Ben Jackman sits on the balcony of his Tampa, Florida home as the sun sinks slowly toward the horizon over Tampa Bay. He is drenched in sweat and his gym shorts cling to his legs, he is shirtless and the light from the setting sun glistens off the beads of sweat settled across his chest. Jackman takes a deep breath, something obviously weighing on his mind. He sits stalk still for several moments, watching the sun inch lower and lower on the horizon before he finally speaks. "So, Kyle, you're in my head? I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because, 'Holy Shit', that might be Kyle Darkbriar at my door, come to put me out for good in the middle of the night. Sorry to let you down, Kyle. Sorry to piss on your grand little parade but thats the farthest thing from the truth. Like I've said before mind games only work when I can't do anything about them, and even if I hadn't been fed a steady diet of Darkbriar for the last two months, just the fact that I knew the inevitable showdown would come around, would've been enough to keep my head on straight, but instead the booking commitee completely sabatoged any chance you had of really really getting to me. See, Kyle, the situation I'm in has got me fucked up, you've got that much right. But, in as much you are wrong. Because you, you fucking cocksucker, you're not any part of what has got me fucked up. None of it...at all. But if you want to take credit, if you need that little man-made ego boost. Then go for it bitch boy, its all yours. But the absolute truth is this. You're nothing more than a minor annoyance that has managed to swaddle himself in something that already has me pissed off. Its not you, but if you want to sell yourself as the reason behind it all, if you want to be used a post for my agression, for my rage, for my anger. Then tag motherfucker, you're it." Jackman offers a wane smile toward the camera before turning back to the horizon, the fiery sunset burning in his eyes. "So its come time for the game to unravel. Time for all the cards to played. Time for the King to be moved into Checkmate, and your last move...your Oooh just one more thing, is your happiness? Bitch, please. Well motherfucker, how happy do you think its gonna make me to finally shut you up. How happy do you think I'm gonna be when I don't have to listen to any more of your incessant bitching. No more, hey you know what I beat Baal promos. Motherfucker I've beat everybody and all you are to me is just what the man before you was...the NEXT in line. Nothing more, nothing less. But if you want to think you're more thats just fine, whatever turns your fucking crank." Jackman shakes his head never taking his eyes from the horizon. " And now...now I brought this all on myself, eh Darkbriar? And so now...you Hate me? Ah...Kyle thats so sweet. So what makes you hate me Kyle? Is it the respect you desire that I've had since day one? Is it the fact that no one looks at me and thinks 'Overblown Jobber'? You fancy yourself something you're not. You'd like to think that you've got it all in order that you've got us all convinced that by spending two months hanging onto my coattails that you're actually at my level. You couldn't be more wrong, Kyle. Nothing has changed this week from the other 5 times we've fought over the last two months. Nothing has changed and nothing will change. You claimed to be in my head last week.. Knocked you out. You claimed to be better than me at the very start. What did I do then? Blackout Bomb-ed your ass like so many men before, and just like everyone of them you didn't or couldn't get up. And now you claim you're gonna beat me...because you can. Well bitch, if you can, then what made you wait so fucking long. Maybe its all part of you convuluted plot. Maybe its more intricate than I could ever understand, but no matter what it is, the song remains the same. We fight...you lose...again. What more could you ask for?" Jackman sits up in his chair, leaning forward and looking down over the rail as the last rays of sunlight fade over the horizon. "I call you stupid and you take offense but you gladly hitch your star to crazy, because a crazy motherfucker doesn't know when to quit. Doesn't know when to call off the dogs. A stupid motherfucker doesn't either, but at the same time a stupid motherfucker doesn't suffer delusions of grandeur. An idiot knows he's just that, well most of them do. And as the old saying goes, Kyle, Ignorance is Bliss, and like you've told us before you're happier than a pig in shit. Well isn't that special." Jackman chuckles softly. "And then you wan't to know if I'm gonna be able to maintain my concentration, if I'm gonna be able to keep from fucking up, well newsflash Kyle, I guess you hadn't noticed but everytime we me the last few months I came out on top. I kept my concentration then, what changes now? Nothing. This Sunday will be no different from any of the myriad of Sunday's I've dropped your ass before. Because simply you don't have what it takes, no matter how hard you try, you just don't have it....And you never will." A thin smile passes onto Jackman's face, but fades away again just as quickly. "You'd like to think that my string of victories over you would make me complacent. You'd like that, but my friend, complacency is nowhere in my vocabulary or repetoire. I go out every single night fully expecting the fight of my life. Sometimes I've been less than impressed with what I got, while with others I got everything I expected and that much more. Don't worry Kyle, people may be counting you out. Everyone in fact maybe counting you out. But no matter the general consensus I'm not gonna come to that ring at Players or Pawns and give you any less than every bit of energy, every bit of fight, every bit of drive, and endurance that I have in my body. I'm not going down easy, but I'm sure you've realized that by now, and a bout of complaceny is not about to take hold and make your unenviable task any easier. You wanna beat me, Darkbriar? You better be ready to work for it. You better be ready to pull out every trick in the book. Dirty or otherwise, its gonna take everything you've got and just that little bit more if you even hope of getting over on me, but sadly you don't possess that little bit more." Jackman adjusts nervously in his chair, pausing for a moment, perhaps to gather his thoughts. "See, Kyle, its just like you said, this has past far beyond the realm of competition. Far beyond may the best man win. This is personal now, and perhaps I brought it to that very point on my own, but don't try to convince me for even one second that you didn't want it to go exactly this way. You wanted this to be personal, and because its gone as such you think you're in my head. Bad mistake, Kyle. Even if you were, because if that were the case, I'd be not unlike a wounded animal, and there is little if anything more dangerous than a man that has been backed into a corner by his adversary's. This may be what you wanted, Kyle. But this Sunday you'll find out just how much you really didn't want it. This is your chance, Kyle. Be the man, Kyle. Knock me off my pedestal, like so many have tried to do before. Prove me wrong, Kyle. I dont think you can." Jackman smiles cockily, some of his usual swagger shining through. "You've been a bold motherfucker this week, Kyle, going so far as to almost guarantee victory, well I'll do you one better bitch. This Sunday...I WILL beat you like I've done everytime before. But not because I can. Because YOU Can't." Jackman turns his attention completely from the camera as the last light dies in the west and the camera fades to black.