Ben Jackman leans against a plain brick wall, his face lined with disgust. Sweat drips off him, his hair matted against his head after another hard workout, his ankle is tightly wrapped, not unlike his fists, but he is now able to apply pressure to it. He stares deep into the camera for several moments before speaking.

"So, you've decided to take the easy way out again, Kast. Just like two of your most hated rivals did last week, you've decided to hold me falsely responsible for your fuck ups. For your shortcomings. You couldn't cut the mustard. You couldn't get the job done and so you sit back and say to yourself...'Shit, I guess I'll just blame Ben Jackman. I know everybody will see right through it, but what the hell, the Beautiful People tried it why not me? But thats where your logic goes horribly wrong, see no one knows who jumped the Beautiful People leaving yours truly still a very viable option in some people's eyes. But this situation is very, very different. In this case, the truth was broadcast on national television, in brilliant color, for all of America to see. The camera doesn't lie Kast, everyone that saw the match last week knows why our team came up short. But I'm not one to lay blame, we lost and that should be it, right? But of course, its not. It's my fault, nevermind the fact that you spent the majority of the end of the match laying flat on your back unable to move. You just have to find a way to shift the blame away from yourself, because everyone knows OutKast in infallible."

Jackman rolls his eyes, the look of pure disgust spreading across his face.

"But see again, therein lies another problem. You're not infallible Kast, as much as you've been able to convince the small minded otherwise you will be taken down, some time...some day. And unluckily for you, that day is less than twenty-four hours away. So you haven't lost yet, in singles competition anyway, and your only tag loss is ALL my fault, right? So I suppose thats why you couldn't put Beorn away a coupla months back, even with a hand from Mac. The same Beorn that got knocked cold by the very same Ray Willmott that I have since retired. Go ahead 'Kast feel free to argue the logic, it won't work. All the logic in the world will fly out the window tommorow night when we step into the SHOOT Project ring, and after its all said and done, and you come to, I'll still be waiting at ring side with my hands cupped. You'll look at me questioningly, and I'll hold out my cupped hands with a smile, and say "Here you go 'Kast. You can have your ass back."

Jackman smiles, his disgust and anger still very visible.

"So you've decided to call me out. You've decided you want a piece of me, on my turf, at my game. And you think for some reason, that this is gonna shake me. That something as trivial as that is gonna throw me off my game? Bitch please. Everybody and their brother challenged me for the Iron Fist title, they all wanted a piece of me, at my game, and they all failed miserably. And you expect, that just since its you this time, and just because its for no title, you expect me to be shook? Give me a fucking break. You ain't got nothing shook but your own little crew. Your little tales of what you've done to the Jonny's and Enigma's of the world back in the CEWF, you know what all that bluster amounts to? Jack shit. Doesn't mean a goddamned thing to me, for one simple reason. You haven't beat me, and for that matter, you won't."

Jackman shuffles back and forth from foot to foot, progressively putting more weight on his injured ankle.

"This isn't about SHOOT anymore. As much as you'd like it to be, you've got your control. But you don't control me. You don't influence me. You don't have me running scared. You may have Jason and Ed a little flustered, they may not know how to take your ass out, and they haven't opened there eyes enough to see the obvious answer. They haven't thought to turn to Ben Jackman. But that's just fine, I'll take care of it anyway. You've compared your takeover of SHOOT to World War II and your exactly right, you've done exactly what you've said, but the good Ol' U S of A hasn't showed up....yet. Tommorow, the 'US' shows up and I turn your whole little operation on its ear. You wanna talk about warfare? Thats what this all comes down to...war. And what is one of the oldest adages in the history of war? "Take out the head, and the body will fall." Never has a truer word been spoken, especially as it pertains to our little situation Kast. If I beat you on Sunday, Instant Heat won't be beaten back? Perhaps not, but imagine the total disarray when I knock your ass out. This, my friend is my first battle in the war, and I plan on walking out with your head on a stake. It won't be over after Sunday, not by a long shot, but tommorow will be the turning point in the war."

Jackman cups his ear, leaning toward the wall.

"Do you hear that Kast? You don't hear it yet, but you will. You'll hear it loud and clear tommorow night. Several thousand people calling for your head, and I'm just the man to deliver. Can you handle that? Can you handle the huge pop thats you're gonna hear when you hit the mat like a wet sack of potatoes? I'm gonna drop you like a bad habit, Kast, and you can't do shit about it. I hope for your sake, that you aren't attempting to convince yourself that you can or will win, because there is nothing sadder than a man lying to himself. But then again you should be used to listening to your own bullshit, by now. Be ready Kast, tommorow the world changes. Tommorow the glass ceiling shatters around you."

Camera fades to black on a grinning Ben Jackman.