Post by Benjamin Atreyu on Jun 17, 2012 15:58:18 GMT -5
“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.” -”The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald
-.-.-
2:00pm Saturday, June 16, 2012 (Present)
The long line of people who have attempted to gain entrance into the headquarters of Future Gods Incorporated and talk to its CEO or star client could stretch out the door and down several city blocks. Some men would fight tooth and nail just to be allotted the chance to schedule a meeting at some obscure place, at some obscure hour, at some obscure date, months from that point just for it to inevitably be canceled. While some eventually gave up on the idea of ever getting a chance to meet them face to face, the steady stream of people who would attempt to would never wane. However, on this day, it was these two moguls that would end up waiting for the approval on another.
Future Gods Incorporated was working on becoming a world-wide franchise, to stretch beyond the bounds of American boarders and out into a global market just ready for the picking. While the internet made it easier to spread the name of a musician across oceans in a single upload, a business did not have the same advantage. Deals had to be struck, plans had to be made, expenses needed to be paid, campaigns needed to be built, and so much more if a business wished to survive. However, if a corporation could make its way through the treacherous course of becoming an international entity, glorious riches would become theirs. The problem was that Blake Updegraff IV, CEO of Future Gods Incorporated, had hit a snag and the company was floundering just short of it's goal.
He had tried to carefully make a balanced exchange of profits and investments to create some wiggle room in such a delicate procedure, but it didn't seem to be enough. He traded stock, fired countless people, cut spending on charities, and may have pulled some tricks out of Walmart's play book by bribing foreign officials, but it did little in the way of helping them take the next step towards world-wide fame. The task was overwhelming Blake on all sides and after tiring out every other option he could, he gave in and seeked help from outside Future Gods Incorporated, something Blake was incredibly reluctant to admit to himself or others.
He made calls he didn't wish to make and he planned meetings he didn't wish to plan, but now he and Benjamin were finally sitting in the lounge outside their intended destination and he only had to suck it up for a little bit longer. His pride suffered some minor damage, but he reassured himself it would all be worth it in the long run when he was handling the largest wrestler management agency in the world. All he had to do was walk through those doors when called, strike a deal between the two companies that he felt was fair, and make the final transactions needed to translate Future Gods Inc. into a hundred different languages. It was always his dream, since starting the company, to be heard of on countries nobody has heard of and to be the whisper floating on lips from Japan to Hawaii. His last hurdle was the man sitting at the desk on the other side of the door, Jefferson Buckley, CEO of Daring Films Ltd. He was far enough away from being competition to be safe to deal with, but close enough in the entertainment industry to be compatible.
It was the first time that Blake Updegraff IV had been forced to “hire up”. Most of his interactions had been, until that point, with smaller businesses which he eventually turned into branches of the growing conglomerate that was Future Gods Incorporated. Blake was hesitant about the idea of investing in anything that could do any detrimental harm, but he feared the stagnant nature of a plateaued company more so than the risk of a growing one. This would be the first time that the fate of the company was placed into the hands of a third party and if it hadn't been Benjamin Atreyu who had recommended the company, Blake would have surely been stuck in a state of complete indecisiveness.
Benjamin Atreyu, having become a close friend and associate of Blake's, was more than willing to help Blake in his quest to expand the company. He didn't fear that he would be lost in the shuffle if the company grew, he knew he would continue to be their biggest star, but even with that aside, Benjamin Atreyu was all too familiar with the soul-crushing environment that was the world of business and feared that, if the company failed in this endeavor, it would consume Blake utterly and completely. Blake would allow that blemish to overwhelm every accomplishment he had achieved, he would allow it to invade his sleeping and waking hours until that failure became who he was. Nothing would be left but the ever resounding thud to which Blake fell to rock bottom.
Benjamin Atreyu was part of a long lineage of business men and other successful-types and the current realm of offices and secretaries was all too familiar to him. While Blake tapped his toes and shot glances back and forth in the room in anticipation, Benjamin seemed to be slipping into a meditation of sorts as he absorbed the white noise of telephone calls and fax machines. His head was slumped down as he stared at the black carpeted floor, taking in the tiny intricate details of the machine stitching. This is why he spent years trying to avoid business meetings, he was too comfortable there. He feared that, despite years of developing an athletic prowess and building his name within the squared circle, that it would be all too easy for him to step back into the world of business and find that he was still in-tune with it.
As soon as he had stepped into the building, the smells and sounds had thrown him years into the past before the idea of becoming a wrestler had even crossed young Benjamin's mind. Fragmented remnants of a once dormant memory fought to surface as Benjamin strolled beside Blake through the marble plaza echoing with the clicking of footsteps and the murmuring of idle chatter. Men and women in suits sent an aesthetic sense of familiarity through his spine as they walked right passed him with a suitcase in one arm and a stack full of papers in the other. Benjamin cursed the pleasing nature of it all as he took to it so quickly. This wasn't his world, he had rejected it years ago, but no matter how far he had come, it was clawing at the front of his mind like a dog waiting to be let in. It turned his stomach, but he kept a straight face for the sake of professionalism and for the sake of Blake, even as memories of him and his father flooded his brain...
-.-.-
5:00pm Saturday, April 4, 1992
A young Benjamin, just having hit the age of ten, was sitting silently in a corner of his father's office as his father and another gentleman chatted among themselves, smoking cigars. The smoke filled the air, invading Benjamin's lungs as he attempted to keep quiet as to not disturb his father while he was meeting with a very important client, but to Benjamin it hardly seemed like any of the meetings he had seen on any of the television shows he had watched. In the shows, the air was usually electric with intensity as the two men sat across from each other trading angry glances as they talked about money or “percentages” leading up to one of the men accusing the other of being a “greedy pig” or a “cheapskate”. However, both men just jabbered on about their personal lives, asking each other how their families were or if they had caught the game last night.
Benjamin pulled his shirt over his nose to try and prevent the potent smell of the cigar from penetrating, but to no avail. Eventually, out of boredom, Benjamin's eyes began to wander around, staring at the various plaques and decorations strewn across the room. He stared intently at the family portrait sitting across from him at the darkest and farthest corner of the room, as if waiting to become a long lost memory pushed away by achievements and material items. There was no particular detail he focused his attention on, but instead it was focused on the picture as a whole in its out-of-place nature in this realm of business. It felt like an ever shrinking reminder of humanity slowly being engulfed by a world of brand-names, gold plating, and liquor cabinets.
A quick deep laugh forced his gaze back onto his father and the other gentleman as they continued to yammer on about something else unimportant. He laid his head back in his chair, comfortable enough to rest in, but not enough to sleep in as he hovered around the sense of exhaustion and restlessness in his chair, but he remained quiet, despite this inconvenience, to keep from aggravating his father. His eyes just gazed out the window as the setting sun was slightly obscured by an adjacent building. He closed one eye, and continued staring at the building outside for a moment before he switched the other one closed and the first eye open, watching everything shift from one spot to the other, just to switch eyes and have them jump back. He continued to do this back and forth, at one point putting one finger in front of the sun just to have it move out of the way as he switched eyes again.
Time passed, the man left, the sun set, and his father sift through various papers as Benjamin continued to sit in that one chair in that one corner of the room, only moving when needing to go to the bathroom or when one of his legs would eventually fall asleep. His father didn't say much besides the occasional mumble to himself or the obligatory “we'll be out of here soon enough”, but Benjamin wasn't sure if that was for his sake or his father's own sake. Either way, Benjamin just sat patiently as he let his father file through, what he assumed was, important paper work. At one point, his father stopped fumbling around with papers, turned around in his chair and surveyed the night sky from his office window before looking over at Benjamin and giving him a quick smile, the only smile he had given him that day.
Eventually, when any sign of the sun had passed and all the paper work was properly filed, Benjamin's father raised to his feet, stretching out with a loud deep groan, and walked out from behind his desk, motioning for Benjamin it was time to go. On his way out, he tugged his coat off of his coat rack and threw it over his shoulder, he held the door open for young Benjamin and they both proceeded out to the elevators. Benjamin was finally glad to walk again and mostly glad he didn't have to sit there surround by the cigar smoke, but a thought still plagued him.
He remembered back to the family portrait, how it sat so far away in that little corner of the room. The idea of it sitting far away did not strike him with a feeling of sadness or a feeling of anger, but only a feeling of indifference. What perplexed him was that, when Benjamin asked if he could come with him to work today, why had he said yes when it seemed he wanted to keep his family as far away from him as possible as he worked. As they entered the elevator he thought about asking his father, but figured that it is a question better saved for a different time.
-.-.-
(Present)
Benjamin snapped out of his day dream as a man entered the lounge area from a different room and walked up to the secretary whispering a few inaudible words before leaving the room through the same door he came. The secretary called, Benjamin assumed, Jefferson Buckley and relayed the message to him before quickly hanging up and resuming her normal work. Benjamin stretched his arms and back before looking back over at Blake to see how he was doing. Same as before, he was tapping his toes and completely restless, wearing his anxiousness on his sleeves. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Blake so nervous before. There were a handful of times, due to a match up or something of that sort, that Blake would become a tad anxious, but never to such a severe degree. He saw a glimpse of his father's final years in Blake's eyes and it startled him.
Years ago, when Benjamin was approaching his graduating year in High School his father was in the midst of planning a very important merger with another company that would have brought his father's company onto a whole new level, especially fiscally. His father had been talking about it for months and how it would change everything. Even if their family was wealthy already, this was going to make it so they could live the kind of high-life he had always dreamed about. For once people would look up to him in his awe-inspiring glory as one of the wealthiest men in the nation. When he wasn't working towards it, he was day-dreaming about it. At points he would zone out of conversations and entire minutes would come by before he would come to. His company, his baby of sorts, was finally going to do something he, previously, could only dream of.
However, something had gone horribly wrong and the merger fell through. The company didn't suffer to badly, it was fiscally stable in a month, but his father's pride never recovered. From that point on it seemed as if a part of him had died along with the transaction. He ate less, he talked less, he went out less, and he slept more. There were whole days when he wouldn't get out of bed. Twenty years of never having missed a day of work put to an end by one ugly failure standing in the center of his life of success. His health continued to deteriorate as he seemed to lose all of his drive and ambition to live. The whole ordeal seemed to conquer the general atmosphere of the household. There weren't many, if any at all, family outings. Everything became very sullen as time went on and his father seemed more and more disconnected.
He saw all that in Blake's nervous glance and it felt like he was reliving the entire experience. It was hard to watch this whole week go down as Blake just got more nervous, but that is why Benjamin was there in the first place, to try and keep it all from happening all over again, especially to someone who had done so much for him. Too many great men have been crippled by their mistakes, but he refused to let Blake be one of them. Everyone was destined to experience the consequences of their own actions, but that didn't mean they should be doomed to wallow in the mistakes that cost them their ultimate dream, especially for someone as young as Blake.
-.-.-
1:35am Tuesday, December 5, 2000
Benjamin could remember laying in his room, unable to sleep when he heard the ambulance roaring down his street and stopping in front of his house. He jumped out of bed and ran to his second floor window as paramedics raced out of their vehicle and into the house carrying a stretcher with them. Benjamin darted out of his room and as he descended the stairs he could see the paramedics strapping his father into the stretcher and rushing him out of the house almost as fast as they had rushed in. Benjamin stood there on the steps, motionless, speechless, and without a rational thought to be found. He looked down and saw his mother sitting on the couch, crying into her hands. He leaped the rest of the way down the stairs and ran over to her to ask what was wrong.
Apparently, his father had gotten up in the middle of the night for some odd reason and was walking down the stairs when he was suddenly struck with a heart attack. She heard him cry out in pain and then that was followed by several loud thuds. She had jumped out of bed and ran out to see what was wrong and that was when she saw him laying at the bottom of the stairs, howling in pain. She ran over to the phone an immediately dialed 9-1-1 telling them exactly what had happened. Soon after that Benjamin's older brother stepped out of his room to see what was wrong and when the paramedics came he was already outside and helping them get their father into the ambulance, he rode with them to the hospital.
As soon as his mother had finished telling him what happened he ran, grabbed his coat, and ran out of the front door with his car keys in hand. He felt the snow crunch under his bare feet, but he couldn't recall feeling the cold; he could only recall feeling his heartbeat, hearing the wind rush against his ears, and tasting the cold air as he took deep hurried breaths on his way to the car. He jumped into his car and proceeded to drive like a mad man all the way to the hospital, being lucky enough to be not pulled over by a police officer. As he entered the hospital he was met by the sound of groans, crying babies, and a shrieking phone as it rang off the hook.
He finally got over his disorientation and ran up to the front desk, and like in any good over-dramatic hospital show, he demanded to see his father. The clerk advised that he sit down, but she fell on deaf ears as he continued to yell. It wasn't blood coursing through his veins, it was pure panic; it wasn't air that he breathed, it was fire. Eventually, another clerked walked up to Benjamin, looking to help him and Benjamin, as calmly as he could, told the clerk that his father had a severe heart attack and just had been brought in from an ambulance. Over and over, midst his story, he kept repeating “his name is Anthony Atreyu, please I need to see him.” The clerk guided him through the hospital and the raging noises died off behind him as the doors shut, but as far as memory serves, there could have been a million people there with severed limbs and Benjamin would have never noticed. His mind was too focused.
Finally, they reached the room and he quickly ran over to his father’s side and dropping to his knees. He looked his father over; he looked sick, he looked weak, he looked pale, he was hardly even a shell of his former self from the past few months. He seemed like nothing more than a loose sack of skin sitting on a fragile old skeleton. Benjamin clasped his hand and his father faintly began to stir awake. Tears had been welling in Benjamin's eyes on the whole way there and now they finally began to fall as his father looked over at him. If he had not been so scared of hurting/breaking him, he would had embraced him in a tight hug refusing to let go, but he would have to settle for holding his hand.
As he wiped his eyes, he realized that, save for furniture and the two of them, the room was completely empty. Where was his brother? His mother had said he was riding in the ambulance with the paramedics, but he didn't see him anywhere. He was hit with a slight second wave of panic and disorientation as he looked around for his missing brother. He stood up and was beginning to look out the door when he heard a faint sound escape from his father's lips. He quickly dropped back down by his father's bed side, holding his breath, hoping to hear something, anything.
Anthony Atreyu: ...Benjamin...?
Benjamin Atreyu: Dad, I'm right here. Where is Zach?
Anthony Atreyu: He is...with a doctor...listen, Benjamin.
Benjamin was listening harder than he ever had in his life, trying to make out every faint word that crept across his father’s dry lips. He even attempted to silence his thoughts despite the hysteria raging through him. His father motioned for him to lean closer and Ben did. His father tried to lift his head off of his bed, but Benjamin encouraged him to lay back and his leaned in closer as his father continued to try and speak. What could be so important that he would go to such trouble to tell him? Did he think he was going to die and felt he needed to give some last minute life-y wisdom before he passed on and the time to speak had passed? Benjamin held his breath and he listened closely, trying to take in every word accordingly.
Anthony Atreyu: ...Benjamin...I must tell you this before I go...it is god's children who will end up godless...They will pray and wait and give themselves to something and they will believe in it more than anything else. They will dedicate their life to it, but when it’s the curtain call and their years of praying have amounted to nothing more than a mound of words, they will stare into the sky for an answer and find nothing staring back at them...we were born here to suffer and that is how we shall all die...
Benjamin's eyes widened as his father's head and arm dropped back. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. As he laid dying in his hospital bed, he took the time and energy to summon up his last words and it was all just a message of futility. His father, a dying man, gave his son words of despair in his final moments. It all summed up to “it was all a lie and we were all fools for believing it.” Benjamin went reeling as he fell back into the chair behind him, still caught in a whirlwind of disbelief that his father's last remaining thoughts where ones of an absolutely depressing nature. He pressed his hand against his forehead and for the first time since he left the house, he could feel how cold he was. His feet ached, his face was wet with tears, his throat was sore from holding back sobs of panic.
Just then, the electrical bird chirps, that signified his father's depressed and saddened heart, started to hold out its final note as Benjamin's father died right before his eyes. His brother raced into the room right past him and ran up to his father screaming out of pure fear, “NO! Please, oh god no! Please, not now!” but Benjamin just stared, unable to accept the fact that his father just took his last breath right in front of him and flat lined. The whole scene seemed incredibly surreal to him in a way. It was as if he was watching this on television and the whole thing was just a drama, one who could just switch the channel on and watch something more light-hearted, but no matter how hard he wished, he sat there and watched this depressing performance that unraveled in front of him.
Benjamin Atreyu: ...dad...
-.-.-
(Present)
Benjamin was broken out of day dreaming by the secretary this time as she informed them that Jefferson Buckley was now free to see them. Both Benjamin and Blake rose to their feet after a good hour long wait and slowly felt feeling drift back into their legs. Blake quickly took a couple of deep breaths before walking to Mr. Buckley's room with Benjamin quickly following after him. As they entered, Benjamin started recollecting on how different this office was from his father's. The walls had hardly any clutter, the shades on the windows were open, letting a copious amount of sunshine to pour into the room, Mr. Buckley had a picture of his family on his desk where he and everyone could see it, and the room smelled smoke free. Benjamin hated it, it felt like a guilty man's room, like a place that tries too hard to hide secrets, it tries to give off a facade to distract you, it was unnatural.
Though, it wasn't Benjamin's or Blake's first time in the office. In fact, this was a follow up meeting to Monday's disaster that Blake was still recovering from, made evident by his state of anxiety. Benjamin had the same impression of Mr. Buckley that he does now; he isn't an honest man, he hides his vices because their vices to be ashamed of, he hides enough of his awards to seem humble, but shows enough of them to seem efficient. Though Benjamin's perception of him, this time around, is far more malicious, because now he knows the truth. Not only is Mr. Buckley a liar, he is an asshole too.
-.-.-
3:00pm Monday, June 11, 2012
Benjamin and Blake were sitting in a limo outside of the business building, sitting in complete silence. Blake was nervous, but it was a fresh kind of nervousness, one that warrants excitement. They slipped out of the limo and up the elevators to the fiftieth floor where they exited out onto a busy floor where men and women came whizzing by with huge stacks of paper under each arm. The men stepped through the chaos and eventually found themselves standing in the lobby introducing themselves to the secretary to confirm their appointment. The wait wasn't long and everything seemed to be moving at a sort of bouncing pace and they were greeted at the door by Mr. Buckley himself.
The meeting came off to a cheery start as Blake explained the general idea behind the meeting, going over the general deal he was promising to Mr. Buckley in exchange for some help. He went through each part of the plan very methodically and spoke clearly, feeling very comfortable with Mr. Buckley. Benjamin kept quiet, eying the room, finding himself a tad more uncomfortable compared to Blake. Once Blake was done explaining the plan he fell silent and the room remained that way for a moment or two before Mr. Buckley began to speak.
Jefferson Buckley: I hope, since this is businessman to fellow businessman, that I can speak openly with you.
Blake Updegraff IV: Of course, Mr. Buckley.
Jefferson Buckley: It seems, in my perspective anyway, that you want me to throw money into a vast black hole that is your company.
Blake Updegraff IV: Excuse me?
Jefferson Buckley: Mr. Updegraff lets have no illusions to what is going on here. I'm not sure if you are dumb or just playing the part really well, but I find I hard to believe that you want me to make such an investment for a company that manages 'rasslers'. I mean, how could this be a sound investment for me? I throw money at your company, you try whatever scheme you are attempting here, you fall flat on your faces and then I lose money. I just don't see how this is supposed to work out in my favor.
Blake Updegraff IV: Excuse me, sir, but it isn't as simple as that. This isn't a scam. We offer a legit service to unrepresented wrestlers....
Jefferson Buckley: See, I keep hearing that word, “rasslers,” and it just isn't making me feel any more comfortable about this.
Blake Updegraff IV: Sir, as I'm sure you know. Wrestling is a multi-billion dollar industry and represents a world-wide market...
Jefferson Buckley: For the people who show it. So, they can get the lowest common-denominator of entertainment, two guys beating each other up, and make some money with it. That doesn't mean that you are going to make money representing them. It just means the fans are morons.
Blake Updegraff IV: I have several wrestlers already on contract with Future Gods Incorporated and more waiting to be signed...
Jefferson Buckley: Oh great, so you got a few idiots who believe what you are selling, doesn't mean you can go world-wide. Look it at this way, boys. You have one trick and you want to take that one trick and stretch it all over the world. If Rome has taught us anything, those who expand beyond their means are doomed to fail, and sorry to say it guys, but I don't see you making it out of the states anytime soon. I'm sure if you work hard enough and do enough car washes, you'll make a pretty penny, but don't try and take your company onto a global scale when you clearly don't have what it takes to get it done.
Benjamin Atreyu: Sir, do you find it wise to taunt a potential business partner.
Jefferson Buckley: See, here is the thing. I don't NEED your business, but you do need mine. If I were to invest in you, which I'm not say I will or won't, it would be completely an exercise of my own will and not that of the company's needs. Now, I'm going to give you a couple of days to get your shit together and you can comeback and try to convince me that you are worth throwing a little money into, even for my own entertainment.
With that the meeting ended, no good-byes were exchanged, no final words of camaraderie shared between businessmen, just all the hope in the room getting the air knocked out of it.
-.-.-
11:00pm Monday, June 11, 2012
Benjamin and Blake sat at the hotel bar, feeling defeated. The day had been hot, the meeting had been shitty, and now the room was as dead as Dillinger, something that seemed to openly mock their current circumstances. Blake sipped on a black label beer as he sat their staring at the bright light up display behind the bottles, causing them to sparkle and shine in contrast to the general shit-storm cloud looming over him.
Blake Updegraff IV: Can you believe that fucker? I spend precious time and energy to travel up to his fucking office and he just shits all over me because I stuck my money in the wrestling business. You know what the worst part is...I am going to go back there to convince him to invest in us. Its fucking sick! I feel like a jester being pulled out of the dungeon to give everyone a few laughs. All I fucking want is to get my company out there and make something of myself.
Benjamin Atreyu: Don't wind yourself up, lets talk about something else.
Blake Updegraff: Okay, you want to talk about something else, how about this. What are you plans for your match against Johnny Reb and Chad Evans?
Benjamin Atreyu:...Okay you're right, I got nothing, I'm not too worried about the Duke boys right now.
Blake Updegraff IV: Yeah, what you should be worried about is that Waylon Cash mother fucker. You've seriously fucked him up, he is looking to get some die-hard cold-ass vengeance on you. You can't let him fuck you guys up before the Pay-per-view.
Benjamin Atreyu: You're starting to depress me man.
Blake Updegraff IV: Well one of us should be depressed. Either me because I have to roll over for some fuck nut or you because some Lynyrd Skynrd rejects want to roast your hide over an open fire. I mean come on. Did God decide to take a shit on us this week or what?
Benjamin Atreyu: No, I get it, Blake. What you need to do is calm down. Don't let this shit ruin your head.
Blake Updegraff IV: You know he is going to say no.
Benjamin Atreyu: He is not going to say no.
Blake Updegraff IV: Yes he fucking is. He is going to let me make a fool of myself and then he is going to boot me out the fucking door.
Benjamin Atreyu: Blake, I'm going to knock some sense into your goddamn head if you don't shut the fuck up. I said I got this, so what should you do? Chill the fuck out.
Blake Updegraff IV: Fine, I'll shut up, but you still need to get your head into this match. Last thing we need is to get our asses handed to us during by some asshole behind a desk before we get our asses handed to us by Captain Redneck and Anarchy Boy.
Benjamin Atreyu: Fuck, I don't even want to think about Chad Evans. The guy listens to a few Johnny Hobo songs and thinks he can conquer the fucking world. Let me tell you something about Anarchists. Its never really about saving the people when it comes to them. Its always about what live THEY want and they would gladly force everyone else to live by it, but try it the other way around and its “fascism”. Anarchism isn't some all-saving dream, its a fucking nightmare dipped in chaos. Every time I hear an anarchists say he is for saving the working class, I just cringe. All they want is a forty ounce, no boss, and all the free shit they can get because “property is robbery” or some John Lennon utopian Beatles type shit.
Blake Updegraff IV: Meh, its makes a livable gimmick.
Benjamin Atreyu: You want to talk gimmicks? The fucking Confederate Flag is a goddamn gimmick. All these hicks are proud because they come from a racist background, and that there part of the country is hotter, dumber, and more riddled with incest then I'd care to think. Whats with all this pride shit? So what if you were born there? I was born in Minnesota and I'd like to burn the place to the ground. This stupid “hometown team” bullshit is the simple kind of mentality that ruins everything. Its the same reason soccer is so stupid. So, you being more violent and brain dead makes your team better? Imagine that. I mean, talk all you want about personal pride, but leave this “The south will rise” bullshit at home.
-.-.-
(Present)
Their meeting starts and just as Blake had predicted, Mr. Buckley isn't taking it seriously at all. He is fake yawning at intervals, his eyes wander around the room as Blake tries, every so passionately to convince him to invest in Future Gods Incorporated. Time passes and Blake is fed up with it all and just sits back in his seat.
Jefferson Buckley: Oh, are you done? Great, well I would like to make one point. It really doesn't matter what you have to say, it never did. You are riding a one trick pony and I'll be damned if you are going to get me to join you. I stand on top of an empire that produces movies the whole world loves. The last thing I am going to do is throw money at anything wrestling related. Its cheap pulp entertainment set in fifteen minute story-lines. Know what else works in fifteen minute intervals? Kid shows...
Benjamin's phone starts to ring and in the middle of Mr. Buckley's tirade, Benjamin grins widely and answers.
Benjamin Atreyu: Hello?...Yes...yes...so its confirmed?...Great...thanks...you too...good bye.
Benjamin Atreyu hangs up his phone.
Jefferson Buckley: May I continue?
Benjamin Atreyu: Actually, I think we are very much done here. See, Mr. Buckley, my father, who was a businessman like yourself, was at the peak of his career he invested in a lot of smaller businesses. Would you like to know one of those smaller businesses? Daring Films Ltd. Once he passed on, he willed his shares of that he had, to me. Now, over that phone call, I officially made a transaction that made me the majority stockholder. You do know what that means don't you? That means I currently own more of your own company, than you do and that means I have more power over your company than you do. So as I said, I think this is very much done here.
Blake rose to his feet, quite astonished about what had just taken place, he followed Benjamin as he left the office, leaving the shock and dismayed Jefferson Buckley to wallow in his own mister. Blake would finally gain the fundings he needed to make Future Gods Incorporated a world-wide company. He wouldn't have to let that failure fester inside him and destroy him and Benjamin wouldn't have to watch another close friend get torn apart by such a problem to a point of death. Things worked out for the better and it seemed as if it would all be much brighter from here on out.
-.-.-
“‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’” –“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald
-.-.-
2:00pm Saturday, June 16, 2012 (Present)
The long line of people who have attempted to gain entrance into the headquarters of Future Gods Incorporated and talk to its CEO or star client could stretch out the door and down several city blocks. Some men would fight tooth and nail just to be allotted the chance to schedule a meeting at some obscure place, at some obscure hour, at some obscure date, months from that point just for it to inevitably be canceled. While some eventually gave up on the idea of ever getting a chance to meet them face to face, the steady stream of people who would attempt to would never wane. However, on this day, it was these two moguls that would end up waiting for the approval on another.
Future Gods Incorporated was working on becoming a world-wide franchise, to stretch beyond the bounds of American boarders and out into a global market just ready for the picking. While the internet made it easier to spread the name of a musician across oceans in a single upload, a business did not have the same advantage. Deals had to be struck, plans had to be made, expenses needed to be paid, campaigns needed to be built, and so much more if a business wished to survive. However, if a corporation could make its way through the treacherous course of becoming an international entity, glorious riches would become theirs. The problem was that Blake Updegraff IV, CEO of Future Gods Incorporated, had hit a snag and the company was floundering just short of it's goal.
He had tried to carefully make a balanced exchange of profits and investments to create some wiggle room in such a delicate procedure, but it didn't seem to be enough. He traded stock, fired countless people, cut spending on charities, and may have pulled some tricks out of Walmart's play book by bribing foreign officials, but it did little in the way of helping them take the next step towards world-wide fame. The task was overwhelming Blake on all sides and after tiring out every other option he could, he gave in and seeked help from outside Future Gods Incorporated, something Blake was incredibly reluctant to admit to himself or others.
He made calls he didn't wish to make and he planned meetings he didn't wish to plan, but now he and Benjamin were finally sitting in the lounge outside their intended destination and he only had to suck it up for a little bit longer. His pride suffered some minor damage, but he reassured himself it would all be worth it in the long run when he was handling the largest wrestler management agency in the world. All he had to do was walk through those doors when called, strike a deal between the two companies that he felt was fair, and make the final transactions needed to translate Future Gods Inc. into a hundred different languages. It was always his dream, since starting the company, to be heard of on countries nobody has heard of and to be the whisper floating on lips from Japan to Hawaii. His last hurdle was the man sitting at the desk on the other side of the door, Jefferson Buckley, CEO of Daring Films Ltd. He was far enough away from being competition to be safe to deal with, but close enough in the entertainment industry to be compatible.
It was the first time that Blake Updegraff IV had been forced to “hire up”. Most of his interactions had been, until that point, with smaller businesses which he eventually turned into branches of the growing conglomerate that was Future Gods Incorporated. Blake was hesitant about the idea of investing in anything that could do any detrimental harm, but he feared the stagnant nature of a plateaued company more so than the risk of a growing one. This would be the first time that the fate of the company was placed into the hands of a third party and if it hadn't been Benjamin Atreyu who had recommended the company, Blake would have surely been stuck in a state of complete indecisiveness.
Benjamin Atreyu, having become a close friend and associate of Blake's, was more than willing to help Blake in his quest to expand the company. He didn't fear that he would be lost in the shuffle if the company grew, he knew he would continue to be their biggest star, but even with that aside, Benjamin Atreyu was all too familiar with the soul-crushing environment that was the world of business and feared that, if the company failed in this endeavor, it would consume Blake utterly and completely. Blake would allow that blemish to overwhelm every accomplishment he had achieved, he would allow it to invade his sleeping and waking hours until that failure became who he was. Nothing would be left but the ever resounding thud to which Blake fell to rock bottom.
Benjamin Atreyu was part of a long lineage of business men and other successful-types and the current realm of offices and secretaries was all too familiar to him. While Blake tapped his toes and shot glances back and forth in the room in anticipation, Benjamin seemed to be slipping into a meditation of sorts as he absorbed the white noise of telephone calls and fax machines. His head was slumped down as he stared at the black carpeted floor, taking in the tiny intricate details of the machine stitching. This is why he spent years trying to avoid business meetings, he was too comfortable there. He feared that, despite years of developing an athletic prowess and building his name within the squared circle, that it would be all too easy for him to step back into the world of business and find that he was still in-tune with it.
As soon as he had stepped into the building, the smells and sounds had thrown him years into the past before the idea of becoming a wrestler had even crossed young Benjamin's mind. Fragmented remnants of a once dormant memory fought to surface as Benjamin strolled beside Blake through the marble plaza echoing with the clicking of footsteps and the murmuring of idle chatter. Men and women in suits sent an aesthetic sense of familiarity through his spine as they walked right passed him with a suitcase in one arm and a stack full of papers in the other. Benjamin cursed the pleasing nature of it all as he took to it so quickly. This wasn't his world, he had rejected it years ago, but no matter how far he had come, it was clawing at the front of his mind like a dog waiting to be let in. It turned his stomach, but he kept a straight face for the sake of professionalism and for the sake of Blake, even as memories of him and his father flooded his brain...
-.-.-
5:00pm Saturday, April 4, 1992
A young Benjamin, just having hit the age of ten, was sitting silently in a corner of his father's office as his father and another gentleman chatted among themselves, smoking cigars. The smoke filled the air, invading Benjamin's lungs as he attempted to keep quiet as to not disturb his father while he was meeting with a very important client, but to Benjamin it hardly seemed like any of the meetings he had seen on any of the television shows he had watched. In the shows, the air was usually electric with intensity as the two men sat across from each other trading angry glances as they talked about money or “percentages” leading up to one of the men accusing the other of being a “greedy pig” or a “cheapskate”. However, both men just jabbered on about their personal lives, asking each other how their families were or if they had caught the game last night.
Benjamin pulled his shirt over his nose to try and prevent the potent smell of the cigar from penetrating, but to no avail. Eventually, out of boredom, Benjamin's eyes began to wander around, staring at the various plaques and decorations strewn across the room. He stared intently at the family portrait sitting across from him at the darkest and farthest corner of the room, as if waiting to become a long lost memory pushed away by achievements and material items. There was no particular detail he focused his attention on, but instead it was focused on the picture as a whole in its out-of-place nature in this realm of business. It felt like an ever shrinking reminder of humanity slowly being engulfed by a world of brand-names, gold plating, and liquor cabinets.
A quick deep laugh forced his gaze back onto his father and the other gentleman as they continued to yammer on about something else unimportant. He laid his head back in his chair, comfortable enough to rest in, but not enough to sleep in as he hovered around the sense of exhaustion and restlessness in his chair, but he remained quiet, despite this inconvenience, to keep from aggravating his father. His eyes just gazed out the window as the setting sun was slightly obscured by an adjacent building. He closed one eye, and continued staring at the building outside for a moment before he switched the other one closed and the first eye open, watching everything shift from one spot to the other, just to switch eyes and have them jump back. He continued to do this back and forth, at one point putting one finger in front of the sun just to have it move out of the way as he switched eyes again.
Time passed, the man left, the sun set, and his father sift through various papers as Benjamin continued to sit in that one chair in that one corner of the room, only moving when needing to go to the bathroom or when one of his legs would eventually fall asleep. His father didn't say much besides the occasional mumble to himself or the obligatory “we'll be out of here soon enough”, but Benjamin wasn't sure if that was for his sake or his father's own sake. Either way, Benjamin just sat patiently as he let his father file through, what he assumed was, important paper work. At one point, his father stopped fumbling around with papers, turned around in his chair and surveyed the night sky from his office window before looking over at Benjamin and giving him a quick smile, the only smile he had given him that day.
Eventually, when any sign of the sun had passed and all the paper work was properly filed, Benjamin's father raised to his feet, stretching out with a loud deep groan, and walked out from behind his desk, motioning for Benjamin it was time to go. On his way out, he tugged his coat off of his coat rack and threw it over his shoulder, he held the door open for young Benjamin and they both proceeded out to the elevators. Benjamin was finally glad to walk again and mostly glad he didn't have to sit there surround by the cigar smoke, but a thought still plagued him.
He remembered back to the family portrait, how it sat so far away in that little corner of the room. The idea of it sitting far away did not strike him with a feeling of sadness or a feeling of anger, but only a feeling of indifference. What perplexed him was that, when Benjamin asked if he could come with him to work today, why had he said yes when it seemed he wanted to keep his family as far away from him as possible as he worked. As they entered the elevator he thought about asking his father, but figured that it is a question better saved for a different time.
-.-.-
(Present)
Benjamin snapped out of his day dream as a man entered the lounge area from a different room and walked up to the secretary whispering a few inaudible words before leaving the room through the same door he came. The secretary called, Benjamin assumed, Jefferson Buckley and relayed the message to him before quickly hanging up and resuming her normal work. Benjamin stretched his arms and back before looking back over at Blake to see how he was doing. Same as before, he was tapping his toes and completely restless, wearing his anxiousness on his sleeves. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Blake so nervous before. There were a handful of times, due to a match up or something of that sort, that Blake would become a tad anxious, but never to such a severe degree. He saw a glimpse of his father's final years in Blake's eyes and it startled him.
Years ago, when Benjamin was approaching his graduating year in High School his father was in the midst of planning a very important merger with another company that would have brought his father's company onto a whole new level, especially fiscally. His father had been talking about it for months and how it would change everything. Even if their family was wealthy already, this was going to make it so they could live the kind of high-life he had always dreamed about. For once people would look up to him in his awe-inspiring glory as one of the wealthiest men in the nation. When he wasn't working towards it, he was day-dreaming about it. At points he would zone out of conversations and entire minutes would come by before he would come to. His company, his baby of sorts, was finally going to do something he, previously, could only dream of.
However, something had gone horribly wrong and the merger fell through. The company didn't suffer to badly, it was fiscally stable in a month, but his father's pride never recovered. From that point on it seemed as if a part of him had died along with the transaction. He ate less, he talked less, he went out less, and he slept more. There were whole days when he wouldn't get out of bed. Twenty years of never having missed a day of work put to an end by one ugly failure standing in the center of his life of success. His health continued to deteriorate as he seemed to lose all of his drive and ambition to live. The whole ordeal seemed to conquer the general atmosphere of the household. There weren't many, if any at all, family outings. Everything became very sullen as time went on and his father seemed more and more disconnected.
He saw all that in Blake's nervous glance and it felt like he was reliving the entire experience. It was hard to watch this whole week go down as Blake just got more nervous, but that is why Benjamin was there in the first place, to try and keep it all from happening all over again, especially to someone who had done so much for him. Too many great men have been crippled by their mistakes, but he refused to let Blake be one of them. Everyone was destined to experience the consequences of their own actions, but that didn't mean they should be doomed to wallow in the mistakes that cost them their ultimate dream, especially for someone as young as Blake.
-.-.-
1:35am Tuesday, December 5, 2000
Benjamin could remember laying in his room, unable to sleep when he heard the ambulance roaring down his street and stopping in front of his house. He jumped out of bed and ran to his second floor window as paramedics raced out of their vehicle and into the house carrying a stretcher with them. Benjamin darted out of his room and as he descended the stairs he could see the paramedics strapping his father into the stretcher and rushing him out of the house almost as fast as they had rushed in. Benjamin stood there on the steps, motionless, speechless, and without a rational thought to be found. He looked down and saw his mother sitting on the couch, crying into her hands. He leaped the rest of the way down the stairs and ran over to her to ask what was wrong.
Apparently, his father had gotten up in the middle of the night for some odd reason and was walking down the stairs when he was suddenly struck with a heart attack. She heard him cry out in pain and then that was followed by several loud thuds. She had jumped out of bed and ran out to see what was wrong and that was when she saw him laying at the bottom of the stairs, howling in pain. She ran over to the phone an immediately dialed 9-1-1 telling them exactly what had happened. Soon after that Benjamin's older brother stepped out of his room to see what was wrong and when the paramedics came he was already outside and helping them get their father into the ambulance, he rode with them to the hospital.
As soon as his mother had finished telling him what happened he ran, grabbed his coat, and ran out of the front door with his car keys in hand. He felt the snow crunch under his bare feet, but he couldn't recall feeling the cold; he could only recall feeling his heartbeat, hearing the wind rush against his ears, and tasting the cold air as he took deep hurried breaths on his way to the car. He jumped into his car and proceeded to drive like a mad man all the way to the hospital, being lucky enough to be not pulled over by a police officer. As he entered the hospital he was met by the sound of groans, crying babies, and a shrieking phone as it rang off the hook.
He finally got over his disorientation and ran up to the front desk, and like in any good over-dramatic hospital show, he demanded to see his father. The clerk advised that he sit down, but she fell on deaf ears as he continued to yell. It wasn't blood coursing through his veins, it was pure panic; it wasn't air that he breathed, it was fire. Eventually, another clerked walked up to Benjamin, looking to help him and Benjamin, as calmly as he could, told the clerk that his father had a severe heart attack and just had been brought in from an ambulance. Over and over, midst his story, he kept repeating “his name is Anthony Atreyu, please I need to see him.” The clerk guided him through the hospital and the raging noises died off behind him as the doors shut, but as far as memory serves, there could have been a million people there with severed limbs and Benjamin would have never noticed. His mind was too focused.
Finally, they reached the room and he quickly ran over to his father’s side and dropping to his knees. He looked his father over; he looked sick, he looked weak, he looked pale, he was hardly even a shell of his former self from the past few months. He seemed like nothing more than a loose sack of skin sitting on a fragile old skeleton. Benjamin clasped his hand and his father faintly began to stir awake. Tears had been welling in Benjamin's eyes on the whole way there and now they finally began to fall as his father looked over at him. If he had not been so scared of hurting/breaking him, he would had embraced him in a tight hug refusing to let go, but he would have to settle for holding his hand.
As he wiped his eyes, he realized that, save for furniture and the two of them, the room was completely empty. Where was his brother? His mother had said he was riding in the ambulance with the paramedics, but he didn't see him anywhere. He was hit with a slight second wave of panic and disorientation as he looked around for his missing brother. He stood up and was beginning to look out the door when he heard a faint sound escape from his father's lips. He quickly dropped back down by his father's bed side, holding his breath, hoping to hear something, anything.
Anthony Atreyu: ...Benjamin...?
Benjamin Atreyu: Dad, I'm right here. Where is Zach?
Anthony Atreyu: He is...with a doctor...listen, Benjamin.
Benjamin was listening harder than he ever had in his life, trying to make out every faint word that crept across his father’s dry lips. He even attempted to silence his thoughts despite the hysteria raging through him. His father motioned for him to lean closer and Ben did. His father tried to lift his head off of his bed, but Benjamin encouraged him to lay back and his leaned in closer as his father continued to try and speak. What could be so important that he would go to such trouble to tell him? Did he think he was going to die and felt he needed to give some last minute life-y wisdom before he passed on and the time to speak had passed? Benjamin held his breath and he listened closely, trying to take in every word accordingly.
Anthony Atreyu: ...Benjamin...I must tell you this before I go...it is god's children who will end up godless...They will pray and wait and give themselves to something and they will believe in it more than anything else. They will dedicate their life to it, but when it’s the curtain call and their years of praying have amounted to nothing more than a mound of words, they will stare into the sky for an answer and find nothing staring back at them...we were born here to suffer and that is how we shall all die...
Benjamin's eyes widened as his father's head and arm dropped back. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. As he laid dying in his hospital bed, he took the time and energy to summon up his last words and it was all just a message of futility. His father, a dying man, gave his son words of despair in his final moments. It all summed up to “it was all a lie and we were all fools for believing it.” Benjamin went reeling as he fell back into the chair behind him, still caught in a whirlwind of disbelief that his father's last remaining thoughts where ones of an absolutely depressing nature. He pressed his hand against his forehead and for the first time since he left the house, he could feel how cold he was. His feet ached, his face was wet with tears, his throat was sore from holding back sobs of panic.
Just then, the electrical bird chirps, that signified his father's depressed and saddened heart, started to hold out its final note as Benjamin's father died right before his eyes. His brother raced into the room right past him and ran up to his father screaming out of pure fear, “NO! Please, oh god no! Please, not now!” but Benjamin just stared, unable to accept the fact that his father just took his last breath right in front of him and flat lined. The whole scene seemed incredibly surreal to him in a way. It was as if he was watching this on television and the whole thing was just a drama, one who could just switch the channel on and watch something more light-hearted, but no matter how hard he wished, he sat there and watched this depressing performance that unraveled in front of him.
Benjamin Atreyu: ...dad...
-.-.-
(Present)
Benjamin was broken out of day dreaming by the secretary this time as she informed them that Jefferson Buckley was now free to see them. Both Benjamin and Blake rose to their feet after a good hour long wait and slowly felt feeling drift back into their legs. Blake quickly took a couple of deep breaths before walking to Mr. Buckley's room with Benjamin quickly following after him. As they entered, Benjamin started recollecting on how different this office was from his father's. The walls had hardly any clutter, the shades on the windows were open, letting a copious amount of sunshine to pour into the room, Mr. Buckley had a picture of his family on his desk where he and everyone could see it, and the room smelled smoke free. Benjamin hated it, it felt like a guilty man's room, like a place that tries too hard to hide secrets, it tries to give off a facade to distract you, it was unnatural.
Though, it wasn't Benjamin's or Blake's first time in the office. In fact, this was a follow up meeting to Monday's disaster that Blake was still recovering from, made evident by his state of anxiety. Benjamin had the same impression of Mr. Buckley that he does now; he isn't an honest man, he hides his vices because their vices to be ashamed of, he hides enough of his awards to seem humble, but shows enough of them to seem efficient. Though Benjamin's perception of him, this time around, is far more malicious, because now he knows the truth. Not only is Mr. Buckley a liar, he is an asshole too.
-.-.-
3:00pm Monday, June 11, 2012
Benjamin and Blake were sitting in a limo outside of the business building, sitting in complete silence. Blake was nervous, but it was a fresh kind of nervousness, one that warrants excitement. They slipped out of the limo and up the elevators to the fiftieth floor where they exited out onto a busy floor where men and women came whizzing by with huge stacks of paper under each arm. The men stepped through the chaos and eventually found themselves standing in the lobby introducing themselves to the secretary to confirm their appointment. The wait wasn't long and everything seemed to be moving at a sort of bouncing pace and they were greeted at the door by Mr. Buckley himself.
The meeting came off to a cheery start as Blake explained the general idea behind the meeting, going over the general deal he was promising to Mr. Buckley in exchange for some help. He went through each part of the plan very methodically and spoke clearly, feeling very comfortable with Mr. Buckley. Benjamin kept quiet, eying the room, finding himself a tad more uncomfortable compared to Blake. Once Blake was done explaining the plan he fell silent and the room remained that way for a moment or two before Mr. Buckley began to speak.
Jefferson Buckley: I hope, since this is businessman to fellow businessman, that I can speak openly with you.
Blake Updegraff IV: Of course, Mr. Buckley.
Jefferson Buckley: It seems, in my perspective anyway, that you want me to throw money into a vast black hole that is your company.
Blake Updegraff IV: Excuse me?
Jefferson Buckley: Mr. Updegraff lets have no illusions to what is going on here. I'm not sure if you are dumb or just playing the part really well, but I find I hard to believe that you want me to make such an investment for a company that manages 'rasslers'. I mean, how could this be a sound investment for me? I throw money at your company, you try whatever scheme you are attempting here, you fall flat on your faces and then I lose money. I just don't see how this is supposed to work out in my favor.
Blake Updegraff IV: Excuse me, sir, but it isn't as simple as that. This isn't a scam. We offer a legit service to unrepresented wrestlers....
Jefferson Buckley: See, I keep hearing that word, “rasslers,” and it just isn't making me feel any more comfortable about this.
Blake Updegraff IV: Sir, as I'm sure you know. Wrestling is a multi-billion dollar industry and represents a world-wide market...
Jefferson Buckley: For the people who show it. So, they can get the lowest common-denominator of entertainment, two guys beating each other up, and make some money with it. That doesn't mean that you are going to make money representing them. It just means the fans are morons.
Blake Updegraff IV: I have several wrestlers already on contract with Future Gods Incorporated and more waiting to be signed...
Jefferson Buckley: Oh great, so you got a few idiots who believe what you are selling, doesn't mean you can go world-wide. Look it at this way, boys. You have one trick and you want to take that one trick and stretch it all over the world. If Rome has taught us anything, those who expand beyond their means are doomed to fail, and sorry to say it guys, but I don't see you making it out of the states anytime soon. I'm sure if you work hard enough and do enough car washes, you'll make a pretty penny, but don't try and take your company onto a global scale when you clearly don't have what it takes to get it done.
Benjamin Atreyu: Sir, do you find it wise to taunt a potential business partner.
Jefferson Buckley: See, here is the thing. I don't NEED your business, but you do need mine. If I were to invest in you, which I'm not say I will or won't, it would be completely an exercise of my own will and not that of the company's needs. Now, I'm going to give you a couple of days to get your shit together and you can comeback and try to convince me that you are worth throwing a little money into, even for my own entertainment.
With that the meeting ended, no good-byes were exchanged, no final words of camaraderie shared between businessmen, just all the hope in the room getting the air knocked out of it.
-.-.-
11:00pm Monday, June 11, 2012
Benjamin and Blake sat at the hotel bar, feeling defeated. The day had been hot, the meeting had been shitty, and now the room was as dead as Dillinger, something that seemed to openly mock their current circumstances. Blake sipped on a black label beer as he sat their staring at the bright light up display behind the bottles, causing them to sparkle and shine in contrast to the general shit-storm cloud looming over him.
Blake Updegraff IV: Can you believe that fucker? I spend precious time and energy to travel up to his fucking office and he just shits all over me because I stuck my money in the wrestling business. You know what the worst part is...I am going to go back there to convince him to invest in us. Its fucking sick! I feel like a jester being pulled out of the dungeon to give everyone a few laughs. All I fucking want is to get my company out there and make something of myself.
Benjamin Atreyu: Don't wind yourself up, lets talk about something else.
Blake Updegraff: Okay, you want to talk about something else, how about this. What are you plans for your match against Johnny Reb and Chad Evans?
Benjamin Atreyu:...Okay you're right, I got nothing, I'm not too worried about the Duke boys right now.
Blake Updegraff IV: Yeah, what you should be worried about is that Waylon Cash mother fucker. You've seriously fucked him up, he is looking to get some die-hard cold-ass vengeance on you. You can't let him fuck you guys up before the Pay-per-view.
Benjamin Atreyu: You're starting to depress me man.
Blake Updegraff IV: Well one of us should be depressed. Either me because I have to roll over for some fuck nut or you because some Lynyrd Skynrd rejects want to roast your hide over an open fire. I mean come on. Did God decide to take a shit on us this week or what?
Benjamin Atreyu: No, I get it, Blake. What you need to do is calm down. Don't let this shit ruin your head.
Blake Updegraff IV: You know he is going to say no.
Benjamin Atreyu: He is not going to say no.
Blake Updegraff IV: Yes he fucking is. He is going to let me make a fool of myself and then he is going to boot me out the fucking door.
Benjamin Atreyu: Blake, I'm going to knock some sense into your goddamn head if you don't shut the fuck up. I said I got this, so what should you do? Chill the fuck out.
Blake Updegraff IV: Fine, I'll shut up, but you still need to get your head into this match. Last thing we need is to get our asses handed to us during by some asshole behind a desk before we get our asses handed to us by Captain Redneck and Anarchy Boy.
Benjamin Atreyu: Fuck, I don't even want to think about Chad Evans. The guy listens to a few Johnny Hobo songs and thinks he can conquer the fucking world. Let me tell you something about Anarchists. Its never really about saving the people when it comes to them. Its always about what live THEY want and they would gladly force everyone else to live by it, but try it the other way around and its “fascism”. Anarchism isn't some all-saving dream, its a fucking nightmare dipped in chaos. Every time I hear an anarchists say he is for saving the working class, I just cringe. All they want is a forty ounce, no boss, and all the free shit they can get because “property is robbery” or some John Lennon utopian Beatles type shit.
Blake Updegraff IV: Meh, its makes a livable gimmick.
Benjamin Atreyu: You want to talk gimmicks? The fucking Confederate Flag is a goddamn gimmick. All these hicks are proud because they come from a racist background, and that there part of the country is hotter, dumber, and more riddled with incest then I'd care to think. Whats with all this pride shit? So what if you were born there? I was born in Minnesota and I'd like to burn the place to the ground. This stupid “hometown team” bullshit is the simple kind of mentality that ruins everything. Its the same reason soccer is so stupid. So, you being more violent and brain dead makes your team better? Imagine that. I mean, talk all you want about personal pride, but leave this “The south will rise” bullshit at home.
-.-.-
(Present)
Their meeting starts and just as Blake had predicted, Mr. Buckley isn't taking it seriously at all. He is fake yawning at intervals, his eyes wander around the room as Blake tries, every so passionately to convince him to invest in Future Gods Incorporated. Time passes and Blake is fed up with it all and just sits back in his seat.
Jefferson Buckley: Oh, are you done? Great, well I would like to make one point. It really doesn't matter what you have to say, it never did. You are riding a one trick pony and I'll be damned if you are going to get me to join you. I stand on top of an empire that produces movies the whole world loves. The last thing I am going to do is throw money at anything wrestling related. Its cheap pulp entertainment set in fifteen minute story-lines. Know what else works in fifteen minute intervals? Kid shows...
Benjamin's phone starts to ring and in the middle of Mr. Buckley's tirade, Benjamin grins widely and answers.
Benjamin Atreyu: Hello?...Yes...yes...so its confirmed?...Great...thanks...you too...good bye.
Benjamin Atreyu hangs up his phone.
Jefferson Buckley: May I continue?
Benjamin Atreyu: Actually, I think we are very much done here. See, Mr. Buckley, my father, who was a businessman like yourself, was at the peak of his career he invested in a lot of smaller businesses. Would you like to know one of those smaller businesses? Daring Films Ltd. Once he passed on, he willed his shares of that he had, to me. Now, over that phone call, I officially made a transaction that made me the majority stockholder. You do know what that means don't you? That means I currently own more of your own company, than you do and that means I have more power over your company than you do. So as I said, I think this is very much done here.
Blake rose to his feet, quite astonished about what had just taken place, he followed Benjamin as he left the office, leaving the shock and dismayed Jefferson Buckley to wallow in his own mister. Blake would finally gain the fundings he needed to make Future Gods Incorporated a world-wide company. He wouldn't have to let that failure fester inside him and destroy him and Benjamin wouldn't have to watch another close friend get torn apart by such a problem to a point of death. Things worked out for the better and it seemed as if it would all be much brighter from here on out.
-.-.-
“‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’” –“The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald