Post by Jon Moxley / The Wyatt Family on Sept 19, 2016 19:26:16 GMT -5
Luke Harper stands solitary in the forest, looking up through the canopy of leaves and into the bright sun. He's remembering. Days gone by. Relationships long ruined. Hour long gone. He isn't much of a talkative man, but he is a thinking man. More than his actions would lead you to think.
He's thinking of a middle aged man, with dirty, matted hair. A man who lost the one thing that meant the most to him. Luke Harper was wrecked by poverty, and now a broken man.
Bray found him. Luke had made a habit of wandering highways aimlessly, and eventually he found himself on a rural highway in some southern state. He continued walking.
He'd already mastered the art of ignoring the pain. He continued walking.
As night fell and the cars passing by happened less and less frequently, Luke began to finally feel the exhaustion. His clothing was soaked with sweat, the cooler air of the night doing nothing to help him.
Slowly, a mist had enveloped the area; a thick white fog. No cars passed. It was only Luke.
As he walked on, he could see shadows against the fog; someone was standing in his path. He watched the silhouette wearily, not particularly caring about it. As he drew closer, the shadow moved; and suddenly there was an orange light, illuminating the man and Luke. The bearded man smiled, and spoke.
"You are broken. And I will fix you."
Luke suddenly felt overwhelmed; he felt as though something had gone into him at the man's words, something had infected him. Luke's vision became tunneled as he fell, the last thing he saw being the smiling form of this enigmatic nomad.
****
"Go in."
Bray said the words gently; his tone that of a suggestion. But Luke knew he had no choice. The barn was rundown; the red paint was peeling and completely missing in patches, revealing the rotting wood underneath. Underneath the barn door, in the gap between the door and the ground, a thin mist was wafting out.
Two men, whose names Luke had never known, two men who seemed to be a part of some mysterious army of backwoods hillbillies that Bray had at his disposal, grabbed the barn door handles and pulled it open. Whatever was inside, was hidden by the mist.
"Abigail's Final Words call for you, Luke Harper. I need you. Not as a tool but as a brother. The secret to solving your emptiness lay within."
5 months. 152 days. 3650 hours. Endless torture. Exposure to extreme elements. Mind bending impossibilities were shown to Luke, otherworldly oddities that couldn't be yet were. Bray said Abigail taught him this. Now Bray can teach Luke.
All of that lead to this; Luke was finally given new clothes, a bath; he looked like a new man. Some part of him knew it was Bray's doing. Bray only deserved his thanks.
So Luke walked into the barn, into the mist.
The doors closed behind him.
His Hell revealed itself.
****
The doors opened, and Luke crawled out; his flannel shirt was torn up to use as a tourniquet. His pants and wifebeater were shredded. His left eye was swollen shut and long dried blood was in his beard. He crawled through the mist, back into the outside world-
"Help him up. Help him up!" Bray roared. Luke felt hands pull him up, and he was seated in a very comfortable chair as a warm blanket was thrown around his shoulders. Comforting. Bray leaned down and put his hands on Luke's shoulders, a wide smile splitting his face.
"You did it, brother! You won! You defeated your hell. This was foretold! You are foretold! You are the legend, Luke."
Bray seemed genuinely overjoyed at all of this. Luke couldn't define his feelings. The incomprehensible things he had witnessed within recent months of his life had both fixed him and further broken him.
"Get this man a bath! New clothes! Food. He needs food. And rest, get him to his new private quarters. Thank you, Luke Harper."
As the men lifted Luke up, his eyes were locked onto Bray's. Luke managed a hoarse whisper.
"Thank you, Bray Wyatt."
****
The room is smoky and toned in a sepia light. But the thing that catches the eye most is two men; one in what appeared to be a plastic sheep mask and coveralls with the sleeves ripped off; the other is a brute of a man with long hair and a long beard, dressed in a filthy wifebeater.
They stare into the camera lense for many unsettling moments, before Troy rips off his mask suddenly, revealing his unkempt hair, dark circles under his eyes, and pale skin.
"We sacrifice another. And another. And another. And another. And another and another and another and another! We will not stop until our words are heralded as truth. Until Bray has your devotion, we cannot fix; we must destroy."
Harper's eyes are looking far away; beyond the camera, beyond comprehension. He's seen a thousand impossible horrors and a million variants of each.
"Bray Wyatt takes in wayward souls. And, Charlotte.... Sasha Banks.... your souls have traveled for too long. You grow weary under the pressure of it all. The Earth on your shoulders has been there long enough; we can help you! We can remove your burden! Join us!"
Troy almost pleads, his eyes showing some semblance- a mimicry?- of real emotions.
"We do not want to hurt. But we have to send a message. It is our mission. Some people will get hurt."
Troy thinks for a moment, looking deeply troubled.
"Casualties of war. Impossible to prevent. Absolutely impossible to avoid but it is all worth it! We build to a better future. After all, a foundation has to be built on something.... and they'll be built on CM Punk. Dean Ambrose. Charlotte. Sasha Banks. Everyone else who dare cross us. Isn't that right, Luke?"
Harper is still staring into the distance. Troy laughs.
"The monsters are here."
Troy and Luke step aside, the camera panning down to show Bray sitting in his rocking chair.
"I remember. I remember the first words Abigail spoke to me."
Bray's head leans back, his eyes rolling around in his sockets as if he's become possessed.
"She told me, "Your voice will soothe their ears. And your head will lead their armies. You'll become their leader." And here we are now! My voice has lit the path for a lost generation. And my head, my head is building an army that will bring about the Apocalypse. The question is, who will join us and be saved? Sasha Banks. Charlotte. You have a choice to make. Choose wisely."
Bray laughs.
"Follow the buzzards!"
