Ben Jackman sits in an airport bar in the Tampa International Airport while he waits for his flight to Ontario to be called for boarding. All of Jackman's baggage has been checked and he sits at the end of the bar his left hand wrapped around a bottle of Budweiser. Jackman's eyes slowly scan over the bar, until they notice a SHOOT Project camera crew walking into the bar. Jackman stands up from his seat motioning the camera crew over.

"I assume you're looking for me. Unless there's someone else flying out of the Tampa airport, and for some reason I doubt that. Any new word from the infamous Mr. Darkbriar?"

Jackman nods in understanding when the camera crew tells him no.

"I'll give you one thing, Kyle. You can talk a damn good game, but talking a good game and being able to back that shit up are two entirely different things. And thats what you should be concerned with. Whether or not you can back up all the shit you've been talking? If you can then more power to you but if not then all the talk you've been doing is going to accomplish nothing more than making you look like the complete jackass that I'm pretty sure you already are."

Jackman smiles, taking a long pull from his bottle of beer.

"You know I'm beginning to wonder what you really think of yourself, deep down inside? Your talk speaks of self-assurance, but at the same time you give off the same vibe as a scared little kid that realizes for the first time just how far in over his head he's gotten. Maybe thats why you've decided to parade your references in front of me throughout the week. The Jonny Johnsons. The Kyle Ricks's. Who are you trying to convince, Kyle? Are you trying to convince me that you can hang? Or are you trying to convince yourself? Just a simple question, but don't worry about answering it, just THINK about it. What are you really trying to accomplish?"

Jackman drains the rest of his bottle of beer and signals to the bartender for another.

"And you ask if I'm planning on using you to elevate myself to the top. Bitch,I am on top. I don't need to use you as a stepping stone, but if thats what you want to think. If you want to use that train of thought as some sort of motivation in your fight with me on Sunday then more power to you my friend."

Jackman chuckles, handing a pile of bills across to the bartender as she sets another bottle of beer in front of him.

"I'm not in the business of holding people down. I have no need to do that. I'll fight the same man over and over. It's been done before, but eventuall the fans'll get bored watching me kick the shit out of you week in and week out. You may or may not be at or above my level, and when I beat you it won't do that much to damage your standing in the SHOOT Project. Seriously, how much damage can you cause to a former DOJO champion? No disrespect to the title, but it's the bottom rung on the ol' golden ladder and you weren't even able to hold onto it, even through an impressive title win over Marcus Mirage. And even in an impressive loss to the new Iron Fist Champion, J.D. Ice.

Jackman smiles taking a sip from his fresh bottle of Budweiser.

"You do seven months with the DOJO title, or any title for that matter, and you might garner just that respect that you think you are so deserving of. What I think of you as a competitor, and as a person has absolutely no bearing in our fight on Sunday. What modicum of respect I have for you, doesn't add up to shit when you step through those ropes, because like I've said before I'll be damned if I'll let respect keep me from hitting one opponent any harder than any other. So after our match ends on Sunday night, and you pull yourself to your feet, and walk back up the ramp, if you're able. Don't feel special, don't think that I kicked your ass simply because of who you are or what you said. Any man would've gotten it just as bad. Think you can handle that?"

Jackman laughs, signaling the bartender over again.

"Hey, baby, let me buy a round for the house."

The bartender nods her consent and begins to set fresh drinks in front of every patron of the bar.

"This isn't about honor. This isn't about respect. This is about a serious disagreement between two men, that will lead to a very bloody confrontation in just over twenty-four hours time. I'll tell you just what I think of honor."

Jackman stands to his feet, the attention of everyone in the bar on him.

"Here's to Honor."

A few soft chuckles ripple through the bar as Jackman raises his bottle in the air.

"Get Honor....Stay Honor...and if you can't cum in 'er.....Come Honor!"

The bar explodes in cheers as the patrons toss back their drinks, laughter echoing through the room. Jackman sits back down a broad smile on his face as he turns back to the camera.

"I'm leaving for Ontario right now, Darkbriar. I'll see you there."

Camera fades to black as Jackman finishes his beer up and walks out of the bar.