J4S: Match Two: Triana vs Wyatts

[Vince McMahon]

MATCH TWO: GAUNTLET: Triana vs Bray Wyatt/Troy Motor/Luke Harper
If Wyatts win Triana joins the group!



RP Below!

[Triana]

I stand on the site of an old broken and fallen house looking out of a shattered window pain to the view of a nice neighborhood that surrounds the broken home. Desolate remains of the house some totaled and piled on top of each other. Parts still standing and part of it strewn across the grounds itself as if it just came down that way. Through the window if anyone saw me they would see the painted face of a girl that didn't fit in with the mundane society either. 

“Like this home I am different, I am broken but I am still standing. The reason is because my foundation is strong and my sanity was never there to begin with. I have parts of me that are shattered different from the views of this patriarch mundane social existence. From the fact of our leader being a cheeto to the Wyatts being fools that follow the word of a dead chick whom they say is me. The world is mad, the world is lost, but most of the world is filled with normalcy. That is what I see when I look out at the Wyatt family because they do not understand the real madness or darkness in so which they portray. I find them a bland mix, like putting ketchup on macaroni and cheese it just does not belong. I am the baddest, strongest woman in this company. I'm billed on the card not yet the main event where I so deserve to be, and yes I haven't been around lately. But this world is just so boring it is a repetitive bland and endless cycle of the same junk day in and day out. I look to this house and I think it has potential it can be built from the ground up, it can be a dark getaway when I need to not look upon the futile mistakes that walk this land. It could be my home and the normalcy of this area would be in jeopardy. See that is what the Wyatt family is thinking they are doing to me, they think they are putting me in jeopardy. I looked at the match card and it said if I lose I would join them. In no utter way have I agreed to these terms in no sense would I ever do that. If I lose this match and I am told to wander over to these fools I will walk up to Vince tell him to show me my contract and I will burn it. I will walk right out of this place because there is no chance in hell as Vince would say. I will not demean myself to the lowest common denominator of self worth. That is rock bottom to me, it is because I do not see the Wyatt family as a threat but it would tarnish everything I have worked for. It would break the reality of my own insanity. It would make me fall in line to normalcy. Now your asking how does joining the Wyatt family make me fall in line to normalcy? The answer is in the look of themselves. They talk of being different but the truth they are the common, ignorant type. They are just another social standard in society, blatantly rip offs of movies and real life country folk.” 

I take a step and I move from the debris of the house and I walk passed the window and look to the neighborhood of usual well taken care of homes and down the road I see a trailer park the usual site of where lower income people live. I stop and point to everything I've seen. 

“These homes and the trailers are the same. They are a cultural norm, a stereotypical fashion that has existed forever. That is exactly what the Wyatt family is. Let me check down the list for you so you understand. You can look to Bray Wyatt and Look Harper for instance because they have that typical country look and we all know about Sister Abigail's rocking chair. We know they have a cabin in the woods. That is standard hillbilly stereotypes and their dark demeanor? That comes from so many movies where the back woods guys are dark and ready to inflict pain upon others. Luke is the monster of a man that exists to be the strong silent type and follow the orders of his family. He is nothing more than a big beast, an animal, a pet to Bray and Troy. Luke follows them waiting for the word to do damage, to press their so called truth into people through physical beatings. So you basically have a backwoods bearded lurch trying to do intimidation which is the core of so many gimmicks, the core to most big men and their career. Luke is led on a leash and when they give the order that dog just follows it is typical standard not anything dark or relatively meaningful. Then you come to Bray himself the man who looks like a cross between misunderstood genius and Louisiana Bayou man of the swamps. Does that really mean something? Talking about the cogs and some higher presence? Drifting into a speech about how there is a presence about them, that he is supposed to be meaningful. His words are utter trash, I've seen only the same speech each and every time he blathers on. Now he tells me that I am Sister Abigail, he tells me that I will join them whether or not I want to. This is reality Bray, this is not some dark fantasy. I am not freaked by your words nor am I freaked about how you horror movie grudge walk in the ring. You are hopeless, the man with a verbal visage that tries to deploy language in a way to captivate the masses. Talking about cogs, or sheep. Trying to say that you know how this world works, how it all comes together. But you are part of this so called normality. You are a hindered stereotype that uses old ploys. Your style has been used, we all remember in the past a man named Raven, we saw him speak in such a way that delved from the mind and entranced. You are a second rate man of the microphone, and your mind is only tweaked by the same delivery week in and week out.” 

I look away from the mundane world of the homes in front of me. I turn to sit down on the grass looking at the broken home I smile as I am looking into it. 

“This is beauty, this is realism. Because nothing lasts, everything crumbles. Out of the three of you that stand before me the only man that presents himself as the truest is Troy Motor and I am not a fan of Troy Motor. Despite him looking like a fifty styles greaser with a bad attitude. I don’t know if he is going to hop on a motorcycle or go into an older diner and hit a juke box to change the song. What I do know is that Troy is not someone I see as a viable threat either. All I see him is another man to move from my path. Do you understand that? Troy is just another man. It is all of you, that is what stands in my way the only woman strong enough to stay around and the only woman willing enough to keep fighting and trying to get her chance to appear upon the grandest stage of them all. You talk about change, direction, and making things fit but you don't truly get it. You are the majority, and I am the minority. Broken bones, leaking blood, or torn muscles. That is what I will fight through, pain doesn't bother me because I am a realist. I am the woman without a stereotype because I am the only one here. I fight to live, I fight to survive and even when I am beaten and should probably walk away I rise up. Do you understand that Bray? Do you get that Troy? Can you do that Luke? A woman that fights forward without the same physical strength. I am no Sister Abigail, I am Triana. I am the woman that makes herself known. Look into that truth before your words splatter. Not a reincarnation of anyone. I am my own person and the damage I can do is not paranormal. I am the truth that you fear, the real darkness that plagues your world. For I am an unknown factor in a company plagued with men. I have dominated and I have fallen but in the end I stand back up. I use what means I have from my own ability to my trusty baseball bat if ever needed. I get why you look at me like you would Sister Abigail though because I have power, I know how to use it and I don't let anything stop me. But unlike her I am not a figment of your imagination, I am not some notarized spirit on mind or book. I hope when I crush all three of your dreams that you realize the reality. I hope you can fathom the power of one single woman and how her right to be herself is the ultimate strength because that is how I am going to defeat you.” 

I reach down to the ground and sitting beside me is a baseball bat that has the word Queen spray painted on it. I bring it into my hands as I look upon the bat as a mother would a child. 

“Three to one odds are fine by me because I can even them out if needed. I'm not a woman in fear but a woman ready to mark three graves. You men are by your own standard the definition of bringing pain but what happens when you will be left in ruins? What happens when the girl smaller than all of you takes the swinging not striking out on all three? Home run after home run until the game is set and all three are blown out of here from this truth. I could easily dash on a riddle, I could simply give you the psychotic chick speech but what fun would that be? No I give truth this time and I give you no hope when I speak. I give the world Triana the Mental Mami, The Demented Diva! From cheek to cheek I love to grin because I love violence too, I love that taste of blood as it sprays across my face and my tongue can taste it. It is a pleasure all it's own when you are able to take the life another placing it in your hands. That dream you have of winning, that hope of how numbers and physicality are the strength well that is not happening.” 

I get up as I walk out of the yard of the house dragging my bat on the ground. It comes across the sidewalk as you can hear the thump as it goes against the concrete. I stop in front of a yard where a Halloween decoration of a skeleton rests. I pick up the bat with both hands and I swing causing the head to come off going right toward the house. I continue my walk as I hold the bat in both hands gazing at it. 

“You've seen what I can do in the past. I will knock your heads off your shoulders because I fear no consequences. I fear nothing. I'm defiant til the bitter end, as I stated before I will not give you a chance but if you win then consider me gone. This ends one true way and that is me bringing you down. That ends with me enjoying what life I have. Can you say the same? Can you truly look me in the eye now that I have spoken words of honesty? You don't know what darkness, pain, and power are until you've met me in that ring. This bat says Queen and true I am the only female but I will make all three of you bow like the bitches you are. There is no more words, no more reason. Tread these waters carefully because truly you've got a woman scorned after you. Enjoy the final hours until the match begins for when I get in and the bell rings….simply put the voice in my head is saying swing batter batter swing!” 

After I said those words I licked the top of the bat and just started laughing. I continued to laugh as I held the bat in hands having sad my peace. One step closer to what I wanted and what I needed and I would be taking down a pack of men to see dreams come to reality. The woman of power will find her chance, I will find my opportunity to rise above this pack. For I knew a woman can be the Alpha.

[Jon Moxley / The Wyatt Family]

There was once a boy with a very very bad father. And the father owned an old shrimp boat, and he and the boy would go out on the boat, and he would beat the boy, and he would threaten to drown the boy. And one day, the abusive man died in a fire that had consumed his shrimp boat, and his son disappeared, and maybe he did finally make good on his threats to drown the boy. Or maybe the boy was possessed by something, some evil, ancient thing that molded the boy's anger as if it was clay and compelled the boy to finally strike back. Or perhaps the boy died in the fire as well.

***

Troy sometimes wonders what made Bray who he was. On the compound, there are whispers; stories, perhaps made up, perhaps true, that detail Bray's origins. Troy puts no stock in any of them. Whatever Bray physically is doesn't matter. He is a mere vessel. They all are.

He'd never felt compelled to ask Bray about his past; though Bray often dropped little hints, the extent of Troy's knowledge of Bray was that he had been taken in by the ever graceful Sister Abigail, who taught Bray everything. But Troy always wondered if Bray was lying. Perhaps the truth could shatter minds like the most brittle glass. But of course, it was only fleeting speculations in Troy's mind. He had faith in Bray, regardless of his origins.

***

Have you ever heard of the archangel of Death, Samael?

He is a seducer. An accuser. But most of all, Samael is a destroyer.

***

Luke Harper brought the axe down.

The log split easy, falling off of the stump into the pile around it. The sun is bright, but Harper is kept cool by the shade from the leaves of the tree, and so he continues his work. Tonight, he will build a roaring fire, and it will keep them all warm, and they will listen to Bray speak softly, reciting old anecdotes, some his own, some passed down by Abigail herself. And they all will feel the softest breeze, though the air in the room is still, and they will know that she is smiling her good fortunes upon them, for they work hard in her name, and they continue her path of righteousness.

For Abigail.

It was always for Abigail. The ghost of a smile, Bray had described her. A being so full of love, that even a demon couldn't sway her, and the demon became her student. In his vacant mind, Harper had the utmost faith in Bray Wyatt. For Abigail.


***


“Triana.... Triana..... Triana...”


***

There is an old parable that has been passed down from generation to generation for years and years, and it goes like this:

Fear kept the man from moving.

Whatever that damn thing was- a dark shadow in the corner- it had spoken to him! When he shone a light into the dark, the light didn’t penetrate the blackness.

“W-w-who the hell-“

“Quiet.” The scratching voice said, and the man was quiet. “You are the vessel. Such is written. You will bring the world to upheaval, as I have foreseen.” As the man had been quieted, he could say nothing. The shadow seemed to rustle and sway.

The man let out an unearthly scream as pain exploded all over his body; it felt as though hot lava flowed through his veins, burning him from the inside out. He fell to the ground, throat tearing from his screams, and he convulsed horribly, as the beast took control-

The room brightened. The main felt no more pain.

From his position, prone on the ground, the man could only look up at the pillar of light that had appeared. There was a whisper, an ethereal voice that brought with it peace.

“Welcome home, Bray.”

And thus Bray came home.


***

“Who are YOU?”

“You are not Triana. Oh no. No, no, no. You are Abigail now. Abigail’s spirit has taken you!”

“Who are you??”

“Who are you?”

“What am I? Hm?”


***

Everything is normal. Everything is fine.

I worry about nothing.

Because nothing’s on my mind.

Say it Troy.

Say it.

***

There’s a fight club of sorts every Saturday night at the compound. Possible recruits are brought forward to test their worth against each other, with the victor- usually- going up against Luke Harper. But tonight, tonight Troy would be the final boss.

Troy was taping up his fists securely in an empty room of the barn. He removed his shirt, and looked at himself in the dirty mirror. On his right pectoral, there was an old scar- like a burn scar- and Troy couldn’t quite remember where from, or what it even was-

It was time to fight.

Troy stepped out of his room into the dimly lit barn, the circle of people closing around him. His eyes met Bray’s who nodded. Troy put his fists up.


***

Troy isn’t sure quite what became of the other man. He was nearly a bloody pulp, Troy hammering the man with fists over and over again-

And then Troy looked at Bray.

There was a strange glitter in Bray’s eyes, an odd sort of shine. And something bubbles up in Troy, something like a memory-

Troy remembered.

Troy remembered everything. Who he was. How he had gotten there. His life before. The Knights. The New Age. Beno.

Then Troy looked down at the bloody face below him, and he tilted his head slightly. The jeers from the crowd of Bray sympathizers goaded him on into finishing it. One more well aimed punch, and that was it.

So Troy brought his fist down again.

And now he’s in the room with the mirror, examining his face; a bruise under his left eye, his lip was split. But he wasn’t worried about that. He’d noticed his facial hair had grown in more, more a beard than stubble. He noticed a scar along his arm that he didn’t remember. He looked thinner, almost more dangerous, like a hungry animal.

“Troy.”

The voice came from the door; Troy turned around to see Bray standing there, without his bowler hat. He had that wide smile on his face, something like pride.

“You remember?” Bray asked softly. Troy didn’t respond for a few moments, unsure of what to say. But he supposed honesty was the best policy.

“Yes.”

Bray chuckled, a sound that seemed to carry in the air even after he stopped. He stepped further into the room, maintaining eye contact with Troy, that strange glint in his eye. Troy realized it resembled something like triumph.

“Then all that has been written has come to pass. Abigail’s return is near. We are fulfilling the prophecy, Troy. And she is calling your name, Troy. Can you hear it?”

And, yeah, Troy did hear it.


***

“I have been known by many names. Seducer. Accuser.”

Bray steps out of the smoke, in front of the camera, a small smile on his face.

“Destroyer.”

In the distance, thunder clashes.

“Abigail showed me this. Abigail showed me a lot. Abigail took me in when nobody else would, and she showed me a new way. Abigail told me stories while I struggled to sleep; stories of warriors going into war bravely, but falling despite it. Happily families suddenly torn apart by an abusive father. Demons crashing to Earth in a brilliant blaze of fire. Men being possessed by shadows and saved by angels. I didn’t necessarily believe in all of them, but they stuck with me, they hit close to my heart, as if I was in the stories, as if the stories were of me. And then Abigail showed me an ancient leather bound book, letters I had never seen before carved into it; and as she read from the ancient pages, I felt something. Like a light was in my soul. And that light was brightening. And suddenly, Abigail taught me everything. And I listened, with rapt attention, and soaked everything up. And I grew into a man, and I had my brothers and my sisters. And then, everything changed. Abigail grew very sick.”

Bray looks down, eyes tightened shut, and he sniffed, as if holding back tears.

“That dragon had entered her body and taken hold. And so, Abigail wasted away, as we stood by, unable to do anything except comfort her, and let her know that her legacy would be continued with reverence. I remember one night, a night so deeply ingrained in my soul, that perhaps I shall never forget it. It was raining, and the rest had gone to sleep, but I stayed by her side, holding her cold, graying hand. And she spoke to me, voice weak. She said, ‘This is not the end, Bray. I will return with fury when the time comes. And with your help, the time will finally be ripe to take the machine down.’”

Bray smiles fondly, as if he’s back in that moment, perhaps in his head, he is.

“And she fell asleep. Three weeks later, Abigail died peacefully in my arms, with one final drawn out breath, eyes open but seeing nothing. And we felt the room grow cold. Her spirit had left us.”

Bray shakes his head, laughing.

“Deny it no more, Triana! Abigail is within you. And that is a good thing! The power she possesses, Triana..... I can teach you how to tap into that power. You will see the universe for what it is. You will be granted abilities beyond anyone’s comprehension. Why would you turn that down? You could have anything you want. You could have Joey, Triana. You could enlighten him. Strengthen your bond beyond any imagination. He can be the chosen patriarch of the New Family. You will both finally belong somewhere. Why deny this?”

Static overtakes the screen, and now Luke Harper and Troy are next to Bray. Troy is without his sheep mask.

“We don’t wish to hurt you, Triana. But perhaps we will finally awaken something in you. Perhaps, finally you will see the Light. And we do not take this lightly. We have prepared for this. They are at their fullest potential. Luke Harper is a monster, a powerhouse that cannot he stopped by anything. And he has been set free.”

Harper disappears from Bray’s side.

“And Troy. I’ve heard him get called the Diamond in the Rough. Troy Motor, full of untapped potential.”

Bray laughs. And Troy smirks.

“Troy has made progress in leaps and bounds, and now, no longer is he under my control. Troy is here of his own free will. I warn you, Triana. Be scared.

Troy has been set free.”

Troy disappears from Bray’s side, who begins laughing hysterically.

“Welcome home, Abigail.”