OOC:

I HAVE HAD THE WEEK FROM HELL AND JUST GOT CALLED INTO WORK (I'll be there until 4 am eastern). CENT, ARKIN, I really hope I can bring it in my next one for you, and I am disappointed in myself for waiting so long)


CONTINUED:

What is life without a sense of danger? Hanari had some time to think about life and the direction it was going during his time off the last month. His life, his career, his health. This business takes a toll on a person, mentally and physically, but the human body will give out long before the mind does, if you're strong enough.

Hanari had felt a change in himself in recent months. The happy-go-loving, lets-have-a-party Dominican business man had become a ruthless, brash, cold, damn near evil human being. He had been trained in the art of submission wrestling with mixed martial arts and kick boxing, but those are designed for two things: to win a competition or for selfe defense. They aren't designed to deliberately hurt people.

But just because that's not how they were designed, who says they can't be used that way?

Hanari is the most dangerous man on this roster, from a technical standpoint, but the problem in recent months has been motivation.

Hanari has seen himself slipping. Losing matches he should win. He felt like he had gone soft. He felt like, until he locked Nathaniel Idenhaus's arm into that chair, that he had not found his direction. He didn't have his legacy. He was just a name and a face on a roster filled with names and faces. What was going to be his standout, his breakthrough? What was he going to be known for.

Chris Chaos had the mantra, "How Do You Want To Be Remembered?" It had struck Hanari and dug in. How could he have been so blind? He remembered Chris's words to him when he approached him about becoming a Chaotic Inc. member......

"Ships don't sink because of the water around them. Ships sink because of the water that gets in them. Don't let what's happening around you get inside you and weigh you down. You're a dangerous man Hanari, and we need that."

It was true. Hanari had been blessed just to be given a chance in a company as widely reveared as this one, that he had not focused on just how much shit this toilet had in it. Not just the trolls like Greggo. The personalities on this roster, just dreadful, for the most part.

Hanari played the role of hero, of the good guy who wanted to clense the roster of the vile and filth.

Yuck.

He WAS the vile and filth. Too many hero's around here, not enough capes.

Hanari cracked the window as he set his coffee cup into the cup holder. The desert air was thin, but it was a bit cooler than he anticipated. It was December, after all. Lighting a cigar (the rental agreement specifically said NO smoking), he smiled to himself.

He was no longer Hanari Carnes, the wrestler who was in it to prove he could do it.

He was no longer the Hanari Carnes, the man who wanted to help the XWF.

He was becoming Hanari Carnes, the man who liked to hurt people. The head hitman of Chaotic Inc. With Ares Creed under his wing, there is nothing Hanari couldn't accomplish. His first mission, hurt Greggo.

For the first time in his career, he didn't want to win. A smile came across his face at the thought of hurting another man.

It sickened him.

He liked it......

PRESENT DAY:

The black Mercedes C-class rolled up to the fence, crunching its tires over the pebble laden dirt that they like to call a "road" around here. There was music playing, and there was marajuana smell in the air. He could smell it through the closed tinted windows.

Being back here was difficult for Hanari. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, it was supposed to be a time of rejoicing. A time when he could laugh, hug, and share memories with those were just like him.

This place didn't represent that to him. Instead, it reminded him of the struggle that immigrants like himself went through every single day at every single border in this country. He unbuckled his seatbelt as he reached into the pocket of his suit coat. Pulling out his phone, he opened his "Gallery". Scrolling through the photos of himself and the life he left behind, he let out a sigh.

All of the pain they have withstood, all of the persecution, the trials and tribulations, only to be treated like animals when they arrived. The one place on earth where they are expecting to be treated like humans with basic human rights, and they get beaten, shot at, locked away in cages and deprived food, water and toilet facilities.

The absolute most deplorable treatment one could imagine.

A wave a guilt the size of a tsunami washed over him. He had made it here because he was given a wrestling contract. He was going to be a big star, and he was flown here and got off the plane with no issues. He was actually sought after pretty highly, and when he arrived here he had his ass kissed from day one.

Why? Because he could entertain the white man?

Because he had a cool accent and they could put his face on a fucking thermos and sell his tee shirts at arena's around the nation? So he could make an appearance on TV every week and keep this overweight consumption slobs satisfied?

His phone rang. Hanari answered.

"Tomás, mi gente."

It was so nice to hear his voice again.

"Hanari.....¿Dónde has estado hombre? Where ya been?"

Hanari paused for a moment. He looked out at the valley from his perched position. He knew that behind this fence, somewhere over that horizon, was a world he no longer understood.

"I am glad you made it, hermano. I hope they didn't give you too much trouble at the border."

Tomás laughed to himself.

"Amigo they let everybody in nowadays. Donal' Trump is gone, holmes, and Joe Biden just gave us the green light to come here again!"

"I know that, holmes, but still, getting into this country isn't always a pleasant experience."

He still remembered all of those people who left his country on those small rickety boats, hoping to reach the shores of a completely new world, and knowing they may never.

It is hope that drove those people.

"So camarada where the hell are ya?! There is a party going on. Tequila, women....cocaina!"

Hanari smiled to himself, Tomás was living his best life, on American soil for the first time ever. Maybe it truly was a new era.

"Good things come to those who wait, compañero."

There was music in the background. The same music that was currently muffled through his tinted windows. His friend from back home didn't know just how close he was.

"I am here, actually. I am coming inside."

"I will save you a bump!"

Hanari laughed to himself and pressed the end button on his phone. Normally he would love the opportunity to party with these people, to have a drink, a smoke.....but he wasn't one of them anymore. When he first got here, sure, he was the fun loving islander who cracked jokes and got along with everyone.

Opening the door and shutting it behind him, he waited for the "BEEP BEEP" of the door locks. He crunched his way up the pathway leading to the house.

He remembered thinking to himself that he would have had this driveway paved. He felt less and less comfortable as he walked closer and closer.

When he got to the door he was greeted by his friend, two women on each arm. He was living his best life.

But what was a best life anymore? He felt like all he did was work.

He stepped into the party and the one feeling he thought he would never have to feel washed over him.

He felt alone among his own people.

He had gone from Dominican Nationalist to Americanized Capitalist in only a short year. These people had fought, scratched, clawed to live a life they wanted to live. They wanted to get out of the ghetto cities and being accused of wrong doing at every turn, yet they come here and they party in abandoned warehouses with illegal substances.

He checked his Rolex watch for the time.


TO BE CONTINUED