Post by Corey Bull on Oct 15, 2017 15:44:37 GMT -6
OFF Camera
Sunday, August 12th, 1984 10:09 AM Tape Recorded Session #28 Transcript
Dr. Vansterhus: This is Dr. Vansterhus, it is the twelfth of August, in the year nineteen and eighty four. Its just past ten o' nine in the morning. The subject is Corey Bull. Corey was brought into the facility by his father William Bull on June eighteenth, which was a Monday. Mr. Bull was concerned with the mental well being of his child after finding him on the sidewalk burning ants with a magnifying glass. I was able to spend time with the young Bull after he was officially checked in and it came to my attention that he exhibits potentially sociopathic tendencies. He appears to say things to the staff without concern for their feelings and when further pushed to explain where he learned or heard some things, he will state one answer words: Him, Them, and Vengeance are the common words he uses.
(Shuffling of papers, a cough and a sniffle)
Dr. Vansterhus: Corey has been here for....let me see....eight weeks now and doesn't seem to be showing any changes to the medication we have given him. He still remains as he did since day one, still insistent that there is nothing wrong with him. Today we will be beginning an experimental, low voltage shock treatment that targets specific portions of the body to elicit negative responses to particular behaviors. For example, we have electrodes connected to the chest, elbows, temples, and scrotum of Corey. Depending on his answers to the questions will determine if we will give him a correction shock. Corey, how are you doing today?
(There is sniffling from the patient before they answer)
Corey Bull: I....I want to go home now.
Dr. Vansterhus: Now Corey, you know that we still haven't found a way to curb your mental deficiencies. We need to make sure you are a healthy boy before we allow you to leave. Now I was talking to your nurse and she said that you threw the food tray at her this morning. Now why is that?
Corey: She called me a stupid little boy.
Dr. Vansterhus: Are you a stupid little boy?
(Grunting, and what almost seems like a growl. Corey Bull's voice is different here)
Corey Bull: Fuck off you useless piece of shit.
(The sound of shaking and voltage being released and Corey cries out)
Corey: You can never stop us! We are the beginning and the end. We have watched humanity slowly crumble for eons. You do not understand....but we are the key to mankind's survival. Its only true chance.
(Voltage sound ends)
Dr. Vansterhus: Where did you learn that Corey?
(Sniffling....a cough. Corey Bull's voice is whiny)
Corey Bull: Huh?
Dr. Vansterhus: The phrases you just said.
Corey Bull: I want to go home?
(At this point, the tape is stopped, as the session has apparently ended.
ON Camera
**A large home in the Great Northwoods comes into view. Built like a fortress, this home is older then many would first believe when viewing it. Secluded behind walls of trees, this place would take you days to find without a guide. Even following the thing that is suppose to be a road would lead you in several directions, of which only one really leads you to the home. And even that one is twisted, just like the monster that owns this land. Corey Bull stands on the balcony of his home, shirtless in a pair of jeans and workboots. The metal death mask resting on his face. He lets out a breath and then his deep voice speaks**
"Two battles and so far we are still standing tall. Though we came to a draw with Damian Kane....Bonnie and Chuckles proved to be...less then expected. At least on the daughter of Times part. Chuckles proved to be exactly as we had expected. Useless. But you Bonnie...you disappoint us. We wanted a nice clean destruction. We wanted to show the world that you can wipe out time with but a thought. Instead....we got a half assed version of yourself in that ring. A shame....we hope that when we meet again....and we will...you will show to be a more worthy adversary then you did."
"And now fate has decided to be fickle. For we stand in the ring with two men who's very chance to be a part of the Killing Floor match rests upon our shoulders."
**Bull turns to the camera, his eyes burning cauldrons**
"WE understand that many will view that statement as an exaggeration. But is it really? Preecha and Shadowlove....if one of those men claims pin fall...then that person will be entered into the Killing Floor. IF they score the pin fall. So what happens when we score the pin fall? Oh...that's right...their chance is vaporized."
"So tell us again how we are going to allow either man to believe they can actually win this match?"
**The death mask grins and a dark chuckle creeps out**
"Don't take it personal Shadowlove. Or maybe you should. You have an extreme god complex that needs to be put in check. After all....we have met God...personally. We have stood in his...or rather its presence. And you...are no where near that level. Not even as the son of the son of a son of a son of a god. But neither are we. We won't even give anyone that impression. We know better....we know what we are capable of. And that...Shadowlove...is only god like. But just because it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck doesn't make it viable for duck under glass. So you can take your godhood complex and stuff it where the sun don't shine. We really don't care what you believe. Just that you believe."
**Bulls mask grins something sinister**
"It will make it much easier to take you out. A man who thinks he is all doesn't understand how truly vulnerable he really is. And that makes you.....flawed. And flaws are meant to be exploited. And we will. We will exploit each and every flaw we can see, hear, or smell. You will simple provide the ammunition for the proverbial gun that we are. And after that it is a simple matter of lift, aim, and pull the trigger."
**Bull moves, something catlike, his eyes on the camera**
"And we are a payload you do not....DO...NOT...want aimed at you. But that is what has happened and we take no qualms in taking you out."
"And Preecha.....the same applies to you, but your flaws lie within your very strengths."
**Bull settles back and continues**
"Let us ask you a question...one that we understand you will not be able to respond to...but something to ponder. Do you...in all your many experiences...truly believe that a monster such as ourselves....who has captured the top tier of several federations...is actually limited in combat? We have spent many years learning things that most have forgotten. Wrestling....wrestling is just one form. Sure....we do agree...that the Killing Floor match is more our style....but not a limitation to that style. Violence is an art form that can be expressed in many different capacities. And we have learned...time and time again....to push that art form to the limit. So if you want to throw down.....if you want to go into hand to hand combat with us...we will oblige you Preecha."
**Bull leans in once again**
"It will not change a thing. It simply means we fight you at your own game....and then show you just how little of a game it is. We take it to you in the manner that you wish it to be....and though you believe it a trap.....it will be far from that. It will be the sheep inviting the wolf to dinner. And when it is all over....the sheep will be left to wonder just where he went wrong...and never truly find it."
**Bull walks back to the balcony, placing his hands on the railing. His body is filled with masses of muscle and scars. When he turns, more then just determination lies within his eyes**
"We have the chance to make the Killing Floor....less crowded. Preecha, you are correct, we are not going to just dial it in this week. We never just dial it in....it goes against our very nature. Every time we step into a situation the requires combat....it is our very home. Regular match...extreme match...over gimmicked match....does not matter. Combat is our home and in our home...we are an extension of the very violence that takes place. Does not matter if it is ours....or someone elses. It feeds us....it guides us....it allows us to add to the overall of the battle taking place...so that we stand at the top. And we are going to stand at the top. This....this is just a stop on the road and we are going to enjoy every moment of this stop before we move on to the next. And in the end....we will nail you all with hate!"
**Bull turns back to the cold autumn morning and the camera glitches out to circling vultures and the dark laughter of Bull in the background...before fading to black**
OFF Camera
Strapped to a large bed is Corey Bull. He looks to be in his early twenties, though an age can not truly be determined. The large mans arms are double strapped, one at the wrist and one at the bicep. His waist has a large strap, as does his chest, and there are three on his legs. His head is limited in its movement, but he still moves it. There isn't fear on his face....but there is a deep seeded anger raging in his eyes. A small man walks into the room, glasses riding high on his nose, his widows peak graying. He wears a lab coat that seems two sizes two big for him and has the threatening appearance of a kitten. Yet, Bull seems to tilt his head in a manner that screams familiarity and a knowledge of what he is capable of.
ON Camera
**A large home in the Great Northwoods comes into view. Built like a fortress, this home is older then many would first believe when viewing it. Secluded behind walls of trees, this place would take you days to find without a guide. Even following the thing that is suppose to be a road would lead you in several directions, of which only one really leads you to the home. And even that one is twisted, just like the monster that owns this land. Corey Bull stands on the balcony of his home, shirtless in a pair of jeans and workboots. The metal death mask resting on his face. He lets out a breath and then his deep voice speaks**
"Two battles and so far we are still standing tall. Though we came to a draw with Damian Kane....Bonnie and Chuckles proved to be...less then expected. At least on the daughter of Times part. Chuckles proved to be exactly as we had expected. Useless. But you Bonnie...you disappoint us. We wanted a nice clean destruction. We wanted to show the world that you can wipe out time with but a thought. Instead....we got a half assed version of yourself in that ring. A shame....we hope that when we meet again....and we will...you will show to be a more worthy adversary then you did."
"And now fate has decided to be fickle. For we stand in the ring with two men who's very chance to be a part of the Killing Floor match rests upon our shoulders."
**Bull turns to the camera, his eyes burning cauldrons**
"WE understand that many will view that statement as an exaggeration. But is it really? Preecha and Shadowlove....if one of those men claims pin fall...then that person will be entered into the Killing Floor. IF they score the pin fall. So what happens when we score the pin fall? Oh...that's right...their chance is vaporized."
"So tell us again how we are going to allow either man to believe they can actually win this match?"
**The death mask grins and a dark chuckle creeps out**
"Don't take it personal Shadowlove. Or maybe you should. You have an extreme god complex that needs to be put in check. After all....we have met God...personally. We have stood in his...or rather its presence. And you...are no where near that level. Not even as the son of the son of a son of a son of a god. But neither are we. We won't even give anyone that impression. We know better....we know what we are capable of. And that...Shadowlove...is only god like. But just because it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck doesn't make it viable for duck under glass. So you can take your godhood complex and stuff it where the sun don't shine. We really don't care what you believe. Just that you believe."
**Bulls mask grins something sinister**
"It will make it much easier to take you out. A man who thinks he is all doesn't understand how truly vulnerable he really is. And that makes you.....flawed. And flaws are meant to be exploited. And we will. We will exploit each and every flaw we can see, hear, or smell. You will simple provide the ammunition for the proverbial gun that we are. And after that it is a simple matter of lift, aim, and pull the trigger."
**Bull moves, something catlike, his eyes on the camera**
"And we are a payload you do not....DO...NOT...want aimed at you. But that is what has happened and we take no qualms in taking you out."
"And Preecha.....the same applies to you, but your flaws lie within your very strengths."
**Bull settles back and continues**
"Let us ask you a question...one that we understand you will not be able to respond to...but something to ponder. Do you...in all your many experiences...truly believe that a monster such as ourselves....who has captured the top tier of several federations...is actually limited in combat? We have spent many years learning things that most have forgotten. Wrestling....wrestling is just one form. Sure....we do agree...that the Killing Floor match is more our style....but not a limitation to that style. Violence is an art form that can be expressed in many different capacities. And we have learned...time and time again....to push that art form to the limit. So if you want to throw down.....if you want to go into hand to hand combat with us...we will oblige you Preecha."
**Bull leans in once again**
"It will not change a thing. It simply means we fight you at your own game....and then show you just how little of a game it is. We take it to you in the manner that you wish it to be....and though you believe it a trap.....it will be far from that. It will be the sheep inviting the wolf to dinner. And when it is all over....the sheep will be left to wonder just where he went wrong...and never truly find it."
**Bull walks back to the balcony, placing his hands on the railing. His body is filled with masses of muscle and scars. When he turns, more then just determination lies within his eyes**
"We have the chance to make the Killing Floor....less crowded. Preecha, you are correct, we are not going to just dial it in this week. We never just dial it in....it goes against our very nature. Every time we step into a situation the requires combat....it is our very home. Regular match...extreme match...over gimmicked match....does not matter. Combat is our home and in our home...we are an extension of the very violence that takes place. Does not matter if it is ours....or someone elses. It feeds us....it guides us....it allows us to add to the overall of the battle taking place...so that we stand at the top. And we are going to stand at the top. This....this is just a stop on the road and we are going to enjoy every moment of this stop before we move on to the next. And in the end....we will nail you all with hate!"
**Bull turns back to the cold autumn morning and the camera glitches out to circling vultures and the dark laughter of Bull in the background...before fading to black**
OFF Camera
Strapped to a large bed is Corey Bull. He looks to be in his early twenties, though an age can not truly be determined. The large mans arms are double strapped, one at the wrist and one at the bicep. His waist has a large strap, as does his chest, and there are three on his legs. His head is limited in its movement, but he still moves it. There isn't fear on his face....but there is a deep seeded anger raging in his eyes. A small man walks into the room, glasses riding high on his nose, his widows peak graying. He wears a lab coat that seems two sizes two big for him and has the threatening appearance of a kitten. Yet, Bull seems to tilt his head in a manner that screams familiarity and a knowledge of what he is capable of.
"Doctor Moriarty."
The man chuckles.
"Come Bull, you know that isn't my name, just a sick joke by my colleges. You can call me Dr. Aaron Gragious or Dr. Gragious....or if it makes you feel better, Aaron."
"It doesn't. What do you want with us now?"
"Well, they tell me on the second floor that you are acting up again. Refusing your medication....you threw a male nurse through a door...and you yanked your penis out and waved it at a female nurse like it was a hammer...is this right?!"
Bull smirks.
"She looked like she could use a good hunk of cock."
The man shakes his head, tsking,
"Bull...Corey....listen, we need to find the root of all these problems. There has to be something in this file, and I have to admit, your file took me four hours to read, that will lead us to a solution."
"Hey Doc....if you let us out....we can show you how that solution can be found."
"Corey...violence will get you nowhere."
"That is your opinion. If you ask us, this world needs a little more cleansing."
"Is that a racist statement Corey?"
"No...its an honest truth. There is a whole world full of wastes of flesh walking around...and so few like us to...remove them from society. We are performing a community service for crying out loud."
The doctor shakes his head, then starts to attach electrodes to parts of Bull carefully.
"Really...haven't we been through this. You know it isn't going to change who we are."
"No you are right...it isn't. But...well I feel that, with your actions as of late, that some sort of a punishment should be in order."
"Then put us in solitary..."
"But you like it there. You and your voices spend all that time chatting...coming up with new ways to harass the staff. And frankly...I want to see how much you can take. Shall we begin?"
The doctor fires up a machine as Bull takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. We fade out as the sound of electricity is heard...and Bull's dark laughter.
