Post by Odin Balfore on Aug 13, 2022 21:51:56 GMT -5
Knife in The Back Part III
Eden, Texas.
An old Ranch just sold in Eden. A 100 acre estate that Odin planned to build upon and renovate. With a price of only half a million, it was a steal. ‘A gym, a ring, a swimming pool,’ was the big mans mantra going in. The home was fine enough considering he was always on the road. This was just what he needed. A new start. A new life. It was not Denmark. It was not Norway. It was not home and he- he was not himself. If Odin wanted to go home. If he wished to see almighty and glorious Valhalla when the time came, he would have to earn it.
A price tendered in blood.
The property was bare and rundown. The heat was stifling and exhausting. Odin did not handle the heat well but this was part of his penance. Wind turbines are off in the distance. Rusted and rotted gates. Overlooking all this was a 10-foot tall rock of granite, carved right out of the quarry and delivered just the other day.
A new start, to the same old song.
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Heritage, my heart would fucking bleed for you, if, this wasn't our first one-sided go around. You were there for Tatiana, yet she was not there for you. Not then. Not now. No changes have been made. Only this time I have Jay Cashe in my corner. A powerful and sensible ally.
Me, like a waffle house cook. In the back, eating chicken wings. Waiting on conflict.
Waiting for you boys to fuck all the way up and today's the day.
Today's special: your ass. Got ketchup on my shoes so you can taste my laces. You be there smackin your lips, tasting the rainbow askin yourself: ‘ hmm, is that real tom-mato catsup?’ and yah, boi, let me tell you – aint nothing but the best.
I have belts to get back. I have a reason to climb. A reason to stand on my feet and lay waste to would be world champions who are too broke to buy my used jock off E-Bay. Now, that aint you boys. But this week, you dem boys and I can’t see myself given you nor anyone else any fuckin’ slack in all this. Heritage. Listen. Because I want you to catch it. I want you to know that I’m coming. Let me show you the meat grinder that I used to be. Cashe is gonna straight up beat the Holy Canadian Moose Ghost out of you and I’ll have you foot choked in the corner; gassing you out. Hey, if that sounds like a good time for you, I got time for you.
I got hands for you too
I got hands for you too
So, come on Heritage. Come get these violent hands.
They waitin’.
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[ Earlier in the Week ]
On the Ranch, near the granite, Odin sits on a bench overlooking a barn fire in the middle of the night with clear stars above him. The fire flickers, grows, expands, and swirls. Slowly over a few minutes, the fire takes the shape of a man. The firey figure stands there as Odin looks on before the figure steps out - morphing from ember to flesh. The man is wide and tall. Covered in leather and fur with a sword tied to his belt.
“Aye, get what's yours, boy.” Barks the man in a gruff and raspy voice. “We spill blood in the halls while they weep in the kitchens. You honor us with who you are or you can dishonor us with whom you’ve become.”
The man throws his sword at Odin's feet.
“You can either greet me with it or I can come and take it back. The choice is yours.” Say the man stepping back into the flames just as soon as he appeared.
Odin wakes up. Its dawn. The fires out and cold. A sword still in it’s sheath lay in the dust.
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