Title: The Original Odyssey - Lógos
Featuring: Big Bear
Date: 3-20-2011
Location: ReV:242 | vs. Nitz Donnelly | 5*Star Title | Abu Dhabi

This is one’a them moments where you figure out who you are, who you aren’t, and where you stand on the food chain. I say ‘moment’ with the loosest sense of the term. This is about my time on the road to Hell and how I made it back….

Chapter I

Fairbanks, Alaska
July 6th 2004

Summer is sweet. Like roses on Valentine’s day, the sun came out, and it made the difference for me. I suppose what this town has to offer ain’t much but boozin’, eatin’ and passin’ time at the whorehouse, but there’s gotta be more to this town than sin after sin. I damn sure hope there is.

"You want’n another drank?" the barkeep barks.

Rough lookin’ fella with half his teeth so you knew it from minute one. His name was Tom, he says, and he was in ‘Nam, he says. My guess? Just another piece of trash waitin’ to snatch my wallet and leave me bleedin’ outta my gut.

I nod, "Yessir."

He’s quick to pour me some’a that sour mash that makes Kentucky famous. Jack Daniel’s has his style, sure, but homegrown sour mash is a rare find and, like every good treasure, is worth the adventure. He fills my glass and I put it back just as quick. The nod I offer is welcomed with another refill.

"Some quality product old timer," I say, makin’ small talk, before raisin’ the glass to my server. "Local?"

He gives me a dumbfound look before he gets I’m jokin’. We share a laugh before I get rid of it. The last one for me. I watch as the old man fills his own glass â€" twice the size of mine â€" and knocks it back just as easy as me. I suppose this is the part where I head off to find some trouble.

The funny thing is that I didn’t have to go far. It already found me.

The office door swings open and out steps a young lady, "Mister Big Bear? You got a phone call. Ya can take it over there if ya like."

The corner of the bar had a telephone booth much like I was hopin’. The Bartender Tom shot me a funny look, one I ought’a knock the rest of his teeth out for givin’, and I head off to take the request. I’m sure it’s just another wrestling company, beggin’ and pleadin’, tryin’ to get the Big Bear back in the ring.

"Y’ello?" Mike slides the door shut.

"Michael Munson?" a woman says with terror in her voice. "Is this you?"

The corner of his mouth rises up, "Who’s this?"

"Lana," her response is blunt. "I hear your comin’ East for work?"

Mike’s eyes narrow when he notices Tom trying to listen in, "What’s wrong, Momma? Did ya miss me?"

A pause draws Mike in even more than before. He looks up while pulling out a smoke, his lighter, and pinches it between his lips.

"I was hopin’ to see you again," he hears a wet crackle, confirming a smile on the other end. "It’d be nice to catch up, see how you’re doing."

Mike thinks back to the day he met Lana Reese…

Age 16

Mike spins on his heel, trying to pinpoint the high pitch scream, and takes off like a runaway lawn mower. He crashes into the shrubberies blocking the first lawn but refuses to go down. He barrels toward a wooden fence of the next, which he scales flawlessly, and then rolls onto his shoulder and then to a knee. The slam of the door makes it easy for him to pick his path. He takes his time approaching the unfamiliar residence.

"Heeeelp! Help meeeeee," the girl cries from inside the house.

Mike looks around but can’t spot much under the shadows of the night. He decides to take one step back and launch his foot into the front door. The first attacker locks up when Mike spots him dragging the girl up the stairs.

"Let her go!" Mike roars.

Mike looks into the young girl’s eyes as she struggles. Mike takes two large steps toward fixing the situation before another man comes from behind, slams the door shut, and clobbers Mike over the back. The skirmish causes Munson and his attacker to crash onto the living room floor as the other man drags his prize up to do as he pleases.

Mike scrambles to his feet and looks the opponent in the eye. He recognizes something about it but can’t place it before he has to dodge a right hook. In response, Mike slams his elbow into the young man’s jaw, his fist into his ribs, and then lifts him up over his shoulder. In a fluid motion, he drops the man over his back and heads up the stairs. A crack and snap cues a compound fracture.

"Hey fuckface," Mike lunges out and snatches the man’s ankle. "Tonight’s not your night."

He wrenches back on it, flipping the man vertical, and falls on top of the girl. A hollow thud knocks the wind out of both of them and Mike makes the most of the situation. He lifts the girl off the ground, carries her down the hallway, and sets her upright against the wall. That’s right before he heads back for the scumbag with respiratory issues. Mike places his large size 12 on the back of the head but stops abruptly.

"Where are my manners?" Mike lifts his head, "I never got your name."

The girl smiles and bats her big brown eyes, "Lana Reese."

"Lana?" he doesn't wait for a reply. "I’ll see you in a few days."

Abu Dhabi
March 20th 2011

Mike leaps out of his sleep in a cold sweat. He checks his forehead, noticing that its’ more than the other night, but its’ always the same dream.

"Lana…" he says. "Shay…"

Mike shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose and running both hands through his hair. It sticks up and reminds Mike that it’s probably time for a trim. Among all the things PRIME coordinates for the talent and there’s not enough time for a haircut? He checks the clock with one cognizant eye.

"Four AM," he sighs. "Jesus…"

Mike slides his legs to the side of the bed. After perching his elbows on his knees and rubbing his eyes for a good while, he slowly rises, nude, and steps to the curtain. To give himself the shock he needs to start the day, he throws the curtains back, and lets the sun pour in like hot honey. He takes in a deep breath, smiles, and opens his eyes.

"Soak it in brother," Mike says to himself. "this is where it allllll begins."
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