Post by Corey Bull on Nov 19, 2019 3:05:15 GMT -5
OFFCAMERA
The darkened warehouse of one Corey Bull. The Hatebringer. The Angel of Hate. The monster of Action Wrestling. A small area around the workbench is lit up and one can only assume that the large figure sitting on a chair is Bull himself. And walking around the warehouse, though you can’t see him, is none other than Ace Fkn Static. In case you haven’t been tuned in, Ace was killed a few years ago. By Bull...who just happened to be his number one enemy. Long story short, either this is a ghost like Ace says he is...or he is a figment of Bulls shattered mind.
Ace walks around the corner of some of the piles Bull has here of metal and mayhem and squeals like a giddy little school girl. He turns towards the large shadowy figure.
[You fucking killed her! Oh my god man, tell me this is happening right now! Tell me that this is a thing! Fuck, I have a raging boner right now!]
“That isn’t real Ace.”
Ace looks back at the ground, back at Bull, then crouches down and stands up.
[Dafuq you say? Did I just waste a good one in my jeans for no reason?]
“It is a mannequin that I had designed at the company’s special effects department. It’s the same weight, height, and aside from not being anatomically correct under those shorts, an exact duplicate.”
[But why? I mean, if it isn’t anatomically correct, you can’t even fuck it. Couldn’t you at least made it correct? Maybe add an asshole or something. Taken a guess whether she has beef flaps or a nice streamline design...]
“Jesus Fucking Christ Ace! Stuff your cock back in your pants and pay attention you fucking ignorant dead man. That is not just some mannequin or a fucking full blown sex doll. It’s a talisman. A juju. A charm...hell when I am done, it will be a fucking cult idol to all those that see it.”
Bulls hands set down on the table and he lets out a heavy sigh.
“For every ounce of fear that causes her...it will absorb. Her panic...her fear...every moment of despair...I want to cause. I want her to feel what I did...what caused my mind to do what it has done. I want her to understand the very depth of my anger and of her imminent destruction. I don’t fucking care how important she thinks she is...how important anyone thinks she is. She has done this to me. This...this is all HER fault! This is all THEIR fault! Every body I put in the ground...the blood is on their hands...her hands! And I want her to know that...I want to remind her how she has failed! I want to remind her how she has blemished me...by thinking I could so easily forget that I gave my word. My fucking word ACE! It is the one thing…the O-N-E thing...that I have never broken. I told you that I would be the one to end you...gave you my word...and I did it. When I give my word...I never break it. AND THIS BITCH THOUGHT I COULD BE BOUGHT SO EASILY! Well someone has to remind her that her actions have consequences. That...is what that is for. My little....Lissie Hope”
The camera moves and we see an exact replica of Lissie Hope lying on the ground. I mean, if you didn’t know it was a mannequin, you would swear there was a dead body on the ground, complete with lifeless eyes. We can tell that Bull is removing his metal mask, and he sets the dark thing of purgatory down facing behind him. He hands reach out and something else is strapped to his head. It takes but a second and the big man snaps to a stand and kicks out the chair. His hands grasp the table and he starts to laugh. Not that haha funny laugh, but that Joker “I have found my joy” laugh. A maniacal, throw your hands to the sky, straight up villain laugh.He reaches to his side and grabs a black leather jacket, the back stained with a red buzzard. Stained in what, who knows. He slides it on and lifts the hood of his hoodie up and when he turns, a new Bull stands there.
“I am ready to play a game…”
ONCAMERA
**The camera comes on. We know it is on, because the dark is not completely dark. Suddenly a light comes on, the sound of the large overhead light snaps loudly in the empty arena, as we can now see the ring. A single overhead light, illuminating the ring alone. The chairs of the arena can be seen, but even their presence gives off an eerie vibe. A voice, a dark and dangerous voice, is heard and we immediately know who it is...Corey Bull.**
“Hello Logan Demon Joker.”
“I want to play a game.”
“This game is simple. You will enter a ring...a ring in which I shall be standing...at Turmoil. Once inside that ring, you will have twenty minutes to survive. To win...to live...is to beat me. That is it...pin me or make me tap out. But...to lose...is to lose your very ability to wrestle ever again. Remember you have only twenty minutes...a time limit...one that you must adhere to. But I do not...for I will go out of my way to make sure you do not make it to a win. This is my game...my rules...my ring. Here you will be a stranger...learning to live and succeed. Fairness...is not a part of my game. The fact that I must be in the ring with you...is not fair...to the rest of the world. But it is a sacrifice that I will make...to ensure you play the game till the end. And there will be an end. An end to you.”
**The light snaps out above the ring and another snaps on...this one over the camera and the large frame of Corey Bull steps into the light, his Cheshire grinning mask eerily seeming to have a good time.**
“I’m sure you are wondering how you got here? How did you end up on my radar. You are a wretched disease of an individual...so many levels below being considered a human. You're not even scum...your less than that. Your that film that you get on your balls after not showering for two weeks...that sickly smelling substance that is somewhere between sweat and scum. You see women as targets for your rotten hard-on to invade like a platoon of lepers. You are a boil on the ass of this place...and you just got here. That...Logan...is the reason I am going to end you. To stop the poison before it reaches the heart.”
**Bulls voice becomes...cheerful**
“The problem Logan..can I call you Logan? Doesn’t really fucking matter. The problem...is that you don’t take advantage of the things that have been given to you. The chance to be something more than...nothing. You waste everyone's time by barely showing up and having the talent of a two year old trying to walk from one end of the living room to the other, without using the coffee table. It’s sad..really, when you get down to the brass tacks of it. Having talent in some way..shape..or form..I am assuming of course since you got signed here. And yet..you waste it. You think it's a crappy thing that you haven’t won...yet you haven’t done anything to facilitate a win in your favor. Instead of taking into account the strengths and weaknesses of your opponents...you were more worried about the fact that they were of the female persuasion.”
**Bull tilts his head, the mask’s grin a constant reminder that we can not tell what is going on inside the mind of Bull. Even now, his eyes are hidden...usually windows into his mindset. But now..within this new mask...we have no idea. But his voice comes out somewhere between anger, cheerfulness, and something...darker **
“Well now that worry has been...removed. Instead you are now tasked with beating...no, that’s silly...we all know that isn’t going to happen. Surviving against a monster. That...Logan...is the closest you can expect to a win out of this match. But don’t think that I have been unfair. No...you have gotten into this all on your own. I have set out the rules...the task with which you are presented…and given you a sporting chance. And for most people with a lick of talent...that would be enough.”
“But…”
**Bull breaks out into a laugh before he continues...his voice darker than usual**
“You don’t have a fucking lick of talent! In fact..I’m not even sure you have any talent...other then taking up space and being a walking STD. And those are not real talents...those are issues that tend to need to be taken care of. And I am going to take care of that problem at Turmoil. Logan Demon Joker...you sound like a fucking reject from a comic book convention. I am going to enjoy this Logan...every...last...second. This will be a journey through pain...something that up until this moment in time...you believe you know about.”
“BUT YOU KNOW NOTHING!”
**Bull burst out into laughter, something borderline maniacal, and now when he speaks, while there is a darkness to his voice, Bull sounds almost jovial**
“Oh but you will. You will know SO much after this night. And so will the world Logan. Because I stopped making masterpieces. They took..too long. And only the right people appreciated them...the screams that created crescendos...the sound of breaking bones...you know, all the beautiful things that make a masterpiece...well a masterpiece Logan. No..now I create something much better...something that speaks to the youth of the world...to all those out there that appreciate a good scream and a scene of pure destruction.”
“You see now Logan…”
**A small chuckle...but dark enough**
“Now I create horror scenes. And you Logan...are going to be my very first...well, at least my first on camera.”
**More chuckling**
“Geez, I hope I don’t make too much of a mess. I can never tell with these things!”
**Bull breaks out into maniacal laughter, nearly falling out of the seat he is sitting in. When he stops, he sighs, then turns his masked face back to the camera, all joy gone from his voice**
“This is all their fault Logan...all her fault...there is nothing I can do about that. SHE...she did this…and now you are but the first to suffer. Yep...the first...but not the last. No, no, no...not the last. And of course this is a learning curve for us...so we expect their to be mistakes. Bloody..painful mistakes...but I am willing to let you feel all that pain and suffering...for my craft...for my vision...for HER vision.”
“I’ll see you at Turmoil Logan...and then we will play a game.”
**It starts out slow, but Bull eventually starts laughing like a full blown whackaloon as the camera fades to black, his dark, maniacal laughter echoing in the darkness, then an image appears on the screen**
OFFCAMERA
Page 1
A Las Vegas local that went missing November 16th was located early Monday morning. 22 year old Rucker Smithson, known to his friends and family as “Little Dogie” was found Monday morning in a shallow grave just off of highway 159, in the Red Rock Canyon National Park.
Initial reports are being held close to the cuff, as investigators still have no idea how this happened. The scene has been taped off and investigators were still combing it as of this afternoon. From what we can report, Mr. Smithson was located just half a mile from the highway. We have been told that it appears he has been assaulted and that his skull was caved in with an unknown object. Police are treating this as a homicide, but the type is yet to be determined. As reported earlier, Mr. Smithson was a known drug dealer, so this could be a result of gangland politics. Further details as this case unfolds will be reported.
MISSING MAN FOUND IN DESERT
By Justa NotherighterA Las Vegas local that went missing November 16th was located early Monday morning. 22 year old Rucker Smithson, known to his friends and family as “Little Dogie” was found Monday morning in a shallow grave just off of highway 159, in the Red Rock Canyon National Park.
Initial reports are being held close to the cuff, as investigators still have no idea how this happened. The scene has been taped off and investigators were still combing it as of this afternoon. From what we can report, Mr. Smithson was located just half a mile from the highway. We have been told that it appears he has been assaulted and that his skull was caved in with an unknown object. Police are treating this as a homicide, but the type is yet to be determined. As reported earlier, Mr. Smithson was a known drug dealer, so this could be a result of gangland politics. Further details as this case unfolds will be reported.
ONCAMERA
**Bull is lying in the ring, the light shining down on him. His hand is in the air and he is holding a silver switchblade. His voice is melodic and singsongy**
Twinkle twinkle little knife…
Now it’s time to take a life..
Now it’s time to take a life..
Blood will fall to the floor…
EMT’s will rush the door…
But no such luck, they will fail…
All they do to no avail…
All they do to no avail…
And when you take your final breath…
Only the Hatebringer will be left…
Sweet Dreams Lissie….
As the camera fades out, Bull starts to laugh that maniacal laugh again**