late 1800s to early 1900s. Did they care then? Nope. Do I care what’s going to happen in September? Not at all. What matters is that I’m going into the Cursed Countdown to try. I’m going in, and I’m going to fight. Whether it’s a physical body I’m facing or a supernatural manifestation that I need to face down, I am taking my room, I am keeping my room, and I’m going to end up ruling the kingdom before long.
-A loud rumble, directly overhead, causes the asylum to shudder, as if a living, breathing thing. Donnie looks around and continues to walk a bit deeper in, the breeze from the falling rain and intense storm blowing in through the broken window; the building was still toasty warm.-
)Donnie Harris(
OCW is where I started; OCW is where and how I will continue my story. I will continue to travel, continue to maintain my champion’s mentality, and I will bear the flag wherever I go with pride. I am still relatively young, and I have much more mileage left in my tank. While I can, I will remain strong, proud, healthy and fit, to do everything it takes in this most cutthroat of sports.
-Donnie reacts quickly, catching a piece of large rubble that seemed to be thrown from out of nowhere. There wasn’t even a sound to follow up with its launch.-
)Donnie Harris(
And I will never back down from any of you.
-Donnie drops the piece of concrete, and the power suddenly dies as a shadow drifts through the light in the background.-
The roster: competitors like Donnie Harris, Matt Knox, Mack O’Connor, Duce Jones, L.C. Pinkston, and a gnat.
The stipulation: eight men, eight rooms. Pick a room, and, if you’re in a room with someone else, you fight for it: loser’s, or losers’, out; winner remains. A haunted house as the venue, a curse to cleanse, and the opportunity to become OCW’s World Champion...
Of course, it being OCW, there was always the special venue, something out of a fantasy or, in this case, a horror story.
As the story goes, or at least has been told, OCW was always into some occult-like bullshit, burying problems and raising solutions in this house. In the end, it would take time to dig through the place, finding the treasure in the old house: the OCW World Title. From there, the champion rules the roost, owns the castle, fits the bill...
What was Donnie getting into?
First of all, ever since winning the EPW World Championship, to usher in a new stage of evolution for Elevate Pro Wrestling, Donnie Harris was on a bender. Between signing with a new company in Florida Wrestling Prestige and sending an application to Zion Wrestling, and getting involved with a beautiful security executive, who had playfully kidnapped him and has since awakened something in Donnie that he had NOT expected to deal with: Donnie Harris, having started calling himself the Eliminator long after OCW’s last major event, had been keeping himself very busy.
And this was between his workout regimen for matches too, which was its own heavy workload. He either ate like a king or worked like a dog, all for the sake of honing his body and tempering his mind to a fine cutting edge, steel that could cut steel. The rest of the time, Donnie rested, slept as long as he could. It was the strict adherence to this routine that gave him his push to the stars in EPW, and it definitely made him look good in the eyes of Marcus Welsh, whose email caught Donnie by surprise many months ago.
Of course, Donnie was no stranger to controversy, whether or not EPW had a direct hand in it. Nevertheless, Donnie must still have had his peers to back him up, because a champion is only as good as his competition, only as strong as the opponents he faces, and he had a fair share of powerful adversaries after beating Clyde Newton. Donnie was thankful that SYNN wasn’t his opponent, because it wouldn’t have felt right. Hell, the hug they had after the show, behind the scenes, felt so good, and he cried alone, joyously, after he was left to get ready to get some sleep. Sure, he got to spend some time with his girlfriend after the show, but he was still so overcome with emotion that he didn’t perform.
Rachel didn’t need him to, and they cuddled and slept. It was so... pleasant. Donnie didn’t know such a feeling existed. And it felt so good. The next morning, well, was an outstanding performance; he was back on the road, to perform for FWP before his next two weeks off.
But, as August worked its way closer, as time continued to crawl forward, Donnie needed to prepare. Practice in FWP led him into his newest undefeated streak of two wins in two multi-competitor matches. He made a speech in EPW, as the new World Heavyweight Champion, calling his coworkers to task and reminding them that, as the original Outcast, Donnie Harris was here to stay and there wasn’t a damn thing to be done. Public appearances, training, eating, sleeping, loving: Donnie Harris’ life was nothing compared to what it was.
And it all started in OCW. Going into therapy, getting into the professional wrestling business, getting known, meeting people like SYNN and Alice Knight, going to war and constantly finding ways to improve far beyond what the cage could teach: Donnie Harris had everything he got because of signing with Online Championship Wrestling.
Their way of showing their appreciation? A direct invitation, one of the first, to the Cursed Countdown show.
Donnie felt like a custom character made in a wrestling video game, and it was almost that easy. Of course, nothing was truly that easy, but it is the simple fact that, for everything Donnie was doing, had done and could do, he was in line for a major title shot in OCW, which he was out and away far from even touching when he had started, until he joined the Outcasts and kept active with the Outsiders, and he was excited with the prospect.
Even though his primary ambition now was to become a Triple Crown champion wherever he ended up, be it FWP, EPW, Zion, UCW, or OCW (if OCW got enough of a roster trusted by Marcus Welsh), to capture and possess as many proper World Titles was definitely the cherry on the sundae, icing on the cake, and Donnie had enough of a sweet tooth to want to have it all. And he planned on taking it all home, if not to prove EPW supremacy and loyalty, but to show OCW his appreciation for everything that company allowed Donnie to experience.
Donnie didn’t give much of a damn about who was in the way, not yet, because he needed to make sure his body was prepared for the endurance battle that was the Cursed Countdown stipulation. As previously discussed: enter rooms, fight for rooms, move forward through rooms; last man standing will be the OCW World Heavyweight Champion. No amount of spectral anomaly, ghost sighting, poltergeist throwing shit or people getting in the fucking way was going to stop Donnie Harris.
He planned on one thing: eliminate everyone and everything that wants to get in his way, but there was one person that he was looking forward to ending for free... fucking Haitian gnat bitch; fuck you.-
-Of course, as August wears on through, Donnie would lose his first match in FWP, get suspended for shelving the man who beat him, but he wasn’t all that bothered about it, to be quite honest. In the long run, it didn’t matter to the Eliminator; if anything, it drummed up some attention, got people talking, got Donnie’s name in their mouths and into the conversation of what’s going on in FWP. Essentially, Donnie was doing exactly what needed to be done on a business level: putting butts in seats.
And the rivalries that formed were as precious as the friendships to follow. The brotherhood, and there is no better way to describe it, was more tightly knit and intricately woven than anything he would have expected from any other job or sport. Even with those he blocked, just to avoid the drama, those he keeps around are worth their salt. Even those he wishes he had a closer relationship with, are every bit as valuable as each and every dollar Donnie made through merchandise sales, contracted salary, and bonuses from TV and pay-per-view buys.
Donnie kept his focus, however, and it was squarely on general preparation at this point. Cursed Countdown, while far from the rearview mirror, had to sit as a persistent goal, while show after show, match after match, company after company, came and went. It wasn’t just FWP and EPW actively attracting him at this point, but also Black Flag Wrestling, to whom Donnie signed a contract; still waiting on Zion Wrestling’s Monday Night Mayhem roster; considering companies like Sin City Wrestling, CU:LT and 1WM. Donnie’s sense of belonging, while still a draw for him to continue his growth, development and maturity, became tainted by a pervading paranoia that made things difficult.
His connection to others began to wane. He could feel alone in a room full of people, even as he spoke to officials, staff, executives, and all with a smile and a warm handshake. However, it rang hollow, and it felt exceedingly empty. It all felt like and became a drive and pursuit of power. Championship gold wasn’t just a simple trophy anymore; it became paramount to maintaining his position of athletic authority. The Triple Crown was his primary objective, and it wasn’t until recently that the drive for it became so aggravatingly necessary in his career.
The World Title, a midcard title, the tag team titles: whichever company he sought out, these were his targets, regardless of whether they lined up like ducks in a row or they were the proverbial eggs in one’s basket. He could hold all three or one at a time, and it would still reflect upon him as a Triple Crown Champion: the ability to possess the three top prizes at any given time in any given company, and the respect granted by the management of said company to grant him the winning opportunities for each.
Did it mean Donnie Harris would have to be a people pleaser, in order to earn the opportunity presented to him for such a feat of athleticism and trust? He had hoped it would not need to be so. He wanted to prove himself, through his own abilities and merits, to be given the chance to be the top contender, to be a champion. Then again, Donnie knew he could do it. His tenure in OCW and EPW proved it, as Marcus invited him in and Britlyn allowed him the opportunity to bear EPW’s flag as the World Champion. His potential as a rising star, being two years into one of the most cutthroat businesses in sports and entertainment and recognized as a World Champion anywhere, seemed to be almost limitless.
And he didn’t have any plans on stopping. It was his own curse. It was a curse to either be good or be gone; be a champion or be nobody. It was a curse of his upbringing through the acts of an abusive and demanding father that expected nothing but one thing: perfection.
With every day he hit the gym, it was always about meeting and exceeding his personal bests, as strictly as possible. If Donnie had a spotter, it was always more reps, sets and weight; if alone, Donnie would set the bar for himself only slightly lower, knowing and understanding his limits better than any book in the Bible. His body was still a temple, with his constant consumption of rich food, daily exercise and attentive adherence to gaining as much sleep as possible; it was why he spent practically full days in bed on the days where he opted for sleep over the more strenuous workout routine. Such was the stringent nature of his regimen. He was far from a Greek god in terms of proportions or power, but his dedication and his desire would make Zeus blush, and it wasn’t just the body he strived to attain, but also in his conquests of the fairer sex.
None of it mattered. None of it could matter. None of it would matter after suffering a loss, and losing was inexcusable. This, among many other things, poisoned Donnie’s mind, his exercises becoming drilled into him akin to a death march. His need for fitness and physique became insatiable, as every day he worked out, he barely ate. He didn’t focus on the calories; he prioritized the gains. It was like he worked out like a strongman, preparing for the big lift: Eddie Hall ready to lift the ton. It was all part of the plan, as twisted and out of sorts as it became. Sure, it would destroy him as he got older, but Donnie was still at his peak, a pinnacle unto himself in terms of fitness and skill. Every day was training, practice, and improvement.
And the calories he consumed between his rest and exercise cycles seemed to make up for the net loss, as he would feel bloated after every meal, even as he ran through Central Park every morning and night, preparing for his match with J Mont in EPW on August 28th.-
-Outside of an abandoned asylum, the sunny skies shine down with ominous light. The camera pulls back, away from the growing shadow of the decrepit building to show a single person, standing under the darkness cast by the structure. He had his hands on his hips, staring at a fixed point higher up, to the third or fourth floor, through a window that was now no more than a void into a darker place.
He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, a black belt of woven nylon through the belt loops. He then turns his head, revealing the side profile of Donnie Harris. He looks back to the building and takes a deep breath, wondering what awaited him through the taped-off front door.-
)Donnie Harris(
We’re more than a month away from spooky season, and OCW is planning on running myself and ten others through one hell of a ringer, in the form of the Cursed Countdown: wandering through a haunted house and eventually coming to a point where the last person standing is OCW’s new World Champion. With that championship victory, literally, comes the house: a castle for a new monarch. Now, I’ve already used the royalty motif in a previous match prep, but nothing has changed since then. I am still someone to, if not outright fear, respect, as all I have done since OCW closed the first time was improve, develop and grow. I went from one of OCW’s most improved wrestlers to a world champion, and I didn’t need any special treatment for it, although I am sure others would say otherwise.
-Donnie turns to face the camera in full as he was speaking, squaring up with the frame as clouds begin to roll in. The scene slowly darkens, but there is still some light from the sun shining through, between the thin layer of encroaching cloud cover and the gaps between the clouds.-
)Donnie Harris(
I don’t want to talk about anyone going into the house with me, because all, save one, are people I can respect and/or have worked with in the past. Can I say I’ll hold back? Oh hell no. I have proven in the two years since starting in this business that Donnie Harris does not hold back. I go in, I maim, I walk away. Does it mean I win all the time? Nope, but it doesn’t mean I’m just going to lie down for whoever is placed in my way. Everyone here worth their weight and worth the fans’ time knows what kind of person the Eliminator is, whether your name is Allton, Vhodka Black, Henri the Gnat-Gnat Toussaint, or Bob Grenier. I have faced many worthy and worthwhile competitors in my short time, and, win or lose, I learned from the experience; I grew from the experience. I became a better wrestler and a better competitor for each W and L in my record, whether that loss was to PIC or TLS, or that win was against someone with the talent of Alexandra Calaway.
-A gentle rumble came from the distance, and Donnie barely reacted, pausing long enough to watch as the clouds started to thicken, blocking out the sunlight and darkening the sky. The camera panned up to look at the cloud cover closing in, but Donnie just kept going.-
)Donnie Harris(
EPW has helped to make me a much better wrestler, facing elite names there. I have made my way to Florida Wrestling Prestige, and I have become a better character. I will go to Barcelona at some point, to perform with the Black Flag promotion, where I can be a better traveler. I hope to continue to get better, as I wish to travel to the Japanese promotions, learn strong style, and learn to be better in all aspects of my combat game. All of it has, can and will build upon my skill set and strengthen my resolve, yes, but it all starts in the house that Cursed Countdown has built and will burn to the ground.
-The rumble begins to get closer, and Donnie looks up, directing the camera in tighter, as the crew and talent hunker down, entering the abandoned facility in time to escape a torrential downpour.
It was as if the weather was forcing them away, or, perhaps, it was drawing them in.
There was very little light, save that of the spotlights and ring lights used by the crew.-
)Donnie Harris(
This is exactly something to expect when going into anything remotely haunted: the unexpected. Does it frighten me, scare me, spook me? I’m not even bothered by it. And this asylum is no different. It probably housed all manner of tortured souls due to the lack of care in mental health back in the late 1800s to early 1900s. Did they care then? Nope. Do I care what’s going to happen in September? Not at all. What matters is that I’m going into the Cursed Countdown to try. I’m going in, and I’m going to fight. Whether it’s a physical body I’m facing or a supernatural manifestation that I need to face down, I am taking my room, I am keeping my room, and I’m going to end up ruling the kingdom before long.
-A loud rumble, directly overhead, causes the asylum to shudder, as if a living, breathing thing. Donnie looks around and continues to walk a bit deeper in, the breeze from the falling rain and intense storm blowing in through the broken window; the building was still toasty warm.-
)Donnie Harris(
OCW is where I started; OCW is where and how I will continue my story. I will continue to travel, continue to maintain my champion’s mentality, and I will bear the flag wherever I go with pride. I am still relatively young, and I have much more mileage left in my tank. While I can, I will remain strong, proud, healthy and fit, to do everything it takes in this most cutthroat of sports.
-Donnie reacts quickly, catching a piece of large rubble that seemed to be thrown from out of nowhere. There wasn’t even a sound to follow up with its launch.-
)Donnie Harris(
And I will never back down from any of you.
-Donnie drops the piece of concrete, and the power suddenly dies as a shadow drifts through the light in the background.-