Alex Bruder is pacing inside of a wrestling ring, itself in a dimly lit, hazy room. Wearing his ring gear, he walks to one side of the ring until he’s less than an arm’s length away from the ropes, and then repeats the process towards the opposite ropes. Still walking, he starts speaking, quietly and thoughfully, but doesn’t face the camera.
“Capital Clash is approaching, and at it I face an incredible challenge.
The Apex Predator.
Papa Wild Thang.
The King of the Jungle.
The Man Who Slammed Yama.
‘Feral’ Freddy Kilgore.”
Bruder stops pacing from side to side, and strides to the near right corner. He leans on the turnbuckle facing out, and continues.
“So many names for one man. And why not? I look at you, and I see a man blessed with so much. I could do a thousand pushups a day, and I’d never have your frame. I could do a thousand pull ups, and I’m not going to get five inches taller. You’re built like a wall, Kilgore, but that wasn’t enough for you. Twice now we’ve faced each other in a ring not much different than this one, and you move with a speed that belies your size. You are explosive in the ring. You’re truly a daunting challenge, Kilgore, and one that I’ve not always met.”
Bruder strokes his mutton chops with his right hand while pulling against the rope with his left, lowering himself to a squat, before standing up again and climbing to the second turnbuckle.
“No doubt, Kilgore, you’re a big brute of a man. All go, no stop, full speed ahead 100% of the time…but that’s not entirely true is it? You’ve made it far in Classic, had accomplishments that would make most men proud, but the last time we squared off, you ran into a problem that you couldn’t solve with a size sixteen boot to the face.”
Alex smiles his thin smile.
“You ran into me.”
The smile fades, and Bruder drops back to the mat, walking along the inside edges of the ropes.
“You may be the King of the Jungle, but the twenty feet by twenty feet of the wrestling ring? That’s my domain. You may have the soul of a wild animal, but you’re flesh and blood, bone and sinew, just like any man. And all of your power, all of your size, all of it works against you, when I’m grinding you into the mat, until the point that I wrap your own hulking bicep against your throat…”
Bruder cocks his head to the size, with a wistful look on his face.
“…and the awesome beast that is ‘Feral’ Freddy Kilgore turns into ‘Little Freddy Beddy Bye’.
A beat.
“Again.”
Bruder steps out between the middle and top rope, and stands on the apron while draping his arms on the rope behind him.
“Ain’t no shame to it son. You’re stronger than most, faster than most, better than most. But at Capital Clash, you learn the difference between ‘most’ and ‘me’.”
Bruder drops off the apron, and walks out of frame.