Ben Jackman sits out on the balcony of his home in Tampa, Florida. He sits quietly a tall glass of Jack and coke in hand as the sun fades over the ocean. His hair is undone, and hangs over his shoulders in a loose strands. Jackman takes a long pull from his glass, his eyes never leaving the horizon as he begins to speak.

"I just finished up watching your latest promo, Darkbriar, and I've been out here since mulling over what you've had to say. You see Kyle, I don't need you to back up and explain yourself. But if it makes you feel better, then do what you gotta do. I don't twist your words to make myself look better. I don't need to do that. I let my actions speak for me. But if you want to spend the week digging a hole, I'll be more than happy to toss you a shovel before I bury your ass on Sunday."

Jackman takes another drink, setting his drink aside as a smile spreads across his face.

"And then you want to wave 'Kast in my face. Big boy, you came in the door. You threw one of your patented little hissy fits. You called for OutKast's head, you called in your boys, and you accomplished nothing. AT ALL. And now, all the boys you brought in to back you up are knocking on your door again, but for a wholly different reason. This time there knocking hoping to plant a foot in your ass, not quite the way you had it planned I'd assume. At least I hope its not. And then you ask what I've done against 'Kast?"

Jackman laughs.

"And then you answered your own question. I fell flat on my face, eh? Had I not the SHOOT Project title would be around my waist, well Kyle, I'd have thought someone that's been shunted like you apparently have would've learned a little something about patience during your 'legendary career'. See, my shot hasn't come yet, but it will, and when it does, then we can talk about what I did against 'Kast. And then Kyle, maybe if I'm in a good mood I'll let you get a good close look at the SHOOT Project World Championship."

Jackman takes another long pull from his glass, finishing it off, and setting it on the balcony next to his chair.

"See I'm not into politics, bro. No matter how much talk gets started about who runs this federation. Who's on top? Who owns what? I don't give a shit for the simple fact that none if it has or ever will affect what I do. See, they can piss on something tangible, but they can't piss on the essence of the SHOOT Project. That stays right here."

Jackman pats his chest over his heart a broad smile spreading across his face.

"When I joined the SHOOT Project I was nobody. I'd never stepped into a ring before. And I had a certain amount of resentment toward the old guard, more than likely fueled by Carver's incessant bitching about being held down. Now..now I AM the old guard. I am one of the veterans. No man in the SHOOT Project at this moment has been here longer than me, with the exception of the Real Deal. This is my house. No matter how big. How garish this place may get. The essence of where SHOOT came from will never leave the old guard. Never."

Jackman reaches down picking up his glass, he gets up from his chair and strides casually into his kitchen pouring himself another tall glass of jack and coke. He turns back to the camera taking a sip, and begins again.

"And then you want to question the authenticity of my Iron Fist Title reign? The whole crux of your attack on my ability being SHOOT's past in the underground, well check this. I was and still am for that matter, the LONGEST reigning champion of any title in SHOOT Project history. Now under any other title's line, that wouldn't mean shit, but seven months with the Iron Fist title, bitchboy, that transcends your excuse.I held that title when the SHOOT Project was as underground as it ever got, and I still held when we were holding Pay Per Views in Las Vegas. That title was still strapped around my waist when we hit the bigtime and long, long after. But you want to throw the usual list of superstars at me, and claim that the men you've faced are more talented that what I've worked with."

Jackman smirks to himself as he walks back out onto the balcony.

"OutKast, I haven't got a hold of him yet, but the day will come. Thats more than you can hope to say, Junior."

"Jonny Johnson, Enigma. I've fought them in a tag match. Which they won, but then again Josh Johnson who up until two months ago had never lost a singles match still holds a losing record in tag competition. So, that goes out the window."

"X-Cal. He's nothing new to the SHOOT Project. Not this time around. In fact, X-Cal made a grand entrance into my second week of SHOOT Project competition only to disappear again for months. Same goes for Temujin. He's come and gone more than once, and never had the distinct misfortune of running to me."

"I'm not one to name drop, Kyle. But I've sent more than my fair share of men back to their hotel rooms to pack their bags and head home. Never to ever return to the SHOOT Project. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but you saw fit to bring up the propensity of people to join up only to leave after their first match. I, my friend am one of the big reasons for that. I've broke em in and I've sent their asses home one by one by one when they saw just how hot the kitchen could get. And you could very well be the same, if you were smart enough but both you and I know that'll never happen."

Jackman smiles as the last rays of the sun fade over the horizon, and his balcony light snaps on.

"And then again with the 'ask Joe So-and-so about what I can do in the ring'. No need, Kyle. All I want or will ever need to know about what you can do in the ring I'll find out Sunday, and at the exact same time you'll find out just how far you've overstepped your bounds. You wanna know what I'm about?"

Jackman chuckles.

"I've said it before. I'm sure I'll be lead to say it again. I'm here for one reason and one reason alone. It ain't the money, nor was it ever. I've got plenty of that. It ain't the fame. I had enough of that before I ever stepped into a SHOOT Project ring. I'm here because I like to fight. I love hurting people, and for whatever reason the fans eat that shit up. Maybe its the straightforward way I handle my business, doesn't matter to me. I do what I do the same way I always have, and you aren't about to change that. I don't give a fuck who you think you are."

Jackman takes a long pull from his glass, rattling the ice around slowly as he speaks again.

"This isn't about Anger. This isn't about opportunity. If I want something done, I don't need to run over your sorry ass to get it. When opportunity throws a door up, I'll kick that motherfucker down, but you ain't anywhere near an opportunity. If anything, running into me is an opportunity for you. The way I see it, you beat me this Sunday, you've learned yourself up for an Iron Fist title shot, but then what man in his right mind would want to rumble with J.D. Ice again after he handed you your ass in your 'specialty' match. But then again, if all this legend shit is true, then you aren't anywhere near your right mind."

Jackman steps to his feet his eyes centered on the camera as he drains the last of his second Jack and coke.

"You don't need your kendo stick? You don't need your lighter fluid? You don't need your lighter? All you need is me in the ring? Well, motherfucker, you'll get just what you want Sunday. I'll be in the ring waiting, and when the dust settles and the smoke clears, my music will hit and I'll walk out of Ontario with my hand raised in victory. But just to be on the safe side, why don't you go ahead and bring all that shit with you, your gonna need it. Darkbriar...I'll be waiting."

Jackman walks back into the kitchen to pour another drink as the cameras fade to black.