“What do you mean Nvidia Corp is dropping?! They are a damn near 500 billion dollar company, to this day, in this economy, and you want to tell me to sell?! Get the fuck out of here.”

The leaf roll on the outside of the cigar was turning dark brown from the sweaty fingers that gripped it. Smoke billowed up from the tip behind a dull orange butt, there was already a cloud on the ceiling. The glass ash tray was home to three others already. Their time had come and gone.

“Sell….maldito idiota. I’ll sell your ass! Give me another 500 shares and drop my EA down to 75. Nobody plays those games anyway! EA, what a useless company!”

The white dress shirt was almost cream at this point. The top 3 buttons were opened and the tie that sat somewhere around the base of the sternum. The gold jewelry on the wrist and around the neck were glistening as well.

All this money and they couldn’t get some fucking AC?!

“Get it done. I don’t care. I don’t care what you have to do. I don’t care that the lawyer is on vacation, I don’t care that the offices are closed. If you call me back without my 500 Nvidia shares, your ass will be gone. Got it?”

He hung up the phone in a huff. The table was littered with papers and other clutter, though in its disastrous appearance it was dangerously organized. His phone rang again.

“Carnes.”

It was a brutally warm day in the Dominican Republic. He was supposed to be in New York, on Wall Street, but with flight delays and just a generally smaller number of international flights, it wasn’t worth the headache. A phone call is a phone call, it doesn’t matter where it comes from. The money all goes to the same place.

“Yes, the Chase account. How’d the meeting go?”

Two fingers knocked more of the flakey grey into the bowl.

“What do you mean Activision is being difficult?”

A car alarm was going off in the parking lot. Fucking hell.

“Blizzard, whatever the fuck. They owe us that 750g, and I’ll be damned…I’ll go up in that motherfucker….”

Another call was coming through. That fucking alarm was still going off.

“Hold on Emilio, gotta take this.”

This time he pushed a button on his earpiece. “Talk to me.”

The alarm suddenly went off. Bout time.

“What do you mean someone is here to see me? It’s a Saturday, I am not even supposed to be—-you know what, fuck it, send them in.”

He smushes the cigar into the glass bowl.

“Emilio, I gotta call you back.”

Not even 30 seconds later, his office door opened. A rather unkempt looking man in a frock and crocs came in. His beard was scruffy and he had hair below the shoulders.

Hanari turned his head to see the man, and he could feel the muscles in his face change.

“Hiya, sir, your–uh–receptionist sent me in.”

Hanari got up off his chair and walked over to the liquor cabinet in the corner, pulling down a bottle of Don Julio 1942.

“So it appears she did.” He grabbed a glass off the rack and poured a drink on the rocks, offering it to the man. He declined. Hanari walked over and sat down at his computer desk, pulling another cuban out of the humidor next to it.

“So, then, how can I help you. As you can see, I am very busy.”

The man motioned to take a seat, Hanari obliged.

“I am told you are the man to talk to about getting involved in the stock market. Buying shares, trading, selling. Big business.”

Hanari sipped his high priced tequila and cut off the nub of his newest cancer bar with a cutter.

“So you come here today to business or kiss my ass?” He has a big grin on his face. “I am fine with either.”

“I am prepared to offer you something, kind sir.”

“You wanna get into TENCENT, Microsoft, oh god don’t say EA. Fuck that company.”

“I actually want to know what YOU enjoy most.”

“Money,” Hanari answered without hesitating. He lit the cigar.

“And lots of it.”

The man chuckled a bit to himself, the readjusted in the big leather chair.

“I figured as much. Well I am here today to tell you that I have no money.”

Hanari brought the cigar down, staring at the strange person across from him. There was a long pause, and sudden tension in the room. The heat was amplified, as the tropical air from the outside creeped in through the cracks in the window molding. The clock on the wall ticked, and every second that passed sounded like thunder pounding.

“Well..then, I don’t believe this is the right place for you.”

The man sat there, stone faced.

“Vamanos, hermano. Come back when you have something of value to offer me.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Hanari chuckled to himself, clearly annoyed.

“I believe we are done here–”

“I am here to offer you something much more valuable than money.”

Hanari pressed a call button on his desktop. “Security”

“No need.” The man said. “I’ll go. But, just think about it.”

Out of the pocket of the frock he pulled a game cartridge. He set it on the desk.

“Think about it.”

He turned and walked out the door as Hanari laughed, puffing and blowing another big cloud.

Days turned into nights, and all was quiet around the office. Hanari was on the phone again, this time with the CEO of Gamestop. Revenue sharing, skimming, you name it, he was involved. He was talking on three separate devices to multiple executives within the company. His iPhone let him know that there was a call coming through, but it was from a number he didn’t recognize. He let it go to voicemail.

When he was done for the day, he poured himself a drink and sat back to relax. He knew he shouldn’t drink so much, but he was only going to sweat it out anyway in this fucking office.

His phone dinged again. Notification. He glanced over at the cartridge still on his desk. No, it can’t be. He picked up his phone and went to his voicemails.

“Mr. Carnes. I hope you thought about my offer. I can give you something that money cannot buy. The world isn’t so black and white. Think about it. Let me know.”

He scoffs, deleting the voicemail.

Day in and day out, this man would come to the office, asking to see Hanari. Day in and day out, he would call his receptionist a cunt and tell her if she lets him in she’s fired. Day after day a new voicemail, text message, or letter delivered to his door.

“Follow your dreams.”



It was becoming harassment at this point. He was trying to do big business and this little pissant kept pranking him. Maybe he would delay the College Football game everyone is waiting for even longer, and blame this asshole for it. He had enough knowledge of the books to make it happen. Bury the little cockroach and make his pockets bigger at the same time.

Hanari thought nothing of it, other than annoyance. Getting on the phone he told the receptionist to not allow the man in the building, and if he does, to call security.

He glanced at the cartridge again before shoving it off the desk and into the garbage.

2 Days Later:

Hanari was running a bit late today. There was a backup on DR-3 heading into Punta Cana, and the traffic was at a standstill for miles. When he finally parked his Mercedes C Class in his spot, he was rip roaring mad. All he could think about was the money he was losing by not being on this conference call. It consumed him.

When he got to the lobby of the old building that he had made his office (hey, it was cheap, no sense in spending money to steal money), he couldn’t help but gasp. 5 security officers were laid out on the chipped tile floor in various stages of consciousness.

The receptionist popped her head out from underneath the desk.

“Oh,Mr. Carnes, I am so glad it is you!”

“What the FUCK happened here?!”

“That man!” Her breaths were ragged sobs. “He came in again, looking for you. He was saying something about taking his offer or something. I don’t know, I don’t KNOW!”

“Relax, Selena. Relax. What did this man look like?”

“Like he was homeless, honestly. He was in a great mood until I told him that you did not wish to business and he would need to leave. He refused! REFUSED TO LEAVE, MR. CARNES! He said that you needed a better imagination. That you needed to open your mind. That you would see that he was right if you just gave it a chan—”

“And the guards?”

“Like they weren’t even there! I have never seen someone take out five men so easily! He just waved his hands and they all dropped!”

“Jesus! Two of these men are the country’s best prize fighters! Two are former military and one is a black belt in Brazilian Jsu-Jitzu!”

“I know, Mr. Carnes. Only the best for you.”

He shook his head. “Where did this man go?”

She didn’t want to tell him. There was a lump in her throat the size of an apple. He could see it, shit, you could see it from Haiti.

“Selena….WHERE….IS….HE…..?!”

“You’re office!” she squeaked out, crying again.

He dropped his bags and rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t need this today.

When he got to the office in the back of the converted building, the door was ajar.

“Come on, you puta! Show yourself!” He kicked the door open to be greeted by an empty office. Looking around, a bit dumbfounded, he noticed the cartridge was back on his desk. This motherfucker……

Walking over Hanari grabbed it, throwing it off the wall.

“COME ON! SHOW YOURSELF!” He was ready for anything. It had been a while since he truly hurt someone, and was not afraid of this liquid shit stain.

There were some sounds above him, in the vent. His head shot up towards the ceiling. He had him now. Grabbing a baseball bat that he kept strapped under the desk, he swung upwards, knocking out several ceiling tiles. When he was done, he was covered in plaster and dry wall, but still no sign of the man.

Huffing, and hot as shit in this ghetto ass office he cheaped out on, he yelled and threw the bat at the wall. It landed next to the damaged console.

“I told you to open your mind, Mr. Carnes.”

He whipped around to find the man standing there. “Now, we are going to see what your true passions are. Your true fantasies. Your wildest thoughts and deepest fears.”

Hanari went to charge the man but his body couldn’t move. He was completely stiff. Before he knew it the man was on top of him. He shoved a cloth into Hanari’s mouth and held it there until he eventually passed out.

When he awoke, it was a world he didn't recognize. It was his office, just like he went to every day, but something was different.

Everything was in 8-bit resolution. His phone, his desk, his chair, even his cigar. The grey stuck in the air, not moving, as if frozen in time. Looking around this new world, he found the man, standing across from him. He was holding a catridge in his hand. A text bubble popped up next to his head, and COURIER font began to show up.

"Mr. Carnes, did you not look at the cartridge I provided for you?"

Another text bubble after that one disappeared.

"Take a look."


Another text bubble popped up as the 8-bit resolution cracked a bit.

"Get on the phones, Mr. Carnes. There is money to make."

"Let me out of here, you piece of---"

"This is you, Mr. Carnes. Your true calling, your true passion. Some people play games for imagination, to escape reality, but for you, your stuck in a game, a revolving door of yor own thoughts and desires. Welcome, Mr. Carnes, and enjoy."

It hit him like a boulder. In that moment he realized who he was. Like, as an adult, his favorite thing is trading stocks and running an empire. And as a kid, his favorite thing was… trading stocks and running an empire.

He was building and empire, and it starts July 31st in Switzerland.


"We meet again, eh puta? Mastermind got lucky on Warfare, and needed the help of his concubines to get the W. I told you that you wouldn't out-run me, chico. Here we are again, in round 1. Another chance for me to embarrass you on television, though, you do a pretty good job of that all on your own. This time you don't have the power and control that you so desperately seek, because you have a team that wishes they weren't drafted by you. A team that doesn't like or respect you, much less listens to you. You're a lame duck, Mastermind. You always have been but at an event like this, you will be exposed. You're leaning on your team to carry you, just like you lean on the misfits to win you matches, but the only one on your team with any real pedigree is WAS Peter Vaughn. Dolly Waters? Inconsistent. You had such little faith in your team that you had to pull some back room deal to bring Thaddeus to the event just so that you didn't set the record for quickest team eliminated. You are probably patting yourself on the back so hard it'll leave bruises, aren't ya? You "Mastered Our Minds" and pulled a last-minute swerve. You made us all look foolish huh? Well, big guy, I hate to break it to ya, but you fucked up this one, too. Congrats. Did you forget that our very own War Criminal helped to defeat Duke's team last year? His country has been at the forefront of worldwide scrutiny for years, and is familiar with a regime that will kill you for coughing or daring to sneeze. He isn't afraid of a piss boy like Thaddeus Duke. Nor am I, for that matter. Also, pretty sure Game Girl defeated his father. So, what is your ace in the hole here? Thaddeus Duke doesn't scare anyone anymore. Sure, he deserves respect as a veteran and legend, and his talent speaks for itself, but he isn't the ghost in the closet that he used to be.

Side Note: Savannah, mamasita, don't let Mastermind's piss poor planning hurt your feelings babygirl. Come on over to Hanari's Swiss mansion after the show, I'll make you feel really good.

Your time is limited vato and I told you since the moment you came back that I was going to make your life hell, I was going to be the reason you lose sleep at night. I have the most powerful allies in the business around me. I have a team that is poised to win this entire thing, and I am honored to be a part of it. This is an empire business, and I am here to build one. This is a fresh start with a team that is one of the best War Games has seen in some time. I am going to show the world that Vita's bitch--err Dolly Waters--is nothing but a scared little girl whose bones can break just as easily as a man's. I want to make her scream, and beg. I want her to look me in the eyes as I am about to snap her arm and I want you to beg me not to. I want to show you that Hanari Carnes is the most dangerous man on this roster. The one nobody believed in the idea that the Dominican War Machine is going to be the difference maker, and the one who was picked last is going to show the XWF community why underestimation is the greatest mistake of all."