Stallone Karl Schwarzenegger
‘He who thinks fast, usually laughs last.’
Born in Gurgl on November 28th 1918 – The day of the Lone Wolf.
Height 6′ Weight 200 lbs – Olympic Ski Team Contender.
Just like his doppelganger, Stallone also read books, although not in such formal settings as did Hax Mansen; the reception counter back-end at his mother’s hotel, The Crystal, host to any number of useful publications. His knowledge had progressed in a far more unrestricted environment, often complimented by the many points of view and titbits of learning The Crystal’s guests had imparted casually in their stays at his families impeccably kept hotel high up in the Tyrol’s invigorating atmosphere. Not only had his father’s military bearing been passed down to him, he having served as a career officer; the calibre of The Crystal’s regular clientele had bestowed upon him all the heirs and graces required to exponentially take on the refined role Hax Mansen had embodied.
His father had insisted his middle name be Karl as it indicated freedom, the sort of freedom to achieve his own destiny without the Pavlovian indoctrination he claimed the bane of modern upbringings; this had equipped Stallone with a propensity for common sense and the ability to get to grips with whatever problem or issue manifested with a speed of deliberation any top class barrister would give his eye teeth for.
Above all, Stallone had excelled in every aspect of Alpine exertion: skiing, skating and climbing in winter and in summer: swimming, diving, gymnastics and equestrianism, his father having imparted the old Prussian tradition of horsemanship, having had an exemplary career in Prince Charles of Bavaria’s 1st Royal Cavalry, as par for the course. Another feather in Stallone’s hat was his talent at marksmanship, both with a blade as well as his Dad’s service pistol, his aim so steady he could down a flying pigeon at 20 paces.
Stallone’s only vice manifested in his unquenchable lust, not only for the female form, but for status, not the undeserved status of the dishonourable, merely a fair shot at glory. He’d tasted such status by just missing out on Austria’s ‘Wonder-team’, gaining the nickname ‘Signore Ski’ due to his part Italian ancestry and operatic endeavours after a few too many.The solitude of the Alps had afforded him plenty of time to indulge his vivid imagination away from the hubbub of pleasing guests at The Crystal, lending him a Bohemian mindset of ethereal leanings, no less an inclination to often ponder the mystery’s of God’s realm.
