Ben Jackman presses the benchpress bar up and off his chest one last time resetting it in the rack and leaning up on the edge of the bench. Sweat runs down his face in thick rivers, his hair is matted against his face which is red from exertion. Jackman reaches to his left and wipes the thick layer of sweat from his face with a towel. Jackman tosses the towel back down where it came, and leans back under the bar again only to be stopped short by the sound of his cell-phone ringing from beside the bench. Jackman again wipes the sweat from his brow before picking the phone up and pressing it to his ear. "Yeah, this is Ben, whats up?" Keith, Ben's attorney, speaks solemnly from the other side of the line. "Ben, it's Keith. I just wanted to call and let you know that I had your court case pushed back." Ben is shocked silent. "W-what the fuck for, Keith?" "Look, what you did a coupla weeks ago. Getting hauled in for approaching your kid at school, all that good shit. That is the black mark to end all black marks on your case. If we go in now...Thursday, actually, like we'd originally planned then there is no way in hell you'd win. You'd be fucked from the starting gate, Ben." Ben nods, still maintaining his silence. "Look, Ben. I know you don't like the idea of waiting any longer than NOW to get your kid back, but would rather go in Thursday, lose your ass, and accomplish absolutely nothing. Or would you rather wait a month or two, let some of this shit blow over, get all this negative press out of the paper so you can actually have a shot at what this whole court case is all about...getting your fucking kid back?" Ben remains silent, his mind a mixture of thoughts to varied to discern. "Well, Ben. Whats it gonna be?" Jackman sighs heavily. "I'll take whats behind door number two, Alex." Keith chuckles halfheartedly. "Ben, I know this shit is killing you and having to wait that much longer isn't gonna be much good for Jonny either, but its the only way. Its what we have to do, you understand, right?" Ben nods. "Yeah, Keith. I'm with you." The door to Jackman's gym swings open and a SHOOT Project camera crew walks in, a huge convoy of equipment in tow. Jackman wordlessly directs them to a spot to set up across the room while he finishes of his phone call. "Look, Keith. A crew is here to catch some of my comments for Sunday, so let me let you go." "Alright, bro." "I'll give you a call tommorow. Have a good one." "Sounds good, Ben. Same to you." Jackman pulls the phone from his ear hanging it up quickly and tossing it to the side, he again picks up the towel and daubs the last few spots of sweat from his forehead. The camera crew gives him the thumbs up, and Jackman nods back in understanding as he wipes a stray hair from his face. "So Kyle, almost two months of shit talk...almost two months of games, and it all comes down to this. And you seem strangely confident for a man thats spent those two months getting his ass kicked week in and week out. A man would have to be crazy to think that he could win now. But then thats all you isn't it Kyle, so crazy that you can't seperate your dreams from reality. The reality is simply this. You'll come down to the ring on Sunday, because you're too stupid to tuck tail and run, and I'll kick your ass AGAIN because thats just what I do. There is no misunderstanding between us, none at all. I get it. You're out of your fucking mind, and you think you have a chance, what else is there to get. Now that we're on the same page let me line something else out for you. I may be a little bit split right now, but you'd better lace your fucking boots on Sunday knowing that for the duration of our match that you will be my one and only focus in the entire world. There will be nothing else but my fists and your face. My foot and your ass. Now do you get that?" Jackman smiles a little, taking a sip of water, he continues. "So you want to be underestimated. You want the world to lose faith. You want noone to belive in you. Well newsflash, Kyle. No one thinks you beat me, so you got your wish. Congratu-fuckin-lations. But EVERYBODY knows that you won't beat me. You're shit out of luck, you've placed your last card and I'm still holding the trump. God damned shame, all this time you thought it was all going your way and now I have to come along and shit on your hopes and dreams, but then again I've gotten good at that lately Kyle. You talk as if we've never stepped in the ring before, as if I don't know every bit of what you bring to the table, well bitch, I've seen it all, I've taken everything you've got and I've stood back up afterward. You don't have anything else for me, Darkbriar, and yet you convince yourself that you can and will win on Sunday." Jackman shakes his head as if saddened. "Poor sad pathetic little man. You're just grasping at straws, you have nothing left to cling to, and you're just grasping at straws completley oblivious to the fact that everytime you reach I just pull them a hair out of your reach. Maybe I've been toying with you these last two months, maybe you ain't seen nothing yet. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking theres no way. No way could I have absolutely destroyed you the way I have without using every ounce of my ability, but the truth of the matter is simply that, Kyle. You ain't seen nothing yet. This Sunday, I'm gonna giving you the beating of a lifetime, and in a way its not because of any anger toward you, at least not completely. See Kyle, you've managed to fashion yourself as my child's mother's whipping boy. For everything she's put me through you'll pay, and then some for the games you've tried to get over on me. A man of lesser ignorance than yourself might realize that now would be the time to 'make like a tree and get the fuck out' but you're either not that smart or your too full of false bravado to do that. So guess what Kyle, bring your ass on Sunday thats all I'll need." Camera fades to black as Jackman lays back on the bench his hands again closing around the bar.