The camera crew steps cautiously forward opening the door, and stepping into the foyer of the building. Noone is sitting anywhere in the foyer to act as a greeter or secretary. The camera crew looks around silently for a few moments before the camera comes to rest on a neon sign, the word 'CLOSED' blaring in bright blue. In the back of the building muted speech and the sound a tiny whirring motor can be heard. The camera crew turns and heads back through rows of several large cubicles before finding Ben Jackman seated in a chair turned backward. Jackman leans over the front of the chair, his shirt pulled off, and his ponytail pulled over his left shoulder. Behind Ben Jackman sits a hideously overweight man in a grossly undersized white t-shirt that has been stained a light brown in and around the armpits from excessive sweating. The man turns around, pausing to dip the needle of the tatoo gun in a small bottle of black ink. Jackman looks up noticing the camera crew just as the tatoo artist, who one can only assume is the Wolf mentioned on the blaring neon sign outside, presses the whirring tattoo needle back into Ben Jackman's shoulder blade. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Wolf recoils in suprise at Jackman's raised voice, although quite a large man it becomes increasingly obvious that he is more than a bit skittish, especially around his current customer. Wolf looks up at the camera crew for a moment before going back to his work. Jackman smiles, looking up into the camera for a moment before he begins. "A lot of people have already weighed in with there thoughts on this Sunday's Redemption Rumble. Why it's theres to win. Why its the greatest thing since sliced bread? Why they are totally and completely unconcerned about everyone else in the ring....but every single person has basically said the same thing. I want it more...so there." Jackman smiles broadly, shaking his head. "Now children, I know you can do better than that. Sound like a buncha fucking preschool kids. It's mine because I want it more. Boo fucking Hoo. Cry me a river so I can build you all a bridge to get the fuck over it. I want you all to talk yourselves up the rest of the week, lie to yourselves. Do whatever it is you have to do to make yourselves believe that you actually have a snowballs chance in Hell of winning the Rumble on Sunday. Come on boys, make yourselves believe. That way when you all fail miserably on Sunday, at least one person in St. Petersburg will be suprised." Jackman's smile remains unabated, as Wolf again pauses to refill on ink. Jackman shifts uncomfortably in the chair and continues. "You've all managed to waste the last four days of my life by repeating yourselves. Its fucking pathetic to tell the absolute bare bones truth. Sure, some of you tried to dress it up more than others but it all boiled down to the same thing. You've all sat back and said out loud to all zero people that bother to listen to you....It all depends on who wants it more. You know I could've saved a little time and just watched one of these rumble promos because every last one of them have been the same. Didn't any of you little bastards ever learn that when you're gonna cheat off someone else's homework you gotta change it up just a little or else risk getting caught...or even worse, and everyone of you has this part down pat...manage to look like a total jackass. Congratulations gentlemen. I for one am amazed. What depth. What mental acumen. What total inane drivel." Jackman bellows with laughter causing Wolf to once again recoil slightly, obviously becoming increasingly uncomfortable. "It's like this. Sunday Night, in St. Petersburg Florida at Tropicana Field someone is going to be standing at the end of the night. One man will have his hand raised in victory. And that one man will be named the NEW Number One Contender to the SHOOT Project World Heavyweight Championship. That man isn't going to be you. It isn't going to be him, and it damn sure isn't going to be that guy over there. No matter how bad you or they may want it, it ain't bad enough. NOWHERE near it to tell the God's honest truth. So what I want you boys to do, is go back to your hotel rooms or whereever your most comfortable, and I want you to tell me again just how bad you want it. Just how bad you want to be number one contender. Go back and tell me you want it so bad that you'd rob your own mother and shave your girlfriends pet chihuahua just to have the chance. And I'll smile and shake my head and say to you, Nope...still not enough." Wolf pauses again this time taking a long look at his handy work as he turns the generator off to the tatoo gun, and reaches into a drawer behind him pulling out a tube of ointment and spreading it thinly over Jackman's fresh tatoo as yet unseen by the audience. "See, this Rumble is here for one reason, and one reason alone. It's here for me to win, and for me to stake a claim to one thing that is rightfully mine and another thing that if I have to die trying will be soon be mine as well. Thats right gents, I'm going to walk down that ramp on Sunday. I'm gonna clear the ring of whatever rabble is left when I get there, and I WILL be named the Redemption Rumble Champion...but not because I want it anymore than anyone else. Not because you want it less, but because I cannot and will not be denied. Its as simple as that. Gentlemen bring every bit of energy...every bit of strength that you've got down to the ring on Sunday. That way when I toss every last one of you out, you'll all be left with no excuses. Not that I'd give a shit for anyone you'd try to pass off anyway." Jackman stands looking over his shoulder into a mirror at his new tatoo and nodding approvingly, the tattoo still completely shrouded by his upper body. "This Sunday night when I win the Redemption Rumble, I'm gonna give two of you schmucks the chance of a lifetime. Two of you...the last two I eliminate will have the distinct honor of fighting over my table scraps. Ten days from now the two men that I decide to toss last will step into the ring and beat the hell out of each for a piece of gold that I made what it is today. A piece of gold that I took from relative obscurity to something that was whispered to rival our very own World Title, and the best part of it all boys? You don't have to beat me to get it, but at the same time, thats a double edged sword, seriously whos gonna take you seriously as the faux Iron Fist Champion when I've never been defeated. But you're all welcome to try to wear my shoes, You're all welcome to try to lace my boots, but again you are sadly not worth it. But if you can get past that, if you can convince yourself that you're not a total waste of oxygen then I suppose I can too. I'll see you all Sunday, whether you like it or not." Jackman turns around his back now facing the camera, revealing his new tatoo, a steel grey immaculately done SHOOT Project logo perfectly centered on his right shoulder blade. The camera zooms in until the tattoo takes up the entire screen. "Now that...Is what it's all ABOUT." FADE TO BLACK. 
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