Tour

[Clover]

Campo Grande, Brazil was light years away from Ontario Canada, where Warfare would take place this week. It was one of the many seasonal residences for super model/professional wrestler Tyler Breeze. He had no need to risk ruining those stunning features of his by facing the freezing weather. Instead, he retreated to somewhere far more tropical and far more GORGEOUS. A large bedroom that unmistakably belonged to the narcissistic model was revealed. There were two features that screamed that this layout belonged to the King of Selfies. The first and most obvious was the the enormous painting of himself above his bed. It was an Andy Warhol like image of Tyler's face, pursed lips, quirked eyebrow, in various different color schemes. Modern art the world had never seen before. The second was his bed. The sheets were fur, in the same style as his ring jackets, a dark blue color as if some kind of muppet had been skinned. An incredibly stylish muppet. A feast for the eyes was ready to be unleashed onto the viewer. Prince Pretty could be found laying across his bed, in a pose begging to be captured by a camera, shirtless and wearing a pair of silk pajamas. He looked into his phone, admiring his favorite subject: himself.

Tyler Breeze: You are getting an unprecedented look into the life of the most super good looking piece of gorgeousness you'll ever see..take it all in my WannaBreeze.

Tilting his head, along with his camera, Tyler took a few shots that would soon light Instagram on fire.

Tyler Breeze: After my dominant victory over Ryback, I departed the arena and returned to my seasonal residence here in Brazil. I needed to get away from it all so I could begin planning on how to lead my Survivor Series team to victory.

Evidently, when you offered Tyler Breeze a spot on your team, in his mind he instantly became the captain.

Tyler Breeze: I've been so busy preparing that I'm not even sure who my opponent for Warfare is this week. I wonder. Could it possibly be some uggo that stays up tossing and turning at night, wishing they could be as beautiful as me? I wonder.

With a finger, Tyler scrolled through his phone for the appropriate message.

Tyler Breeze: Oh. Look at that. What a surprise. Bray Wyatt. My prediction was one hundred percent accurate.

The arrogant one rolled his eyes.

Tyler Breeze: It's fine, I guess. I'm obviously multi-talented and a pro multi-tasker. I can make time to deal with some deranged redneck swiftly and efficiently. Even if I'm supposed to be cautious since they throw around words like "dangerous" and "terrifying" to describe him. I just don't find it completely fair that a good chunk of my time planning my inevitable victory at Survivor Series is now going to be spent showering and exfoliating after being in the ring with that filthy, dirty backwoods beast. Is there even a strong enough product to remove the stench?

A deep sigh escaped from Tyler's chest

Tyler Breeze: ..Heavy is the head that wears the gorgeous crown..

After a few more moments of silent anguish, Tyler rose to his feet and headed towards his doorway. Truly, very few could understand his pain

Tyler Breeze: I sleep in the most plush, comfortable bed that money can afford. Bray Wyatt probably sleeps in a big pile of dirt or his own filth.

A shudder from the blonde. What a detestable thought. Pulling his locks into a neat ponytail, he stepped out onto his stair case which led to his dining area. Even more images of himself adorned the walls, which shouldn't have been that much of a shock at this point. A near, perfectly flawless maid approached the model..although she wasn't anywhere near as pretty as Tyler. The brunette spoke.

Maid: Your incredibly healthy, 200 calorie breakfast is ready, Tyler.

Tyler turned to the camera and grinned a bit.

Tyler Breeze: My breakfast is nutritious and absolutely perfect. Bray Wyatt's breakfast is probably rotting away in a dumpster at Denny's at the moment. Or even worse..a Waffle House.

So many undesirable thoughts kept appearing each time Bray Wyatt was mentioned. The man truly was a monster. Undaunted, Tyler sat at his long, dining room table as the morning sun filled in through the windows. Wheat toast with just the right amount of low fat butter and egg's that were probably from some type of exotic and rare bird. Following his energy giving meal, Tyler walked over to an enormous closet where a stylist was almost instantly present, holding a clipboard and notepad. Hooded jacket's of all colors filled the space along with fantastically tasseled boots, also in a variety of hues. This would take some careful thought and consideration.

Tyler Breeze: I'm in a pink and dark blue mood today. Let's go with that. Again, sorry Bray. I'm afraid this isn't the Hawaiian shirt and fedora emporium. I would recommend you a stylist but you're completely beyond help at this point. That and you're some kind of..horrible, demonic being. With a bad singing voice. Try to find something you're good at aside from not bathing.

Tyler's female stylist had placed a hand over her mouth and her eyes had grown wide.

Stylist: Do you..have a match against..Bray Wyatt?

Tyler Breeze: Yes. What of it?

Stylist: That horrible, awful..monster that was targeting John Cena?! Aren't you afraid, Tyler?! That man isn't normal!

The Stylist looked spooked but Tyler remained unshaken and as confident as ever

Tyler Breeze: Afraid? Don't make me laugh. I don't even know the meaning of fear. That's why Bad News Barrett and Ryback BEGGED me to captain their team. It's the same reason Ryback was so frightened after locking up with me for only a mere moment. I am a leader, a captain and a survivor. Bray Wyatt couldn't even handle a man in jorts and a day-glo orange t-shirt. A clash of terrible fashion sense and..whatever his name was "You-Can't-See-Me-Man" or whatever, was the victor.

Stylist: Do you mean..uh..John Cena, Tyler? The World Champion?

Tyler Breeze: The World Champion? Of WHAT?

Stylist: ..The company you wrestle for..

Tyler Breeze: How did he earn it? By being really, really stupid looking? Or dressinh himself in the dark?

Tyler snickered to himself, sliding a couple of fingers over his mouth. He was either incredibly self absorbed or entirely ignorant to anything that went on in the EBWF if it didn't involve himself.

Tyler Breeze: In any event..I'm not afraid. Bray Wyatt should be afraid. Afraid of my Beauty Shot and my Super Model Kick. He'll be singing a different tune then. Perhaps my entrance theme. With vocals provided by myself. Did I mention that my theme will be up for best song of the year at this year's Grammy's? It's true. I heard it from a incredibly reliable source. And why are you still standing there? Where are my clothes?

Stylist: R-Right away, Tyler!

After a cut-away, Tyler was now dressed in the pink/deep blue attire he had selected. He strolled through his living room which was also spacious and also held more monuments to himself. Various photo's of days as a full-time model were framed and each one was more glorious than the last.

Tyler Breeze: ..There's my big screen television so I can watch my matches and replay's of the many, many events I'm invited to. Bray Wyatt couldn't possibly have a set that big because he's homeless. Or he looks like it anyway. Oh. There are my, many, MANY awards from the modeling community. Bray Wyatt doesn't have any because..pft..come on now. Do I even have to explain it? I shouldn't have to spell it out. Okay. I will. Bray is too repulsive to ever model anything except for anti-drug PSA's.

Tyler continued his tour, motioning to every item that boosted his ego and there were certainly many of those. Quite the opposite from the anti-machine lifestyle that Bray Wyatt preached.

Tyler Breeze: I have an enormous hot tub. And a spa. A recording studio. Everything a world class model needs to survive in these difficult economic times. Maybe if you try hard enough, each and everyone of you will be able to..to..

He couldn't finish his sentence, as it was too difficult to accomplish through his snickering.

Tyler Breeze: No, no, I'm sorry. None of you will ever accomplish anything like this. You're all too ugly. Ugly people never amount to anything. That's why Bray Wyatt's reign of terror never began because no one wants a face like that on a billboard. Pure. Unadulterated nightmare fuel. But, now that I think about it, it's not as if that Cena character is much better looking. He appears to be some kind of..simian..un-evolved ape creature. Oh, how the EBWF needs a new face to lead them into a golden age of gorgeous. Someone like me. Perhaps after I leave Bray Wyatt gasping for air and demolish CM Punk's pitiful little team, I'll receive my rightful opportunity.

A world where Tyler Breeze was World Champion. Prince Pretty pondered this and nodded in approval.

Tyler Breeze: A beautiful thought. But for now, I believe your time is up here. You've seen more than enough. Besides, I've got a long day of rubbing elbows with other GORGEOUS people. But you if you want your next Tyler fix, and who doesn't, all you have to do is watch my tv show: Warfare. But don't follow the buzzards. Follow..the GORGEOUS.

A magnificent, photo-op worthy expression was given to the camera before Tyler waved off the crew filming him. It was time for them to depart. A pair of men in suits, large and beefy, ensured that Tyler would spend the rest of his day un-filmed and left to his own beautiful devices.