We slowly fade in from black, to the slow burning embers of a campfire, crackling and spitting out small bursts of light as it slowly ate away at the logs fuelling it, the chirping of crickets echo through the night, the strong evening winds blow through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and some even to break away and fall. We're in an unknown disclosed location, a grove, part of a forest of some sort. Owls are hooting in the distance, if you listen closely, you may even hear a coyote or a wolf, if they decide to make their presence known. A figure emerges into the light of the campfire, the bright reddish, orange glow casting up on to his beardes face. He was a burly man, clad in loose, muddied clothing, tipped with a small fedora like hat over his long, greasy black hair. His eyes transfixed on the campfire burning away below him, he slowly spread out his arms and began to speak.

Tonight is a special night for Bray Wyatt.

His voice was low and gravelly as he introduced himself, cold and calculated, his wide eyes reflecting the burning embers of the fire beneath him.

Bray Wyatt ¦ Man Of A Thousand Truths
Tonight is a night for dreamers, tonight is a night for optimists and opportunists. Tonight twenty nine other men get a chance to live out the dreams that they have been holding on to ever since they were children. Dreams of greatness, dreams of success, admiration, fame and glory. A chance to become the grand hero that this world needs and desires! The champion that this world deserves! [Bray chuckles, running his hands through his slick, greasy hair. Flashing a wide, toothy grin at the camera] Do you want to know what I dream of? Retribution. Ever since I had the great misfortune of being brought in to this world, I have been told time and time again that I'm not fit to be a part of whatever big picture our society has in mind. I grew up in Lafayette, Louisiana. You want to know what people in this world think of people like me? I was a lost cause the moment I was born. Born into a piss poor, broken family! My daddy...my daddy was a monster, fuelled by the devil's liquor he would come home countless nights long after his shifts on the boats were done, and every night…young little Bray would get woken by the slam of the door, or the shouting and the screaming of his parents as daddy came home fuelled up on booze and full of rage. My poor mama, she had the patience of a saint, but even she could not save my old man from the destructive path he was walking down! Whatever noble and honourable principles he had, whatever virtue could be found in him from years gone by. Whatever it was she fell in love with. It was dead once I was born, 'cus I sure as hell didn't get to see it. Maybe the weight of the world just got too much for him, having to look after a family with a dead end job that hardly paid, was the last push that sent him over the edge.

Bray drops down, almost mimicking a falling motion as he cosies up by the campfire, prodding the firewood with a poker he had laid out on the floor, the flames spit up into the air. Bray takes off his hat and shakes his greasy hair loose, letting some of it fall over his face, shrouding oart of his eyes.

Bray Wyatt ¦ Man Of A Thousand Truths
One night little Bray wakes up…and he doesn't hear slamming, he doesn't hear arguing. He hears screams, screams of pain and agony. He tiptoes his way down the stairs and what does he find? Daddy's got mama on the floor, hands around her throat and this wild look in his drunken eyes as he squeezed at her throat! [Bray rocks slowly back and forth in front of the fire, digging one hand down into the dirt beside him and clutching it, stroking at his beard with the other, a forlorn look on his face as his eyes stare off into the distance, his mind bringing the image he's describing straight to the forefront of his thoughts.] I tried to stop him I swear, ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing I could…fryin’ pan…was far too innocent at the time to think of bringing a knife to my old man. One of my regrets in life was not killing that bastard there and then, if I could go back...I'd probably stab him a couple hundred times. As I'm rushin’ towards him to try and save mama, he turns…and his eyes focus on me. He's drunk, full of rage like always…and the devil was in his eyes, thankfully he lets go of mama’s neck. She can't do anything, she's helpless on the floor she's gaspin’ for breath. Daddy leaps at me and starts doin’ the same to me. I try to fight it, I do! But I'm just a boy...my struggles get me nowhere.[Bray runs his hand across his face, wiping away any of sign of emotion, any sign of weakness he may have had…and begins to chuckle to himself.] As I'm losing my breath and my vision starts to blur, I hear him screaming, shouting into my ear! “I'm doin’ you a favour son! I'm doing this whole family a favour! You ain't ever gonna’ amount to anything! This family ain't gonna amount to anything. THIS WORLD DOESN'T CARE ABOUT US! IT DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU! IT NEVER WILL!”

Bray pauses on that moment, his brow furrowing, a look of great anger and resentment started building up, mostly in his eyes, which were wide and filled with rage.

Bray Wyatt ¦ Man Of A Thousand Truths
Now if it weren't for mama regaining herself and hitting him with everything she had, I probably wouldn't be sittin’ here today. One big swing with that frying pan, BAM! Another! BAM! Again and again until he’s knocked off, he trips back, knocks over a table and falls against the wall, knocks his head and slides ever so slowly to the floor…he's so drunk he can't pull himself back up. [Bray laughs to himself as he goes back to poking at the fire, somehow, some way, he finds humour in this miserable scenario he is describing which should tell you all that you need to no about his twisted sense of humour] Well the next day when he's sobered up he tries to make amends. “Couldn't control myself. I'm sorry. I'll quit the shit I promise! Just forget everything I did, forget everything I said!” WELL I COULDN'T! I couldn't forget…because he was right. This world did not care about me, my school knew what kind of home I was livin’ in, didn't do a damn thing to stop it. My teacher? My teacher thought I was a brat, she thought I deserved it! My friends? What friends?! I had no friends! My mama? She tried, bless her heart, but daddy had worn her down too much at that point…wasn't too long after that before she left this world. I had NOBODY who cared about me! NOBODY who believed in me! Nobody ‘cept Abigail.

Bray's voice becomes soft and affectionate, the complete opposite of what he had been showing thus far. Whoever "Abigail" was, she had earned a lot of admiration and by the sounds of his tone, perhaps even a bit of love.

Bray Wyatt ¦ Man Of A Thousand Truths
Abigail picked me up from the garbage heap that this world had thrown me into and for the first time in my life, I heard somebody tell me that I COULD do great things! I COULD make this world a better place. That one day I could stand tall above all the other men in this world. Even the rich, the powerful and successful ones and I would make them all PAY for the crimes that had been committed against me! You see? Retribution…
[Bray erupts into a manic, almost evil sounding laugh, he even holds on to his stomach, doubling over, due to his kack of being able to contain the joy he felt from the idea of getting whatever his sick and twisted idea of payback was] That's where I stand out from the rest of the crowd on this night. You got men like Chris Jericho, men like The Rock, Mick Foley and Bret Hart. Relics from an ancient time, tryin’ so hard to keep themselves relevant…to keep that spotlight on them for just a little longer…so they can avoid the looming shadows of obscurity that are startin’ to surround them. Then there's men like Chris Hero, Bobby Roode, Marty Scurll, men who for one reason or another, never really got to achieve the greatness they thought had been made possible, and now they're clawing at it, hoping that it won't evade them when it matters the most. Regardless who they are, or where they came from…they all want the same thing. Success [Bray almost whispers that word, let's it linger, let's it's meaning really sink in to those who happen to be listening to him right now.] It is a powerful thing, almost like a drug…the more you get, the more you want it, the more you realise…that no amount of it will ever satisfy you. It's an endless cycle those twenty nine other men will necer see an end to. Me on the other hand…there's only one thing I need in order to die a happy man. Let's say for a moment, that I win this thing…that I come in and reap the souls of twenty nine other men in order to get my hands on that championship, anybody else in that situation? What are they goin’ to do next? Hmm? [Bray leans towards the camers with a raises eyebrow and a knowing snirk, knowing exactly what would happen next, regardless who won.]They're gonna do interviews, autographs, special appearances…a whole parade of self absorbed indulgence! All I need is a trip on back to Lafayette, so I can visit my old man's rotting corpse one last time. I will stand above him and all the other fallen souls around him in that cemetery, like I will stand above all the rest of the souls in this Royal Rumble here tonight and I will simply ask him one simple question.

Bray slowly raises back up towards his feet, slowly spreading his arms out wide, looking down to the burning fire, as if he were looking down at his father's grave right now.

"What do you think of me now old man?”

He bursts into another fit of maniacal laughter, slowly pacing circles around the campfire, the sounds of the birds and forest animals begin to die down as Bray's voice raises with fiery passion.

Bray Wyatt ¦ Man Of A Thousand Truths
What do you think of little Bray now? What will the world think of him? Huh? That's the even more important, dying issue there isn't it? If you were smart…you'd be afraid, you'd be very afraid. ‘Cus you see a hell of a lot of wrongs have been brought my way…and my old man? He's just the tip of the iceberg…and I'm looking to get retribution for all of them and I will not REST…until I do. [Bray clenches his fists as he makes this promise to the world, his entire body shaking from the anger and frustration that was fuelling him] This world has given me a chip on my shoulder…and the only thing that can replace it..is that championship belt and the joy that having it will bring me? Is worth far more than any amount of success that any of YOU can imagine…so when number eighteen rolls up and you find yourselves locked eye to eye with me, you know what you need to do?

Bray walks towards the camera, leaning in with a wide eyed look and a wild, crazy smile, looking like a crazed man with very little signs of restraint.

RUN!

As Bray bursts into another fit of laughter, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small container, pouring the contents, which in this case happened to be water over the fire. Slowly the flames extinguished and darkness began to envelop the scene, before the canera faded to black, Bray uttered one last sentence.

FOLLOW THE BUZZARDS!