AN: Sorry for the delayed update! This should have been up a couple of days ago, but alas, three straight days of sleep deprivation were unfriendly to me. Enjoy the chapter-I've made it a bit longer than usual.

"Toward things that are not beautiful, I feel absolutely nothing." –The Magicians of Love, Episode 1


Bray Wyatt blew out his lantern and the lights turned back on.

"How does he do that?" Fandango whispered to Adam. "Does Sister Abigail work at the power plant or something?"

"Doesn't she work at the phone company?"

"The PHONE company?"

"Yeah, dude. How do you think he gets Internet over there? He lives in a swamp!"

"Maybe she has a split personality," Fandango mused. "Like, she works at the power plant during the day and the phone company at night. Like Tyler Durden."

Adam looked floored. "That's got to be it! No wonder these guys are so culty."

Corey sighed loudly.

At the door, Bray was flanked by Erick Rowan and Luke Harper, as usual. Erick cocked his head, still wearing his sheep mask. Luke grinned at Seth, who quickly hid his face behind Roman's broad back.

"What's he doing here?" Dean's blue eyes had gone icy.

"You've actually hired him as an errand boy?" Bray's eyes danced with mirth as he smiled his creepy smile at Dean. "It suits you, child."

There was a clank, and everyone's eyes widened as Dean put his precious tray of chicken down on the nearest surface.

"What did you say, huh?" Dean's expression was getting stormier and less stable by the second. Quickly, Seth stepped in front of Dean, blocking his view of the Wyatts, and began massaging his temples. "Ssh, calm down. What did we talk about before?"

"Bray Wyatt is just a hairy beach ball," Dean replied sulkily. "Who wears white pants after Labor Day."

"Right. What are you supposed to do with that?"

"Ignore," Dean answered obediently.

"Good. Give me a hug."

Dean rested his head on Seth's shoulder, but with one hand, he made a slitting motion over his throat as his eyes locked back on Bray. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Man, your hair does suck. I just got stabbed in the eye."

Meanwhile, Roman had marched over to them, his expression unfriendly. "What do you want, Wyatts?"

Bray stroked his long, frizzy beard. "I am here as a paying customer. My human vessel's facial hair is getting out of hand. I need to deal with this." He motioned to his disciples. "Theirs too."

Roman was baffled. "Does that kind of thing even matter to you?"

"It's uncomfortable, Roman Reigns. Of course it matters. Duh."

There was a cackle in the background that sounded a lot like Dean.

Roman sighed. "Fine. But Harper has to go."

Bray's eyes widened and he got up in Roman's face. "What did you say?"

Roman glared right back. "I said, Harper has to go. I have a dress code here, didn't you read the sign outside? No undershirts!"

Bray sneered. "I thought you were interesting! I thought you'd be different! But no, you're sheep just like the rest of them! Paying too much attention to the external. You're as plastic!"

Roman raised his eyebrows, but was otherwise unperturbed. "I don't want to hear it, Bray. This is my yard, and he's not coming in here unless he at least washes his shirt."

Bray looked at Luke's stained shirt and seemed to concede. "Go."

"But I just washed it a month ago!" Luke protested.

"You heard the boss. Wait outside."

"You'd think he'd offer to buy me a new shirt," Luke grumbled as he shot one last regretful glance at Seth and left.

Bray crossed his arms. "There, I've toed the line. Now what have you got for me?"

"Numbers," Roman replied, looking smug. "There's a line, and I don't want anyone else cutting in."

Bray's eyes narrowed, but a second later, his round face smoothed out. "I have a business proposition for you. Perhaps you'll reconsider my place in line."

Roman closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten.

"I know someone who will help you bring in the customers even after this initial buzz has died down. Someone beautiful. Someone benevolent. Someone powerful." Bray leaned closer. "Give your salon into the hands of Sister Abigail, Roman Reigns."

"Didn't we see the picture? I wouldn't call that beautiful," Fandango commented in a low voice.

Corey rolled his eyes. "Would you try to keep up? That was just John Cena being his sophomoric self."

"Well, no one's ever seen her! It's possible!"

Roman silenced his employees with a glare. "Thanks for the offer, but I already have my endorsers." He pointed at the couches. "Wait. In. Line. I have people to attend to. And take off that llama mask, redbeard."

Bray, Dean, and Seth countered him at the same time.

"It's a sheep!"

"It's a camel!"

"It's a lamb!"

"And you think I'm uneducated," Bray muttered, looking exasperated. But he nodded at Erick, who obediently removed the mask. The two of them moved to sit down.

Nonplussed, Roman continued, "And I don't want to see you doing any crab-walking to scare my customers, Bray, so don't get any ideas. And make sure that jumpsuit's clean, Rowan—those couches are WHITE."

Bray looked dejected. Satisfied with his handling of the situation, Roman returned to Stephanie. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her what look she wanted, he heard singing from the waiting area.

And we can't stop
And we won't stop
Can't you see it's we who own the night?
Can't you see it's we who 'bout that life?

And we can't stop
And we won't stop
We run things, things don't run we
Don't take nothing from nobody
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah

Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart
I just don't think he'll understand

Don't break his heart, his achy breaky heart
I just don't think he'll understand
Oh, oh, oh

It did not take long before the rest of the waiting room was singing along.

At Roman's aghast face, Triple H chuckled. "You didn't say he couldn't sing."

"Think of it as free entertainment," Stephanie added. "Why do you think we let him do it on live TV? He's a good singer." She snapped her fingers. "Now, back to my hair."


Seth and Dean had retreated to Dean's couch with the tray. "Who are his endorsers anyway?" Dean asked.

Seth was in the process of snagging a wing and dropped it. Slightly red-faced, he stammered, "He—he hasn't said a thing to me."

"Oh." With that, Dean resumed his feast. But then, he heard the clicking sound of a phone camera. He swiveled his head to find out who it was and found Seth huddled over his phone.

"What, man?" Seth looked up.

"Nothing. I thought someone was taking pictures of us."

Seth shrugged, his attention already back on his phone. "I didn't see a thing." He began typing furiously, not looking up again.

Dean started to pick up another wing, but he heard the clicking sound again. This time, he caught Seth lowering his phone.

He narrowed his blue eyes. "Why are you taking pictures of me?"

Seth looked like a deer caught in headlights. "N—no reason." Dean didn't fail to notice that his fingers were still dancing across the screen of his phone. He lunged for Seth.

"Greasy! Your fingers are greasy!" Seth screeched as he tried to keep his phone from Dean's grasp. But he was too slow, and Dean managed to snatch it away. Dean's jaw dropped when he saw the active app. And what was being broadcasted on it.

"Did you seriously just tweet that?!"


Daniel Bryan looked slightly put-out as he walked up the street to the large salon in the distance.

"Get rid of my hair or she'll chop it off for me, she says," he muttered. "Fine."

Since their wedding day, his wife, Brie, had been hinting that it was time to get rid of his beard and trim his hair. But for Daniel, this look had become part of him. It was his success story. He couldn't just get rid of the hair. So Brie had dropped the subtlety and gone for the jugular. Afraid of what she could do with a pair of giant scissors, Daniel had finally promised that he would support his friends in the Shield and let them deal with his hair. Roman at least looked like he would know what he was doing.

He smiled and waved at the crowd in front of the salon door, who cheered. Pumped, he began jumping up and down and Yes-ing as he always did before entering the place.

Adam Rose accidentally bumped into him with an armful of pins. "Sorry, dude! I—" Adam broke off as he saw who he had hit.

Daniel did not like the grin that appeared on Adam's face. He liked Adam's next words even less. "Hey Fandango! Look who we have here…"

Fandango was at Adam's side in a flash, twirling a pair of scissors. Now both of them were wearing identical evil grins.

Daniel gulped. "HELP!"

AN again: Special shoutout to one of my favorite bands, Bastille, for their cover of We Can't Stop, which is the version Bray sings in this chapter.