Post by Odin Balfore on Jan 25, 2022 18:49:04 GMT -5
TV CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH
ODIN
vs.
JOLEE (C)
ODIN
vs.
JOLEE (C)
__________________________________________
HOLLYWOOD, DANGEROUS
“It would have been nice to go after CJ Phoenix and the U.S. Championship but you don't go back to your ex. We have a cursed idol to return to. To reunite with perverse pleasure. These hands. These Violent Hands. They deliver mercy however, the weak do not deserve mercy. They deserve malice. Malice, MAVERICK! Do you HEAR US; M A L I C E. Deliver her a swift injustice. Cruel and powerful, both in measure and scope. We told her, Maverick, we told her to come and see. She did not listen but she laid witness. Allow her soul to bear it again as we take back what is ours.”
That low graveling hiss hovered again, whispering intoxications into the ear canal of the Unwanted Odin Balfore as he sat on the edge of the bathtub with an ice pack on his face which was still swollen from his match with Gerad Angelo. He stares at his reflection. He takes a deep breath laced with scorn and aggravation.
“Fuckin’ Cho-mo’s.” / “Fuckin’ Cho-mo’s”
KNOCK KNOCK
WHAT/ WHAT roars Odin.
“Fuckin’ Cho-mo’s, am I right? Ha-ha! I told you Hollywood was dangerous.”
Odin gets up and walks out of the bathroom and over to the front door to his room in the Bed & Breakfast. He flings open the door and looks Conrad square in the eye.
“What do you want?” he growls, knowing that Conrad just came to rub the dirt in the wounds. Conrad tips his hat with a toothy grin.
“Let's go get you a suit.”
_________________________________________
I, PROMISE
Back at Conrad's estate, Odin and Conrad walk through a closet the size of most small homes. There were racks on the mirrored walls, lined with various suits in different materials, colors, and trims. Below them were racks of shoes of brown and black leather; presumably Italian. Between the walls were display cases of handguns equal in variable to the other items. Conrad leads Odin to the very back and into another hidden room. The room was not well lit and had five suits on a small commercial rack with two pairs of shoes.
“I’d imagine these are still your size?” Asks Conrad looking at Odin.
“Yah, these look right.” Replies Odin, looking at not just any suits but his old suits from his time as an assassin.
“Good, I’ll leave you to try them on. I have to go make a few calls.” Conrad pats Odin on the shoulder, “Welcome back, Maverick.” Odin follows Conrad back out into the main part of the ‘closet.’ Conrad leaves as Odin looks around, seeing different versions of himself reflected in the mirrors.
“T.J.” Odins voice echoes as if each mirror image was speaking in unison. “When you came here to make an impact, you neglected the key phrasing. When we fought and Kyrie won, I knew the burning hole in your heart. How no matter what you do from then on out, beating him, beating me, winning other titles, nothing will fill that hole in your heart. In your soul. That's what you wanted when you defeated King in a cage match. To feel something, anything and yet… hollow. I have no rhyme or reason, T.J.”
Odin holds up his hands and looks at them as if they are strangers to his eyes.
“My hands, these violent hands. I do not know what they do. They just - accomplish their own goals. You cannot hold me in contempt. For I - I hold myself in contempt. Yet here I am, back in the prelude of perversion. The way, way back of my career. Juxtaposed to you, in that fated reality that no one on this roster will care about you. There is no excitement in the name TJ Greymore for reasons that should be evident and clear and yet you persist on the knowledge that you cannot obtain. Allow me to enlighten you. Allow these hands to introduce you to the Forge of Suffering. Allow them to bestow wisdom upon you. To show you the errors both in your ways and judgement. Know that I'm not judging you but These Hands are going to pass the sentence.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, anymore. No more innocents but there are no more innocents anymore. Innocence lost. Cursed idols found. Somewhere you’re in the middle of fucked and hard place and you’re no longer having fun. This isn't supposed to be fun.
It’s supposed to hurt.
It’s supposed to be sad.
It’s supposed to… “
Odin catches himself and apologizes.
“Nevermind. I am not myself. I shouldn't be there where you are at Revolution. Destiny will bring us together. A Cursed Legend. A fading Champion and a Cursed Idol. MY cursed idol. And Ragnarok. It won’t be worth it for one of us. I think you already know the outcome. Know that I'll break you just to piece myself back together. I also know that you cannot say the same.”
Odin contemplates a moment before continuing.
“ I- I’m [not] sorry for your neck and your jaw. I tried to place you down sweetly. Please do not expect that same treatment again. You put yourself in this position willingly and my cursed idol will cost you more than you are prepared to lose. I'll do better than what you've seen of me as of late.
I’ll do better.
I’ll be better.
I promise
I also know that one of us will fail in our endeavors and that the other is a liar..
Good luck, TJ. This may be your last chance.
Be well
And be safe
For I can no longer promise the former or the latter.
~ 960
