Jackman-Templater



      Ben Jackman paced slowly back and forth across the living room of his Tampa condo, his cell phone pressed against his ear as the weeks SHOOT Project Oblivion bookings were read off to him. Jackman nodded his head slowly with each passing match, until the announcement of the week's main event. The automated voice read off the match, as Ben's eyes grew wide, his jaw coming partially unghinged from shock.

      "This week's Main Event for Oblivion. Del Carver v.s. Roland v.s Ben Jackman."

      Jackman pulled the phone away from his ear, and pressed the end button ending the call. Jackman stared at the phone in disbelief for a moment before again circulating through his phone book and calling the number back, almost positive he'd heard something wrong. The entire event droned away in his ear again, agonizingly slowly, and Jackman pressed the end key as the Main Event was annoucned again.

      "What the fuck is that?"

      Jackman shook his head gently again going through his list of numbers, before coming to Del Carver. Jackman pressed the send button and waited patiently as the phone rang in his ear...once...twice...three times. followed by Carver's voice mail picking up. Jackman waited patiently through the automated message before taking a deep breath and leaving his message for Carver.

      "Del, its Ben. I just called in and got the fucking bookings. Call me right away, man. You're not gonna believe this shit."

      Jackman hung up and tossed the phone onto the couch, as he flopped down in his big easy chair, his mind whirring with the implications of this match. And more importantly just what the fuck Ed Raymond had in mind when he booked it. A few seconds later a knock came at Ben Jackman's front door and he pulled himself up from his chair to answer, finding a SHOOT Project camera crew, just as he'd suspected on the other side. Jackman ushered them inside, and went to the kitchen to get a bottle of beer to give the crew time to set up. Jackman returned to the living room a few moments later and settled back into his easy chair pulling the beer bottle slowly up to his lips. The crew gave Jackman the thumbs up. Jackman set his beer aside, cleared his throat and began.

      "Sometimes you gotta wonder what the fuck people are thinking? Now is one of those times. Del Carver v.s. Roland v.s. Ben Jackman as the Main Event of Oblivion. There is no doubt in my mind, that it'd pop a huge rating but to be totally frank, I could give a shit less about ratings. I could give a shit less about what impresses the investors."

      Jackman pulls the bottle to his lips again, taking another slow drink.

      "I'm not gonna fight Carver, its as simple as that. Not gonna fucking happen. I'd rather not fight Roland, either. But he and I both share a common understanding, we both like to fight and simply put I'll get in that ring and fight Roland with the utmost respect between us. I'll do that much, now whether Carver chooses to fight as well is his decision. See, Roland and I have history from way back, been almost a year now, since I beat Roland to make the Iron Fist Title mine. Not the cleanest of victories, with a run in from Josh Johnson, but I took it home. So I suppose now would be a helluva time to find out who the better man really is. Kind of an exhibition of SHOOT's up and comers. It was in that match that I began my ascent to the top or as close as I am right now, and had Roland won then, things could easily be very very different now. So what'd you say, Roland. A good natured fight. Give the fans a little something to take home, maybe shake hands mid-ring, give Raymond the finger and tear it up like we both know we can."

      Jackman reaches to his side again, pulling the bottle to his lips, and draining it this time.

      "What'd you say, Roland? I say hell yeah."

      Ben cell phone rings, and he turns his eyes toward it for a moment before looking back at the SHOOT Project camera's and waving his fingers across his throat signalling for the tape to be cut. The crew nods, turning the camera off, as Jackman steps to his feet, walks over to the couch and picks the phone up.

      "Yeah?"

      "Yeah, Ben. It's me. I just got your message. Whats up?"

      "You're not gonna believe this shit, man. But we're in the main this week. Del Carver v.s. Roland v.s Ben Jackman."

      "WHAT? For my belt?"

      "So far as I know its not. Just a fucked up three way match as far as I can tell. Can you believe that shit?"

      "No fucking way man. I'm not doing it. You know why they're doing this, don't you? You and Roland, you spent all night trying to tell me that politics are no big deal...and now look what they're doing. They KNOW that the three of us together would run this place, and threaten their stupid little pecking order...so they trying to drive us apart."

      Jackman smiles wanely.

      "Yeah, maybe you're right after all. It's fucked up, thats all I know. Apparently Raymond booked this so blame him. Look I'm gonna let you go, see if I can wrap my head around this shit. Give me a call later, bro."

      "Yeah. I don't know. Yeah. I'll call you later. Yeah. Okay. Bye."

      Jackman hangs up the phone and sets it down on the side table as he again sinks back into his loveseat. Jackman pulls the lever on the side pushing the footrest out, he leans back and closes his eyes.

      "What the fuck ever."

      FADE.