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Thoughts from the old dusty trail.; Odin gets his think on.
Topic Started: Aug 8 2007, 12:08 AM (42 Views)
Minister Wighty
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Opossum Queen of FIW
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We open up on Odin, somewhere in the California wildneress. Huge redwoods flank him as his sits on his motorcycle, Geri and Freki on either side. Sleipnir is switched off. Odin is reclining against the handlebars, Gungnir stretched over his back.

Odin: In but a few days I'll be facing the man I laid a challenge down to weeks ago. In but a few days I'll have the chance to reprove myself not only to my opponent, but those in the wrestling community who doubt me that I am truly a presence in the ring. Strangely it's not excitement or adrenaline coursing through my body right now... but trepadition.

He looks out over the scenery and heaves a small sigh.

Odin: Do I want to face the monster of defeat again? Will the ninja outwile me as he did previously and leave me cursing in the aether?

His body language almost suggests a shrug as he unfolds himself from around the front of his motorcycle, reclinging back as much as he can without toppling over. He locks his fingers behind his head and exhales a sigh.

Odin: Of course, then my brain reminds me that I've beaten the hell out of guys both bigger and smaller than the ninja. I'm reminded that if I don't have my confidence, I may as well just throw in the towel now. There's a battle in my head right now... the fight of self-doubt versus conviction. Conviction is pumping strong-armed and bullheaded toward its goal, determination writ upon its face and a glare of victory in its eyes. Self-doubt is garbed in a mask, slinking in the shadows, bringing a shining knife down on all the curtains of stability like an agent of the dark...

A simple head-shake manages to bring a temporary smile to Odin's visage.

Odin: I aim to succeed in this federation. Despite my previous lack of a reason, my blisfull absence of a point to this violence... I now have the passion to fight. Not just for the sake of fighting, but to carve my name into the rock of Full Intensity Wrestling. I have the need to show the rest of these men and women that I'm just as good if not better than each and every one of them. I've poured out too much blood... too much sweat in bars and backlots. I've got scars from weapons you'll never see in a wrestling ring... hell, I gave my left eye to find out the secrets that drive me on to this day. You don't do that without being a tough old bastard... but even a tough old bastard can hit a roadblock. And trust me when I say my first one was that little blue man in silk pajamas.

Odin grits his teeth and his eyes seem to flash.

Odin: What do you do when there's a block in your way? You tear it down. With fist, with metal... with blood and the sweat of your brow. It's my old life all over again, with lights, cameras, and thousands of screaming fans. Despite all these familiarities around me, I can't help but feel like a different man, the way I've been thinking...

Odin crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the camera with an eyebrow cocked and an impassive expression on his lips.

Odin: So who'll stand victorious in this battle? The steam and thunder of conviction? Or the cloak and dagger of self-doubt?

The wry smile returns as Odin unfolds his arms and nods his head.

Odin: ... who indeed.

With that, Odin turns the ignition switch and roars off the trail, his wolves following him dutifully as he raises a trail of dust and grit.
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