History is a set of lies agreed upon

[Justin]

[The camera pans in and sets focus upon an extremely dark, cold, and dreary room. On each side of the room are walls made from what appears to be rock. There are two pillars to each side of the room, nearly pressed up against each wall. In the middle sits another erected stone, about halfway the height of either pillar. Atop of this figure is an old-fashioned lantern, looking as though it dates back quite some time. The antique lantern’s wick is already burning and is the only form of light provided to the dim room in which the camera crew is standing. From the shadows emerges a dark, ominous figure. He stands over six feet easily and is massive in girth. The man clearly has to be pushing 300 pounds, undoubtedly. The only thing that can clearly be seen is the beard that extends about six inches from his chin and a hat, seemingly a fedora, which sits on his head.]

[The man leans in closer to the lantern, and his face is slightly lit by the light being projected. The most eerie smile creeps across the face of this individual as he leans in close. He seems as though he is about to speak but puts his index finger to his lips as to shush himself. He removes the hat with his left hand and runs his right hand through his long, wet, coal black hair. He looks around the room and replaces the fedora back onto his head. A chuckle is heard and echoes the room in the most sinister sounding way possible. Goosebumps go over the arms of the main cameraman as he slightly loses focus. Quickly, he refocuses in the midst of the cold chill that runs down his spine.]

[Cameraman #2]: (off-screen, inaudible) What the hell is this? Why are we here?!

[Cameraman #3]: (off-screen, inaudible) I have no idea. Wes gave me the location, we set up shop and when we returned this lantern was lying on that statue with a note. It said to begin rolling at exactly 7:06AM.

[Bray Wyatt]: Six hours into the day. Six hours and sixty six minutes into the day! This is the same time Bray Wyatt was conceived, over twenty seven years ago. This is the precise time Mrs. Wyatt delivered a healthy baby boy at the Oak Hill hospital in Brooksville, Florida nine months later. What is it about time? I think time is what everybody wants most but use worst. You see, I never took a single, solitary second of my time for granted. I would have no right to do so. It was given to me as a gift, so I cherish these precious moments. Not just the sunrises and the wings flapping. I succumb to those fine, minute details that this life offers, sure… Much like yourselves.

[Wyatt cracks that now already too familiar smile, as he grabs the handle of the lantern and pulls it towards his face. In his smirk he flaunts the remains of a tobacco dip within the bottom row of his teeth. His teeth appear to be stained a slight yellow color. With the lantern being the source of illumination, it is hard to tell whether it is a shadow causing the dingy appearance or the teeth themselves.]

[Wyatt]: Time is of the essence. That’s what they say. I’m gifted with much of it. That’s why this is not to be confused with some side job. I want you all to understand that this is not just some hobby to me. It is vital that I bring the message and Wyatt revelation to the EBWF! That’s right, Mr. Credible. Your words have reached out and touched me in the most physical way possible. You spoke of your hardcore revolution. You told us how you were apart of something glorious… Well, your time has passed, Mon frère. Much as it came it went within your ECW stint: at the speed of light. THIS is not about a new revolution! THIS is about the ONLY revelation. I was prophesied many a years ago! It was foreseen that I would embark on a journey greater than any man had ever known. And if my proof of existence ain't enough to sell you on my words…

[Wyatt cuts himself off with a smirk and motions for the cameras to follow him. He walks to the pillar to his right, still holding his lantern with the opposite hand. He reaches behind the pillar and yanks. Another figure emerges. This individual stands 6’8” and is a mass of a man. He sports a chrome dome with a fiery red beard, much longer than Wyatt’s own. His face is not seen, as it is covered by plastic lamb mask. The light radiates the mask and all of the most perfect shadows take form within every crevice of that mask. The man stands there, arms at his side, body covered in green coveralls.]

[Wyatt]: You see, this man—Erick Rowan. He is a brute force never to be messed with on your best or his worst day. He is like me. He sees the world the way I do. We are both individuals who people say simply want to watch the world burn. But that cannot be. There is purpose to our existence. There is meaning in what we say and do. There is promise in what we bring to the table. And there is hope for what we can do to save those who can admit their powerlessness to save themselves!

[Rowan tilts his head to the side, never once uttering a single word. Bray shoves Rowan’s head with a push of Rowan’s beard. The giant does not even seem to budge an inch. Wyatt tilts his head back and walks straight to the camera lens, so much of his face is not even visible. He screams into the camera, his southern accent becoming more thick than he had already laid on.]

[Wyatt]: JUSTIN CREDIBLE! Why do you obsess over such a thing like the past?!?!?!

[So much anger exits his body through that exclamatory sentence alone. The camera lens fogs up but quickly becomes clear again as Wyatt breaks out in diabolical laughter. His head snaps back around as he motions the camera towards the other pillar. He slides his hand behind the pillar and tugs. Another behemoth of a man steps out into view. He is slightly shorter than Rowan, perhaps only by two or three inches. He is somewhat slender but mainly lanky. He is wearing an old pair of blue jeans, frayed at nearly every seam. A few visible holes make their appearance as well as the camera pans up and down. His tank top is an off-white, visibly dirty. He appears unwashed and homely. Over the tank top is a sleeveless plaid button-up shirt. The buttons are undone. On each wrist, he has a bandanna wrapped. On his right is a dirty white one, slightly brighter than his shirt. On his left is a crimson colored one.]

[Wyatt]: How can a man be a father with no woman to bear children? These are not my children. Yet, we are family. I can tell you now, that I only have brothers and sisters. And they do not partake in doing my bidding for me. Instead, they are support in reassuring me that my bidding will be done. This Goliath I present to you is Luke Harper. He is the lesser of the two evils. Well, depending on the day of the week. And I use that term loosely, mind you. Evil does not lurk within the family. The evil lurks the earth. The bottom feeders, the prostitutes, the sinners—they’re all living lies, man. My destination is truth. And these are my co-pilots.

[Wyatt releases Harper from his grasp. Now Wyatt is flanked by both men to either side. He laughs manically and runs his fingers through his beard twice. His facial expressions return to that of seriousness yet again. He begins spinning in circles whilst singing the familiar tune…]

[Wyatt]: ”Ring around the rosy / a pocket full of posies / ashes, ashes / we all fall down”

[Wyatt spins into Indian-style sitting as he drops to the ground. His legs are crossed and he begins to rock back and forth.]

[Wyatt]: Have you ever danced with the devil in a pale moonlight, Justin Credible? If that question feels intense, it is only because it is. I’ll never interrupt my enemies while they are making mistakes. So bring your futile weapons to the ring in hopes that they will keep your chances of a victory at max. But know that I will use an enemy’s weapons to strengthen my own arsenal. There are not enough tables, staples, thumbtacks, steel chairs, barbed wire, baseball bats, ladders, or crucifixes in the world to keep me at bay. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. I am strong, swimming deep in the earth’s oceans. I am soaring above, far beyond the Heavens and infinite space. I am the nightmare you fell asleep then woke up still in. I am the epitome of everything you tried to embrace but failed at accomplishing. Your words are merely lies. They are false promises in which you are trying to force these fans to embrace. I believe Mark Twain once said it best: “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything” it was I believe. And I have brought nothing to these people but the truth! I have no promises of a hard fought battle, victory or not. I stand by my word!

[Wyatt positions the lantern towards Luke Harper yet again, as his face is once more revealed.]

[Harper]: For Bray Wyatt is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory…

[Wyatt snaps the lantern in Erick Rowan’s direction once more, as the lamb mask once again is lit up. The light shines bright and casts a dark shadow behind Rowan, as it slows down its motion, one swing at a time.]

[Rowan]: Worthy is the lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing…

[Wyatt swings the lantern once more towards what has appeared as a wall behind the three the entire time. As the wall is exposed, the entire picture of where they are now has become clear. Skulls and bones are stacked upon one another, stuffed tightly into this room. The smell of death becomes apparent in the room. The imagery of the area is enough to make the third cameraman vomit off screen. The Wyatt family has been cutting a promo from the Crypt of the Sepulchral Lamp from within the confines of the Catacombs of Paris.]

[Wyatt]: YOU SEE! These underground tombs hold their fair share of men like you! Men like all of those which inhabit this temporary plane known as earth! You all come into this world alive and somewhere, somehow along the way you all die. And I am not speaking in terms of the physical state of death. Long before that can even occur, you’re sick and withered within your soul. Your mind seems to fade to black. Well, Justin Credible, let me be the first to offer you a VIP spot within these rocky walls of the Catacombs! It is a true definition of “putting someone in his place”. And it is all just a matter of time! Time is what we as humans crave most. Ironically, we also utilize it the worst. Your two day countdown is on. After that, you will know that I AM BRAY WYATT! And through Bray Wyatt, all things are deemed possible! Time is what you are running low on. Time is the only thing that keeps you a relevant, quasi, semi household name. Time is what you believe in because it is the only thing that has remained real through the first half of your life! Hector Berlioz knew exactly what he was talking about when he stated, “Le temps est un grand maître, dit-on, le malheur est qu'il tue ses élèves.” Unfortunately for you, this death comes in two days time, and it will make Napoleon’s stomach cancer look like a tummy ache. How fitting that all these people condemn Bray Wyatt to be the next CM Punk on a live microphone? I think you were a helpful tool in making him look as strong as he did in your WWE-version ECW days. If I thought about it real hard and went back in time, I would dare even bet that you were the man who a debuting Punk made his first victim. There are six millions ways to die, so choose wisely.

[The camera pans towards Luke Harper once more.]

[Harper]: Not just the coolest…

[The camera is shifted towards Erick Rowan. When it is facing him, he pulls his hands down from both sides of the camera itself.]

[Rowan]: Not just the best…

[The camera takes on last pan to Bray Wyatt who is now on his feet. He sets the lantern on the middle structure, where it had been placed at the beginning of his promo. He hovers over the flame, lighting up his face in the most peculiar way. He grins, opens his mouth and exhales a silent laugh. Almost immediately, he dawns that straight face yet again.]

[Wyatt]: Not just incredible. Just. In. Capacitated.

[He spreads his arms wide open and leans his head back, letting out the most sinister laugh imaginable.]

[Wyatt, singing]: ”Ti-i-i-i-i-ime is on my side…”






[Long pause.]






[Wyatt, whispering]: Follow the buzzards.

[Wyatt leans towards the flame and extinguishes it with an exhale blow. A loud scream is heard as the scene cuts to a wooded area for a split second with Erick Rowan hunched over, looking into the camera, wearing the lamb mask for one last eerie effect.]

[D.J]

Holy shit... awesome.

[Dave M]

First class, if you keep this level of RP up the sky is the limit!

[JustinCredible]

Wow....I am thinking you could teach the real bray wyatt a thing or two here.. lol

My only regret is it looks like I am the one on the receiving end of this!