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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » March Madness 2020 RP Board
Dos para ir: Atrapado en el fuego
Author Message
Hanari Carnes Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
03-21-2020, 06:19 PM

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Before the riots in the streets, the looting, the chaos, the fear........

Before the Martial Law and the unnecessary violence.

There was a national curfew put into place, and it was strictly enforced. People could not leave their homes after a certain time of night, businesses would shut down just past sun set and cars driving on any state road could be pulled over and searched for no reason.


“Better to die fighting for freedom then be a prisoner all the days of your life.”

There were always going to be people who went against what the mass majority did. Always those people who fought back against what they felt was wrong. This curfew was to curb crime in the city.......but with less people out and about, the more people sitting home, the more chances the crime would be violent.

Bloody.

So the more there was push-back, the more strict the laws became.

In the back yard of a duplex on the outskirts of Santo Domingo, Hanari sat in a beach chair facing the fire pit. There was salsa music playing from a portable speaker, and the faces of the other "revolutionaries" flickered in and out of sight with the flames of the fire.

Many stood around talking in hushed tones, some danced, while some went in and out of the house on their seemingly hourly cocaine runs.

There was a burn ban in effect. Arson had become a problem in the city, so instead of cracking down on criminals they just made it illegal, for anyone, to burn anything, within city limits. Just another liberty taken away from innocent people. It wasn't so much that people cared whether or not they had a bon fire, they cared that they were told they COULDN'T.

Hanari sat, looking at the fire. He hadn't said a word to anyone.

His country, his city, was being raped before his very eyes because the government didn't know how to handle its people. They shut them down when they should have been building them up.

They had taken everything from him. His father was a rebel fighter back in the day, and he hadn't seen him since the overthrow. His uncle Carlos had been in and out of the jails for little things such as walking to the store to get milk during the "curfew times". Wasn't his fault he had to work.

Yet here everyone was, happy and dancing, drinking. They had no idea what was to come.

Hanari watched the fire, watched it burn with catastrophic brilliance. Wood that was strong enough to hold houses on their foundations during even the worst tropical storms........wilting and withering away as if it were dust.

Dangerous, deadly, deliberate, destructive, devastating, disastrous, distant, divine, elemental, empyreal, endless, enraged, erratic, ethereal, everlasting.......

There were the real pyros in the crowd as well. People who just wanted to watch shit burn.

"Throw some cardboard on it!" one yelled, and a small group cheered. Plastic, cardboard hell even glass and metal were thrown in. Anything to keep the fire going.

Hanari watched as the cardboard turned brown and collapsed in on itself, melting away with ease. The flames jumped even higher. People cheered.

"Fireworks!" someone shouted, "we have fireworks!"

Not a good idea. Hanari turned his head towards the group of idiots who were setting up the small cylinders on the ground.

Someone, he couldn't see who out of the corner of his eye in the darkness, put a beer in his hand.

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The sound was almost deafening. Where did they get high grade fireworks? Most likely stole them from a supply truck....welcome to life in Santo Domingo.

What was almost as deafening was the sound of the cheers. This was the first taste of freedom people had since the shutdown. Each color popped in the air with such vibrancy and tenacity.

The sky around them soon looked like a cloudy night from the smoke of the fire sticks they let off, and they sure had a lot of them.

Before they could finish the looted stack, the sky lit up with another kind of light.

Hanari turned to see a handful of officers coming around the corner. A couple of them already had guns drawn. Their grey uniforms almost invisible in the now smokey night air.


One of them stepped to the head of the line. He must have been the officer in charge. His vest said "
Un Sargento".


"We had a report of gun shots in this vicinity. Anyone here heard any shots?"

Hanari snorted a bit, the sound blocked out by the fire. They knew damn well there were no gun shots--the government had taken the guns away from a majority of the population--but there was no written law banning fireworks. They needed an excuse.

Always an excuse.

Everyone denied hearing shots. A few of the officers shuffled their feet, kicking the now empty canisters the fireworks came in.

"Well, we're here now. We're going to have to search everyone for weapons."

The music cut rather abundantly. Nobody here had weapons. A few of the officers grabbed the females rather hard by the arms, shoving them against the fence.

When their boyfriends or husbands stepped to the officers, they were struck down with batons.

"Break up this little party, fellas. You know the rules. Can't be out past 10 pm.......booze, fireworks....these prostitutes......"

One of the girls tried to wrestle away in protest, she was thrown to the ground a cuffed. Mud and dirt streaked her face when she was lifted back up.

The party goers scrambled a bit as the officers began to usher people away. More of them arrived shortly after to make sure everyone was either displaced or arrested.

Hanari continued to sit, staring at the fire which was now at about half of its previous ferocity.

Standing up he walked over to one of the logs that had been cut down earlier that day, and lifted it up, tossing it on the fire along with some newspaper. He watched as the President's face melted in the yellow-orange rage. He picked up another log.


"There is a burn ban, you know." A voice from behind him.

"Put that wood down, now, and step over here."

Hanari froze for a second, looking into the blac abyss the voice was coming from.

"Sir, now! Put it down!"

"Okay" Hanari said, putting it down into the fire pit. The flame raged again.

Walking over and sitting back down, he crossed his legs and watched the flame some more.

Two men, officers, stepped on either side of him. One of them pulled out a piece of paper.

The burn ban.


"You probably can't read, like most of the pukes in this city, but do you know what this is?"

He shoved the document into Hanari's face. He took it from him.

"It's a burn ban" Hanari said, "I can read, screw."

"Did you light this fire?" Hanari looked around, refusing to sell out his friend and give in to the tyrannous demands of this crooked organization.

"No" he said, "but I'm about to".

He threw the document into the fire. It began to turn brown and wither almost immediately. It shrunk in on itself.

Before he could process what he had done there was a sharp pain behind his knee and in the small of his back. All he could taste was grass and dirt. He began to cough, his lungs left like they were on fire. They stood him up as a baton ravished his stomach. More coughing.


"Get him out of here" said the sergeant, as he threw a bucket of water on the fire.

When they got him to the car, the officer threw him roughly against the hood.

Tomás, who heard the commotion from down the block, raced over on his motor-bike. Jumping it off and letting it hit the ripped up pavement, he ran over to Hanari.


"What the hell is going on! What did you do?"

Hanari, who was spitting a little blood now, pointed up to the mountains in the distance.

"Pico Duarte" he stammered out. "I am going to stand atop Pico Duarte."

Tomás shook his head. He had to be out of his mind. The summit of Pico Duarte was over 10,000 feet!

The cop pushed Tomás to the side and put Hanari in the car. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the cash before the officers had a chance to take it at the station. Nodding at Hanari he picked up his bike. "I'll meet you down there."

As the car rolled away, Hanari could see the fire pit. The flame was still orange, though smaller as it jumped between the embers. They hadn't stopped the fire.......and they hadn't stopped the fire within him.

He was going to be king one day.

He smiled as he felt the blood run down his chin.


"Everything burns."

“The end may justify the means as long as there is something that justifies the end.”


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"I did what I said I was going to do, mang, and I made Thunder Cunt tap out. I made it to Vegas, I made it to de semi-finals, and now.......I AM going to be your King. I can almost taste it. It es right at my fingertips, si!.

But I still have some work to do. By no means am I done....I still have two more arms to break. This week, it es de pretty boy himself, the one who refers to himself simply as "Big D". A known commodity around here, Hanari knows that this is the toughest challenge yet. Ya'll better believe that Hanari is ready. The real question es, chico, es Big D ready?

I love to get to know my opponents, si, and I have to wonder, who really is Big D? What does it mean? What does he do, what has he won?

The answer to the latter is a resounding nothing.

Big match after big match, Big D isn't so big. He es very......pedestrian. Like so many who have come before him, his confidence overrides his talent. There is a fine line between cockiness and confidence, and this puta doesn't skate it, he stomps on it with steel toed boots, mang! I thought Thunder Twat was cocky......this burro es writing a master class in bein' a cocky douche. I love dese guys. I love to humble dem. I love to make dem swallow dey pride and tap out.....I love to snap their arms, ese.

Big D seems to have the same virus as the rest of de infected bigheads here in the XWF. He thinks he is much bigger, better, and more successful than he is. But he is sick.....just like Thunder Knuckles.....he has "big match syndrom." Poor perro. He just can't seem to get de job done when de lights are de brightest and de stage es de biggest. Sure, beat the hell out of the mid-card, but when de chips are down, Big D, like many others, fold like a damn lawn chair.

Pathetic.

Hanari Carnes is all about the big matches, and I think I have proven dat to all of you. I thrive in de moment, I rise to de occasion......

Den chu have guys like Big D who are Campeón de televisión for less than 10 minutes. Chu have guys like Big D who lose a tag match to Amjetkun Socio and Fuzz. Need I remind chu all that I am part of the team who took down Apex?

Who es Big D? De man who lost a Título universal chance against Robert Main and Donnovan Blackwater? A man who lost a briefcase match to Ned Kaye? Do chu see what I am getting at here? When the pressure is high, Big D becomes Small D. Low T. A loser, hermano.

Do chu all see why a win at March Madness does not translate to a normal Big D pattern? It just no add up. Big D is lucky to be where he is, but his journey ends here. The road has weaved its way to a dead end, mang, and Hanari Carnes has closed the gate. I will go on to face Madison or Massamind, and I will become El Rey. Big D? He will go back to being a corny gimmick who fills in Savage cards when there aren't enough opt-ins......

We. Are. Different.

But when I look at my opponent for dis semi-finals match, and I look at who he really es.......

I have to ask myself, what does Big D mean?

Big Douche? That would be fitting. A man who es not in peak physical condition, a losing record in matches that matter, walking around with his head held high and an ego de size of Texas......Big Douche would fit. But I just no think Douche is it.....

Hmmm.....

Big Deuce? Fitting. Because a deuce is what he drops whenever someone halfway decent is in de ring with him. Big Deuce, right into dose worn out gym shorts. Or deuce, like deuces, the peace sign, that he throws up whenever times get tough. "Big D out, ya'll."

No.....no, not deuce...still too good of a name for a puta like him.

Big Donkey? Ahh, now this one es good, ese! A jackass like him, this name fits so well! Burro grande! Slow, stubborn, smelly.....this would be de right fit......

But even Donkey is too good for 'Daniel'.

It sure as hell ain't big dick. We know dis.....maybe overcompensating for dick....but not big.........so what could the D be?

I tink I just gave de clue. Daniel. Big Daniel. Because Daniel es all chu will ever be. While de entire world passes chu by....while Hanari Carnes goes on to be El Rey of XWF and de future XWF campeón universal....chu will still be Daniel. Poor, sweet Daniel who just can't catch a break. Just Daniel with his comic boo style tee shirt, drenched in sweat, and his stupid tennis shoes, made for athletic activity he just isn't built for. The XWF world will go on, and Daniel will simply be left behind.

Hey, losing to Hanari isn't all bad.....Thunder Cunt has a TV title shot at this Pay Per View.

Look on de bright side. Hanari is a generous man. I like to give my victims options. Sweet deal, eh?

Chu can choose just not to show up, but something tells me your misguided pride won't allow that.

So scrap dat one.

So de options are: chu can tap out before I break ya arm......

Or chu can tap out after I snap it.

The options is chors, Daniel, and I think dey are fair.

De choice is yours, but when et es all said and done hombre, even you will be saying Long Live de King.

Larga vida al rey

Oh, and PS: When you DO decide to promo, hombre, make fun of something other than how I talk. Chu es vanilla enough in de ring, don't be vanilla in ya promos.


Viva la Republic!
Viva la Dominicano!
Viva la Hanari Carnes!


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Your Next King of XWF
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