View Full Version : Round 1: Henry Dylan vs. “Good God” Kevin Powers

04-20-12, 06:57 AM
Roleplay period starts on Wednesday, April 25 and ends Tuesday, May 1. 2 roleplay max in this round.

04-30-12, 11:04 AM
ACW star Henry Dylan sits on a wall outside seemingly enjoying a breezy afternoon alone with nobody but a cameraman for company. The wind blows through his brown mullet causing strands to disrupt his vision, yet he sits still as a statue without so much as blinking. Before long he takes a moment to breathe in heavily, visibly enjoying a taste of the cool, fresh air and scratches the bottom of his beard before addressing the camera.

So this is the big tournament they’ve all been talking about. First of all I must admit straight away that I am actually excited to be part of such a ‘must-see’ event. Simply being able to say that I, Henry Thomas Dylan am involved in a competition of such honour and prestige is enough to see me off to sleep at night wearing a beady grin that stretches from my right ear all the way over to my left. Right now I’m sleeping like a baby without a bad dream in sight.

His voice is content. Henry speaks with a touch of joy that somehow doesn’t quite feel natural coming from his mouth.

Here I am taking part in a tournament that represents the pinnacle of my chosen profession. To think that just a few short years ago I was spending my time teaching children in a classroom and grading papers. Yet look at me – look at old Mr. Dylan now – a wrestler. One fine day not too long ago it finally dawned on me that I am the master of my own fate and in my hands I hold the power to make even my wildest fantasies come true. I made a change and I chose the right option. I’ve got to tell you; right now I might just be the happiest man alive.

Henry smiles into the camera, his teeth nearly masked by his beard. He glances down at the ground and adjusts his position on the wall.

I think it all really came to a head for me when those names were plucked from a hat like babies from a womb, kicking, screaming and each one immediately demanding attention. The line-up and all the overhyped big names and supposed heavy hitters involved read almost like a who’s who of professional wrestling past and present.

And then my name was drawn in the fourth and final bracket and I almost exploded with the sheer excitement of it all. I have to be honest and say that it’s practically given me a semi just thinking about it now. What would fate have in store for me? Only a near seven foot tall monster by the name of “Good God” Kevin Powers. My oh my, aren’t you a big boy?

Dylan struggles to contain a surprising squeal, which instead comes out as a small chuckle.

It excites me further to think that I’ll be stepping into the squared circle against such a big, strong powerful man with career accomplishments that make my own modest successes pale into insignificance. I’m up in the first round against you, a man who is no stranger to title belts and has all the physical attributes to go deep into the whole tournament. Your average outsider might look at this battle and think there can be only one winner, and on paper it certainly isn’t me.

Whilst I was busy marking a C minus on a piece of homework Kevin Powers was kicking arse and taking names all over the place. We may not be too far apart in terms of age, but in terms of experience I can’t hold a candle to you Kevin. On top of that you’re bigger, stronger and perhaps even faster too. Who am I to square up to a man mountain such as Kevin Powers?

Therein lies my own biggest strength Kev. Is it okay if I call you Kev? I’m just being friendly is all, and if we’re going to try and beat the hell out of one another I figure we should at least be social about it. So Kev, the odds are all stacked up in your favour. People aren’t predicting that some guy they never heard of called Henry is going to chop the big oak down to size, and that’s exactly the way I like it.

I’m coming at you with everything I have and perhaps even a little bit more on the night. I have the element of surprise in my corner and a trick or two up my sleeve. I’m not going to dare sit here and insult you by speaking boldly on how I am going to tear you apart and toss you from pillar to post. I’m not issuing any threats that end with you lying face down on the canvas in a pool of your own crimson blood. I’m just here to wish you the very best of luck in our bout Kev.

You might be surprised how much you’re going to need it.

Dylan leers forward as if staring a hole right through the camera lens, a wicked smile etched on his face.

You don’t frighten me, give me nightmares or keep me awake at night. I know I have to face you and I already told you how well I sleep because I can beat you. Once upon a time you made your name but now your star has faded into obscurity. I'm here in this tournament to make my name for the first time. I’m a man who has made a whole lot of choices that have led me to where I am right now, because at the end of the day all that any life boils down to are choices made and opportunities taken.

I can see my opportunity ahead, and I’ve already made my next choice. So I guess I’ve said my piece Kev, and I’ll sure do the rest of my talking in the ring. I’m not a near seven foot monster like you with power to burn, nor am I a bloodthirsty savage from Samoa, I’m not an undead monster who feels no pain, I’m not a hardcore extremist who will sacrifice my body at every turn and I’m certainly not an arrogant male model wannabe who just so happens to lace up a pair of boots and call myself a wrestler…

I’m just plain Henry, and it’s my pleasure to be here.



“Now that wasn’t so bad was it?”

Henry Dylan shifted his focus beyond the camera and through to the man, or rather boy behind it. The boy was perhaps in his early teens with short hazelnut brown hair and dressed in casually scruffy looking attire, and his timid green eyes still showed signs of tears not long past. Dylan smiled and leered towards the boy with his hand outstretched.

“Did you hear me Kyle? I said that it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Henry’s manner was polite as ever, hints of his British accent rolling from his tongue as he spoke. The boy – Kyle – swallowed hard before responding.


“I’m sorry? What was that?” Dylan leaned in closer and stared right into Kyle’s eyes with just a flicker of menace.

“No…it was fine.” Kyle stammered. “Can I…can I go home now Mr. Dylan? P-please?” Those green eyes looked set to tear up again as Henry watched on intently before further extending his right hand in the kids direction.

“Of course you can Kyle. Our little party here is over after all. Now here – take my hand.” Kyle swallowed hard again before slowly reaching out his petite right hand and carefully placing it in Henry’s.

“But Mr. Dylan…what about th-this?” Kyle’s glaze shifted down towards the floor and more specifically to the handcuffs around both of his ankles, rendering it nigh on impossible to walk away. Henry too switched focus for a second before answering.

“Kyle my dear boy. It’s like I was just saying, everybody makes their own choices in life and you are certainly no exception to that rule. Now do you truly want to go home?”

“Y-yes Sir, Mr.Dylan.” Kyle sniffed loudly and fought bravely against the urge to cry.

“Good. Now take your left hand and reach into your left pocket.” Henry’s voice quietened to a near whisper as he spoke, seeming to take a fair measure of pleasure in watching the helpless youngster in front of him. Kyle looked down to his left with a flash of bewilderment before reaching into his pocket and feeling a small metallic object which he pulled out.

A key.

His bewildered look turned to shock as he held the key in his little hand and looked up at Henry almost in awe.

“What are you waiting for Kyle? You’ve chosen to go home now, haven’t you? A decision you could have made at any point had you not wanted to stay here and help me shoot this video. That was your choice.” Henry flashed a toothy grin beneath his beard. “I should say that I personally feel you made an excellent cameraman.”

“How…” Kyle started but immediately tailed off, instead opting to unlock the cuffs around his ankles and stepping away freely. He looked up at Dylan, the man who had picked him up from school with a friendly smile.

“Take care kid.” Just like that Henry turned and headed for his car, pleased with his promo. Pleased with his choice of camera boy. Ready to take on the world, ready to take down Kevin Powers.

Ready for the Ultratitle.

04-30-12, 05:36 PM
Prologue: With the ULTRATITLE tournament in full swing, 'Good God' Kevin Powers did not have any time to spare. Striking a deal with the devil, or as he calls him his former boss, Powers made his way to conduct some much needed research on his first opponent Henry Dylan. Typing away at his computer in his Oak Brook home, Powers searched the Internet for any and all information he could find on Henry Dylan, but there wasn't much to search for. Bits here, pieces there, and scraps along the way, but Powers continued on until he could find whatever he could on Dylan and study him so that he knew his every move and any possible Freudian slips. From websites to news articles, ESEN hype and even a few Internet broadcast where experts were picking the winners from the ULTRATITLE bracket. Powers finally realized he has found more than enough. It was time to get down to business the only way he knew possible.

CUTTO: A black screen appears on the screen and red lettering starts to appear.

The Odds Are Against You

Fade In: The shot opens up within one of the many Lush Café establishments own and operated by 'Good God' Kevin Powers. Moving towards the left, the shot shows a sports-like memorabilia of different Chicago teams as well as some personal 'ego-type' posters announcing Powers at arena he fought at in the past with such organizations like CSWA and EWI.

CUTTO: Moving past a group of people enjoying their specialized coffee and liquor based drinks; the camera picks up on Kevin Powers sitting in one of the booths looking over his iPad.

KP: Bring the camera closer I want to show you something.

The camera moves in a bit and catches two grapplers fighting it out in the squared circle.

KP: Do you see that? Now, I want you to take a special close look because the match I just showed you is the ONLY history of wrestling I have ever found on one Mr. Henry Dylan. Now, why is this important? I'm gonna build up to that, but I just wanted to point out that I did in fact find a match on my first round opponent. That's right ... research is key and isn't it amazing I'm doing research?

Powers puts down his iPad and takes a drink from his coffee mug near-by before continuing on.

KP: Then again, it shouldn't be such a shock considering I've been out of the business for quite a while now. Sure, there's been a glimmer here and a blink of an eye there, but overall I've been away only because I really never had a reason to come back. I did my fighting, I did my time, and I just came to the conclusion that what I was doing was flat out pointless. "Why?" I said. I made enough money and with proper investing I could easily retire a happy and well-healed man. So, what do I do? Gather my winnings and open up a chain of Lush Café shops which only the best coffee and liquor can be purchased and enjoyed. (holds out arms) Happy living and a fantastic ending in the life of Good God right?

Kevin looks around for a moment and then drops his arms and gives the camera a deadpan look.

KP: Yeah right!

Kevin takes another drink from his coffee mug before continuing on.

KP: I get pestered by visitors and called into coming BACK into the business for a chance at the all-mighty ULTRATITLE! I mean, I know I didn't think I had a chance since I've been away for so long, but MY GOD! If I listen to the so-called EXPERTS in our industry today I might as well just hang'em up right damn now! To them I'm not even a book, a chapter, a page, a footnote ... NOTHING! I had the PLEASURE of listening to a Internet broadcast and when they started to talk about my match they didn't even HESTITATE to pick Henry Dylan as the winner!

At this point several of the patrons look towards Powers with a bit of worry on their face. Powers notices this and makes a motion towards his staff to start serving up whatever the customers want. He "proclaims happy hour!" to the delight of the crowd before continuing on.

KP: Hell, I started to question myself! "Is this Dylan that good? Have I been away too long? Is the legacy of Good God not that good at all?" AND that leads to me to today with this one match I found and believe me I had to dig to find this one. Now, don't get me wrong! He put a whoopin' on Paul Sanders out of All-Star Championship Wrestling, but that one match ... THAT'S THE HISTORY to which those hack experts didn't even ponder the thought of the match? Who's going to win? Henry Dylan or Kevin Po ... OH HENRY DYLAN OF COURSE! I think they've been in for what? Five years? About as long as I've been OUT of the business? You could only tell! I mean, I wanted to call in and ask them if they wanted me to send them a pack of smokes after the way they came to climax saying Good God so many damn times in a row! "GOOD GOD! GOOD GOD! GOOD GOD!" REALLY? I think the one guy with the high pitched voice actually did and cleaned himself off with his ma ma's panties! Not the SHARPEST bunch of experts in the toolshed, but they're still TOOLS!

Snickers and laughter can be heard from some of the customers which gets Powers to turn around and say "True Story!"

KP: (looking back and now pointing towards the camera) Let me introduce you Couch Wrestlers to exactly who the Hell I am! I'm the Double G KP! When I hit the scene, I had so many titles Blingin' before 'Bling' was cool! I'm that USDA Grade A PRIME piece of man your women Google for! Hell, I still got Teri Melton callin' me and I'm really not proud of that! I'm FULL of US Steel and Sex Appeal! I'm the one who had a Tequila shot match with Eli Flair and we tore the house down while we was getting tore up from the floor up! Matter of fact, at one point, Lindsay Troy slept with every promoter just so she could get a chance to take away my catch phrase "Ayatollah of Rum and Cola" and make it her very own. Well, jokes on her cause I've got PLENTY more catch phrases and all she got was PLENTY sore and pretty much proved that she's nothing more than a two bit ... well, you know where I’m going with that!

Powers pauses for a moment and dips his head as if he's collecting his composure, but then suddenly looks up.

KP: I'm 'GOOD GOD' KEVIN FREAKIN' POWERS! I'm not a footnote in your five year old history books! I got MAD history and I'll be MORE than happy to bring it to a front when I face Henry 'I'm a teacher looking for a pet' Dylan. So you was a school teacher was ya? Well, to tell you the truth I never really cared for teachers and I have a great reason why. It wasn't for their teaching ability because they've got it. It wasn't for their motivation to teach because you have to have daily motivation in order to do that profession from day to day, but I've known a few to bend the rules a little. You've seen them on TV and you've heard about them on the Internet. Teachers bedding students. Is that how you used to teach Mr. Dylan? Did you offer your special students a chance for an A, but only if they would do some extra credit favors?

Powers closes his eyes and lets out a fake shiver.


One of Kevin's staff comes over to him and starts to whisper something in his ear which Powers says back "Tell him I'll call him later"

KP: (looking back at the camera) Dylan, I don't know that much about you and I wasn't really too sure about coming back into the business, but since there is now a POINT TO PROVE I now have the motivation I NEED to pick right back up where I left off and GOOD GOD that's bad news for you! From when you hear that music pop "Can't You Trip Like I Do" until you feel the three count after you K-K-KISS THE CANVAS ... THOSE will be the WORST moments in your post-educator life. And when that happens, and it will happen, all the little children you ever taught will jump up out of their chairs in unison and in one heroic cry they'll say "Thank you Good God! Thank you Double G KP! Thank you for coming back and beating up that nasty Mr. Dylan!" I just hope one doesn't say you touched him where he pees ... did you? Again ... eww.

Powers reaches for his iPad again and watches some of the wrestling promo Dylan recently cut on him. Then, with a snicker, looks at the camera.

KP: So, Dyl ... can I call you Dyl? I know you're all antsy being the new kid on the block, but you better understand something real quick ... this old dog ain't ready to die just yet cause I got MANY a tricks up my sleeve. And, you can best believe that I will pull out all the stops in our match just to ensure at you know, the fans know, those watching at home know, and those experts practicing erotic asphyxiation on one another know! I AM 'GOOD GOD' KEVIN POWERS and it isn't best to ask what Good God can do FOR you, but pray to GOD on what I'm about to do TO you!

With one last sip from his coffee mug, Powers takes great pleasure with the coffee taste.

KP: Ah, a quad Bacardi Cappuccino. A Lush Café original. See ya later Dylly.


05-01-12, 04:01 PM
CUTTO: A black screen appears on the screen and red lettering starts to appear.

The Odds Are Against You

Fade In: The shot opens up to the set of the Wrestling Insider where, just yesterday, former CSWA interviewer M. Harry Smilek interviewed Shamon for his upcoming match against "the Untamed Fury" Lucious Starr in the ULTRATITLE tournament. Today, CSWA alumni Rudy Seitzer is taking over the set for another key interview.

Seitzer: Good afternoon wrestling fans! I'm Rudy Seitzer, and welcome to another installment of the ULTRATITLE Insider! It is our continuing coverage of in-depth looks of all the potential contenders competing for a chance to claim the most sought after prize in all of wrestling ... The ULTRATITLE! My first guest needs no introduction, but he's gonna get one anyway. He has held numerous titles in his career, but has been on a five year sabbatical from the sport. He is the former member of PLR and The Dark Carnival, the leader of the Powers Generation, The Double G KP himself ... "Good God" Kevin Powers!

CUE: "(Can't You)Trip Like I Do by Filter and The Crystal Method. With his music playing overhead, Powers steps out from behind the curtain and heads over towards the desk interview area where Seitzer is waiting on him.

Seitzer: "Good God" Kevin Powers. My goodness! How long has it been? Five? Six years? It's been a long time since anyone has seen you in the ring. How's life been for ya champ?

Powers: Rudy Freakin' Seitzer. Got a feeling this is really one of your Grapevine bits to where you're gonna try to spread more rumors, but that's not gonna happen because I'm bringing the blunt force truth and it's gonna hurt a few people.

Seitzer: Ha ha! Yes! The Grapevine. That's the Powers I know. So what have you been up to these days? I hear you've opened up a chain of coffee and alcohol shops. Can't stay away from the hard stuff can ya?

Powers: Yes, believe it or not, there is life after wrestling and I'm making a very healthy income, but what's more important is for you to pipe it Seitzer! Pleasure is pleasure, but business is business and the ULTRATITLE is my business right now.

Seitzer: That's right the Holy Grail of wrestling the ULTRATITLE! I see you drew ACW's Henry Dylan and ...

Powers: Say it.

Seitzer: Well ...

Powers: Come on.

Seitzer: Um ...

Powers: You can do it.

Seitzer: Hey, he's the new thing on the scene and you, my friend are ...

Powers: Be VERY careful on how you word your next sentence Seitzer otherwise liquid food will be the only type of food you'll be able to enjoy for a month of Sundays.

Seitzer: To be fair ... you've been gone for a long time and there's been a new breed of wrestler that has invaded the sport and they are very good. It isn't the old days where you just come out and brutalize your opponent with tables, broken glass, and thumb tacks. Isn't that right Emperor of Hardcore?

Powers: Back then a statement needed to be made and, ironically, it stuck! Now you got people like Dylly who toss their teaching job to the side thinking they've got what it takes to get into the ring and for what? Just so he can impress a few of his students and hope they'll stay after school to praise him time and time again during detention? These new brats that have popped on the scene have spit in the wind to history and don't know a damn thing about what was built for them to just come in and reap the rewards the lazy sons of ...

Seitzer: Hey now they know all about history. They know about Dan Ryan, Eli Flair, Deacon, and ...

Powers: Do they? How about Steve Radder? Eddy Love? Mark Vizzack? Hell, how about GUNS? Since I've been paying attention again I haven't heard those names dropped. Matter of fact the ONLY thing I've heard is if you've got a cool nickname, such as myself, they'll have to muffle the mic just so they don't blow out everyone else's eardrums from screaming it in ecstasy so many damn times.

Seitzer: So you've heard the Internet broadcast for the tournament as well.

Powers: YOU DAMN RIGHT! And what does fancy pants Dylan know? Who the Hell does he think he is? The little engine that could? He thinks he can climb this mountain and claim victory just because everyone is picking him to win this match? Hell, they're practically giving him a first round bye and he's BUYING into it hook, line, and sinker! Let me inform you about one Mr. Henry Dylan. He obviously don't know me like that because all he did was go back to his educator roots, formed a hypothesis, flip through a couple of pages, and come to a rash conclusion that is only going to backfire and blow up in his face! He says I don't frighten him? I'm gonna scare the HELL out of him when he gets in that ring with his cocky swag thinkin' he's all that because there's ONE THING I enjoy doing better than anything.

Seitzer: Drink?

Powers: (shakes head in a negative fashion) Cute, but not quite. I enjoy proving people wrong when they feel that they can overlook me. Look, I lived a simple life. Got some military time, brought into the business by "the Apocalypse" Gabriel Poe, and had a successful run. Got out ... and the rest is financial success for me.

Seitzer: But that's the question Kevin. WHY come back now? Is it because of the ULTRATITLE or is there another motive for your madness. I've actually heard a few reports that you're in this tournament for another ulterior motive. Is there any truth in that? I hear ... that you're actually looking for something for a former boss. Is that true?

Powers looks at Seitzer for a moment then looks at the camera and mouths something which seems to say "I hate you".

Powers: The only thing I'm out to get is my respect back and to do that I have to tear through Henry Dylan. Bad news for him because he just happened to get picked first and his road to the ULTRATITLE stops in the first round because he is in for the USDA Grade A PRIME ass whippin' of his life HAND DELIEVERED by The Double G KP. And why you ask? Because he needs to be made an example and THAT MESSAGE needs to spread to everyone else in the tournament

Seitzer: And that is?

Powers: I will not be taken lightly ever again! Praise it Seitzer! Praise it for Dylan because ASK NOT what Good God can do FOR you, but rather pray to God on what I'm about to DO to you! THAT, is what Dylly-boy needs to be asking himself right about ... (tilts head to the side) now.

Seitzer looks at Powers for a few moments to see if he is going to say anything else. Getting the silent cue, Seitzer turns and looks at the camera.

Seitzer: Well, there you have it from the mouth of Good God himself! We're gonna take a break, but when we return we'll have more of a run down for the upcoming first round in the ULTRATITLE tournament so stay tuned and don'cha DARE go away!


05-02-12, 02:24 AM

Take a good look into my eyes. Soak in Kev. Look at me you self-proclaimed "Emperor of Hardcore", and by the way the late nineties called and would kindly like their nickname back.

Henry Dylan is looking well dressed in a smart but likely modestly priced grey suit with brown leather patches on the elbows. Classic look. He sits behind an oak wooden desk with an assortment of stationary neatly sorted into colour-coordinated mugs and containers. The camera slowly zooms in on Henry Dylan’s fierce, quietly intimidating dark brown eyes. He is stone-faced, his usual mechanical grin noticeable only by its absence. His tone is sombre and not easy to judge.

Do these eyes look for even one second like those of a man who is easily worried? Can you sense any lingering doubt of lack of self-confidence? Kindly allow me to answer for you – No, they do not and no you most certainly do not.

I’m facing the single biggest match of my infant career against a man who is well known in this circle of the industry, but yet I can honestly place my hand over my heart and declare that I am completely and unequivocally sure of my victory. I don't have ten million ridiculous nicknames but what I do have is a carefully formulated strategy that guarantees victory. I didn't do a lazy quick search and find one match of yours to scout, I looked into your history and I can see directly into the very depths of your very soul Kev. You're a weak man dwelling on the opinions of one or two experts that predicted an outcome that wasn't in your favour, oblivious to the fact that most people still actually think you will advance. I guess you really can't see the wood for the trees. You're a forty one year old man who still talks like and wishes he were in his twenties. You rambled through an interview with Rudy Seitzer like a broken record without actually saying anything of note. Your best days are behind you, and I'm the man standing in front of you readily armed with a lethal injection, willing to insert and able to put you out of your misery. I am the present for a man stuck living in the past, and make no mistake - I will euthanise your wrestling career and do so with a friendly smile on my face. Like this one:

Dylan flashes his finest smile to the camera, looking like the twisted love child of Chuck Norris and The Joker with his beard and widespread grin. The smile then vanishes as quickly as it appeared as Dylan cocked his head to his left.

It can be difficult, nigh on impossible to judge a man who has been away from the ring for so long. Even for a keen eyed observer and student of the game such as myself. As soon as the draw was made I did my research and in a matter of hours knew just about all there was to know about the glorious career of one “Good God” Kevin Powers. I looked up each of your title victories, the date you won them, how you won them and eventually lost them. I did my due diligence and looked deeply into your strengths and weaknesses. I even checked up on your facebook fan page, and thank you so much for accepting my friend request. I knew that using a fake account and setting my profile picture to a lingerie model would do the trick. You can safely say that I did my homework, which brings me to you.

I couldn’t help but laugh when I went online and saw your poor excuse for a promotional video hyping yourself. I saw an aging man desperately trying to talk a big game. Trying and failing to convince the world that he can still go, that he still has the it factor to succeed in a wrestling ring. I saw a hopeless man trying to Google my name at the last moment in an attempt to scout my arsenal. Did it ever occur strange to you that for all your apparent research you could find no more than one single match I have competed in? That’s not chance my dear friend, that right there only formulates one part of my advantage. You’re exactly the same as the countless youths who tried to get their homework assignments written up the night, even the hour before they were due in. You’re no different to the multiple kids cramming in some last minute revision that is never likely to cut the mustard when it comes time for the crucial examination.

You’re pathetic Kev.

I must thank you however for creating your own shortened version of my name as I did yours. As I previously stated, it really does make me feel better being on good jovial terms with an upcoming opponent. I suppose I could be considered somewhat unique in that regard. Dyl or Dylly, whichever you decide to stick with once you’ve made up your mind it’s all fine by me. Some kids at school when I was growing up used to call me Hen, but I must admit I never really took to it. It’s strange but infinitely fascinating how I can implant a passing suggestion inside your little mind and you find yourself powerless to oblige it, however mocking your tone may be. You should see Kev that I am cool, calm, collected and very much in control of our pleasant exchange whether you choose to willingly accept that or not. It’s kind of cute in a way. I sat and watched you fumble your way through your promo reaching for something – anything – that you could use against me. Some vague accusation about me touching children in inappropriate places is hardly enough to pass water these days. I was a teacher and a fairly good one in my own humble opinion – not a priest.

The shot finally pans back out to a complete body shot again as Dylan reaches into his top pocket and pulls out a small wooden pipe, checking inside for just the right amount of tobacco. He calmly sets it alight before puffing slowly and rhythmically, rewarding himself with the perfect aroma and a cool smoke. He glances back towards the camera and continues speaking.

That brings me to the saddest point of all, a timeless but telling tale of a man failing to move with the times. You’re long past your sell by date Kev. All of my research could not tell me exactly what you had left in the tank today, for that key information I had to wait patiently for you to reluctantly show your face. You tried biding your time in hope that I might not show up, and I’m sure it was no mere coincidence that you appeared almost immediately after my own opening promo went live, as though you’re a gambler concealing a poor hand. I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment when I saw the great “Double G KP” sitting in front of a computer at a cheap looking café and drinking coffee like a layman. Like an average Joe nobody. Dare I say it? I think I will. Like a has-been.

Your jokes are dusty and fragile antiques and your trash talk is cringe worthy. Your very tone and delivery creaks like a door in need of a good oil. I haven’t heard too many men in their forties crying out “Eww gross” in an over the top manner, it only takes me back to my days teaching classes full of sweet innocent schoolgirls. Good God Kev – you’re irrelevant.

You’re not the first man to fall victim to such a fate and you certainly will not be the last. At least you can look back on a decent run before the wrestling world mercilessly caught up and breezed right past you. I can only assume I am the first to draw your attention to this harsh but true realisation. Whilst you’ve been busy selling cheap coffee to make a living the wrestling business has evolved and moved on to fresh and exciting new places.

Long gone are the days when cheap accusations are good enough to be considered impressive trash talk. The times when RAISING YOUR VOICE at seemingly RANDOM INTERVALS to highlight KEY POINTS have gone the way of the dodo I’m afraid, and sadly your once glittering career is about to follow suit. Truth be told I haven’t heard a competitor speak like you since my Great Granddads eighteenth birthday party…and yes that was my attempt at humour. Clearly I would have been unable to attend my Great Granddads eighteenth, though I would imagine it was a cracker. Perhaps humour is not my strong point, but it sure as hell isn’t yours either.

Seems to me that right now in 2012 your strength is in running a string of cafés, and in all fairness there is no shame in that whatsoever. Everybody needs to make a living somehow, and it is now crystal clear to me and the entire wrestling world that you’re no longer any more than a six foot ten inch coffee salesman. I will take pleasure in being the man to bring that ton of bricks down on you when we meet in the ring. Don’t fight against the inevitable Kev, do the right thing and make the correct decision. Swallow your pride and accept defeat before returning to what your life has become.

Make. The. Right. Choice.

Evolution occurs whether we like it or not, and it can be a strict mistress. Sometimes you have to keep moving forward or father time ticks away and you become no more than a forgotten footnote of the business in which you once made your name.

Dylan pauses for a moment to ponder, looking up to the heavens above and gently placing his pipe down on the desk in front of him.

You can look back on your time and know you’ve achieved many things Kev, but I’m the messenger that’s here to tell you how winning the Ultratitle simply won’t be one of them. I know you’ve won a load of title belts in days gone by, I even said so much last time I addressed you but I can understand your need to repeat a few damn near forgotten accomplishments on your resume. I know you have a never-ending list of nicknames, each one dumber and more of a stretch than the last. But the fact is that this match isn’t taking place in your glory days because they are long gone and never coming back. You’ll just have to deal with that, and I know it’s hard. Right now I don’t think there’s a soul alive who pities you more than I do – but my pity doesn’t grant you a win. SHOUTING LIKE THIS at irregular INTERVALS DOESN'T buy a win. Questioning or attempting to insult any of the few experts that dared to predict against you marching to victory doesn’t score you a three count. Referencing Eli Flair, Teri Melton or Lindsay Troy out of sheer transparent desperation doesn’t legitimise your modern day self or give the people watching a reason to mark out and it certainly does not hand you a victory. Cheap and unimaginative insults or schoolgirl like noises don’t equal “win”.

Enjoy your coffee Kev. I sincerely and from the bottom of my heart wish you nothing but the very best of luck in that venture. Now that I’ve seen you I can finally be convinced of my own superiority, and that is one ***** of a relief. After all I’m just Henry and nothing more, but you…you’re no longer relevant to the wrestling industry. Period.

So dust off your old boots and get ready for one final match. Hear the roar of a live crowd one last time before taking your crushing defeat like a man and walking out of there with your head held high. Defeating you is my choice, and it will be my distinct pleasure to do so.




“So what have you go there son?”

Henry Dylan stands tall over a teenage boy in a large supermarket. The child is around the age of sixteen and dressed in baggy denim jeans and an even baggier black hoody, gazing up at the mysterious man addressing him. Henry reaches out in a flash and takes a firm grasp of the boys wrist, startling the youngster.

“Yo what the ****? You can’t touch this man!”

“Calm down there MC Hammer. No need to get all worked up and agitated,” Henry started and flashed a friendly grin “…I just couldn’t help but notice you place that DVD down your hooded top back there and it got me thinking – is that really what you want to do here?”

“What the...?” The boys shock was evident both visually and audibly in his adolescent tones.

“Tell me son,” Henry’s voice reduced almost to a whisper “…what is your name?”

“What da' **** does it matter to you man? I don't even know you or nothing.” The teenage boy stood firm and unafraid as Dylan looked down at him square in the eyeballs.

"Okay I get it. You don't know me and see no reason to give me your name, but allow me to ask you this one question - how are you going to get past the security buzzers without setting off the alarm?"

"You stupid yo?" the boy scoffed. "All it takes is removing the metallic sticker and you're golden. Now leave me the hell alone."

"Oh really?" Henry opened up his free hand to show the thin plastic covered metal sticker the boy had already removed from the DVD. "You mean like this one?" The child's baby blue eyes widened at the sight before him. He motioned as if to speak but Henry cut him off before he could begin. "I may have seen you dump this little beauty over in the frozen food aisle just now. I might well be aware that this isn’t your first time stealing...is it Jesse?”

“Dude how d…”

“I know a lot about you son.” The trademark menace shone through in Henry’s raspy voice. “I know you’ve already made some choices that are destined to lead you down a slippery path. So ask yourself – is this really the life you want?” Dylan extended his arm and took a firm grasp of Jesse’s lower back as if pulling him closer, more than enough to startle the delinquent who raised his own voice and battled free of the unwanted attention.

“Get the **** away from me man or I’m gonna mess you up yo.” The child was brave and tough for his age but Henry could sense his fear. Almost taste it on his tongue. He liked it.

“Very well Jesse, sounds to me as though you’ve made up your mind…now you be on your way then.” Henry took a step back and smiled before turning around and heading off in the opposite direction. Jesse turned and checked his surroundings before putting his head down and heading for the exit. As he made it there he was sure not to glance up at the well-built guard standing and minding the security barriers.

Without any hesitation he stepped through them when suddenly and much to his surprise...the alarm went off, beeping and wailing loudly. The last sound he wanted to hear at that moment.

He panicked. Jesse instinctively ran and before the guard could move he had already built up a hefty lead. He kept on running until he ran out of breath, too frightened to turn around for fear that a guard or cop was right behind him. Eventually he turned down a blind alley and stopped to regain both his breath and his composure. He swore and wondered how had that happened. After all he had removed the tag and so the alarm going off should have been impossible.

That’s when he felt a sticky security tag stuck firmly in place...on his lower back.

Somewhere Henry Dylan was still smiling. Just as he was certain he would be after he took care of Kevin Powers and advanced to round two.

The coveted Ultratitle was well and truly locked in his sights.