A New York City Yellow cab pulls to a stop outside Madison Square Garden in the heart of New York City. The rear door swings open and Ben Jackman steps out, his eyes scanning up and down the sidewalk before turning back toward the cab and sliding a few bills through the window. Jackman turns back toward Madison Square Garden, his eyes sliding upward toward the marquee, a smile sliding across his face. Jackman looks down at the sidewalk, his smile growing ever broader as he picks up and shoulders his gym bag and heads for the entertainer's entrance to the Garden. Just as Jackman's right hand encircles the doorhandle a SHOOT Project camera crew hustles up the walk toward him, waving frantically hoping to catch his attention before he enters the building. Jackman pauses, a smirk lighting up his face, as he turns back toward the approaching camera crew sliding the bag off his shoulder and leaning against the outside wall of Madison Square Garden. "Gentlemen." Jackman nods toward the camera crew as they begin to hastily set up to catch Jackman's last minute comments before the kickoff of the Tag Team Supercard. The camera crew nods toward Jackman signaling there readiness. The lead of the camera crew holds up three fingers as the cameraman zooms in on Jackman. Two fingers...now one...Jackman's clears his throat and begins. "Seven days time to prepare for what Hardcore Style has been patiently waiting for for months. Seven days time to wait for what we've been more than ready to handle for months now. And now, those seven days are gone and we are only a few short hours away from what may be the biggest Oblivion in the history of the SHOOT Project. Jackman encircles his left wrist with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, loosening it up, before switching hands and loosening his other wrist. "Sixteen teams enter into a mini-tournament...but only one can emerge as the NEW SHOOT Project Tag Team Champions." Jackman leans his head back against the wall his eyes closed, the smile fading quickly from his face. "I've been doing some thinking this last week, and to tell the absolute truth, the fact that this little 'supercard' is going on at all has got me more than a little pissed off." Jackman puts a foot up against the wall, bracing himself as he leans backward, his hand going to his pocket in a blind search for a cigarette more out of force of habit than necessity. "For months, Hardcore Style has been the number one contender's to the SHOOT Project Tag Team Championships. And because we didn't spend the months in between hanging around outside the Beautiful People's lockerroom with baseball bats we didn't get our shots." Jackman shrugs. "Guess that'll teach me to rely on the system. From now on I want something I'm going to go out and get it...system, politics, everything be damned. Thirty other men stand between Hardcore Style and the SHOOT Project Tag Team Championships, and be perfectly honest I don't give a shit if its 300 or 3000. I will go through each and every man without a second thought, just to have what I want. Just to have what I've more than earned." Jackman works his neck back and forth loosening his the muscles in his neck, before beginning to loosen the muscles in his shoulders. "Del Carver and I are coming into this tournament, with a smell and a taste for blood. This is our only shot at something that we've spent the better part of a year chasing, and I'll be goddamned if either of us are willing to let this chance slip away like so many have been taken from us before." Jackman runs his fingers through his thick hair, wrapping his fingers around and through his ponytail, pulling it back softly as if in thought. "Tonight our first step takes us into the ring with Vincent Mallows and Kyle Ricks. Two of the best competitors the SHOOT Project has seen. One a ring general, well respected by his peers and enemies alike, and the other an absolute monster. Any other day I wouldn't look forward to stepping into the ring with either of these men, but desperate time such as these will change that in a second. Mallows...Ricks. It's going to be a pleasure, in the most violent possible sense. We'll enjoy kicking your asses all over the ring, but not out of disrespect, more out of necessity. You've been placed in Hardcore Style's path gentlemen, and that is the worst possible place you could be tonight." Jackman looks back down into the camera, clearing his throat. "And at another corner stands...Marcus Mirage and Crash. Mirage...one of the original members of Instant Heat, that since has done something between jack and shit. And then Crash, a man that has just made his first appearance in SHOOT, most of which has been spent jawing back and forth with Rob Belote about being held back at some point in the past. Thats all over and done with now Crash, get your eyes on the prize, or even better for you, stay where you are now, and don't even bother showing up tonight. All you've got coming is a good old fashioned one-sided ass beating, and no man in his right man enjoys getting one of those. You two men may have been big shit elsewhere, but you've stepped into my house. And that is not a good place to end up, so prepare to get your asses handed to you, thats the only choice you have." Jackman pauses looking at the sidewalk between his feet, a thin smile beggining to play across his lips. "And then last but not least, we have The Riot and The Wildcard. The Nu Dynasty, one of which knows exactly what it means to step into the ring with Ben Jackman. Jackman winks toward the camera, his smile broadening. "Fucking sucks, don't it, eh Riot? Jackman smiles, clearing his throat and continuing. "I took everything you had, Riot, and kicked out every fucking time. That kinda shits gotta eat you up inside. And now you've got a chance to right that wrong. Goddamn shame you don't have a chance in hell of getting the job done. Hell, boy, you've already given up. You hadn't even made it a minute into your first promo this week before calling for a miracle to deliver you a win this week." Jackman chuckles, his laugh echoing in his throat. "Sorry to let you down, but God's fresh out of miracles for the week, so looks like you and Wildcard are in as many words SHIT. OUT. OF. LUCK. Jackman looks up momentarily as another cab pulls to the curb outside Madison Square Garden. So Riot, bring your Purple Haze. Oh wait. Shit. Already kicked out of that. Uh...Then bring your Riot-Plexx. Shit, nevermind already kicked out of that too. Well uh...bring the Wildcard, maybe he'll be able to help you out. Nah, never happen." The cab door swings open and a smile appears on Jackman's face. "Gentlemen its like this. Bring whatever you've got, its not gonna be enough, but you may as well put up a fight if you're gonna bother to show up at all. The least you could do is entertain the best while we're kicking your asses." Jackman laughs, the smile spreading from ear to ear as Del Carver steps out of the cab, pays his tab and watches the cab pull away before turning toward Jackman and the SHOOT Project camera crew. Carver gives Jackman the thumbs up, keeping his distance while Jackman finishes up his preshow promo. "And then to top it all off, after Hardcore Style gets through with three teams of the SHOOT Project's best and brightest they throw us back into the ring with three more teams...with a ladder to top it all off. We've made a name being hardcore, but there is more to us than that. I'll drive your ass through a table in the blink of an eye, but I'd be just as happy to suplex your ass from corner to corner. Simply because I can" Jackman nods toward Carver turning his attention back to the SHOOT Project cameras. "Line up motherfuckers. Carver and I will be more than happy to drop your asses...one by one." The camera zooms in on Jackman's face, fading slowly out. The cameraman gives Jackman the thumbs up, for a job well done and Jackman nods his thanks turning his attention to Carver. Jackman walks over to his partner, his hand extended. "Ready to do this thing?" Carver grimaces, shaking Jackman's hand. "Damn right I'm ready, Ben. It's been along time coming." Jackman shakes his head in agreement. "Its Go Time, Del. All..." Carver smiles completing his thought. "Or nothing at all." The two men shake hands again, gather their things and head into Madison Square Garden to make the final preparations for their re-ascension to the peak of the Tag Team Mountain. END. 
|