Post by jdfranchise on Jun 2, 2015 8:34:03 GMT -5
Josh Dean Presents
Trapped
"You know sometimes, being benevolent is a real pain in the ass."
Trust me, it really is.
I probably shouldn't have come here, given who I'm representing. But Amber's been a constant fixture in my mind ever since she was pulled out of the demolished truck a couple weeks ago. I flew out with Martin yesterday to meet with the district attorney, hoping that we could curry some favor for Dave's impending trial. It looks bleak though, considering the hospital has yet to remove her from this ventilator thanks to her broken ribs and punctured lung being too damaged to breathe on their own. The doctors contact me regularly with updates on Amber's condition since I rightfully should have a vested interest in her recovery, keeping mind it's indirectly on my dime with the commision cuts I got from Dave's contract. Things have taken a turn for the worst however when the swelling in Amber's brain wouldn't subside, forcing them to put her into a drug induced coma. I wish I could tell you that it's just a nightmare, but pinching myself is really starting to hurt.
When I got to the accident, police and EMT's told me it was a good thing the seatbelts worked properly. I thank God that was the case because I don't handle funerals very well. But seeing her in such a helpless form, I know that we haven't dodged a manslaughter charge just yet. I felt compelled to come pay her a personal visit, so I told Martin to attend the meeting solo. There will be a lot of references to court cases I haven't bothered reading, and I'll find myself bored. In all honesty, I'd be rendered useless inside the judge's chamber, albeit I'm not much better off here. But at least I feel like I'm doing something constructive.
I suppose I can relate to Amber in some respect.
There's a certain empathy I have for her, since she didn't ask to be in this position. An early twenties girl going out on a weekend is a common concept in my experience, which I'll admit was limited to picking up women matching the profile during my wilder days. Seeing Dave interact with any female giving him attention indicates the game remains unchanged, even though I left it some years ago. But that's the purpose of a club in college towns, for students to 'blow off steam' after spending their week buried amidst a sea of books. I imagine that would be her reasoning for being at the club if she were able to wake up and talk. I know I'm not the only one searching for answers.
"I bet you're popular with the boys." I say, almost half expecting a response. "You're certainly easy on the eyes."
She doesn't respond.
Of course she doesn't respond.
My perception of her, despite my gut being pretty accurate, may be completely awry. Wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong. It's easier to have an image of someone that can't be disproven rather than facing the reality of who they are. She doesn't strike me as a party connoisseur, but as someone who has a purpose in life. Consequently my preconceived notion doesn't fare well for Dave, especially if I don't do him justice by seeking the truth. I'm supposed to be on his side, but she did get the business end of a horrific crash and the hell of it is I find my support torn as a result. I've seen to it that Amber receives the best medical care possible, and I hope there's forgiveness in her heart once she's able to grasp how close she was to the grave. My presence, unbeknownst to anyone, is to prove that Dave isn't a monster, but a man who has fallen on hard times. I have to salvage what's left of his reputation because it's a reflection of the Championship Connections brand.
So yeah, the Architect is protecting his own best interests.
Why should I fall because of Dave's inability to get his life together?
I could've sworn I just saw her crack a smirk. I may or may not have smoked a bit before arriving and I could be seeing things. But who in the hell does she think she is lying there mocking my generosity? One of my best friends is having his private and professional world thrown into upheaval, every move he makes analyzed under a microscope over this. And yet she has the gall to callously hold it over my head. Maybe that was her plan all along. Perhaps she's an extortionist, targeting celebrities in a potential scandal for financial security and it's very possible that a trap's been set. But even if she were a charter member of MENSA, I doubt Amber could come up with such a sophisticated rouse. Lila Sleater, on the other hand, can and did. I really don't think I've seen the end of it either.
"You're not the only one fighting, and I hope you know that."
A young woman's life hangs in the balance, much like a young man's future come New Dawn. It's an intriguing parallel because of the risks involved during youthful indiscretion. Whether Amber initiated these chain of events is between her and Dave, and they will have their day to air the dirty laundry. I've tried my best to provide an environment that promotes openness, and unlike Joey Raid, Dave's been uncharacteristically silent about the specific details that decide his fate. I can respect Joey's willingness to disclose the path he's traversed getting here, though I feel he's foolish for broadcasting a previous injury to the most studious wrestler in the game. But I'm one to talk, knowing I too did that once upon a time. The difference between us at a basic level goes beyond accolades, as many talented wrestlers have never tasted championship glory. I never let my neck define me even when I struggled mightily to pick up wins. I took my lumps and turned it around with determination on top of my God given abilities. For all I know, Joey Raid could be simply putting information out there to lure me into a false sense of security, knowing I firmly believe that every person thinks they're hot sh*t until they get hit in the mouth.
That's why I must approach him with the same vigilance I would a Drakz or Daniel Kirkbride. Any less than that is stupid on my part.
No, I must go to New Dawn prepared for a dogfight, even though I'm positive I'll have no problem dissecting Joey Raid in short order. It's not a slight at his aptitude, instead it's a matter of understanding the pressure that accompanies a WFWF star. This is the big show for a reason, and having any sort of success here implies being able to manage expectations while competing against the elite. I can say with full confidence Joey Raid has never felt those overwhelming nerves or suffocating demands of violence that have paralyzed great men from a raucous crowd twenty thousand deep every night. But he will, because it's my job to show him the full scope of what lies ahead now that he has reached the pinnacle of our profession.
I reach my hand over to Amber, praying silently for some sign that everything is not in vain. My gesture is reciprocated by a weak squeeze, which brings a small smile to my face.
"Oh Amber, you've got some explaining to do."
Welcome to the shark tank, Joey. I hope you can swim.
Trapped
"You know sometimes, being benevolent is a real pain in the ass."
Trust me, it really is.
I probably shouldn't have come here, given who I'm representing. But Amber's been a constant fixture in my mind ever since she was pulled out of the demolished truck a couple weeks ago. I flew out with Martin yesterday to meet with the district attorney, hoping that we could curry some favor for Dave's impending trial. It looks bleak though, considering the hospital has yet to remove her from this ventilator thanks to her broken ribs and punctured lung being too damaged to breathe on their own. The doctors contact me regularly with updates on Amber's condition since I rightfully should have a vested interest in her recovery, keeping mind it's indirectly on my dime with the commision cuts I got from Dave's contract. Things have taken a turn for the worst however when the swelling in Amber's brain wouldn't subside, forcing them to put her into a drug induced coma. I wish I could tell you that it's just a nightmare, but pinching myself is really starting to hurt.
When I got to the accident, police and EMT's told me it was a good thing the seatbelts worked properly. I thank God that was the case because I don't handle funerals very well. But seeing her in such a helpless form, I know that we haven't dodged a manslaughter charge just yet. I felt compelled to come pay her a personal visit, so I told Martin to attend the meeting solo. There will be a lot of references to court cases I haven't bothered reading, and I'll find myself bored. In all honesty, I'd be rendered useless inside the judge's chamber, albeit I'm not much better off here. But at least I feel like I'm doing something constructive.
I suppose I can relate to Amber in some respect.
There's a certain empathy I have for her, since she didn't ask to be in this position. An early twenties girl going out on a weekend is a common concept in my experience, which I'll admit was limited to picking up women matching the profile during my wilder days. Seeing Dave interact with any female giving him attention indicates the game remains unchanged, even though I left it some years ago. But that's the purpose of a club in college towns, for students to 'blow off steam' after spending their week buried amidst a sea of books. I imagine that would be her reasoning for being at the club if she were able to wake up and talk. I know I'm not the only one searching for answers.
"I bet you're popular with the boys." I say, almost half expecting a response. "You're certainly easy on the eyes."
She doesn't respond.
Of course she doesn't respond.
My perception of her, despite my gut being pretty accurate, may be completely awry. Wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong. It's easier to have an image of someone that can't be disproven rather than facing the reality of who they are. She doesn't strike me as a party connoisseur, but as someone who has a purpose in life. Consequently my preconceived notion doesn't fare well for Dave, especially if I don't do him justice by seeking the truth. I'm supposed to be on his side, but she did get the business end of a horrific crash and the hell of it is I find my support torn as a result. I've seen to it that Amber receives the best medical care possible, and I hope there's forgiveness in her heart once she's able to grasp how close she was to the grave. My presence, unbeknownst to anyone, is to prove that Dave isn't a monster, but a man who has fallen on hard times. I have to salvage what's left of his reputation because it's a reflection of the Championship Connections brand.
So yeah, the Architect is protecting his own best interests.
Why should I fall because of Dave's inability to get his life together?
I could've sworn I just saw her crack a smirk. I may or may not have smoked a bit before arriving and I could be seeing things. But who in the hell does she think she is lying there mocking my generosity? One of my best friends is having his private and professional world thrown into upheaval, every move he makes analyzed under a microscope over this. And yet she has the gall to callously hold it over my head. Maybe that was her plan all along. Perhaps she's an extortionist, targeting celebrities in a potential scandal for financial security and it's very possible that a trap's been set. But even if she were a charter member of MENSA, I doubt Amber could come up with such a sophisticated rouse. Lila Sleater, on the other hand, can and did. I really don't think I've seen the end of it either.
"You're not the only one fighting, and I hope you know that."
A young woman's life hangs in the balance, much like a young man's future come New Dawn. It's an intriguing parallel because of the risks involved during youthful indiscretion. Whether Amber initiated these chain of events is between her and Dave, and they will have their day to air the dirty laundry. I've tried my best to provide an environment that promotes openness, and unlike Joey Raid, Dave's been uncharacteristically silent about the specific details that decide his fate. I can respect Joey's willingness to disclose the path he's traversed getting here, though I feel he's foolish for broadcasting a previous injury to the most studious wrestler in the game. But I'm one to talk, knowing I too did that once upon a time. The difference between us at a basic level goes beyond accolades, as many talented wrestlers have never tasted championship glory. I never let my neck define me even when I struggled mightily to pick up wins. I took my lumps and turned it around with determination on top of my God given abilities. For all I know, Joey Raid could be simply putting information out there to lure me into a false sense of security, knowing I firmly believe that every person thinks they're hot sh*t until they get hit in the mouth.
That's why I must approach him with the same vigilance I would a Drakz or Daniel Kirkbride. Any less than that is stupid on my part.
No, I must go to New Dawn prepared for a dogfight, even though I'm positive I'll have no problem dissecting Joey Raid in short order. It's not a slight at his aptitude, instead it's a matter of understanding the pressure that accompanies a WFWF star. This is the big show for a reason, and having any sort of success here implies being able to manage expectations while competing against the elite. I can say with full confidence Joey Raid has never felt those overwhelming nerves or suffocating demands of violence that have paralyzed great men from a raucous crowd twenty thousand deep every night. But he will, because it's my job to show him the full scope of what lies ahead now that he has reached the pinnacle of our profession.
I reach my hand over to Amber, praying silently for some sign that everything is not in vain. My gesture is reciprocated by a weak squeeze, which brings a small smile to my face.
"Oh Amber, you've got some explaining to do."
Welcome to the shark tank, Joey. I hope you can swim.