There’s something deeply irritating about a villain who’s having a good time beating your favorite character into the ground. And I love it.
Majin Buu understood that assignment. More specifically, Super Buu, the tall, smug menace from Dragon Ball Z who could make an opponent’s desperate fight for survival feel like his afternoon entertainment. The smile. The arrogance. The way he could look almost bored with someone powerful enough to put up a fight.
His cruelty had personality. He could taunt you, let you believe you had a chance, and make you wish you had never gotten his attention. Against Gotenks, even the opportunity to fight him again became a trap. Buu baited Goten and Trunks into fusing before absorbing their combined form along with Piccolo. Their power became his reward.
The danger came with an ego, and watching someone finally wipe that expression off his face became part of the appeal.
Now look at Kyle Fletcher.
He Has That Damn Look on His Face
The resemblance starts before Fletcher throws a punch.
The chin lifts. The mouth curls into that smug little expression. He looks down at the person in front of him with the confidence of someone who has already decided how this ends. Even standing still, he can make you want somebody to hit him.
Super Buu has that same quality. His posture practically insults whoever is standing across from him. He can loom over an opponent with a loose, almost casual stance, as though taking them seriously would be an act of generosity.
Fletcher’s height and long, muscular frame make the comparison easy to see. His mannerisms make it harder to shake. There’s a theatrical arrogance to the way he carries himself, an invitation to get angry and do something about it.
Then he gets to prove why that was a bad idea.
That’s the particular nastiness the two share. The opponent is struggling. The villain appears to be enjoying himself. Every smirk makes the beating feel a little more disrespectful.
Ospreay Found Out What That Look Meant
Will Ospreay’s match with Fletcher at Full Gear 2024 is where that comparison gets teeth.
Ospreay threw the kind of offense at Fletcher that should have ended the argument. A Styles Clash. A Hidden Blade. Fletcher survived, then delivered a tombstone piledriver from the apron onto the steel steps. He eventually finished Ospreay with a top-rope brainbuster.
There’s your Dragon Ball nightmare. The hero lands something enormous. For a second, it feels like enough. Then the villain is still there, and the next stretch gets considerably uglier.
Fletcher’s performance had that awful sense of escalation. Every time Ospreay gave the crowd a reason to believe, Fletcher had another answer. By the end, his arrogance felt earned, which is about the most aggravating thing a villain can accomplish.
He could hurt someone that good, that badly. Suddenly, the expression on his face made perfect sense.
His posture practically insults whoever is standing across from him.
And Then There’s the Pink
Of course he’s pink.
The shaved head, the bare torso, the tall frame, and the pink gear already make Fletcher look suspiciously ready for a Dragon Ball Z fight scene. Give him Super Buu’s head tentacle and the conversation is over.
But the color does something beyond completing the resemblance. Pink ought to take a little of the menace out of the picture. On both of them, it becomes part of the insult.
Here is this bright, almost playful-looking figure, entirely comfortable with himself, making somebody else’s life miserable. He doesn’t need to dress like death. He’s confident you’ll figure out the danger soon enough.
But Fletcher’s actual explanation for the gear is simpler. He told Chris Van Vliet that a tweet about too few men wearing pink in wrestling inspired him to contact his designer. The response helped turn it into his signature color.
The Buu comparison doesn’t require a deliberate tribute. Somehow, the same visual ingredients ended up serving the same kind of personality.
The pink draws the eye. The physique establishes the threat. That smug face makes it personal.
The Worst Part Is That He Can Back It Up
A villain like Super Buu gives you two reasons to keep watching. You want to see what he’s capable of, and you desperately want someone to make him regret it.
That’s the appeal Fletcher taps into when he’s at his nastiest. His ability makes him exciting. His attitude makes cheering against him satisfying. You can appreciate everything he does and still spend the match waiting for somebody to knock the arrogance out of him.
And when they finally land that shot, there’s always the possibility that they’ve only made things worse.
The bald head and pink gear make Kyle Fletcher look like Majin Buu.
But the way he hurts someone, then looks around like everyone should be impressed? That’s the monster you remember watching.
