Am I ready? Tag Team Champion Jamie Krenshaw sits back in a comfy recliner. Behind him, prominent on a wall, is a large TWD banner. In front of him sits a TV. On the TV, blathering desperately, Saber. Jamie watches, somewhat amused, mostly indignant as Saber concludes his promo in his customary way, asking "Are you ready?" Krenshaw sniggers, casually reaches for the remote and turns the television off. He shifts in his seat so as to be facing the camera. Facing you. Listen up. JAMIE: Am I ready? Jamie shakes his head condascendingly. JAMIE: Saber, each time we face off against one another you ask the same exact question. Why? The Parking Lot Brawl came around and you asked "Am I ready?" I was. Were you? I guess my possession of this... Jamie gestures to his Champion's Case which sits beside the recliner. JAMIE: Answers that question. Only two weeks later we face off again and you asked "Am I ready?" Again, I was. You weren't. I handed you your first and, if I remember correctly, you're only singles match loss thus far in TWD. Jamie grins. JAMIE: And then came the Tag Team Turmoil match, in your own words, the biggest match of your career. You finally had something important on the line. If ever you should be ready for something, that night was the night. Once again, Saber, you weren't ready. And once again, I was. I put myself through agony, I went from bell-to-bell, along with Krunch spending more time in that ring than ANYONE else and I never gave up. Even when you came crashing down on me with some flashy move designed to pop the crowd, I kicked out. Because I was ready. You? You tapped out the very second Krunch locked you up in a submission hold. You gave up. For all intents and purposes, you said "Take this championship, I don't want it." And now... Jamie reaches beside his recliner and pulls up his Tag Team Title belt. JAMIE: I have that title. For someone who claims to love wrestling so much, Saber, one would think you'd be better at it. Fact is, despite all your campaigning and insistence that you will become a "legend", evidence is mounting to prove the contrary. Whenever you've wrestled a match that actually mattered, you've lost. You've lost to me. A man whose interest in this industry doesn't extend past money. What does that tell you? If you, a so-called prodigy of the sport, a true student of the game is constantly on the losing end against a man who doesn't care? Jamie pauses a moment, allowing the question to linger in the air. JAMIE: And here's where I hear you saying "But you do care, Jamie! You want the fame and glory even though you say you don't!" Jamie again shakes his head, a wry smile forming on his face. JAMIE: Nice Pop Psychology there, Dr. Phil. What do you base it on? The fact that I flaunt my winning record? Which does stand at 26/0. The fact is, whether I pinned all those 26 men to the mat or not, they all competed against me in matches they had a chance to win. They lost, I beat them. All 26 of them. 3 times it was you. Your indignance at my claim only serves to strengthen it, given the fact that most things you say are inherently wrong. Which brings me back to your little evaluation of me. You're mistaken belief that I actually need this industry. That I care about it. I would have thought I'd reiterated it enough since I got here but it seems the message isn't filtering through to you, Saber, so I'll say it once again: I am here for my family. To provide financially for them so they can live the lives they deserve. If you hear me bragging about my undefeated record, it's because a streak = ratings = money. If you see me basking in my glory in front of the fans it's because a} it makes them hate me more which means they'll pay to see my matches "just incase" I lose spoiler alert: I won't. and b) I do feel proud when I'm standing in front of the idiotic rabble you call an audience. I feel proud because I'm doing something honourable and succeeding at it. Meanwhile, these people who despise me are actually just playing their part of my plan to a tee. As are you. Jamie pauses. JAMIE: You say that I've been a thorn in your side since you got here. How quickly one forgets. It was you who first namechecked me with a touch of flippant racism. I took umbrage to that because, to good people, racism is a bad thing. Maybe they didn't teach you that in the South, Saber, or during your wrestling training because, let's face it, the south and the wrestling industry are famous for their racism. But here's where I stand apart from the industry. Another reason I'm Above Wrestling. I won't just cave in and stay quiet while bad people do bad things. I won't allow racism just because "it's always been in the business". And yet you have the gall to claim that you're the one trying to change this industry for the better? Saber, as I've said all along, you are just another cow in the slaughterhouse and no matter how hard you try to assert differently, that will never change. It's amazing that out of all the horrible people in this company, you chose ME as a beacon of all that's wrong with the industry when I am anything but. I'm an honourable man. A family man. I fight for what I believe in and I never lose. You may say "Well, if you're so honourable, why don't you try to change this indstry instead of railing against it?" Jamie sighs. JAMIE: Because, Saber, this industry isn't worth saving. You may hate what I have to say but, like it or not, I have been around this thing much longer than you. I know the ins and the outs, the egos and the tantrums, the drugs and the crime. I know everything about this business because I was once like you. I naively believed I could make a difference. I believed that beyond all the horror stories remained the fact that what we do entertains children and child-like adults around the world. But that belief was destroyed when the business chewed me up and spat me out like it was always inevitably going to. I left this industry in 2007, one of my best friends, Dustin Iler, missing and presumed dead. Another good friend, Jade Diamond, on his way to a nervous breakdown. I returned to Australia a mess. The industry had left me saddled with addictions to drugs and booze, to sex. I would use people and abuse people and I thought it was okay because in wrestling, it's a necessary survival trait. This business forces good people to turn bad. It wasn't until I met my beautiful wife and saw what real happiness feels like that I gave up the drugs, the booze and the anonymous sex. She taught me that I was better than this business. I could be a better man than this business would have me believe. And since coming here, I've tried to teach you the same thing, Saber. But you haven't listened. You've ignored my advice, dismissed my wisdom and come back with the automated response "But that won't happen to me." Jamie chuckles and turns slightly more serious. JAMIE: But it is happening to you. Just as I predicted all those months ago when I asked you a simple question: Why do you want to be a legend in this industry? You came back with a carefully considered yet blissfully ignorant response and moved on, sated, feeling like you'd "made your point". Well now you've been a Champion and you're finally beginning to make my point. I said that you would taste success and that would be the first step on that road to wrestling damnation. You've taken that step and Saber, there's no stopping the process now. See, when you won that belt you felt immeasurable pride. Don't deny it because it was written all over your face whenever you had the belt in your hands. Now you've lost that belt, you feel immeasurable pain. Hunger. Lust to reclaim that glory. You feel starved of something you now feel you deserve. You now feel entitled to. And that's where it all starts. What happens next, Saber? What happens when you and Colt Crawford face Krunch and I and come up short once again? Right now you're living under the delusion that you're getting those belts back on Sunday. You're not. So what are you going to do then? The hunger, the lust, it will reverberate inside of you until you feel like you're about to burst. And then what do you do? You start attacking people. You start politicking, kissing corporate arse so that the higher-ups will give you another shot at glory. You start drinking and taking drugs to help distract from the fact that you're completely unfulfilled. And then you look into the mirror and realise you've become everything you rallied against. Everything you said you'd never be. Jamie looks through the camera with dead-eyed sincerity. JAMIE: You may think it will never happen, Saber. You may think you're strong enough to avoid it but in thinking that, you're thinking that you're stronger than me. And three times I have proven that simply isn't the case. Don't say you weren't warned, Saber, and don't come to me asking for any dealers' numbers. Despite what you asserted in your latest promo, I've been clean for two years. Because I have something to live for. Without those Tag Titles, what do you have? Colt Crawford? A man who hates you. A lacklustre roid-fiend who only gets by on riding coat-tails. Jamie nods antagonstically. JAMIE: That's right, Colt, I called you a roid-fiend. I called you lacklustre. Know why? Because you are bereft of any discernable talent which makes me think maybe your talent is your ability to convince those around you that you aren't completely worthless. You've yet to convince me but Sunday you have your chance. What are you gonna do about it? Nothing, is my guess. But good luck at Showdown and, Saber, good luck with the rest of your life because after I defeat you again on Sunday, you won't be getting another shot at my Tag Titles, no matter how hard Brain Clark may petition. And with that, Jamie stands up, grabs his Title belt and Champion's Case and walks away. "Marinate" on that, fellas.

I've been ready for months. Still waiting for you, Saber.