A camera crew walks into Ben Jackman's personal gym and training center built into the basement of the main office of Jackman Industries smack in the middle of downtown Tampa, Florida. Jackman cannot immediatly be seen but the sound of his workout can be heard from across the gym even over the music being played over a series of speakers built into the ceiling at regular intervals. After several minutes the camera crew finds Ben Jackman in a far corner of the gym, his ankles secured to a bar hanging from the roof of the gym. Jackman leans upward, grunting with exertion as he finishes up a set of situps while hanging upside down. Jackman notices the camera crew at the completion of his twenty-fifth situp of this particular set. Jackman offers a wane smile, as he reaches up to release himself, and fall to the ground managing to land on his feet. His ankle is still lightly wrapped from the injury recieved just over a week ago in his main event ladder match. He stands straight, popping his neck back and forth, the weight spreading evenly on his feet, showing no outward signs of tenderness or pain in his injured ankle. Jackman stares forward coldly for several moments before he speaks.

"Chickenshit. I should've known better than to trust a piece of shit like OutKast to show up and fight. Far be it from him to actually show up for a good old fashioned one-on-one 'May the Best Man Win' affair. Apparently he has a severe case of 'Smallcox'. But thats his problem, not mine. Because this week, we're lined up again, 'Kast. You and me, brother. What's your out gonna be this week? Really, I'm curious. Another tag match involving the best in the business, but this time you don't have to worry about me causing your loss indirectly. You can leave that much up to your partner again this time around. No,'Kast, this time you'll be infinitely more concerened about me actually beating you than you EVER have before. How does that sit with you 'Kast? Make you a little sick to your stomach? Make you sick that next Monday when the camera crews come around looking for your Post-Redemption thoughts, and you tell them that Ben Jackman cost you the match this week too, that it'll actually make sense. That the crowd, the camera crew, and everyone else involved with SHOOT won't look at you like you're a fucking idiot."

Jackman sits heavily on a bench along the rear wall of his private gym, and reaches into cooler sitting on the floor beside the bench. His hand runs back and forth through the icy water for several seconds before closing around and pulling out a bottle of water. Jackman takes a long drink before staring back into the camera and continuing.

"You see 'Kast, when Carver came out behind me on Sunday, I had no intention of him jumping into the ring until after it was all said and done, and then I'm sure he'd have had the common courtesy to let you regain your conciousness before beating the living shit out of you. There was no direct plot, but you my friend covered your bases immediately. Ultimately, all you saved was your own embarrasment, but for just how long was it saved?

Jackman chuckles, taking another sip of water.

"One weeks time. Was it worth it, Kast? Is it worth it now, knowing just how pissed off I am? Just how pissed off Carver is..well, Carver stays pissed off, but boy oh boy, he's really pissed off this time."

Jackman smiles broadly, closing the water bottle and laying it back in the cooler.

"Kast...Real Deal. You've run roughshod over this place, but theres two men you've avoided stepping across the ring from. Whether it was intentional or not doesn't matter now. You took Carver out, you stayed away from me which I must say is the smartest fucking thing you've done yet. But by taking Carver out you stepped on my toes, and that is where everything went horribly horribly wrong. Now, you've fucked with the two men that I'm pretty sure you wanted nothing to do with in the ring. Well, boys, now you've got us in the ring and its about to get ugly."

Jackman smirks, a hint of anger sliding across his face.

"See, most of the time Carver and I step into the ring as a tag team, we're content to do beat some ass, get our three count, and go home. But there are those few times, when we're either pissed about something totally unrelated to the match itself and just decide to take out of frustrations on our opponents, or when we genuinely don't care for our opponents, such is the case now. And now, as we've shown before we could give a shit less about a three count, we're here to beat the shit out of you. Both of you. You can both rest assured that there will be times in the match when you could easily be held down for a three count, but neither Del nor myself will be satisfied. We want one thing on Sunday, we're out for blood gentlemen, and when we get the pin, it'll be nothing more than an added bonus."

Jackman stands up from the bench and begins loosening his neck, his eyes never leaving the camera.

"Sunday night. OutKast...Real Deal. We meet in my backyard. Bring your asses. Thats all we'll need."

Camera fades out.