The sun rises – and the sun sets.
And the latter is what we see right now: a picturesque mountain range draped in dark shadow due to the contrast of the breathtaking sunset behind it. The mountains are a stark contrast to the explosion of yellows, oranges, and reds that fill the sky as the bottom of the sun just barely sinks below the horizon.
And that’s when Freddy Kilgore moves into frame. Dressed to compete and baby-oiled to the gills, Kilgore’s face paint matches the sunset. As he stands in front of the setting sun, Kilgore flexes and cracks his neck as he looks toward the sky. When he speaks, it’s without bringing his head down to look into the camera.
“Everything ends. It’s an undeniable tenant of nature. Someday, that life giving ball in the sky you see behind will swell and swallow this planet whole. Everything humanity has ever known will disappear. Someday, the universe itself will slowly drift off into a cold, slow, and lonely death. What is born must someday die. Everything ends.”
Still looking toward the sky, Kilgore clenches his fist.
“One year ago, Papa Wild Thang emerged from the primordial otherworld with a mission: to fight for you – HIS WILDHEARTS – and devour Classic Wrestling like a predator finishes its prey. We’ve been on a hell of a ride, haven’t we?”
Still looking up, Kilgore grins.
“We’ve slayed giants, we’ve righted wrongs, and we’ve conquered the forces of evil. It wasn’t me, baby… YOU WERE ALL WITH ME EVERY STEP OF THE WAY!”
Now… finally… Kilgore’s head comes down and he looks into the camera. When he speaks, he gets animated with his hands.
“AND NOW WE’RE AT THE END OF THIS JOURNEY, BABY. BUT IT AIN’T OVER. PAPA WILD THANG’S SPIRIT IS BIGGER THAN ANY WRESTLING RING, BIGGER THAN ANY COMPANY – THE WILD HUNT GOES ON, BABY! AND WE HAVE ONE LAST SHOT!”
Kilgore drops the spastic coked out promo style for a moment, growing serious.
“One. Last. Shot. You see, Shujin Yama holds the Real World’s Championship. Shujin Yama is a disgrace, baby. And it’ll be over Papa Wild Thang’s dead body that Shujin Yama walks away with the championship. Yama is everything wrong with Classic… wrong with the world, even. And I know – I feel IT DEEP IN MY SOUL, MY LITTLE WILDHEARTS – that someday, like the phoenix of legend, Classic Wrestling will rise from the ashes! And so the Real World’s Championship must be kept safe! KEPT SACRED!”
Back to bugging out.
“I’VE BEEN HERE SINCE THE BEGINNING, AND I’LL BE DAMNED IF I’M GOING TO LET THE ESSENCE OF CLASSIC WRESTLING FOREVER REST IN THE HANDS OF SHUJIN YAMA!! PAPA WILD THANG IS GOING TO TAKE THAT BELT OFF YAMA AND PUT RIGHT WHERE IT BELONGS! WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT, WHEN THE SHOW IS FINISHED… CLASSIC WRESTLING WILL BE GONE, AND FREDDY KILGORE WILL DISAPPEAR BACK TO THE PRIMORDIAL ABYSS THAT BIRTHED HIM! AND WHEN I DO, IT WILL BE WITH THE REAL WORLD’S CHAMPIONSHIP AROUND MY WAIST! IT’LL BE SAFE AND SECURE WITH FREDDY KILGORE, BABY, SO THAT WHEN CLASSIC WRESTLING MAKES IT GRAND RETURN… ALL YOU GOTTA DO IS CALL! PAPA WILD THANG WILL APPEAR AND HE’LL BRING THE REAL WORLD’S CHAMPIONSHIP WITH HIM! FOR A MAN LIKE YAMA… A MAN WITH NO RESPECT, WITH NO HONOR… CANNOT BE TRUSTED WITH SUCH AN IMPORTANT RELIC! WITH THE VERY SOUL OF CLASSIC WRESTLING!”
Kilgore slams a fist into his other hand.
“AND SO WE’VE GOTTA DO IT ONE MORE TIME, MY WILDHEARTS. YOU AND ME – WE’RE GONNA GRAB SHUJIN YAMA… WE’RE GONNA SLAM HIM THROUGH THE RING… AND WE’RE GONNA RIDE OUT OF CLASSIC WRESTLING WITH OUR HEADS HELD HIGH, KNOWING THAT SOMEDAY… SOMEHOW… WE’LL BE BACK TOGETHER SOON!!! YOU CAN COUNT ON ME – AND I’LL ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU, WILDHEARTS!”
Kilgore leans back, silhouetting his frame against the setting sun… and he unleashes his loudest and most primal of howls.
Kilgore beats his chest with ferocity, flexes his arms until they’re about to burst, and then moves RIGHT up in front of the camera so that his face paint fills the entire frame.
“One! More! TIME! BABY!’
Crash to black as the sun sets on “Feral” Freddy Kilgore.