Post by Corey Bull on Dec 30, 2018 21:28:27 GMT -5
**Its not hard to imagine the kind of lace that Corey Bull would hang out in after all the luck that hasn't come his way lately. Bull would tell you it isn't bad luck...he isn't a big believer in luck. It is, in fact, his own failure and that is how he would see it. And now here he is, in a tavern off of West A street in a lonely town in the Upper Peninsula, a town who's name doesn't even warrant naming. It is there though, hanging on by a thread. Kind of like Bull is right now. That monster is sitting in a booth...or something resembling a booth, and has two empty bottles of Jack Daniels in front of him and looks to be working on a third. The bar is empty except for Abagail Voorhees and the bartender, a balding forty year old with bad joints and no ambition to move beyond this lot in the world. The cracking of pool balls is one of the few sounds, as Abagail is working on a solo game and watching Bull, a hint of concern on her features. What you don't know...well you will now...is that Bull has been like this for three hours. It's as if someone has blown out the candle and he is just on auto pilot, lifting the bottle to his lips to ingest more of the whiskey and then lowering it. Raise, drink, set down, repeat.
The cameraman has been here just as long. His name is Benny, he has been Bulls cameraman for a long time. And he has turned his camera on and off more times then he wants to count since Bull started drinking. He is suppose to be doing a promo for the special where he faces Bishop. But Bull doesn't seem to give any fucks about that right now. In fact...he doesn't look to have any fucks to give about anything. And that is the current problem. He is suppose to be saying...something...anything...about his upcoming match with Bishop. But Bull seems to have lapsed into another world. And Benny, our faithful cameraman, is half asleep and half drunk, since there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of anything else to do.
And Bull drinks, his eyes black voids of nothing...his body a finely tuned machine currently imbibing enough alcohol to knock out a large quadruped. Most men would be unconscious...but Bull isn't a man..he is a monster. And the bottle slams to the table hard.
An uncomfortable pause. Abagail looks in his direction, her pool stick hanging in limbo between her hands. Benny, that poor bastard, hasn't moved from behind his camera and is now fully awake and has pissed himself a little. Good thing he is off camera. Bull sits with eyes closed, hand still wrapped around the glass bottle, his knuckles white. Finally he opens his eyes and lets out a deep sigh and looks to the camera, his other hand to point accusingly at the camera...the anticipation of the moment teetering people to the edge of their seat.**
"Fuck."
"You."
**Two words. A simply declaration. Bull slams the empty bottle into the other two empty bottles and glass shatters and falls to the floor. Bull whips his head back tot he camera and points the finger once again.**
"Fuck you Dandy. Fuck you Americanana. Fuck. You. Everybody! We say that to everyone that can hear us. Because you have all given up. People don't see the monster anymore. They see some...guy. Just a man that can do everything...but fails at the last possible moment. And why you ask. Why does this monster that bulldozes his way through the competition always fall short at the last possible moment? Because we got soft. We stopped hurting people and actually wrestled. And where did it get us? No fucking where that's where!"
**Bull stands and slides out of the booth and walks around the bar. He gives the bartender a look that suggests he leave the area, which he does with a quickness beyond his body size. Bull turns to the camera and his sheer gaze stops hearts**
"We have forgotten how we got here. We have forgotten the struggle...the bodies we have placed in holes. The bodies of people ten times the fucking wrestlers we have faced. People who ate....slept...and shit this business till there was nothing left them.And we have outlasted them....remaining strong when they grew frail. Shit...we even assisted in sending some of them to their early retirements. And for what? For our legacy to crumble in the hands of halfwits and jackasses? Well fuck no. Not going to happen. It doesn't end like that. This isn't the end of Corey Bull. This is simply the rebirthing of the Hatebringer. It is time to make what matters the first and foremost thing. And what matters is kicking the shit out of people and giving zero fucks what you, you, that guy in the back, or what any of you think! We don't care if you are immortal or thing your a fucking gods kid! WE ARE COMING!"
**Bull grabs a barstool and chucks it across the room, crashing it seat first into the aging pinball machine that has sat there for decades**
"After awhile, you can no longer take the same amount of bullshit that you use to and we have reached our limit. 2019 is going to be a new year...a bloody year...a more violent year. But more importantly...there will be a changing of the guard. The ones that stand at the top now better take fucking notice. If you think there is no threat here in front of you...then you are not only dead wrong...you are simply...just....dead! We will end your careers.....we will take away the things you hold precise in your lives...and we will strip this world of your very existence. You are the bacteria....we will be the bleach. And if any of you think your that one percent...your wrong. The only one that is in our estimation is Zombie McMorris and we don't want to eliminate him...we want to recruit him. Join together and just level all of you motherfuckers! But we know how impossible that is...so we are just going to have to settle for ripping you all apart...one jack ass at a time. And you Bishop have drawn the lucky number. You will be the first to be sacrificed to the new year."
"Call it what you will Bishop. You have walked this road enough times to know that you can not overcome this monster. We have given you many opportunity to...we were lackadaisical and lazy. But we are nothing short of fucking infernally pissed off now. Now....now we just want to hurt you. We just want to feel your bones break and your will succumb to the darkness. We want to bust you open and watch you bleed like a stuck pig. And we will Bishop. We will do all of that. Because you can not stop us. You don't have it in your to stop us. We are the force that no one can truly understand...a being that so few will ever understand. Only those that have walked the earth as long as we have can understand the lack of fucks we give right now. Pay per view....live on cable...prime time...early fucking morning...don't matter when Bishop. You're as good as dead. We will raise you up and plant your ass to the mat for three and you will stare up at the lights and realize that you were just NAILED BY HATE!"
**Bull moves very fast and grabs the camera and pulls it close to his face**
"You wanted this...well now you will get this!"
**Bull shoves the camera away and there is a whirling motion before it crashes to white noise and fades to black**