Post by Corey Bull on Jan 2, 2020 0:28:23 GMT -5
OFF CAMERA
December 24th, 2019
A slow stroll up a snow-covered driveway, the darkness of the night diminished by the snow and the moon, the clouds crossing in front of the sphere in the sky. A black sedan, just like any other black sedan, sits in the driveway, its nose pointed to leave, the back of the car almost touching the garage door of a lovely ranch style home. Past the sedan we move, to the front door of the home. It opens, as if of its own accord. Inside we enter a small cubby of an entrance, a closet and some shoes and then past it, weaving through a dining room with a small table, some china behind glass doors, zipping down a hallway into a room that is filled with computer equipment. A man sits in a chair in front of several computer screens, systems running and boxes popping and closing as the man's fingers run over a keyboard, and then switch to another one. He is in his boxers and tied to the chair via his waist and ankles. Behind him, lounging across a table covered in papers, is the mad monster Corey Bull. The Hatebringer has a large knife in his hand, one he twirls here and there, with no rhythm to it, just because he needs something to do. The Cheshire grin of his death mask smiles as it always does in the pale moonlight.
“Clickety-clack...clickety-clack...is there going to be a time when you are actually ready to do as I have asked?”
The man stops and looks to Bull. He looks to be in his mid thirties, with several faded tattoos on his body. Both nipples are pierced and the man has a ring on his septum. He is very sweaty and appears to have been crying behind his glasses.
“I’m doing the best I can man! This is fucking stupid, I’m so dead! Any minute now they are going to bust in here and we are both dead! Don’t you understand that! This is insanity!”
“Shut that thing under your nose before I cut out your tongue and nail it to your forehead. You said you are the best at this...so stop your fucking crying and get on with it. You built this system...and just like all those other tech savvy individuals...I am sure you wrote yourself a backdoor into your program. And that is the door I want you to open up for me.”
“Why am I doing this?! Why am I even trying! This is madness! Everyone will know it is me! My wife will leave me, I'll have to go back to masturbating to pornhub! Whats wrong with me!”
Bull swings his legs over the table and sits up and stabs the knife into the table.
“See there you go questioning your existence again. This...in no way...has anything to really do with you. Didn’t I tell you...this is for the greater good? Didn’t I assure you that you wouldn’t be caught?”
“Yeah, while you were tying me to a chair!”
“You say tomato, I say ketchup. The point is...your fine...as long as you do as I say and don’t decide to be a dick. Are you going to be a dick Kurt?”
“No.”
“Then by all means...continue.”
The man returns to clacking away on the keyboards until he finally stops. On the screen, the word “Initiate” highlights a big red button on the screen.
“I’m done.”
Bull looks over the guys shoulder.
“Outstanding work. See...I knew you could do this. Now, you need to put your hands on the chairs arms and let me tie them down.”
“WHY?!”
“Because the police will arrive to save you and you can’t make it look like you did this willingly.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Look...either you do this or I am going to have to do something ridiculous...like cut off your balls and put them on your Christmas tree for your wife to find. Right next to that god awful star on the top. Honestly...how can you even consider that a star? It looks like something my pits would shit out.”
The man's eyes get much larger than most people’s should. He places his hands on the arm rests of the chair and Bull ties him down.
“See..that wasn’t so bad now was it.”
“I don’t know what you plan to accomplish man. This is going to do nothing but make a mess of this banks systems. They are bound to have back ups somewhere. This Robin Hood bullshit doesn’t work like it does in the movies.”
A deep sigh comes from the mask. Bull reaches down and starts to toy with the man’s nipple ring.
“Do you like this?”
“Uh..yeah I guess so.”
“Would you like it to stay there?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut...the fuck...up.”
The man closes his mouth and Bull gags him.
“My horoscope said to enlist a few helpful people to accomplish my good deeds. I have no idea what a good deed really constitutes anymore. But this seemed like a good idea at the time. Wipe out a bank's internal records...sure seems good to me. Think of all those people they rob from. And people think I’m bad...those banks are fucking horrible. This one in particular. So yeah...we all know the Robin Hood thing is a joke. But I figured...why the fuck not. I didn’t have anything else to do. And this gives me a chance to do a little good in the world.”
Bull starts to laugh like a maniac.
“Oh shit...oh that was good right. I almost believed that myself. Honestly, I did all this because I was bored...or sadistic...or whatever.”
Bull reaches over the man and hits the initiate button. He reaches down and while twirling his knife, starts to talk while something is pouring on the ground somewhere close.
“Now in about ten minutes, the police should be here. Assuming of course that they hold to their standard response time, it could be a minute or two before or after. You shouldn’t live so far outside of Windermere, which I believe is the closest responding agency. Anywho...they will be here to save you and you will tell them whatever you are able to tell them.”
Bull starts to walk away, and the man’s head turns to follow him and he starts to scream and freak out as Bull continues to walk out of the building, the sound of pouring seemingly following him. He gets to the front door and his phone rings.
“Hmmm.”
Bull pulls it out and looks at it, tilting his head.
“Private number hey."
December 24th, 2019
A slow stroll up a snow-covered driveway, the darkness of the night diminished by the snow and the moon, the clouds crossing in front of the sphere in the sky. A black sedan, just like any other black sedan, sits in the driveway, its nose pointed to leave, the back of the car almost touching the garage door of a lovely ranch style home. Past the sedan we move, to the front door of the home. It opens, as if of its own accord. Inside we enter a small cubby of an entrance, a closet and some shoes and then past it, weaving through a dining room with a small table, some china behind glass doors, zipping down a hallway into a room that is filled with computer equipment. A man sits in a chair in front of several computer screens, systems running and boxes popping and closing as the man's fingers run over a keyboard, and then switch to another one. He is in his boxers and tied to the chair via his waist and ankles. Behind him, lounging across a table covered in papers, is the mad monster Corey Bull. The Hatebringer has a large knife in his hand, one he twirls here and there, with no rhythm to it, just because he needs something to do. The Cheshire grin of his death mask smiles as it always does in the pale moonlight.
“Clickety-clack...clickety-clack...is there going to be a time when you are actually ready to do as I have asked?”
The man stops and looks to Bull. He looks to be in his mid thirties, with several faded tattoos on his body. Both nipples are pierced and the man has a ring on his septum. He is very sweaty and appears to have been crying behind his glasses.
“I’m doing the best I can man! This is fucking stupid, I’m so dead! Any minute now they are going to bust in here and we are both dead! Don’t you understand that! This is insanity!”
“Shut that thing under your nose before I cut out your tongue and nail it to your forehead. You said you are the best at this...so stop your fucking crying and get on with it. You built this system...and just like all those other tech savvy individuals...I am sure you wrote yourself a backdoor into your program. And that is the door I want you to open up for me.”
“Why am I doing this?! Why am I even trying! This is madness! Everyone will know it is me! My wife will leave me, I'll have to go back to masturbating to pornhub! Whats wrong with me!”
Bull swings his legs over the table and sits up and stabs the knife into the table.
“See there you go questioning your existence again. This...in no way...has anything to really do with you. Didn’t I tell you...this is for the greater good? Didn’t I assure you that you wouldn’t be caught?”
“Yeah, while you were tying me to a chair!”
“You say tomato, I say ketchup. The point is...your fine...as long as you do as I say and don’t decide to be a dick. Are you going to be a dick Kurt?”
“No.”
“Then by all means...continue.”
The man returns to clacking away on the keyboards until he finally stops. On the screen, the word “Initiate” highlights a big red button on the screen.
“I’m done.”
Bull looks over the guys shoulder.
“Outstanding work. See...I knew you could do this. Now, you need to put your hands on the chairs arms and let me tie them down.”
“WHY?!”
“Because the police will arrive to save you and you can’t make it look like you did this willingly.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Look...either you do this or I am going to have to do something ridiculous...like cut off your balls and put them on your Christmas tree for your wife to find. Right next to that god awful star on the top. Honestly...how can you even consider that a star? It looks like something my pits would shit out.”
The man's eyes get much larger than most people’s should. He places his hands on the arm rests of the chair and Bull ties him down.
“See..that wasn’t so bad now was it.”
“I don’t know what you plan to accomplish man. This is going to do nothing but make a mess of this banks systems. They are bound to have back ups somewhere. This Robin Hood bullshit doesn’t work like it does in the movies.”
A deep sigh comes from the mask. Bull reaches down and starts to toy with the man’s nipple ring.
“Do you like this?”
“Uh..yeah I guess so.”
“Would you like it to stay there?”
“Yes.”
“Then shut...the fuck...up.”
The man closes his mouth and Bull gags him.
“My horoscope said to enlist a few helpful people to accomplish my good deeds. I have no idea what a good deed really constitutes anymore. But this seemed like a good idea at the time. Wipe out a bank's internal records...sure seems good to me. Think of all those people they rob from. And people think I’m bad...those banks are fucking horrible. This one in particular. So yeah...we all know the Robin Hood thing is a joke. But I figured...why the fuck not. I didn’t have anything else to do. And this gives me a chance to do a little good in the world.”
Bull starts to laugh like a maniac.
“Oh shit...oh that was good right. I almost believed that myself. Honestly, I did all this because I was bored...or sadistic...or whatever.”
Bull reaches over the man and hits the initiate button. He reaches down and while twirling his knife, starts to talk while something is pouring on the ground somewhere close.
“Now in about ten minutes, the police should be here. Assuming of course that they hold to their standard response time, it could be a minute or two before or after. You shouldn’t live so far outside of Windermere, which I believe is the closest responding agency. Anywho...they will be here to save you and you will tell them whatever you are able to tell them.”
Bull starts to walk away, and the man’s head turns to follow him and he starts to scream and freak out as Bull continues to walk out of the building, the sound of pouring seemingly following him. He gets to the front door and his phone rings.
“Hmmm.”
Bull pulls it out and looks at it, tilting his head.
“Private number hey."
Bull hits accept and raises the phone to his masked ear.
"Hello this is Corey’s Bar and Mortuary, stop on by and crack open a cold one. This is Brittany, you just missed happy hour.”
Bull steps out of the house, a jug of some sort that was in his hand getting whipped back into the building. He reaches into his pocket as he talks.
“Yes of course I know who you are”
“....”
“A job you say...well I may be interested.”
Bull pulls out a match and lights it on the doorway, then tosses it on what must be gasoline. The fire starts to weave its way back into the house as he closes the door.
“What was that...Oh I was just firing an associate. So yeah, I can meet you tomorrow”
“....”
“Yeah I know the place.”
Bull hangs up his phone, walking towards the black Sedan as the house begins to light up inside. There is a blipping sound of a car unlocking and Bull slides into the car. He starts to pull away, humming. It has no feeling, but the tune is familiar. Bull even sings a few bars for us.
“Kurt’s nuts roasting on an open fire…”
ON CAMERA
**We slowly enter a room where there is a small wooden table. Sitting at the table, in a chair that can barely be described as a chair, is the monster Corey Bull. Bull has one of his hands, the left one, on the table and all the fingers spread. A single light illuminates above him as he takes out a large knife and starts to play a game of stabscotch. Bull slowly plays the game as he speaks, his voice deep and monotone, emotionless, matter of fact. He picks up the pace from time to time, coming very close, more than once, of taking a chunk of finger off**
“Bomb?Flowers and an alarm clock are now considered a bomb? Why you gotta be like that Action Wrestling? Is the truth not edgy enough for you that you gotta pay some low life media coffee grabber to write a headline that isn’t even close to true? It was a ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 clock. Not my fault that Lissie is a little….on edge. Maybe she should be more careful of what lives she influences...of the things she says she will do and the things she really does. Maybe...just maybe...Lissie made this mess on her own. I am merely the consequence of your former champions actions Action Wrestling. I am the result...I am what happens when you cross the line and don’t accept responsibility for those actions...and I am the thing you all deserve.”
**Bull stops and tilts his head**
ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻“But I’m not karma...but a vessel for karma’s will to be done. If you have done something that makes you worthy of karma’s response...then I am there. I don’t choose the individuals...the easily fooled humans. I dish out the punishment. Egotistical? Probably. Narcissistic? More than likely. Homicidal? Oh most ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 definitely. Course at this point...doesn’t really matter does it. I am loose...I am capable...and I am willing to do the work that needs to be done. The work that others will not...or can not...do. Mostly because none of them have the stomach for this type of work. Because this work requires you to get very hands on and elbow deep in the gore.”
**Bull once again starts to play the game as he talks, his emotionless tone giving off a vibe of one on the verge of an explosion**
“And what an exciting Clash this week. So much going on, the first Clash of the New Year. And O.M.G...its the return of RJ Collins! Well, the sort of return anyways. Not really a return per se, after all there was that wonderful moment during the Television Title Gauntlet where it took Mars an entire ten seconds to beat you. Bravo on that by the way. It’s great to see that with all that time off...you have done absolutely nothing with yourself. Literally nothing about you has changed. Still carrying around this spare tire looking belly...still wearing that weird skin tight wrestling onesie. Come on RJ, no change what-so-ever? You still look like a jelly donut crammed into a condom! At any moment you could just burst through that outfit of yours and we would all be in for a shock. Your lack of testicular....fortitude.”
**Bull chuckles...but it is in no way pleasant or mocking...but sinister and sadistic does describe it**
“How do you still have a job RJ? Do you drop down and take one for the team with the ol management? Maybe you have a degree in Buff and Shine. Helmet Polishing? Painting the Fence? Any of this ringing any bells with you RJ or am I just wasting my time. Because honestly...I kind of feel like I am wasting my time. I’d have a better chance of throwing a rubber ball through a brick wall then getting anything to sink into that thick skull of yours. There are teenagers out there right now...that completely understand what I am saying. And for some reason, all this is just flying over your head. It leads me to believe that you truly are as stupid as you appear. That your lack of intelligence isn’t just some gimmick you have. It’s ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 real! Because here we have you facing off against a bonafide monster...and I half expect you to be attempting to sell this story in Hollywood as a ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 horror drama movie. Or maybe you’ll be interviewing a hooker about...oh I don’t know...anything other then this ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 match! And while most people would normally be a bit concerned about the competence of the individual they are facing...I’m not. I just don’t wanna get jailed for beating up the handicapped!”
**Bull stops the stabscotch game**
“And I really don’t know what management was thinking handing you a match like this. Maybe we need a protocol for testing management for mental defects, because this feels like a mental defect. Frankly...I don’t really care to be fair. Actually..when I take a moment...I think I do know. I think management is testing you...a little sick of your lack of commitment. You frivolously present yourself as a wrestling professional...but when push comes to shove, your face down on the mat. Mars didn’t even break a sweat to take you out of the Gauntlet. And what happened the last time you were in a ring before that? You got smoked. Maybe they see more in you then is really there RJ...because I don’t see a man that is cut out for wrestling. I see someone pretending to be something they are not. Someone that believes his upbeat personality is going to win him matches and friends. But RJ...you’re a joke. A long running joke in the locker room. When those guys are laughing and you giggle with them, thinking your in on the joke...you’re not. You ARE the ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 joke. And believe me..they are not laughing with you RJ...they are most definitely laughing at you.They always have been. And unless you do something substantial and take this business seriously...they will always laugh at you.”
“But you and I...we both know that you never will. You are not capable of taking this business serious. You have had moments...moments that many would have died to have..and you squandered them. Threw them away like they were nothing. You come at this business with all the effort of a person who still thinks...that this is a game of some sort. Imagine your shock when that first fist hit you in the gut...the first time you got clotheslined...the first suplex. And yet...after all of that...you are still just sliding by in this business. Still laughing alone with the boys in the back...still just barely showing up.”
**Bull starts his stabscotch again**
“But what do I know right? I’m just some nut case that gets off on hurting people. Just some wacko that enjoys his job a little too much. I’m tall and large...must be lacking in the brains department. Can’t possibly be smart enough to see all this...now can I?”
**Bulls head pivots right to the camera, the mask staring at it, a slight tilt to his head. It’s almost...sarcastic in nature...almost begging you to see the joke for what it is. His hand never stops doing what it started doing**
“This is really not going to end well for you RJ. I am going to give you so much moral anxiety that...when it comes down to fight or flight...you will run. And you had better run...run far away RJ. I only kind of sorta promise...I won’t chase you. Of course...take that with a grain of salt. After all...if I am in a mood, I might chase you. A nice casual jog really gets the blood pumping...mine...mostly yours...arterial blood with all that pressure from a strong heartbeat....”
**Bull seems to have a moment before he continues**
"Any way you look at this...it is a loss for you. Maybe it would be safer for you not to show up at all. Stay home RJ...order a pizza. It’s what you are good at after all. Maybe take some time to look over the classifieds. Order yourself another pizza. Watch Clash on CBS instead of showing up in person...have management send you your last check. It’s the same thing you have been doing for weeks...so why should it be any different this week. The upside...you won’t have me bashing in your head. You won’t have me slamming you across the ring and feeding you a helping of fist. You can be at home enjoying a hot pizza...instead of a slushy through a wired up jaw. Think about it RJ...for once in your life...take a moment to take this seriously and consider your options. Because if you are going to walk out and half ass it against me...I am going to enjoy making you suffer every...single...ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻...moment.”
**Bulls hand stops moving and he lifts his hand to his face and starts to clean out his fingernails with the knife**
“Never hurts to have a backup plan RJ. It’s something you really need to take into consideration. Because after all this...gods know...I am going to tear you apart and watch you bleed out. And it won’t even make me miss a wink of sleep.”
**Bull starts to laugh, slow at first, but it starts to build as the camera goes to white noise**
OFF CAMERA
TRUSTCO BANK CO. HACKED
Bull steps out of the house, a jug of some sort that was in his hand getting whipped back into the building. He reaches into his pocket as he talks.
“Yes of course I know who you are”
“....”
“A job you say...well I may be interested.”
Bull pulls out a match and lights it on the doorway, then tosses it on what must be gasoline. The fire starts to weave its way back into the house as he closes the door.
“What was that...Oh I was just firing an associate. So yeah, I can meet you tomorrow”
“....”
“Yeah I know the place.”
Bull hangs up his phone, walking towards the black Sedan as the house begins to light up inside. There is a blipping sound of a car unlocking and Bull slides into the car. He starts to pull away, humming. It has no feeling, but the tune is familiar. Bull even sings a few bars for us.
“Kurt’s nuts roasting on an open fire…”
ON CAMERA
**We slowly enter a room where there is a small wooden table. Sitting at the table, in a chair that can barely be described as a chair, is the monster Corey Bull. Bull has one of his hands, the left one, on the table and all the fingers spread. A single light illuminates above him as he takes out a large knife and starts to play a game of stabscotch. Bull slowly plays the game as he speaks, his voice deep and monotone, emotionless, matter of fact. He picks up the pace from time to time, coming very close, more than once, of taking a chunk of finger off**
“Bomb?Flowers and an alarm clock are now considered a bomb? Why you gotta be like that Action Wrestling? Is the truth not edgy enough for you that you gotta pay some low life media coffee grabber to write a headline that isn’t even close to true? It was a ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 clock. Not my fault that Lissie is a little….on edge. Maybe she should be more careful of what lives she influences...of the things she says she will do and the things she really does. Maybe...just maybe...Lissie made this mess on her own. I am merely the consequence of your former champions actions Action Wrestling. I am the result...I am what happens when you cross the line and don’t accept responsibility for those actions...and I am the thing you all deserve.”
**Bull stops and tilts his head**
ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻“But I’m not karma...but a vessel for karma’s will to be done. If you have done something that makes you worthy of karma’s response...then I am there. I don’t choose the individuals...the easily fooled humans. I dish out the punishment. Egotistical? Probably. Narcissistic? More than likely. Homicidal? Oh most ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 definitely. Course at this point...doesn’t really matter does it. I am loose...I am capable...and I am willing to do the work that needs to be done. The work that others will not...or can not...do. Mostly because none of them have the stomach for this type of work. Because this work requires you to get very hands on and elbow deep in the gore.”
**Bull once again starts to play the game as he talks, his emotionless tone giving off a vibe of one on the verge of an explosion**
“And what an exciting Clash this week. So much going on, the first Clash of the New Year. And O.M.G...its the return of RJ Collins! Well, the sort of return anyways. Not really a return per se, after all there was that wonderful moment during the Television Title Gauntlet where it took Mars an entire ten seconds to beat you. Bravo on that by the way. It’s great to see that with all that time off...you have done absolutely nothing with yourself. Literally nothing about you has changed. Still carrying around this spare tire looking belly...still wearing that weird skin tight wrestling onesie. Come on RJ, no change what-so-ever? You still look like a jelly donut crammed into a condom! At any moment you could just burst through that outfit of yours and we would all be in for a shock. Your lack of testicular....fortitude.”
**Bull chuckles...but it is in no way pleasant or mocking...but sinister and sadistic does describe it**
“How do you still have a job RJ? Do you drop down and take one for the team with the ol management? Maybe you have a degree in Buff and Shine. Helmet Polishing? Painting the Fence? Any of this ringing any bells with you RJ or am I just wasting my time. Because honestly...I kind of feel like I am wasting my time. I’d have a better chance of throwing a rubber ball through a brick wall then getting anything to sink into that thick skull of yours. There are teenagers out there right now...that completely understand what I am saying. And for some reason, all this is just flying over your head. It leads me to believe that you truly are as stupid as you appear. That your lack of intelligence isn’t just some gimmick you have. It’s ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 real! Because here we have you facing off against a bonafide monster...and I half expect you to be attempting to sell this story in Hollywood as a ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 horror drama movie. Or maybe you’ll be interviewing a hooker about...oh I don’t know...anything other then this ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 match! And while most people would normally be a bit concerned about the competence of the individual they are facing...I’m not. I just don’t wanna get jailed for beating up the handicapped!”
**Bull stops the stabscotch game**
“And I really don’t know what management was thinking handing you a match like this. Maybe we need a protocol for testing management for mental defects, because this feels like a mental defect. Frankly...I don’t really care to be fair. Actually..when I take a moment...I think I do know. I think management is testing you...a little sick of your lack of commitment. You frivolously present yourself as a wrestling professional...but when push comes to shove, your face down on the mat. Mars didn’t even break a sweat to take you out of the Gauntlet. And what happened the last time you were in a ring before that? You got smoked. Maybe they see more in you then is really there RJ...because I don’t see a man that is cut out for wrestling. I see someone pretending to be something they are not. Someone that believes his upbeat personality is going to win him matches and friends. But RJ...you’re a joke. A long running joke in the locker room. When those guys are laughing and you giggle with them, thinking your in on the joke...you’re not. You ARE the ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻 joke. And believe me..they are not laughing with you RJ...they are most definitely laughing at you.They always have been. And unless you do something substantial and take this business seriously...they will always laugh at you.”
“But you and I...we both know that you never will. You are not capable of taking this business serious. You have had moments...moments that many would have died to have..and you squandered them. Threw them away like they were nothing. You come at this business with all the effort of a person who still thinks...that this is a game of some sort. Imagine your shock when that first fist hit you in the gut...the first time you got clotheslined...the first suplex. And yet...after all of that...you are still just sliding by in this business. Still laughing alone with the boys in the back...still just barely showing up.”
**Bull starts his stabscotch again**
“But what do I know right? I’m just some nut case that gets off on hurting people. Just some wacko that enjoys his job a little too much. I’m tall and large...must be lacking in the brains department. Can’t possibly be smart enough to see all this...now can I?”
**Bulls head pivots right to the camera, the mask staring at it, a slight tilt to his head. It’s almost...sarcastic in nature...almost begging you to see the joke for what it is. His hand never stops doing what it started doing**
“This is really not going to end well for you RJ. I am going to give you so much moral anxiety that...when it comes down to fight or flight...you will run. And you had better run...run far away RJ. I only kind of sorta promise...I won’t chase you. Of course...take that with a grain of salt. After all...if I am in a mood, I might chase you. A nice casual jog really gets the blood pumping...mine...mostly yours...arterial blood with all that pressure from a strong heartbeat....”
**Bull seems to have a moment before he continues**
"Any way you look at this...it is a loss for you. Maybe it would be safer for you not to show up at all. Stay home RJ...order a pizza. It’s what you are good at after all. Maybe take some time to look over the classifieds. Order yourself another pizza. Watch Clash on CBS instead of showing up in person...have management send you your last check. It’s the same thing you have been doing for weeks...so why should it be any different this week. The upside...you won’t have me bashing in your head. You won’t have me slamming you across the ring and feeding you a helping of fist. You can be at home enjoying a hot pizza...instead of a slushy through a wired up jaw. Think about it RJ...for once in your life...take a moment to take this seriously and consider your options. Because if you are going to walk out and half ass it against me...I am going to enjoy making you suffer every...single...ℂ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕆ℝ𝔼𝔻...moment.”
**Bulls hand stops moving and he lifts his hand to his face and starts to clean out his fingernails with the knife**
“Never hurts to have a backup plan RJ. It’s something you really need to take into consideration. Because after all this...gods know...I am going to tear you apart and watch you bleed out. And it won’t even make me miss a wink of sleep.”
**Bull starts to laugh, slow at first, but it starts to build as the camera goes to white noise**
OFF CAMERA
TRUSTCO BANK CO. HACKED
By Desiree’ Cousteau
At 10:32 pm, the Trustco Bank Company’s computer system suffered a major crash. Employee records, loan records, and anything that the company kept on the computer system was deleted by a virus that was placed in the system. A spokesman for the bank speculated that it was placed there by someone who had critical knowledge of how the system works. Thousands of loans and accounts have seemingly disappeared.
The bank assured the public that they have written records to recover most of the information lost. The spokesman could not comment on whether or not any of the information in any of the accounts had been stolen. The investigation is still ongoing and we will update you as the investigation progresses.
The bank assured the public that they have written records to recover most of the information lost. The spokesman could not comment on whether or not any of the information in any of the accounts had been stolen. The investigation is still ongoing and we will update you as the investigation progresses.
Page 3
Local house fire claims the life of 1Kurt Lockwood of Windermere, Fl. was found dead in his home after a fire was reported there 10:39 PM Tuesday night. The home was found engulfed and after several hours, eventually contained and put out. After the fire department cleared the scene, investigators discovered the body of Mr. Lockwood in his study. His wife, who was not home at the time, was notified this morning. She was contacted, but has not responded to us at this time.