Post by The Bastard Corey Bull on Dec 22, 2023 18:12:44 GMT -5
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The cold north wind blows the streets of this town with a ferocity that few enjoy. The whistling sound is a reminder of just how unforgiving a place it is. A few flurries follow the wind, ripping throw weak clothes and thin jackets like a razor cuts facial hair. Only the stout and hardy make it here. The large figure of The Bastard is seen trudging through the three feet of snow. Lake effect snow in the U.P. Of Michigan is a bitch. Pines and firs surround Bull as he passes through a valley and emerges in a stand of oaks and poplars. The ground holds less snow here, thanks to the canopy. Bull trudges on till a break in the trees happens, and the ruins of a building appear. Large chunks of this building are missing, and it is apparent fire was the culprit. A sign still stands before the building, and Bull stares hard at it. Great Northwoods Mental Facility.
Flashes of straight jackets….screams in the dark…laughter of the devious kind…things no man or woman, or beast for that matter, should ever deal with. And yet…this was once home to the Bastard, his sister Raven Darkhawk, and a visiting spot for his sister Dove Darkhawk. For Bull, it was his aggressive nature and multiple personalities, all of which existed simultaneously. If you ask Bull, he tells the story of how his multiple personalities agreed to run the entire show together. His sister Raven is a trained assassin who had a visit here in her youth. She shattered a boy's jaw for blowing her a kiss. His sister Dove only visited them, but now she, too, sits in a home.
Flashes of Dove. A woman in her 30s with beautiful long hair, black. There was a gentle grin on her face, yet something was off. As if carrying even half of Bull’s devilish blood is enough to taint the pool. More flashes, almost too fast, of a screeching vehicle, a t-boned car, and a young, angry giant.
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**We return to the large frame of The Bastard Corey Bull. Bull is staring at the sky when he starts speaking, bringing his twisted vision to everyone watching at home. And by sky, we are standing it a small clearing where the light seems to be centered in one area, almost as if a spotlight was pointing out the monster in the frozen mist**
“Do you think we see the entire world for what it is with our eyes? Do you think that this is everything you will ever experience? Children…listen to our words…for we are the shepherd you seek. We are the one that shall bring you to the salvation you want. We are the one…that will show you the way. But the question that ponders us…are we the shepherd for any wayward souls in this match? Or are we why WGWF has such a magnificent clean-up crew…so good they can get blood out of anything. Even an entire town. Ho-frickin-ho.”
**A chuckle, under the breath, but no less devious. When he does look at the camera, it is hard not to watch him, to stare into those orbs that seem to know everything about you. Not an ugly man, but not a handsome one either; this face seems to speak to you. One minute, there is a calming, reassuring nature there…the next it is a violent storm that can rip you apart without blinking. He lets out a breath…. it is as cold as ice, as is his tone**
“Gideon King is not a wayward soul…he is a misguided boy scout with a narcissistic view of the world. He carries this notion that his strength…that his strength will get him to the top. But…even though we can bench press a small car…even we know it takes more than a great set of arms and an attitude to win. No, Gideon…it takes guile…tactics….and, in the case of you…a great amount of luck. We know something, though…Gideon…something that we will reveal to you so that you are prepared for it. On Smash…your luck is going to run out.”
**A slip in the façade…as there is a dark hint in the eyes of the Bastard. A hint at things to come. And believe me, you don’t want to deal with those things**
“Now there is a wayward soul in this Skylar Carsons. Such a young…frail thing you seem to be. But with fire and spunk. It is hard to imagine what someone like yourself is doing in such a match. And yet…we are one of those that knows that the underestimation of an individual can lead to the evisceration of another…”
**A grin, shark-toothed and venomous. Bull raises a hand and waggles a finger left…then right…left…then right, following each motion with a tisk**
“Tisk…tisk…tisk…tisk. We do not underestimate…we simply eviscerate and eliminate. Perhaps we shall do so to you, Skylar….or perhaps you are looking for a shepherd to guide you into the echelons of greatness. Someone who can show you the way…guide you into greatness…and release from within that which will lead you to that greatness.”
**A serious and devilish smile plays on the lips of Bull**
“We could be that guide, you know. Not your brother…family worries about you too much…he won’t push you the way you need to be pushed…won’t show you the darkness within. We will reach into your very existence and yank out what you need to be a force of nature. We could be that guide Skylar…that one that gives you the edge to crest the top. You could always follow us to the promised land. Come be an orca in our pod…you might like what you find on the other side”
**Bull clasp his hands together behind his back. What sounds like a thousand people scream from the darkness to “AS EQUALS”, and then Bull starts to walk around the light slowly**
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July 12, 2002
Ludington Street in Escanaba, Michigan.
On the top of the Harbor Tower Apartments.
Eighteen floors above the city hangs a man. This man does not seem like a man who should be hanging off a building. That is because he has a beer gut and a receding hairline. Of course, he is being held. His hands grasp the edge of the building roof, over 200 feet above the street. A hand that more resembles something you would fry a meal on grasps his forearm. As the view clears, it is a young and savager-looking Corey Bull. The Bastard has a look on his face that is somewhere between barely restrained homicide and controlled vengeance. Behind him stands a man who seems to be hidden constantly. Wearing a darker grey duster and a wide-brimmed hat more accustomed to the undertakers of the past, the man's eyes always remain out of sight. But it isn’t his eyes you concentrate on, but the voice that hypnotically rolls out. Each word is a smooth rub of your ego with a terrifying chill at the end. This is the one known as Mr. Apocalypse.
“Mr. Fettuccine, you seem confused about why my large friend wants to make you into a road pizza.”
“This is bullshit!...I…I…got kids and a wife…”
“All of whom will not miss your heavy handed manners.”
“Fuck you, buddy…I am the king of my house!”
“And you are currently the master of nothing. You see, sir, and that is a far stretch of the word; my large companion is agitated. That car you so carelessly hit several months ago contained his young sister, Dove. A loving, bright-eyed, and intelligent eighteen-year-old woman with a future in medicine. And you have permanently destroyed her mind.”
Mr. Fettuccine looks at the eyes of Bull, who hasn’t spoken a single word. They seem to sizzle with nothing but rage.
“Yes, Mr. Fettuccine, I think it is starting to sink in now. You see, you have nothing here. You forfeited your life many months ago. And the judge who sentenced you to more probation, as this is your third time with a DUI and an accident, well, he seems to be one of your golf buddies and currently has a putter stuck somewhere very inconvenient. And you, Mr. Fettuccine, are in no position to negotiate. You are done. I am here to simply pass this information to you, as I am sure my large companion will use almost no words to convey to you how he feels. Goodbye Mr. Fettuccine. Bull, when you are done, you know where to meet.”
The young Bull nods his head, his eyes never leaving the man whose life he now controls.
“Look, kid…I’ll make it up to you...I have powerful friends…I know people.”
The man stops speaking when Bull tilts his head. He lifts his arm, and Mr. Fettuccine's entire frame meets Bull's eyes.
“Tell us…do you know magic? Can your powerful friends put our sister back together again? No…they can not. We are the judge now…and we find you truly guilty. Guilty of beating your wife…of hitting your kids…and of being a piss poor example of a father. You are a drunk who thinks he is tough.”
The man spits in Bulls face and starts to laugh.
“My friends will find you. This is a big joke, but you won’t be laughing when I am done with…”
The man's words become a scream as Bull releases him to the sky. He falls faster than expected and crashes over a car far below. Bull doesn’t grin, doesn’t even laugh. He just nods and walks back into the apartment building.
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“We remember Johnny Stylez from another time. He is a man who has a mouth faster than his brain. If only you couldn’t get the two to work together, Johnny…you would be sitting on top of the world. Instead…you are going to come at us with some weak garbage…degrading how we lost and blah blah blah. You will forget that you got your ass handed to you to get here. That is the convenience of Johnny Stylez….he forgets so easy his mistakes so that he can make them another day. So let us get this straight, Johnny…we have done it all…we have wrestled in hell and back…and you think for a second that you are going to have one up on us…then you are thinking out your ass. If you are going to go on the hunt, Johnny…you need to be able to run with the monsters. We have seen you in action Johnny and we have but one suggestion for you….run.”**Bull stops, turning to the camera. The lights seem to dim…everything has less color now as the camera slowly focuses in on the face of the Bastard.**
“Now that our one wayward soul has been given the instructions to change her path….and our two potholes in the road that need to be filled have been informed of their bad day coming…let us address the fucking elephant in the room.”
“Frank. Patrick. Venable.”
“Hows the leg FPV? You know, since Jill mangled the shit out of it. No more..”
**In a terrible mocking voice of FPV**
“BOOM! HEADSHOT! God…what an annoying thing to scream before you kick someone in the face with the most overused and overrated maneuver of the century. At least you’re still as lame as we remember…which means you are still as dangerous. Yeah, Frank…we remember the fights. We remember you needing support to stop us. We remember you needing more than one king to defeat us. We also remember watching you suffer…we remember helping you suffer. But we understand you, Frank…understand you are not just a one-trick pony. And from what we have seen…you haven’t changed. You are the same guy who stood side by side with a young and up-and-coming man and a man who is truly a king in wrestling—one of the few men we genuinely respect. While we do respect you, Frank…our respect is limited in its tolerance to your health. And in this match…that is just below zero.”
**Bull’s face is all we see, and it is deadly serious, with an aura that frightens even the most hardened of people**
“Whether you are a king looking for a crown…a lost soul looking for a pod…..an ego with little human value…or a man that once was a legend but now is simply a dusty story waiting to be shut hard….this is not a match any one of you wants to be in. We are going to use the entire town against you. Maybe you will find Skylar head first in a garbage can behind some second-rate supermarket. Perhaps you will find Gideon faceplanted into an outhouse on a construction site. Maybe Johnny finds himself wrapped around a telephone pole. And perhaps…perhaps the only boom sound we hear out of Frank is when he is driven headfirst into the grill of a now ruined pickup truck.”
“You see…anything and everything can happen now. And we intend to be the last monster standing. We are not going to let any of you win this. It's time to get Krampus up in this mother….you can bet on that.”
**Bull slowly starts to laugh as the camera flips to white noise**