"Tsk, Tsk, Tsk"

[Edward White poured sparkling water over a glass of aged bourbon and ice carved out from the receding polar caps. He stirred the concoction and lifted it up to his nose, taking a deep breath before a slow sip.]

"Jeff, I feel like we've had this discussion before. I'm not saying I don't enjoy hearing a man talk about business. And I'll even admit, I got a little excited when you muttered the word, Negotiation.

"I thought to myself, 'Finally, Jeff Andrews wants to play ball.' Then I heard the world million and instantly lost interest.

"You see Jeff, I'd start the bidding much much less. Lets say..."

[Edward White pulled out his check book and began looking through the bill fold. A hundred, another hundred, a fifty, another one, and... well, you get the point. He flipped through what he considered pocket change until he came across the denomination he was looking for.]

[He smacked the dollar bill on the table, a piece that doubles for modern art depending on the crowd you associate with.]

"That right there Mr. Andrews is a Twenty Dollar Bill. The US Treasury estimates that the circulation life of one of these bad boys is about two years. It makes sense, this is the common higher denomination bill amongst the upper middle class and below. Living in the digital age, I don't carry around much paper money anymore, mainly since mass circulation of $500 dollar bills have been discontinued.

"That's all really trivial to my point. Jeff, I would start the bidding at $20 and never work my way over the value of your contract.

"Furthermore..."

[White takes the twenty off the table, a slips it back into his pants.]

"... I wouldn't want to own you.

"I'm partially to blame for this miscommunication of my desire to buy and sell people. Sometimes, I have to. But it's not by choice. It's all about something you already hinted at Mr. Andrews.

"Time and effort. In my world, hell, in the real world. Time, Effort and Cost are equal weights. We want things completed on a proper time table, with the right amount of staff with a modest cost and ability to recoup investments.

"With you Jeff... I'd never be able to recover the initial price -- you would be a money pit."

[Jeff "Money Pit" Andrews -- I like it.]

"I'll tell you Mr. Andrews, aside from your deep hatred for my business partner, I don't have a personal grudge against you. In the world of pro-wrestling, I hate your guts. You've wronged my partner but in an enterprise outside of this, I'd gladly be your financer.

"Now this is where people confuse my want for buying people and my freelance venture capitalism. Rather than explain the trials and tribulations I'll paint you a picture Jeff. "

[White takes a sip of his water and bourbon, cherishing the sophisticated flavors as he makes his way to a chair, overlooking the lush garden outside of his manor.]

"The scene is Las Vegas, Sin City. You and I are on the strip, inside of the Wynn or some super resort. We could easily go into the high limit area, but to be honest, that's just a pissing contest between Whales and make believe millionaires the likes of Ryan Corey and other has-been relics of wrestling yesteryear.

"Instead, we find ourselves amongst the common people, the salt of the Earth, those who see the ten dollar minimum at the Craps table and decide to give it a few goes until their old lady drags them away from the table.

"I give you a hundred dollars and we broker a deal: I keep my hundred dollars and half of your total winnings. You agree, because you've had a few too many, prior knowledge tells you that the odds are 49.7% in your favor, the best odds against the house in Vegas... aside from not gambling at all. That and your wife isn't there to tell you otherwise.

"You win, you lose, you win a little bit more... and then you lose, you keep losing until my money is no longer in your possession and in the pocket of my close friend Steve Wynn."

[Edward grins, swirling his drink around, the ice chattering.]

"So how much money did you make me?

"None... Oh... Well, that's a shame. Can I have my hundred back then?"

"... No? Ohhhhh, that just won't do."

[Almost speaking from a previous experience, White snaps out of his fantasy.]

"Jeff... this is the only partnership I would embark in on with you; where you are indebted to me.

"I already know that you wouldn't agree to such a proposition, which is fine. I don't really need to make a deal with you. I don't need to pay Five million dollars to ensure a victory for 'Money for Nothing and Cool for Free'

"My spot in War Games, now, that's really not a debate between you and I. The squabble, which is the only thing I can call something this trivial in nature, is between Cancer Jiles and myself. We will hash it out like gentlemen. With respect. With honor. And perhaps with me greasing the wheels just a little bit.

"My point is, you still will have no partner come the bout.

"It will be Edward "The Sophisticate" White & "COOL" Cancer Jiles versus Jeff Andrews.... and Jeff Andrews alone."

[Another sip from the bourbon.]

"The Rider... the motorcyclist hooligan spouting off about justice and injustice and whatever other vigilante nonsense he pulled from his favorite comics... I will eliminate him. I will expose him.

"Starting immediately."

[Edward White grins and beckons the camera forward with a wave of index finger.]

"To the man, woman or child who subdues The Rider, Jeff Andrew's mystery partner, I will award them a cool, Fifty Thousand Dollars.

"For any tips that lead to the apprehension of the individual who committed criminal acts against Edward White and Cancer Jiles and may be tag teaming with Jeff Andrews -- I will personally pay a modest $200 sum.

"Call 1-888-COO-CASH for any information."

[He cackles.]

"... so, what were you saying about War Games?

"Right, that you can handle it? You're in it for the points? The edge? The violence?

"Good. I'm bringing the violence with a good ol' fashioned two on one beating."

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