Ben Jackman lays back across a bench in his Madison Square Garden lockerroom, directly following Hardcore Style's elimination from the Main Event of the Tag Team Supercard. Jackman's left arm is held over his face, covering his eyes from the blight light emenating from the lights in the ceiling. Blood still stands out heavily on Jackman's forehead, it slowly drips down the right side of his face leaving a thin red trail. A knock comes at the door, and Jackman doesn't move, his voice instead lifting toward the door. Jackman: "My official comments for any interviews is and I quote 'Fuck off', if you're not an interviewer, then you better have a damned good reason for being here. Come in. The door swings slowly open and Jackman pulls his forearm from over his eyes to look at the person entering the room. His eyes settle on one of the SHOOT Project's backstage hands. Jackman arches an eyebrow toward the young man, before laying back down across the bench. Jackman: "Like I was saying, you'd better have a good reason for being here." The young man only nods, obviously scared out of his mind. Man: "Yes..yes sir. I have something I believe belongs to you. We tried to return it to you last week, but were'nt about to catch you before you left the arena. Jackman again pulls his arm from over his eyes, propping himself on one elbow to look toward the man standing across the room, a mixture of anger and curiosity on his face. Jackman: "Well..What do you have?" The young man steps forward bringing his arms from behind his back to reveal the teddy bear that in a way cost Jackman his match with J.D. Ice the week before. Jackman's eyes go wide with anger as he leaps off the bench, snatching the bear from the younger man's grasp. Jackman's left hand reaches up wrapping itself up in the front of the man's shirt. Jackman lifts him off the ground bringing them eye to eye. Jackman stares deep into the young man's eyes for a moment, his face contorted with rage before he speaks. Jackman: "I'd suggest you find the man, that either gave you this to give to me, or the man that suckered you into doing this and kick his ass, because I have a damn good mind to kick yours just for being here." The young man shakes his head vigourously in understanding, obviously even more shaken now than he was earlier. Jackman pulls the man even closer, their faces now a scant few inches apart. Jackman: "And I also suggest you get the fuck out of here before I change my mind." Jackman sets the young man down, who immediatly makes a break for the door, tripping over his feet the whole way. Jackman meanwhile stumbles back to the bench, all the strength going out of his legs and all his previous anger being quickly replaced by a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jackman: "What is that fuck, doing close enough to my kid to make off with one of his toys?" Jackman shakes slowly, his whole body trembling in anger or perhaps more appropriatly fear for his son. Jackman looks at the bear for a moment before stuffing it into his gym bag. Jackman pulls his hands away from the bag, and unzips another section of the bag, from which he pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Jackman: "I knew I kept that pack of smokes around for a reason. I guess a man knows his own limitations." Jackman places the cigarette gently between his lips, and strikes the flint on his lighter. Jackman pulls the tip of the flame toward his cigarette where it goes out before it can ignite it. His hands tremble heavily again, making it near impossible for him to get the cigarette lit. On his twelfth try, Jackman finally manages to steady himself to light the cigarette. He takes a deep drag and leans back closing his eyes, in an attempt to clear his now overstuffed head, as he exhales slowly a cloud of blue grey smoke spreading over his head. FADE.