Jackman-Templater



      Ben Jackman sits in the Tampa Tribune offices, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. Jackman is dressed to the nines, a black sport jacket and matching slacks, coupled with a navy blue dress shirt and a matching tie. Jackman is freshly shaven, and his long jet black hair is pulled back tightly behind his head secured in a ponytail with a series of near invisible black hairties.

      A door opens to Jackman's left and a short, fat man steps out a wide smile etched across his face causing his already double chin to sprout a few more. He wobbles toward Jackman, his khakis bunched around his massive waist, and coming tragically short at the ankle revealing a pair of unmatched socks, one light blue and one probably once a darker blue, now since faded to a light purple. His tie, a plain marroon hangs to the left, the knot in an uneven bundle. The tie stands out in stark contrast against a faded orange dress shirt.

      Jackman cocks an eyebrow upward at the man walking toward him unsure of how exactly to react. The man pauses in front of Jackman, his smile widening even farther as he extends his right hand outward toward Jackman. Ben stares absently at the hand in front of him for a moment before reaching out and taking it in his own in a firm handshake. The man breaks his smile only long enough to greet Jackman.

      Man: "Good afternoon, Mr. Jackman, I presume."

      Jackman nods a bit taken aback.

      Jackman: "In the flesh, Mr.?"

      The man pulls his hand back, the smile immediatly reappearing on his face.

      Man: "Mr. Davila. Pleasure to meet you. Glad you decided to offer us this interview."

      Jackman nods, still not entirely sure whats going on. The man gestures for Jackman to follow him, before waddling off down the hall. Jackman watches him walk away for a moment before standing to his feet and following the Mr. Davila into an office just off the main lobby of the Tampa Tribune. Mr. Davila holds the door open as Jackman enters. Davila closes it behind them and walks back behind a tiny desk that Jackman is almost sure is made of nothing more than false wood. The office is covered with a thin layer of clutter from the desktop, to the shelves on the left side of the room, even the fishtank on the right side of the room, empty of all semblance of life, has books, old newspapers, and various other knick knacks layes across it. Jackman takes a seat across the desk from Davila in the only available chair, a plastic chair, not at all unlike those commonly seen in elementary school classrooms. Jackman attempts to adjust on the seat for several moments trying in vain to find a comfortable way to sit.

      Davila smiles across the desk at Jackman as he seperates several piles of paperwork, basically picking up whatever is close and shoving it to the side in an effort to make room directly in front of him. Davila reaches into a desk drawer and removes a massive clearly outmoded tape recorder and sets it atop the now clear center of the desk with a loud thud. Jackman looks on with a quietly disguised laugh born of amusement that the desk is even able to hold such a monstrosity.

      Davila looks across the desk at Jackman a moment, the smile still bright on his face, before he speaks.

      Davila: "Mr. Jackman, I'm sure you're curious why we asked for this interview in the first place. And to tell the truth, your something of a local celebrity, of that much I'm sure you already aware.

      Jackman nods, still a little lost as to what the hell is going on.

      Davila: "This SHOOT Project that you've become involved in at some point in the last year or so has been bubbling under the collective conciousness of the average american household for several months, and is only starting to become extremely popular. Thats basically why we called you in. We'd like to know your thought on the SHOOT Project, the future of your company Jackman Industries here in Tampa, as well as a few other topics. If its okay with you, I'd like to tape our conversations for ease in writing up this interview for print in the Tampa Tribune later this week or early next week."

      Jackman shakes his head, not totally suprised at the request. A thin smile sliding across his face, and small chuckle escaping his lips.

      Jackman: "Yeah. I'd be more than happy to."

      Davila recoils slightly obviously expecting the entire time to be turned down, or more appropriately in true Jackman style told to 'Go fuck himself, I don't do interviews.' Instead Jackman had responded in the affirmative and left Davila jaw hanging loosely unable to remember what he was about to say for several moments. Finally, Davila recovers his train of thought, clears his throat and nods toward the tape recorder sitting atop the table, his finger caressing the record button in a freakisly loving manner.

      Jackman nods his approval, and the record button is pressed into place with an aubible click. Davila clears his throat and begins.

      Davila: "Mr. Jackman.."

      Jackman cuts him off mid sentence.

      Jackman: "Please, call me Ben."

      Davila nods in agreement, his hand falling with a thump onto the rewind button, reseting the tape. Jackman smiles at this, and waits again for Davila to speak.

      Davila: "Mr. Jac..er Ben, you're one of the youngest men currently in big business here in Tampa, how do you think your current level of success puts you in the eyes of your contemporaries?"

      Jackman looks across the desk at Davila, a look of astonishment on his face.

      Jackman: "Well, I'd hope that my competiors and contemporaries see me as deserving of my success, despite my age, but in the business world that is often not the case and..wait..do people actually read the Tribune to hear this kinda shit?"

      Davila recoils at the word 'shit', his finger again leaping to the rewind button.

      Davila: "I suppose that is a pretty boring question, excuse that Mr. Jackman."

      Jackman nods in understanding, still a little taken aback by the whole situation.

      Jackman: "Why don't we just get to the meat and potatoes of this interview instead of wasting time of the stuff that noone is going to give a damn about."

      Davila smiles again, as the tape pops to a stop again reaching the beginning of the tape. He again presses the record button and the interview kicks off for the third time.

      Davila: "Mr. Jackman, you're one of the more popular members of this SHOOT Project. How long have you been actively competing as a member of the SHOOT Project?"

      Jackman pauses a moment to think.

      Jackman: "I debuted at last years Redemption Supercard, which if my memory serves me will put me in the SHOOT Project for a year after the upcoming Pay Per View, Players or Pawns. I've been in the SHOOT Project longer than anyone involved with the exception of 'The Real Deal' Josh Johnson, and I've been in the ring each week without a break for injury or time off longer than anyone. I guess I'm something of the SHOOT Project's Iron Horse, if you will."

      Davila smiles again looking down at his list of prepared questions.

      Davila: "Thats quite a long time to have been a member of the SHOOT Project, as I understand that the roster tends to flucuate quite a bit. Is there any reason for that?"

      Jackman: "Well to tell the truth, I think its the level of the competition involved that keeps people from staying around. They see exactly what its going to take to be successful and I imagine that a great many of them realize after their first match or two that they aren't ready to compete at that high a level. Other than that I have no idea."

      Davila smiles, folding his hands, and departing from the prepared line of questions for a moment.

      Davila: "Interesting point, Ben. What is it that you bring to the table that you think has allowed you your modicum of success in SHOOT?"

      Jackman smiles a little, not entirely suprised at the question served up in front of him, almost inviting him to be a braggart out of context.

      Jackman: "Well Mr. Davila. I'm a very well rounded fighter, with a background in amateur boxing and wrestling, and to tell the truth I think that varied background has served me very very well. I think thats what it takes to get by in the SHOOT Project, a varied attack, and the ability to adapt to your opponents style."

      Davila: "You were SHOOT's Iron Fist Champion for seven plus months, Ben. Thats quite an accomplishment, with the level of competition you proffessed earlier. Do you think you could let us in the rules of Iron Fist competition and what you think it is that made you that adept at this particular style of fighting?"

      Jackman looks down, a chuckle sliding from his lips.

      "The basic premise of Iron Fist rules fights is simply put, two men fight until one of the men is unable to regain a vertical base. Its basically a war of attrition. To tell the truth there is nothing more entertaining from my standpoint than watching two men fight until one can't continue. Its this type of matchup that allows for a clear winner like none other."

      Jackman pauses for a second, and Davila is there to again prompt him with the second half of the previous question.

      Davila: "And what do you think it is that made you so successful in this type of fighting?"

      Jackman looks upward casting a sidelong glance at Davila before he continues.

      Jackman: "Simply put, its very very hard to knock out a man who refuses to stay down."

      Davila nods, going back to his notes.

      Davila: "Mr. Jackman..er Ben, you've been booked in a very interesting matchup this week, that has landed you right back in the main event slot of the upcoming Oblivion. Could you tell us a little bit about this match?"

      Jackman grimaces a bit, collecting his thoughts before he decides to answer.

      Jackman: "I've been thrust into a three way matchup with two men that I have a very good proffesional relationship with, in my tag team partner Del Carver, and our newly minted brother in arms, Roland Caldwell."

      Davila nods, urging Jackman on.

      Jackman: "Not one of the three of us look forward to this bout in the least, as none of us particularly want to fight the other two, but its not in any of our characters to quit or to walk away from a fight. We are all three warriors in the truest sense of the word and for that reason alone we will all step into that ring on Sunday, and do what we all do best."

      Jackman pauses for a second, again collecting his thoughts.

      Jackman: "And Roland made a very astute observation this week when he made note that all three of us hate losing like nothing else in the world and because of that fact have absolutely no desire to pull our punches in the ring this Sunday. Mr. Davila, this is simply put going to be a war this Sunday at Oblivion, but unlike any other war, when all is said and done the three combatants will meet mid-ring and shake hands afterward, out of respect for each other."

      Davila smiles, ready immeditaly with a followup question.

      Davila: "Your preparation for this week must have been a little more difficult with no clear cut opponent or enemy across the ring from you."

      Jackman: "There may not be a clear cut opponent in the ring this week, but I assure you there is a clear cut opponent this week. As far as my training goes, I have prepared for this just like every other week since my joining SHOOT almost a year ago. Ed Raymond is the enemy this week, and has been a near constant thorn in the side of all three men involved in this match since his appearance in SHOOT several months ago. That is the clear cut enemy this week. The clear cut enemy of every man in the ring."

      Davila: "You've said before that you don't care who you're put across the ring from, that no matter who it is they stand between you and the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship. Has this week's match changed that thought process at all?"

      Jackman stares blankly back across the desk for a moment before answering.

      Jackman: "Not in the least, like I said earlier every man entering this match on Sunday is a warrior in the truest since of the word and whether I like them or not this is another match between me and the apex of the SHOOT Project. For that reason I intend with every fiber of my being, every ounce of my energy, every bit of my ability to win this match. This is the kind of competition a man could make quite a statement against, if I can walk out of this match on Sunday the winner then I've done something no one that I can think of in SHOOT can claim to have done in getting the better of both Del Carver and Roland Caldwell in one night."

      Davila: "You don't think that such bold comments could be a cause of future desention between yourself, Caldwell, and Carver?"

      Jackman shakes his head in disagreement.

      Jackman: Not at all, everyone of us knows that at the end of the day we all want to be the best, and the best will settle for nothing less than a win.

      Davila nods in understanding, going back to his notes again.

      Davila: "Now to switch gears, I understand you've been having some now well publicized problems with the mother of your child."

      Jackman's face twitches with anger, and he leaps to his feet.

      Jackman: "GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!"

      Davila recoils forcefully, his massive weight causing his desk chair to flip over backwards and toss him against the back wall with a thud. Davila sits up slowly, rubbing the spot where his head connected with the edge of the window sill. His eyes move upward to meet Jackman's gaze, who is now leaning over the desk shaking with rage.

      Jackman: "Is that all you wanted? Sweet talk me, and then do some shit like that?"

      Davila rolls to his knees crawling with a blinding speed for someone his size to the safety of the underside of his desk. Jackman sticks the edge of his shoe under the desk fishing around for Davila only to pull it back when he can find nothing but thin air. Jackkman manages to calm down after a few moments and reaches over to the tape recorded calmly pressing the stop button.

      Jackman: "This interview is over."

      Jackman turns and walks out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

      FADE.