“A lot of the things people say about me…are true.”

We open up on the back deck at Centurion’s luxury cabin in the Poconos. There, we see Centurion sitting on a patio chair with a cigar in his right hand. He rocks the chair back and forth as he pensively speaks.

“I am old. Hell, I've been old for six years. My best days are in the distant past. I can't keep up with the youthful vibrancy of the new generation. If you want to use the term “washed up” to describe me, well…there isn't much I'm going to say or do to convince you otherwise…”

Centurion takes a drag of his cigar before exhaling the smoke and placing the cigar down in an ashtray next to him.

“Which is why I want to thank whoever it was that decided to put me in a match against Michael Graves.”

Centurion stands up from the chair and readjusts his suit jacket.

“As a matter of fact, I would like to thank Michael Graves in general for always being there for me.”

Centurion steps down the deck steps and begins to walk towards the camera.

“Michael Graves has been a security blanket for me almost my entire career. Any time I feel down and out, and like there's no place left for me in the wrestling ring, I get put in the ring against Michael Graves, and suddenly I feel like I'm 25 again. 

I am not going to sugar coat this, or put this in fancy words to make it sound like a more thought out position than it really is - Michael Graves sucks. Like, horribly bad. Among the worst to ever lace up a set of boots, or whatever he is able to wear over those cloven hooves of his. And you know he sucks because he keeps trying to do something “shocking” in order to keep himself relevant. He would talk about murdering people. Then he would kidnap children. Then he would…swap bodies with people? I still don't quite understand that one. Now I'm sure he's out…fucking pigeons or something like that.”

The camera turns from front facing to side facing as Centurion approaches the front door of his garage. He unlocks a hinge and opens the door before stepping in. Sitting on a table in the middle of the room is what appears to be a metal helmet - it's designs are very intricate, but it is charred black, and small pieces are missing from it.

“This look familiar to you, Michael? This was one of yours. I know the memory may be a little hazy because it was almost a lifetime ago, so allow me to refresh it for you. Five years ago, I made my comeback to the XWF, and one of the first things I witnessed was you kidnapping a 17 year old girl on live television. Not gonna lie, it pissed me off. What pissed me off even more was your ex sister-in-law, Destiny, defending your actions. So what did I do?

Well, I stole your entrance gear, attacked Destiny, and buried both of you. I then came home and set that shit on fire. Destiny never returned. Unfortunately, you couldn't stay dead.”

Centurion picks up the helmet and glances at it a bit before tossing it to the side.

“And not only did you not stay dead, but you reinvented yourself, AGAIN, and continued on, acting like it never happened. As a matter of fact, that's pretty much your go to tactic, isn't it, Graves? Get beat? Humiliated? Don't worry - just pretend like it never happened! After all, if YOU don't remember it happening, then it must not have happened, right? Convenient.

Mike, I don't know if you actually ARE the dumbest human being alive, or if you just act like it, but I do know this - no matter what happens, from this moment on in our lives - you'll NEVER get the respect and admiration that I have received. You may consider me one of the most overrated wrestlers to ever step into the ring. You may think you are superior to me in every way, and that people’s praise for me is complete bullshit. That's fine…but it doesn't stop the praise from being real. It doesn't make up for the fact that my name is forever enshrined in that Hall of Legends. It doesn't take away the fact that my name has been and forever will be synonymous with the XWF, and that's not something you can ever change.

I'll admit, I don't know what a King’s Kontest match entails. There was a time when I would look up every single match contested under those rules and learn the ins and outs and best strategies but…I just can't be assed right now. I do know it involves some dickhead on a throne declaring a winner, but beyond that, I neither know, nor care about the rules. The one thing I care about is doing what I do best, and that's beating Michael Graves within an inch of his life. Look on the plus side, Mikey. You're so used to this by now that it won't come as a surprise when 
you meet your…

FINAL FANTASY!!!