"Show me the Money!"

Greed is one of those godless words guaranteed to end in some form of deserving misery...

Self-centered, stingy, materialistic. Just a few characteristics lending themselves to the undesirable personality of one, Alvin Dembrowski. A seemingly, law-abiding man who would give you the shirt off his back, yet rob you blind without a smidgeon of remorse.

A simple game of Monopoly when he was ten, inspired him to want it all. Illusions of becoming a tycoon intrigued him. It led to reading countless success stories during high school years, unknowingly setting the stage for a deceptive future. Repeated failure seemed to be the 'real' catalyst behind Alvin's trek down a shady walk-of-fame.

***

Being one of the reddest months for him, July of '2006 presented an opportunity. Alvin received a call from Lance, his best friend of twenty years, one who he had failed ventures with before. The words exchanged ignited the start of the most lucrative endeavor yet.

Reckless, with an occasional burst of brilliance, Lance spent the previous three years in South America where ten thousand, U.S. dollars, goes a long way. A certain Commodity inspired his idea, something neither of them tried before.

"Man! I'm telling you to get your ass down here now! Like yesterday! I need your brain if I'm ever going to make this happen!" Lance said with overstated zeal.

Whatever the specific words were that penetrated Alvin's ears, it triggered a light bulb moment. He sat the phone down, putting it on speaker. He had already tuned out the rambunctious sound of Lance's voice and grabbed a laptop to begin corroborating his friend's claims.

After scanning several pages of numerical data charts, green, dollar signs began to float upward in Alvin's peripheral.

"Hey man, you still there?" Lanced asked.

"Yeah, I'm here. Maybe I'll come visit you this weekend."

"That's what I'm talking about! I'll send you the itinerary in an hour!"

With that, Lance ended the call.

***

Alvin never went to South America. Why would he when he already had everything required to set up a new business from Denver? Using his friend's Idea, coffee became more than a potent start of the day, it became a way to skyrocket his bank account beyond the stratosphere. Only thing, the money flow lacked any form of legitimate backing.

This is where the meek becomes separated from the crafty...

Who would have ever thought that smooth talking and fake portfolios could make you millions of effortless dollars? Alvin did. He proved it to himself for eight, solid months. Yes, he was required to produce results and fill a few purchase orders, but the real money came from investors eager to quadruple their gamble.

Not everyone was thrilled. Lance became bitterly perturbed with Alvin; it wasn't the first time. With a little digging of his own, he was ready to expose the scam. The ultimatum was clear — he wanted in... or else.

The pending conspiracy was an unforeseen wrench. The time had come to hide the majority of the cash and vanish. But there were too many loose ends lingering.

After days of intense thought, the solution called for the rental of a private jet. He informed Lance of a visit, hoping to negotiate an offer. But I never arrived there, nor did the Lier Jet I was supposedly on. I killed Alvin along with two pilots that day.

The two-man crew thought they were being paid to help retrieve coffee beans from Bolivia. At the last minute, I told them something came up and I couldn't go. I gave them a backpack to give to Lance. It contained brochures and a tiny explosive powerful enough to cause a crash, yet weak enough to not rouse suspicion. Technology allowed me to track and detonate it remotely when they neared the Bermuda Triangle.

Turns out, dead men can take their money with them. With a new identity assumed, I focused my attention on Europe. I heard that tea was a great commodity in the U.K.

Don't hate the messenger. This was all Lance's fault.

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The Challenge: