That Gold Might Change You

[T-Bonizzle]

Inside the downtown Los Angeles office of Russell White, the greatest manager in the history of the wrestling business sits at his desk until his door is thrown open.

"What did you want that was so important you couldn't have texted?" Benevolence questions. The True Expert Championship hung over his shoulder as if he were going to the ring.

"It feels good to be home, doesn't it?" White asks, hypothetically.

"If you're asking me whether or not Los Angeles is better than a frozen, crumbling, borderline abandoned Siberian prison...." Benevolence thinks for a moment. "Then...undecided...but something I am very much decided about, is being regretful of the time I let slip away driving over here and sitting in an elevator that moves slower than...God, something slow, you get what I'm trying to say! Now why the Hell have you had me come here?"
   
"You wanted to be the True Expert. Now you are." White smiles, reminding his client of all he's done.

"I want more than this." Benevolence responds, "I DESERVE BETTER than JUST being the True Expert."

Benevolence approaches White's desk, and leans in so he's as close as possible. "I don't want to just be the True Expert...I want it ALL."

White leans back in his comfy office chair, a smirk crawling on his face.

There is a silence as Benevolence doesn't understand what is happening.

"You asked for a way...I've found way." White breaks the silence.

"Unless you found a way to buy Interpol, I'm going to need more of an explanation."

"That's grand. I'll give you that." White says with a smile as he stands up. "But no. We only need to buy one man."

The sneer on Benevolence' face melts off as suddenly he cocks an eyebrow.

"Now you've intrigued me...Whose for sale? Kahrs? The Viking King? Or is the Inner Circle still at play?"

White shakes his head and waves his hand. "No...we just need to buy Maverick Jones."

"Who?"

White reiterates. "Maverick Jones. He won The Golden Ticket. That means, as the holder of the Golden Ticket, Maverick Jones can have anything he wants."

Benevolence isn't connecting the dots.

"He wants a shot at being the True Expert." White finally answers.

Benevolence' face shows he's more perplexed than before. "Why? Does he think he's True Expert material? That's ridiculous. Black Death, Doug E. Fresh, fucking Level-One...and this guy thinks he deserves..." Benevolence looks to the True Expert championship. "This?"

White smiles. "That isn't the point. If he doesn't use the Golden Ticket...better yet...if he gives it to you...then you can use it to take control of The Experts." White now leans in on his desk with his smile growing.

"You said you wanted it all...I give to you...the Golden Ticket...."

-----Some Time Later-----

Back in expensive looking office high up in an expensive looking building, Jack Benevolence and Russell White wait. Benevolence is sat, with the True Expert Championship still over his shoulder, behind a large chestnut desk that has a name plate reading Russell White. White, on the other hand, pours himself and his client a glass of scotch from a small bar.

A moment passes and the door to the office swings open, a receptionist motions and in walks Maverick Jones. He's holding his briefcase, and therefore, the Golden Ticket as he marvels at the luxurious office. Eyes wide and clearly out of place in this high priced space. He admires some artwork on the wall that he assumes are authentic and expensive. White motions to him to sit in a very standard looking office chair opposite Benevolence at the desk.

"I see you like the office. It's yours when we're done here." Benevolence speaks first.

"Oh, I wouldn't know what to do with this." Maverick answers humbly.

"No, you wouldn't." Benevolence leans forward in his chair.

White produces a leather bound contract and places it on the desk. White then clears his throat.

"Thank you for joining us today, Mr. Jones." White starts pacing around the desk as he enters full sales mode. "We are prepared to make you a very generous offer for the item in your possession. The briefcase you acquired in Siberia. The Golden Ticket. My client has taken a special interest as to the contents of that briefcase and would like to purchase it from you."

Benevolence grins. "Name your price, Maverick."

"Hmmm...I hadn't considered selling this" Maverick responds as he rubs his beard.

"Mr. Jones, I have within my power to give you everything you could ever need. I will ensure that you and your children, your grandchildren, and great grandchildren will retire in comfort. I can grant you a large estate, either here in the United States, or over in England. Your choice." White sells his point hard. "I can give you access to some of the world's most exclusive events. The next royal wedding? Front row seat. As a matter of fact, you can stay at Buckingham Palace, or the Taj Mahal, or even the White House. You say the word and I will use my incredible resources to get you whatever you need."

"Wow, you can do all of that?" Maverick asks optimistically.

"I can." White nods and smiles and answers in a soothing voice. "All I need from you is that briefcase. One briefcase for whatever you desire."

"What if I wanted a private island?"

White takes a moment to appreciate the expense of a private island before answering, "Mr. Jones, we have access to vast resources, including those in real estate. That wouldn't be an issue. Simply sign-"

"What about a flight to space? Aren't those tickets supposed to cost millions of dollars?"

White has a blank stare for a moment as he tries to process the absurd request, but continues on, stuttering slightly as he tries to answer. "We have some...ahem...leverage over a certain individual at SpaceX...and we could...arrange...for you to visit the moon...once those flights are available."

Maverick nods his head smiling, imagining it now. "Yeah, wouldn't it be great to wrestle a match on the moon?"

White and Benevolence look at each other before looking back at Maverick "I...uh...can't say I disagree with you...you just need to sign the contract and relinquish the briefcase-"

"Wait wait..." Maverick becomes more skeptical. "Why do you want this so badly? Something isn't right."

"It doesn't matter." Benevolence butts in. "Just sign the contract and get whatever stupid little dream vacation you want and give me that fucking briefcase."

"No. Seriously." Maverick stands his ground. "Why do you want this? Do you even care about what I planned to do with it?"

"Mr. Jones-" White tries to step back in but is cut off by his client.

"I want it for..." Benevolence tries thinking on his feet. "business related reasons. For reasons I'm not going to explain to you. I need that briefcase and more importantly, the Golden Ticket inside of it for a very important business transaction."

Maverick scratches his head. "But...you were just telling me about your limitless resources?"

"Our resources are limitless to someone like you." Benevolence says with a thick condescending tone. "However we have a unique situation that cannot be resolved in any other way...so just sign the paperwork and give me that briefcase."

Maverick is confused. "But...you still don't even know what I want to do with this?"

"I honestly don't care."

"You see, because I was going to use this...to get that." Maverick points to the True Expert Championship hung over Benevolence's shoulder.

"You think you can use that briefcase to take this from me?" Benevolence starts to get heated. "I would kill you before-"

"What my client means-" White interrupts. "Is that you can't use The Golden Ticket to claim the title of True Expert. It can only be won in a match."

"I know." Maverick nods with a smile. "That's what I want, Jack. A match, with you, for that title. In a time and place of my choosing."

Benevolence tries, and fails, to hold in his laughter. "I'm offering you private islands and trips to the moon and you want a match with me? For this?" Benevolence motions to the True Expert Championship draped still over his shoulder. "No way."

"Jack, sidebar please?"

White and Benevolence turn away from Maverick and whisper to one another. White, clearly being the pragmatic of the two, while Benevolence' head is shaking and his shoulders shrugging in frustration. After a minute, White reaches into a drawer in the desk everyone is sat at and removes a leather bound contract.

"Mr. Benevolence agrees to those terms. If you sign over your rights to The Golden Ticket, he'll give you your match. This way, you get what you both want. A match for Maverick, and a Golden Ticket for my client."

"A match." Maverick confirms. "Anytime, anywhere...on my terms?"

"We'll put it in writing." White says with a wolfish grin.

"I'll sign." Maverick nods to himself. "That seems like a fair deal."

Benevolence chuckles as he quickly grabs the contract and slides it across the desk for Maverick to look over.

"Of course it's a fair deal." Benevolence muses. " You get your 15 minutes of fame by losing to me, Jack Benevolence. I get a fun little warm-up match for when Level-One decides to stick his nose in my business again. It's really a win-win."

Maverick places the tip of the pen on the paper, but then pulls back.

"Hold on. You agreed to this match...only because you think I can't beat you?"

"We all know you can't beat me." Benevolence answers as if it were fact. "You're such a little person in the grand scheme of things. I really don't want to offend you that much, but you just don't stack up with the greats. Not Sandy Makel, not Level-One, not Black Death...and certainly not Jack Benevolence. But hey, kiddo, you get to say you made it this far. Very few men get to pretend to compete for this title. You'll be a part of an elite club of pretenders."

Benevolence gives Maverick a cool, if perhaps bemused stare. The intensity in Maverick's gaze begins to grow causing Benevolence to drop his bemusement as Maverick suddenly whips the contract to the side, his sudden burst startling both Benevolence and White.

"Maybe you didn't hear me when I won the Golden Ticket. I'm coming for you."

Benevolence shakes his head. "You're the least of my problems."

White tries to calm everyone down. "Mr. Jones, perhaps we can reconsider this arrangement-"

Maverick starts to fire up. "No! He doesn't think I can beat him? He doesn't think I can compete with the likes of Dougie or Level-One? He thinks I'm stupid? He's been insulting me from the moment I walked into this room. I ignored it because I respect the guy, and I hoped that we could make this deal and become friends."

Benevolence smirks. "Seriously?"

With real remorse in his eyes, Maverick shakes his head. "You're always so angry and bitter. You seemed like the type of person that needs a friend."

Benevolence' eyes light up in anger. "You think you get to pity me? Who the Hell are you? I'm The Once and Future King. The True Expert. I am Jack fucking Benevolence! Get out! Right now!"

Maverick stands up and grabs the Golden Ticket briefcase as he turns to start walking away.

Benevolence stands up and leans across the desk. "Don't you dare turn your back on me. You cower out of here like the worthless little peasant you are!"

Maverick turns around with a  look of defiance as he taps the briefcase. "Yeah, I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for the state you're in. I feel sorry for the dumb look you're going to have on your face when I take the Title of True Expert. I'm coming for you and all your friends. Black Death knows I'm coming for him first...but tell Dougie I'm coming for him too. Heck, tell Level-One I'm coming for him also."

Maverick holds up the brief case out in front of himself, so it's almost in the face of Benevolence. "Most importantly, I'm coming for you, Jack Benevolence, and I'm coming for that title." Maverick lowers the briefcase again and smiles as he turns around, his back to Benevolence, and starts heading for the door. "I don't need to watch my back...but you certainly need to watch yours..."

Benevolence finally shoots all the scotch in his glass before throwing the empty glass into the nearest wall as Maverick exits the room...Golden Ticket briefcase still in hand.