Post by coreybull on Jun 1, 2016 0:49:45 GMT -5
"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."
--- General George S. Patton
Circa 1886, somewhere in the Northwoods
A large, 40 acre area has been cleared of its standing timber and the ground leveled. A white brick fence, 10 feet tall, has been erected around this lot. A sidewalk built, running north to south, and east to west, as the compass runs. Directly center of this land, stands a huge white Bull. A full ten feet at the shoulders, its huge head and horns stand proud looking out over the area. This is Krieger Erholung, the German name for the Bull family cemetery. It means Warriors rest. Below the Bull is the family creed, a creed that has been spoken by the family tree as far back as can be found: "Et stabunt in conspectu nostro ut non obstat ". Let no obstacle stand before our might. Before the Bull is a flat, table like structure of white marble. A circle-ish shape and a shape like an axe has been carved out of the top of it, and an eternal flame burns just below the large head of the Bull on the table.
Standing there, looking out at the large area from the entrance, is Tiberius Bull. Just twenty years old, he has obtained the family fortune, more money then one man could ever spend. Determined to bring in the family history, he has begun a quest to search the globe, following the family line, locating the warriors of the Bull line and returning them here, to this resting place.
Circa 2016.
Krieger Erholung looks much different. There are many headstones and mausoleums now set within its borders. In one corner, the north-eastern corner, a structure similar to a pyramid is being built out of white bricks. It looks like a mausoleum, at least in its basic structure, but the pyramid is being built around it. All over, symbols and languages from all over the world decorate head stones. Walking down the middle of the walkway is Corey Bull. He carries a large duffel bag and his cameraman walks at his side.
Marcus: Why this place?
Bull takes in a breath and stops walking.
Bull: This place is where our families spirits rest. Surrounding us in warriors, tyrants, warlords, soldiers, roman generals, Egyptian commanders. The Bull line runs thick through history, if one knows where to look.
Marcus: Jesus, that many?
Bull: Yes Marcus, that many. From the Norse family Naut Blóð, or Bull Blood to the Bukh akh Düü, or Bull brother, of Mongolia. We even found two Egyptian mummies that connect to our family heritage, something that translates to the Bull that tramples serpents.
Marcus: And how do you know all this?
Bull turns to Marcus.
Bull: Books Marcus. Books a foot thick. Our great grandfather, when he built this, was a great collector of knowledge. We have an entire library in our home that has a whole wall dedicated to just his works. In those books, we have searched as he did to find our family and bring them here, to be interned with the others of their line.
Marcus: This is epic.
Bull: Yes, that is a good word for it.
A phone rings and Marcus answers it. After a few "yeps", he hangs up and pulls out a laptop.
Marcus: Your gonna want to watch this.
Bull watches the laptop and the voice of Dirk Bentley can be heard coming out of it. As the video continues, the eyes of Bull seem to become more and more murderous. After a few moments, Bull slams the laptop shut and lowers his head.
Marcus: Dude, how can he go after your mother?
Bull: Dirk thinks by angering us he is going to gain an advantage. He is sorely wrong. All he is going to gain is a free trip to the morgue. Well now we are satisfied with our decision to bring the stuff we brought. You can set up anytime Marcus. We have something we must do. You can record it if you wish, but do NOT under any circumstance, interrupt us.
Marcus nods, reaching into his bag as Bull does the same to his.
**Bull pulls out the elephant killer axe and the black horned helm, two items that any museum would die to get their hands on. Linked to the first Bull, a man known simple as the Death Dealer, these artifacts of antiquity are said to have been forged in the very fires of hell, dipped in the blood of a thousand tyrants and bathed in the tears of the innocent. Whether that is true or not, they have carried a curse with them, a curse the Bull family line has used well. To be warriors. To be violent, destructive, successful warriors. Bull walks to the table and inserts the helmet into the circleish engraving, then the axe into the other. Fitting like a glove, Bull drops to his knees, his breathing slowed. When he looks up, his eyes are determined, focused, and dead.**
"We are getting a little sick and tired of you twisting our family for your sick fucking fantasies. You think your funny Dirk. YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?! Because...we are not laughing. And your right, we are not ok, not even in the fucking least. You have attacked and destroyed the sanctity of our mother. You have verbal run her through the mud. We might do the same to yours, but kicking a dead cow is still just kicking a dead cow. And yes, we just called your mom a cow, the one shot we will take at her, unlike the other men in her neighborhood. But don't fret Dirk, we by no means will take the high road here. No no no, we do not plan to let this....this...filth...this fantasy of yours...go unchecked or unpunished. There is a time and a place for everything, and it is by your own volition...that you have allowed us to do this without feeling in the least bit....responsible."
**Bull runs his hand across the white marble front. öküz oğlu is etched into it**
"Here lies the progenitor of our family line. His name translated to Son of the Bull, but we just call him what those that faced him called him. Death Dealer. Born in 1546 BC, he lived in a region that is now Azerbaijani. He reigned as a warlord for only 15 years, dying in battle at the age of 36, but he produced several children. His four sons, as legend goes, went the ways of the compass, traveling to find niches in the world. But his one son, a name we can not find, went to Egypt, where the family name changed to something that translates as "Bull that tramples serpents". This was during 1521 and the reign of Amenhotep I as pharaoh of Egypt. This is significant, because he carried with him the axe and helm. And from there, well its all over the map."
**Bull stands, pulling the axe out of the engrave spot and turning to the camera**
"And it is in front of our progenitor that we make a solemn vow, in word..."
**Bull slides the axe across his inner right hand**
"...by blood..."
**He places his bloody right hand on the top of the helm**
"...and by right as the last male in the line. You will not walk out of Vendetta as the winner. Walking won't be something your going to be capable of. We will....with the spirits of our ancients surrounding us to bear witness....tear you apart and feed your carcass to the buzzards!"
**Bull declaration echos across the land. He reaches into his bag and starts to wrap up the hand as he continues to talk**
"But enough of that. To you, it is just show. To us, someone who takes their family lineage and history very seriously, this is sacred. But to you, this is us doing...what did you call them...oh, parlor tricks. Funny, but when you do them they are entertaining...almost comical to say the least. Your as frightening as a ten year old with a PlayStation 4 and a mic. We don't do it to frighten people Dirk...a statement we have made many, many times, but is obviously lost on you and your limited intelligence. We don't want you frightened....it makes the kill that much sweeter for us. But you...you only see what stands before you. You think because we prefer a darkened room or a more dark setting, that we are trying to be frightening. Well look around Dirk! Bright, sunny sky. White tombstones all over. Are you not entertained?"
**Bull scoffs, a chuckle leaving his mouth. He finishes wrapping the hand and sets the tape back into the bag, pulling out a large binder and setting it on the tomb**
"So now it is our turn to twist your world upside down Dirk. See we are a smart business man, or our company wouldn't have made all the money that it has. And sure, a lot of that is due to the people we have hired to handle Dead Cell Inc....but we were there when it started. So...when we became tag team partners, we did what any smart business man does. We had a background check run...and then we searched and searched, collecting everything we could. Because Dirk...when you come after us, that's a fight. But when you come after our family.....that's your death sentence."
**Bull opens the binder and tosses a picture down. It shows a young Dirk with a young Summer....getting married**
"Oh look, there is Dirk and Summer, ten years ago this month...oh, Happy Anniversary...saying their vows at a beatnik little courthouse in...and you can't make this shit up....Bell Buckle, Tennessee. It says here it is home to the annual RC Cola and Moon Pie Festival...how exciting. And that woman right there in the back, that's Joey Reeves. She was one of two witnesses to this marriage, the other name is a blur. Whoever it is, they can't write for shit."
**Bull chuckles, pulls out a manila folder and opens it and continues**
"Have we got your attention yet Dirk? No...okay, lets continue this fun little trip down memory lane. Says here that one week before this beautiful little ceremony, Summer was admitted to a hospital in Nashville...ummm, Saint Thomas Midtown Hospital....for stomach cramps. She had a few tests done and low and behold.....she was preggers. Now its right after all this fun stuff, that it gets really interesting. Summer and Dirk get married and for the next eight months...she is in and out of the hospital doing the regular pregnant check ups: ultrasounds, OBGYN visits, yada yada. And then...nothing. And we looked, oh god did we look. But the birth....nada. And you two...are still married! Yeah, we checked Dirk. This whole time you been chasing Emma's tail around like a love sick puppy with a hard on, you have been married to Summer. There is no divorce, no annulment. You been doing your taxes all wrong for at least 9 years. Single...filing single...and your married...that smells a bit illegal to us. Don't worry Dirk, we know how you like to be on the up and up (sarcasm) so we made sure to inform a friend of ours at the IRS. Your welcome."
**Bull closes the folder, puts it down and puts it all away. His voice, when he continues, no longer has that happy sarcasm he was just using. It is cold...his eyes murderous....and his posture that of a warrior about to strike**
"How is the show now Dirk? Has it sunk in that we are not fucking playing around? While you do promos that are a joke and attempt to rape our family heritage, all you do is prime us more and more for this fight. But what you believe is a weak spot, is actually something we were trained to temper. Our anger is a weapon...just one of the many we walk this earth with Dirk. And in that ring....in the arena...hell, in the fucking parking lot...we are going to unleash our rage....our hate....our pain...and our suffering...and let you feel what it is like to be us! And your right Dirk, we are not invincible. But to you, we might as well be. Your talented Dirk, but not that talented. You beating us would be like you pinning Ash in the middle of the ring legitimately. It just isn't going to happen. What is going to happen this Vendetta, is Dirk is going to walk to the ring....and that is going to be the end of it. Because just like when we were tag team partners....we are going to once again have to carry Dirk Bentley. Only this time Dirk...we are going to carry you to the fucking morgue!"
**Bull rolls his shoulders and continues to stare a hole in the camera**
"Fate has deemed that we meet head to head to determine who has the right to be the number one contender. And through this all....the only thing you can come up with is, no pun intended, bullshit lies and false accusations. You haven't said one thing that has any real bearing on the beating you are about to receive. The fact is Dirk...you are not on our level. You can think that you are...but we know the truth. The world knows the truth. So unless you have schemed up some half assed way to win without beating us...your ride on the stretcher is as good as assured. Because come hook or crook...the fans will always be behind us...they will always cheer for the AoD. And you...they want your blood Dirk. And we will give it to them in showers! We are the thing that people warn you about Dirk. We are the undeniable truth of your reality. The poison of your past and the plague of your future! We are going to make a massacre at Vendetta and watch your corpse be carted away on a stretcher. Because a future where Dirk Bentley wins cleanly against us....is a future that does not exist."
"Vendetta is your end Dirk. The buzzards are already circling...waiting...impatiently to taste your flesh. And we are going to give it to them. You will be nailed by hate....but more importantly Dirk."
"You will lose to Corey Bull."
**Bull walks away, the camera focused on the large head of the massive white Bull as the camera fades to black**
We remember Miss Laura. She was on the fifth floor. Diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur and persecution, she always thought she was working at the asylum. They tried to treat her for this, but failed miserably. She had other patients who always agreed with her, so this didn't help whatever new regiment the doctors thought up for her.
Miss Laura was always nice to us. She had a way with the children of the asylum, which is probably why the doctors were so lenient with her when it came to us all visiting the gardens. She would walk us up there and stand watch over us, reading a book or staring off in the distance on the bench. She never really noticed the actually nurses watching from the doorways. We always did...but we were an observant individual. Predators always are.
Miss Laura was our first murder that we witnessed. She didn't get killed, mind you, she did the killing. It was a bright day, once of the last of autumn as the cold winter winds of the north were starting to troll through the woods. The trees all held their final coat of orange, red, and yellow. Some of them were nothing more then skeletons of their once proud selves, another winter upon them...another ring in the wood.
Miss Laura was staring off to the north. We knew it was north, again...predator. We have an innate sense of direction. Plus, it was the direction that those winds were blowing from, so even the most mislead individual could have guessed it was north. The nurse that was always in the doorway...well he walked up to Miss Laura like he always did...suggesting that they bring the kids in. And out of nowhere, she stabbed him right in the neck. Just stood up and all casual like...stuck a four inch blade into his jugular. And she held it there...that's the part we remember the most. The blood flowing over her arm and hand....just watching the life leave the mans eyes. The other kids...they screamed. Us....well this was just after our stabbing incident of the janitor. So it did nothing but reinforce our belief: some people were simply just prey pretending to be predators. And real predators put them in the place in short order.
We didn't see Miss Laura after that. The logical assumption is that she was stuck in some deep hole somewhere, never to be returned to the light of day. Maybe they killed her....maybe she killed herself. It's ironic...she was so protective of the children...so insistent that she was a nurse...a loving mother....an outstanding citizen wrongly held.
Maybe she was....maybe she was. Maybe she was like us...another product of the asylum.
Only....her mind broke.
Ours....ours just grew stronger. Just like the rest of us. And now Dirk will learn that pretending to be a predator will get you put in your place.
Violently.
Dirks fantasies are about to crash and burn.
And we are going to enjoy every second of being the one to crush them.
--- General George S. Patton
Circa 1886, somewhere in the Northwoods
A large, 40 acre area has been cleared of its standing timber and the ground leveled. A white brick fence, 10 feet tall, has been erected around this lot. A sidewalk built, running north to south, and east to west, as the compass runs. Directly center of this land, stands a huge white Bull. A full ten feet at the shoulders, its huge head and horns stand proud looking out over the area. This is Krieger Erholung, the German name for the Bull family cemetery. It means Warriors rest. Below the Bull is the family creed, a creed that has been spoken by the family tree as far back as can be found: "Et stabunt in conspectu nostro ut non obstat ". Let no obstacle stand before our might. Before the Bull is a flat, table like structure of white marble. A circle-ish shape and a shape like an axe has been carved out of the top of it, and an eternal flame burns just below the large head of the Bull on the table.
Standing there, looking out at the large area from the entrance, is Tiberius Bull. Just twenty years old, he has obtained the family fortune, more money then one man could ever spend. Determined to bring in the family history, he has begun a quest to search the globe, following the family line, locating the warriors of the Bull line and returning them here, to this resting place.
Circa 2016.
Krieger Erholung looks much different. There are many headstones and mausoleums now set within its borders. In one corner, the north-eastern corner, a structure similar to a pyramid is being built out of white bricks. It looks like a mausoleum, at least in its basic structure, but the pyramid is being built around it. All over, symbols and languages from all over the world decorate head stones. Walking down the middle of the walkway is Corey Bull. He carries a large duffel bag and his cameraman walks at his side.
Marcus: Why this place?
Bull takes in a breath and stops walking.
Bull: This place is where our families spirits rest. Surrounding us in warriors, tyrants, warlords, soldiers, roman generals, Egyptian commanders. The Bull line runs thick through history, if one knows where to look.
Marcus: Jesus, that many?
Bull: Yes Marcus, that many. From the Norse family Naut Blóð, or Bull Blood to the Bukh akh Düü, or Bull brother, of Mongolia. We even found two Egyptian mummies that connect to our family heritage, something that translates to the Bull that tramples serpents.
Marcus: And how do you know all this?
Bull turns to Marcus.
Bull: Books Marcus. Books a foot thick. Our great grandfather, when he built this, was a great collector of knowledge. We have an entire library in our home that has a whole wall dedicated to just his works. In those books, we have searched as he did to find our family and bring them here, to be interned with the others of their line.
Marcus: This is epic.
Bull: Yes, that is a good word for it.
A phone rings and Marcus answers it. After a few "yeps", he hangs up and pulls out a laptop.
Marcus: Your gonna want to watch this.
Bull watches the laptop and the voice of Dirk Bentley can be heard coming out of it. As the video continues, the eyes of Bull seem to become more and more murderous. After a few moments, Bull slams the laptop shut and lowers his head.
Marcus: Dude, how can he go after your mother?
Bull: Dirk thinks by angering us he is going to gain an advantage. He is sorely wrong. All he is going to gain is a free trip to the morgue. Well now we are satisfied with our decision to bring the stuff we brought. You can set up anytime Marcus. We have something we must do. You can record it if you wish, but do NOT under any circumstance, interrupt us.
Marcus nods, reaching into his bag as Bull does the same to his.
**Bull pulls out the elephant killer axe and the black horned helm, two items that any museum would die to get their hands on. Linked to the first Bull, a man known simple as the Death Dealer, these artifacts of antiquity are said to have been forged in the very fires of hell, dipped in the blood of a thousand tyrants and bathed in the tears of the innocent. Whether that is true or not, they have carried a curse with them, a curse the Bull family line has used well. To be warriors. To be violent, destructive, successful warriors. Bull walks to the table and inserts the helmet into the circleish engraving, then the axe into the other. Fitting like a glove, Bull drops to his knees, his breathing slowed. When he looks up, his eyes are determined, focused, and dead.**
"We are getting a little sick and tired of you twisting our family for your sick fucking fantasies. You think your funny Dirk. YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?! Because...we are not laughing. And your right, we are not ok, not even in the fucking least. You have attacked and destroyed the sanctity of our mother. You have verbal run her through the mud. We might do the same to yours, but kicking a dead cow is still just kicking a dead cow. And yes, we just called your mom a cow, the one shot we will take at her, unlike the other men in her neighborhood. But don't fret Dirk, we by no means will take the high road here. No no no, we do not plan to let this....this...filth...this fantasy of yours...go unchecked or unpunished. There is a time and a place for everything, and it is by your own volition...that you have allowed us to do this without feeling in the least bit....responsible."
**Bull runs his hand across the white marble front. öküz oğlu is etched into it**
"Here lies the progenitor of our family line. His name translated to Son of the Bull, but we just call him what those that faced him called him. Death Dealer. Born in 1546 BC, he lived in a region that is now Azerbaijani. He reigned as a warlord for only 15 years, dying in battle at the age of 36, but he produced several children. His four sons, as legend goes, went the ways of the compass, traveling to find niches in the world. But his one son, a name we can not find, went to Egypt, where the family name changed to something that translates as "Bull that tramples serpents". This was during 1521 and the reign of Amenhotep I as pharaoh of Egypt. This is significant, because he carried with him the axe and helm. And from there, well its all over the map."
**Bull stands, pulling the axe out of the engrave spot and turning to the camera**
"And it is in front of our progenitor that we make a solemn vow, in word..."
**Bull slides the axe across his inner right hand**
"...by blood..."
**He places his bloody right hand on the top of the helm**
"...and by right as the last male in the line. You will not walk out of Vendetta as the winner. Walking won't be something your going to be capable of. We will....with the spirits of our ancients surrounding us to bear witness....tear you apart and feed your carcass to the buzzards!"
**Bull declaration echos across the land. He reaches into his bag and starts to wrap up the hand as he continues to talk**
"But enough of that. To you, it is just show. To us, someone who takes their family lineage and history very seriously, this is sacred. But to you, this is us doing...what did you call them...oh, parlor tricks. Funny, but when you do them they are entertaining...almost comical to say the least. Your as frightening as a ten year old with a PlayStation 4 and a mic. We don't do it to frighten people Dirk...a statement we have made many, many times, but is obviously lost on you and your limited intelligence. We don't want you frightened....it makes the kill that much sweeter for us. But you...you only see what stands before you. You think because we prefer a darkened room or a more dark setting, that we are trying to be frightening. Well look around Dirk! Bright, sunny sky. White tombstones all over. Are you not entertained?"
**Bull scoffs, a chuckle leaving his mouth. He finishes wrapping the hand and sets the tape back into the bag, pulling out a large binder and setting it on the tomb**
"So now it is our turn to twist your world upside down Dirk. See we are a smart business man, or our company wouldn't have made all the money that it has. And sure, a lot of that is due to the people we have hired to handle Dead Cell Inc....but we were there when it started. So...when we became tag team partners, we did what any smart business man does. We had a background check run...and then we searched and searched, collecting everything we could. Because Dirk...when you come after us, that's a fight. But when you come after our family.....that's your death sentence."
**Bull opens the binder and tosses a picture down. It shows a young Dirk with a young Summer....getting married**
"Oh look, there is Dirk and Summer, ten years ago this month...oh, Happy Anniversary...saying their vows at a beatnik little courthouse in...and you can't make this shit up....Bell Buckle, Tennessee. It says here it is home to the annual RC Cola and Moon Pie Festival...how exciting. And that woman right there in the back, that's Joey Reeves. She was one of two witnesses to this marriage, the other name is a blur. Whoever it is, they can't write for shit."
**Bull chuckles, pulls out a manila folder and opens it and continues**
"Have we got your attention yet Dirk? No...okay, lets continue this fun little trip down memory lane. Says here that one week before this beautiful little ceremony, Summer was admitted to a hospital in Nashville...ummm, Saint Thomas Midtown Hospital....for stomach cramps. She had a few tests done and low and behold.....she was preggers. Now its right after all this fun stuff, that it gets really interesting. Summer and Dirk get married and for the next eight months...she is in and out of the hospital doing the regular pregnant check ups: ultrasounds, OBGYN visits, yada yada. And then...nothing. And we looked, oh god did we look. But the birth....nada. And you two...are still married! Yeah, we checked Dirk. This whole time you been chasing Emma's tail around like a love sick puppy with a hard on, you have been married to Summer. There is no divorce, no annulment. You been doing your taxes all wrong for at least 9 years. Single...filing single...and your married...that smells a bit illegal to us. Don't worry Dirk, we know how you like to be on the up and up (sarcasm) so we made sure to inform a friend of ours at the IRS. Your welcome."
**Bull closes the folder, puts it down and puts it all away. His voice, when he continues, no longer has that happy sarcasm he was just using. It is cold...his eyes murderous....and his posture that of a warrior about to strike**
"How is the show now Dirk? Has it sunk in that we are not fucking playing around? While you do promos that are a joke and attempt to rape our family heritage, all you do is prime us more and more for this fight. But what you believe is a weak spot, is actually something we were trained to temper. Our anger is a weapon...just one of the many we walk this earth with Dirk. And in that ring....in the arena...hell, in the fucking parking lot...we are going to unleash our rage....our hate....our pain...and our suffering...and let you feel what it is like to be us! And your right Dirk, we are not invincible. But to you, we might as well be. Your talented Dirk, but not that talented. You beating us would be like you pinning Ash in the middle of the ring legitimately. It just isn't going to happen. What is going to happen this Vendetta, is Dirk is going to walk to the ring....and that is going to be the end of it. Because just like when we were tag team partners....we are going to once again have to carry Dirk Bentley. Only this time Dirk...we are going to carry you to the fucking morgue!"
**Bull rolls his shoulders and continues to stare a hole in the camera**
"Fate has deemed that we meet head to head to determine who has the right to be the number one contender. And through this all....the only thing you can come up with is, no pun intended, bullshit lies and false accusations. You haven't said one thing that has any real bearing on the beating you are about to receive. The fact is Dirk...you are not on our level. You can think that you are...but we know the truth. The world knows the truth. So unless you have schemed up some half assed way to win without beating us...your ride on the stretcher is as good as assured. Because come hook or crook...the fans will always be behind us...they will always cheer for the AoD. And you...they want your blood Dirk. And we will give it to them in showers! We are the thing that people warn you about Dirk. We are the undeniable truth of your reality. The poison of your past and the plague of your future! We are going to make a massacre at Vendetta and watch your corpse be carted away on a stretcher. Because a future where Dirk Bentley wins cleanly against us....is a future that does not exist."
"Vendetta is your end Dirk. The buzzards are already circling...waiting...impatiently to taste your flesh. And we are going to give it to them. You will be nailed by hate....but more importantly Dirk."
"You will lose to Corey Bull."
**Bull walks away, the camera focused on the large head of the massive white Bull as the camera fades to black**
We remember Miss Laura. She was on the fifth floor. Diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur and persecution, she always thought she was working at the asylum. They tried to treat her for this, but failed miserably. She had other patients who always agreed with her, so this didn't help whatever new regiment the doctors thought up for her.
Miss Laura was always nice to us. She had a way with the children of the asylum, which is probably why the doctors were so lenient with her when it came to us all visiting the gardens. She would walk us up there and stand watch over us, reading a book or staring off in the distance on the bench. She never really noticed the actually nurses watching from the doorways. We always did...but we were an observant individual. Predators always are.
Miss Laura was our first murder that we witnessed. She didn't get killed, mind you, she did the killing. It was a bright day, once of the last of autumn as the cold winter winds of the north were starting to troll through the woods. The trees all held their final coat of orange, red, and yellow. Some of them were nothing more then skeletons of their once proud selves, another winter upon them...another ring in the wood.
Miss Laura was staring off to the north. We knew it was north, again...predator. We have an innate sense of direction. Plus, it was the direction that those winds were blowing from, so even the most mislead individual could have guessed it was north. The nurse that was always in the doorway...well he walked up to Miss Laura like he always did...suggesting that they bring the kids in. And out of nowhere, she stabbed him right in the neck. Just stood up and all casual like...stuck a four inch blade into his jugular. And she held it there...that's the part we remember the most. The blood flowing over her arm and hand....just watching the life leave the mans eyes. The other kids...they screamed. Us....well this was just after our stabbing incident of the janitor. So it did nothing but reinforce our belief: some people were simply just prey pretending to be predators. And real predators put them in the place in short order.
We didn't see Miss Laura after that. The logical assumption is that she was stuck in some deep hole somewhere, never to be returned to the light of day. Maybe they killed her....maybe she killed herself. It's ironic...she was so protective of the children...so insistent that she was a nurse...a loving mother....an outstanding citizen wrongly held.
Maybe she was....maybe she was. Maybe she was like us...another product of the asylum.
Only....her mind broke.
Ours....ours just grew stronger. Just like the rest of us. And now Dirk will learn that pretending to be a predator will get you put in your place.
Violently.
Dirks fantasies are about to crash and burn.
And we are going to enjoy every second of being the one to crush them.