I have walked countless roads.
Sometimes the road is paved with comfortable grass that feels soft against my bare and blistered feet. The sun rises with a cool breeze and maintains an ample but not blistering temperature. That road is less travelled but far more enjoyable.
Sometimes the road is paved with dirt that is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. The sun rises with humidity, and the heat pounds down upon me with intense burning. It scorches my skin, forms beads of sweat that I find running down my back.
Sometimes the road is paved with jagged rocks that cut my feet and make them bleed. The weather is overcast, dull and dreary. There’re flecks of rain that moisten my clothing uncomfortably, but do not soak me.
Sometimes the road is more like a river. The wind howls, the sun is no-where to be seen, the earth roars and the rain pours. Lightning crashes into the ground and thunder claps above my head like a fury. I wade through the water, gasping for breath as it rises to my neck and threatens to drown me. This road is often travelled.
In the moments of my greatest victories against men like Mike Lane, I have travelled the comfortable roads and enjoyed my time in the sun.
But they are few and far between.
I have lost count of how many times I’ve forged a path through the storm, Luke. When Jon Davenport had his boot on my neck, I almost drowned. I saw the inside of a prison cell. I couldn’t afford to lose my footing or sink beneath the surface of the water. I had to continue.
As the lightning crashed around me and he took everything I loved, I was forced to walk through those dangerous jolts, whilst the roaring thunder clapped overhead because if I did not, my people would have suffered.
The truth is that it does not matter what road one travels. It could be blistering sun, comfortable heat, the pouring rain or a storm that makes the world look like it is coming to an end.
The only way… is forward.
Through the heat. Through the sun. Through the rain and through the thunder.
At Ghost of the Past, another storm descends upon my path. Luke Storm. It would be easy to take another road. It would be simple to negate the challenge by choosing an easier path.
But I like the storm, Luke.
I like the sensation of feeling as if one wrong step means I could drown. I like the trepidation of knowing that at any moment the storm could force those waters above my head and I could perish.
That’s where Tommy Hawk finds his spirit.
That’s where he thrives.
Sometimes the road is the road.
The storm is just another obstacle on a path towards the destination.
And a story for my people.
After all, it takes a thousand voices to tell a single story… and this is mine.