Post by The Bastard Corey Bull on Jun 12, 2024 21:49:23 GMT -5
OFF CAMERA
“Things have to change.”
The voice is young sounding but also hardened by what feels like centuries.
We arrive on a plateau of sorts. The world seems…wrong. For example, there is a black circle in the sky for what must be some sort of representation of the sun. But the sky is a dark orange with black clouds. And the central circle seems not to move. Oh yeah…and a colossal-sized black dragon is lying across a black river, with a city in ruins in the distance.
The owner of the young voice is found. It is a child of twelve sitting on a chair made of soda cans. And he has Lissie Hope, Nikki Glaser, and Skylar Diggins surrounding him….topless...and obviously not the real girls if you...oh just pay attention. He looks like a young version of Bull. The head of the black dragon is lying on this plateau, his large curved horns resting in the dirt, its eye looking over the group of individuals that sit around a table made of wrestling canvas it seems, the WGWF logo in the center. A man covered head to toe in swat gear nods at the child.
B: “Bully is right. This Bastard route is not working.”
Sitting around this table is Corey Bull….several of him actually.
Allow me to introduce myself before we continue. I am the Brain. As in, the actual brain of this sociopathic fallen angel. Yeah, its not a joke or a gimmick. But I don’t have the time to explain that to you. Instead, let me show you what you are looking at. This is Bulls mind. The fall caused a cracking. He formed many multiple personalities and it took me years to get them to work together.
Bully is the childhood he never had, as he was created as an adult. Bully has a thing for topless women, soda pop, and extreme violence to his enemies. He is almost worse than the others. He has killed off several other personalities and taken over their areas. He isn’t the only one, but he is the most prolific when it comes to violence. And he smokes more than the dragon does.
B is all that military knowledge he has. Bull has forgotten more about war then the world knows. And it is packed into that thing in the swat gear. It used to be a set of gladiatorial armor. Think about that one ladies. Leather isn’t just for the bedroom these days.
The Bull in all that biker leather with the barbed wire wrapped around his right forearm, that's Bastard. Sound familiar? That's because he won the last vote after the original was boxed up. Bastard is all about hardcore lifestyle. He also is a bit melodramatic at time, though in his defense that is his area.
Vengeance is that large dragon. He grows every year with the amount of vengeance he feels needs to be distributed to the world. Imagine how someone who has lived thousand of years could feel about vengeance. If the dragon wanted to control everything, it would be just him…and probable Bully since there is an equal amount of strength. And the thing in the box.
Speaking of that box over there, the one across the River of Destiny near the Ruins of Reality. That is the being that we are going to let out. Ooops, almost getting ahead of myself. I forget that I am replaying for you what happened. Follow along kids.
Bastard leans forward.
Bastard: “If we had been more prepared this week…”
Bull literally bounces a pop can off of his head. The girls giggle and Bully winks at them with a smile, but returns a fiery-eyed look at Bastard.
Bully: “We never would have used that excuse before! We were always ready. Ever since you convinced the group that we needed to put him in the box…we have FAILED on levels we can’t even openly admit to!”
B nods, his deep voice echoing within the helmet.
B: “This is a crisis. You were charged with control and you failed us Bastard. It is time to return to that which we were good at.”
Vengeance: “I agree. This is no time for a one personality show.”
Vengeance’s voice rolls over the rest of them with a puff a smoke and the smell of acid. Bully smiles and looks to his left and three women appear, all the same one.
For those that don’t know, her name is Bonnie Blue and was a woman that Bull has a long history of wrestling in another place.
Bully: “Girls, go get the box”
All three grow wings and take off, returning with a large black box. Its wrapped in chains with massive locks and it looks like the metal on it has been welded in place. With a though, Bully pulls a large war hammer out of nowhere and starts to swing. The chains are shattered, the locks smashed, and the metal dented in a way that will allow the box to open. With an explosion of shattered wood and black and white feathers, a winged version of Bull stands.
This is the one I was alluding to. He is the Adonis and the Hitler. The Ying and the Yang. He is the Love of Bull…and his Hate. This is Corvis. Four wings, two black and two white. A pair of blue jeans and work boots, but a top similar to Hercules from that TV series. You know, the one with Kevin Sorbo. That top. Also, a 7-foot sword. That Claymore is nasty and took out more than a few personalities.
Corvis: “It's about fucking time.”
Bully: “To be fair, he made a valid point. But he was wrong. And we are man enough to admit that. As a present, you can have one of the girls.”
Many women start to appear, none of them wearing a shirt. Some of them are in wrestling gear, some are not. Corvis smiles but waves a hand and they all vanish.
Corvis: “You know we do not need such things, as we can get it on our own. After all, we are more than enough for one woman. But we are not about a woman right now. If that happens, you can be sure we shall make her ours. No…we need to concentrate and rule with an iron fist! It is time to put it back on.”
From out of nowhere, a metal mask appears in the hand of Corvis.
Corvis: “It is time for the Hatebringer to Cometh!”
So now you are aware. Things have changed. D.E.A.T.H. will always be…but for those that can see…the time of the Bastard has passed.
LONG LIVE THE HATEBRINGER!
ON CAMERA
“Paging Dr. Blade to surgery…Dr. Blade you are needed in OR number one.”
**Sinister. Seductive. Dark. These words describe the sound of the Hatebringers voice as it purrs out those words. We are in the darkness, but in that darkness is a light. But what is it you know not. But the sounds of Bull's voice continue to speak in the dark, a chuckle to begin.**
“We couldn’t figure out why they put you in this match John…it just does not fit your MO. Shouldn’t you be somewhere making up a shitty nursery rhyme or perhaps pretending like you understand the difference between a headlock and a rear naked choke? Frankly, John…you are extremely unimpressive to us…we have seen you before in other places…we have watched you here. It feels so dam cookie cutter…you always say the same crap with a brand new ring to it. You remind us of a lame NPC in a shitty wrestling game…the one that..no matter the choice…says the same dam lines and just fills in your character's name for them.”
“But you are no hero...you are no champion…you are just a warm body they chose to use to fill up a spot. It’s probably because you cried in the back like a little girl about how you needed to be a part of something at War Games. Well congratulations John…you are about to be a part of a massacre…because we are going to eviscerate you! And we are not being metaphorical buttercup…we are being very literal. Broken piece of glass…handle from a one-arm bandit…hell maybe we do it with a pair of thick plastic poker chips. The point is John…you are not going to walk away from this in good shape. More like…a lump being carted away on a gurney.”
“Fun times John. Fun times.”
**The lights come on and we are within the guts of the Mirage. The beautiful central area with the palms and the shrubbery, the fish tanks behind the desks as you check-in, and the casino floor filled with poker, blackjack, roulette, and many forms of slot machines. Bull is casually strolling through the area. At least we think it is Bull. This man doesn’t have his hair in a ponytail, but it is loose and framing his head. His dress is similar: blue jeans, and tan work boots, but now he wears a dark blue work shirt like you would see in a mechanics shop or on the farm. And his voice, while its usual bass and sinister, seems as if it is speaking from somewhere else**
“Gideon King. The false champion. So much is about to happen to you….things that you are not able to comprehend on the level we are going to do them. We have to scar you in a manner that will permanently haunt your dreams…even when you are awake. Things need to rip…tear….open up to the world. Your blood will flow…but it has to be more King. You have taken from us in a time when we were less….now you must pay for that. Now that we are…complete. Your bones will break and build the bedrock of our reign”
“When we stand above you with the title in our hand…what will pass through your mind? Will you see the folly of your ways…feel the painful mistake that you made…or will you simply give up and let the will to fail overtake you as it has so many times before? Another question…do you think we truly care? If you think that answer matters…think again you pathetic excuse for a champion.”
**Bull stops and his head turns slightly towards the back, the edge of a silver metal mask dons his face, but does not fully look at us**
“Damage. What can we say to you to make you understand what is about to happen? You stand at our side…and equal in D.E.A.T.H. We both want the same thing…to reign over the WGWF and to cleanse it of the filth that has been invested in it. The Fortunate Ones are the very first plagues that come to mind. And we are but one piece of the cure…as you are another. But this match…this title…this is a time when you shall not walk out as the champion…or even in one piece. No…you are going to have to accept what is about to happen. We will not take pleasure in putting you down Damage…but we WILL put you down. The Bastard…he might have thought about mercy. But the Hatebringer…mercy is a cheap five-letter word we don’t use.”
**Bull fully turns and the metal mask that is on his face is something else. It seems…alive. It has an expression...movement…it seems to feel and react to how Bull is being…talking...feeling. The mask and Bull are more then a man and a metal object…it is as if two beings are working in a symbiotic relationship. His eyes…the dark soulless eyes…they are framed by unforgiving metal and add an edge that seems to slice at the heart of anyone who looks into them.**
“Mercy is for those that intend to leave a bit of humanity on the table. The only humanity we intend to leave behind is the pieces of our opponents. Maybe we throw King into the fifty-gallon tanks and watch the fish and water shower his lifeless frame. Maybe we take John there and bounce is sorry ass off of every one-armed bandit in this place and then spike him into the roulette table. And Damage…look around…there isn’t a single place we can’t take and stuff you…we just have to fold you into a small enough piece. This is a match made for a monster like us. Twenty four hours…no food…no water…no light. This is something that we see as another day for us. We have suffered…we have seen the pain of the world explode before us….we have been alone with the darkness. Now…we make each person against us a statement. And the BloodBath title can come back wrapped around the waist of a champion worthy of it.”
OFF CAMERA
Thunder booms in the distance. The darkened clouds of the night are light up by the bolts of lightning that dance amongst them. Each flash is accompanied by a boom. The rain falls at a steady rate…not strong enough be a hindrance, but not light enough to be ignored. The sound of boots on gravel are heard as Corey Bull walks with a shovel in hand. He is on his land in the Northwoods…somewhere deep amongst the cedars and the oaks. And he seems to be talking to…himself. Though his voice wobbles…takes on different inflictions and sounds.
“Where is this fucking tree?”
Bull stops and scans the area.
“We drew a skull on it, like that grim reaper from the cartoon.”
Bull spots something scratched into a tree when a bolt of lightning lights up the area.
“There it fucking is. About time.”
Bull starts to dig and after ten minutes and a heap of dirt, a large metal case is pulled from the hole. It is marked with arcane symbols, pieces of a lost language that no one on earth but fallen can decipher. Though I am sure there is someone out there claiming to be an expert in language with a crappy rendition of what it means, being so far off the mark that if they knew the truth, they would cry themselves to death from the shame of being so wrong.
Bull starts to speak what sounds like marbles in his mouth. There are some glowing symbols on the sides, then the locks you didn’t even see snap open and the lid lifts. Bull pulls out the silver metal mask and his grin is long and dangerous. He slides the mask on and it almost warps to his face. Maybe it was an illusion of the light. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, Bull seems to become bulkier…more imposing…more dangerous. The aura coming off of the man is so palpable, it can be felt through the lens of this vision.
ON CAMERA
“We are one of the greatest forces to ever step foot in the federation. There is no one here who is our equal. But we failed to allow ourselves to be true to what we are. We are a weapon…a monster…a straight-up nightmare. But no one here believes that.”
“It's alright…we understand that.”
“War Games shall be our Exhibit B. We showed you a hint against Rocco…now we are going to reveal to you the entire monster. King…Damage…Blade...the three of you are going to become an example. We understand…you were not expecting to become an example. The three of you have aspirations of domination.”
“This is your first failure…as you can not dominate that which is infinite.”
“King believes himself the true champion. Blade thinks he can rap his way into a title match and win. And Damage believes no one can match him for size and strength.”
“All three have made the same mistake. You have overlooked us.”
“King is going to spout off about how he won the title from us…but he never beat us. He pinned an animal. Blade…what have you done here that can even begin to explain why you would get this chance? Nothing...you have done nothing. And Damage…you are here simply because they fear what D.E.A.T.H. can become. We are sure the Brawl GM and the Fortunate Ones have something to do with this. It doesn’t matter.”
“We are the nail in the coffin…the period at the end of your sentences. There is no passing of go…there is no collecting a Blood Bath Championship for any of you. When they lock us in that space…when there is no water…no food…no light…we shall survive off of the hatred within. It will fester…grow…and encompass us as a power beyond anything that any of you could ever understand. For our hate is a pure weapon. It does not judge on race…color…sex…gender. It does not care for your deeds…it looks at you and simply hates you. And that hate will fuel us…lead us into the match to do what must be done. Hate and love are one and the same…it just depends on the day and the target. This just happens to be your day…the three of you just happen to be the target…and the method of destruction happens to be us.”
“The Hatebringer Corey Bull.”
“Say goodbye to those you deem important…make sure your insurance is paid up. Because your families are gonna need it.”
“Prepare for your Downward Spiral into nothing!”