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Hanari Carnes · **07-03-2020, 10:06 AM**

I still remember him. His name was William. A shy young chap, but smart. So smart. William came from a poor family, and growing up his goal was to get his family out of the slums of Santo Domingo and to a nice house in the serene and rolling hills of Las Terrenas. His parents both worked hard, but increasing taxes in the area, as well as a new governmental body who was even more brutal than the last regime, had taken over. Most of their money was taken from their checks to go to public health systems and urban development.

*More people died from illness in his neighbor than anywhere else on the island. The lines to the clinics were often a mile long and the doctors had quotas on the number of patients they were allowed to see per month. His neighborhood could only be described as "decay", with many of the houses sliding off their foundations and open holes in the siding where you could observe the family eating dinner by just driving by. So where was their money really going?*

William often fantasized about the mobsters he saw in the movies and on television, when he was fortunate enough to get a less fuzzy reception. One of his favorites was Scarface. Al Pacino. Sitting there, a designer suit in a house as large as his entire block, with a mountain of cocaine, a hot girl, and more than than he could spend in a lifetime. He had a Scarface poster in his room above his bed, and it was his most prized possession. He had won it at a carnival a few years back, before he had even seen the movie, and had been obsessed with it ever since. His life was pretty boring. Go to school, come back, do homework, chores, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. The Scarface fantasy was simply that, a fantasy. Honestly, it is what kept him going. Sometimes, on his walk home, he would talk in the Scarface accent and quote the movie.

It was on day when his life would all change. He was on his way home from school, backpack on, and lost in his thoughts. It was a warm spring day. As he turned the corner, to enter his neighborhood, he was almost knocked over by someone running full speed past him. He side stepped at the last moment. Before he could gather this thoughts and asses the situation, another figure came flying by him, and in the blur it looked as though he had a gun. Black, shiny in the bright Caribbean sun, and there was a faint smell of gunpowder.

It had recently been fired.

The second figure, however, was running with reckless abandon, and apparently wasn't watching where he was going.

Or perhaps didn't care.

He crashed into William, and they both went tumbling to the ground.

"Que carajo pendejo!" the man yelled, flipping to his feet and pointing the gun directly at the head of William. The boy scrambled to his feet, putting his hands up.

"¡No dispares! No quiero hacerte daño!" (Don't shoot! I mean you no harm!)

The man looked behind him at the emptiness of the street. He turned back and said that his target was gone, that he had made off with the money, and it was all William's fault. He pointed the gun again. William backed against the wall.

"¡Espero que hayas rezado, imbécil, porque este es tu último día en la Tierra!" (I hope you said your prayers, asshole, because this is your last day on Earth!)

William closed his eyes as he felt the gun pressed up against his head. His closed-eye vision was Scarface, sitting there at the table with all the money and the cocaine, and the suit. Oh, the suit. He always wondered what he would look like in a suit. Would they even bother to dress him in a suit for his funeral?

Just as he heard the hammer click, his mouth opened and he said words unconciously. He didn't even mean to say them, but he did. It was his fantasy talking. His didn't even recognize his tone, it was cold, and flat.

"Puedo devolverte el dinero." (I can get you the money back.), he said, "Puedo devolverte el dinero."

The man un-cocked the gun, and William let out an audible sigh of relief. His eyes shot open, however, when the man asked him how.

William had to think fast, because he knew his life depended on it. In all honesty, he had no idea how he was going to help the armed thug get the money back. "¿Era hierba o cocaína?" (Was it weed or cocaine?")

The man looked at him, tilting his head like a dog trying to figure out the command.

After what felt like an eternity, the man spoke. "cocaína".

A smile crossed his lips.

It was a drug deal gone bad. The buyer had set this man up, taking off with both the drugs and the money he was supposed to pay for them.

"¿No recibiste el dinero primero?" ("You didn't get the money first?")

The man seemed annoyed that this skinny little boy was calling him out, questioning his practices. He re-cocked the gun. He told William that it didn't matter what happened, he was either going to help or die.

He knew that most people who bought coke did coke. Most of the time, they weren't in their right mind. He figured that whoever took the coke was probably doing the coke, and his cravings for the worlds most profitable party drug had gotten the best of him.
William asked the armed man about patience. How was his? Because this guy was going to need his fix again. If he could wait, one of his associates was could set up the deal. This dude got away with it once, he was gonna try it again. The man seemed hesitant, but William assured him that the plan would work. The man opened William's backpack and took one of his documents out. He had his name now, he could find him. The armed man folded the document and put it in his pocket. He told him to be down by the docks in 3 days, 11 am.

If it didn't work, surely William's entire family would be killed.

He didn't sleep well for 3 days. He was anxious. He had no idea if this plan would work. He was tempted to tell his family about his run-in with the gangster, to leave and move to another town, to get the police involved.

But as he stared at that Scarface poster, he got his confidence back. It would work. It had to work. It always worked in the movies.

All he could do was hope.

The day came. He skipped school to meet down by the docks. The old rickety docks were quiet, eerie. There were several boats parked, many of which were not usable.
There was nobody down by the docks, he was all alone. His mind raced that perhaps this was a set up. Perhaps the man had dooped him, and his family was in danger right now. Why wasn't he here?

William sat down on the docks, his feet just above the water. All he could do was wait.

After what felt like a calendar year had passed, a car pulled up to the far end of the docks. A man got out. A different goon than the one he had mistakenly crashed into the other day. The man looked at the boy, and nodded. After another 10 or so minutes, a tweaked out looking man in a beater and gym shorts rolled up on a bicycle. He got off, propping the bike up on one of the doc pillars. He walked over to the man.

William pretended like he didn't know what was going on, like he was minding his own business.

But he heard every word.

He listened to the deal go done, and the man who got out of the car stay calm. Just then he heard a door shut, and looked over his shoulder. The man he had "met" the other day had gotten out of the back seat, holding that pistol again. He crept up behind the man. William looked straight ahead at the watery horizon.

He flinched when he heard the gunshot.

Then another.

Then another.

Then all was silent.

A single tear fell down William's face. His plan had worked, as far as he could tell. But a man was dead because of it. A man who may not have been a bad man, but was just a little messed up. A habit, an addiction that crippled his mind.

He opened his tear filled eyes again when he heard the splash. The man floated for a few seconds before sinking to the depths of the Atlantic. They had tied his own bike to his legs.

Footsteps behind him, and a hand on his shoulder. He flinched again. Turning around and standing up, he was face to face with the man from the alleyway.

"Buen trabajo niño" (Good job, kid) he said, handing William $100 US Dollars. That amount of money would feed his family for a month!

The man nodded before walking back to the car. William just stared at the bill in his hand.

As the car pulled away, all he could see was Scarface.

Don't make deals with them either.

When they collect, they collect with interest.

TO BE CONTINUED

"What is the deal with these triple threats? Furthermore, what is the deal with these undeserving filler talents getting title shots? Gotta stir the pot, keep it interesting huh? Gotta keep that little measure of hope, keep moral up among the ranks? Do what you need to do. If you want to add two more victims to the list that is on you. The Wizard is quite the character. He had a hell of a performance at War Games, and he took Mastermind to the limit. Eliminated him even. He proved to me, and to the world, that he actually can fight. Good. I welcome a top notch fight. The only question is, would it be a 'top notch' fight? He can fight, but can he fight like I fight? He rolled up Liam last week while Chris had his back turned, and other than that he has beaten Kris Von Bonn and Mastermind. A man I have beaten twice. A man who I ended a 129 day TV Title streak on, a man who won't, hasn't and can't beat me. So Mastermind is your bar? Excuse me while I clap for you and yawn at the same time."

He claps a golf clap, and yawns.

"Wizard, you're just another gimmick wrestler on a roster that was built on gimmick wrestlers. You're a prop in a prop comedy act. You don't stand out, because weird around this place.....well, weird is normal. Different is accepted. But different isn't always..........better. Sometimes the weirder you are, the more fame you get, but it doesn't always translate to success. You won last week, but don't pat yourself on the back too much, because you have an even bigger test ahead of you this time. A test that I am not sure you can pass. I refuse to prop myself up with the crutch of being a gimmick. I come to the ring in traditional wrestling shorts, knee pads and boots. There is nothing special about my ring attire, but you better damn sure believe there is something special about my ability. You came into this company shrouded in mystery, calling out Mastermind, leaving everyone to wonder what it would pan out to be. We've seen it now. You're exposed. You blew your load too early. Ask Big D what that is like, he knows all about it.

I made it to the finals of March Madness, I was a captain for War Games. I am the X-Treme Champion, and I defended it on Warfare against two pillars of this company's foundation. I am making my waves here, and if you think I am going to let some toad in a cloak take my shine away.....heh, hermano, you're sadly mistaken. Just because you and I aren't on the same level doesn't mean you can't win, I know this. Like I said last week, I learned my lesson about sleeping on people. So I am going to treat you like I treat everyone else, and that's not good for you.

Gage Gannon, the new guy. Welcome to the XWF, and welcome to MY show, Savage. Let me welcome you to my show the best way I know how, by inflicting serious amounts of pain. Chico you are doing your thing, you're working your way up the card, and you're gaining popularity. You're impressing the right people, clearly, because you've got yourself a title shot. But do you really think you're ready? I understand your confidence, I was the new guy once. This place isn't the best for new guys, unless they have that killer instinct. That drive to be the absolute best. Unless they look at names like Robert Main, Chris Page, Shawn Warstein, Centurion as equals. Even the smallest shred of doubt will get you beat, and get you hurt. You've been on a little bit of a run as of late, and that's all fine and dandy, but you haven't faced the upper half of this roster. You're not being thrown to the wolves, like I was. You're being groomed. They see something special in you. The question is, hermano, do you see something special in yourself? That is the grand prize question. Is this all overwhelming for you? I am going to give you your greatest test to date, because I am going to beat you up like you've never been beaten up before. The is X-Treme rules, and I am a sick puppy. But yes, this is a test. A test of wills, a test of merit, and a test of testicular fortitude. This is a test to see if you really are the breath of fresh air that the boys in the back seem to think you are. This goes for you, too, Wiz. Because if you can get by me you have a daunting task awaiting you at Leap of Faith, as one of the most ruthless, talented and non-caring individuals to ever step foot in this company awaits you. This may be a test you WANT to fail. Let me handle my business with Robert Main and go into Leap of Faith fighting in opening card matches against the likes of Mastermind and Broken Oswald. Get a win on Pay Per View, or get destroyed.

It should be an easy choice for both of you.

I am not saying that either of you suck, but neither of you have a snowball chance in hell to stop Robert Main on his conquest to wear this strap. I, however, do.

And don't let all of this hype fool you, because it is shallow. The guys in the back may think you two are much needed in the often mundane XWF landscape, but they thought the same about me. They thought I was unique, fresh, and poised to do great things. It got in my head. I got ahead of myself. I LOST a Television Title to someone who, if we fought today, couldn't last 5 minutes in the ring with me. I let their opinions of me overshadow the opinions of myself. I stepped into the ring with someone thinking I was untouchable, and I lost. Once I lost, I fell back into the fold and became just another name on the roster. I had to earn it back. I won the Tag Titles by taking down APEX only to have my partner disappear on me on the biggest match we had. Who ate that loss? I did. I wasn't pinned but its still attributed to "Hanari lost the belts" and "Hanari can't hold a belt for more than a month". Once again, I fell back into the fold. Then I scratched, clawed and fought my way back. March Madness, I beat two current champions and made it to the finals. War Games, I was a captain and made the final match. Last Savage, I beat Felix Jones and won the X-Treme Title. You could I am on a bit of a roll, eh? Gage, you don't know what a "roll" is. But I'll tell you both something....without that loss, I wouldn't be where I am. Without losing that match to Blackwater, I never would know how good it feels to win. So, I am going to beat you, both of you, I am going to do you the favor that was done for me. Don't listen to them, don't let them in you're head. They will build you up, and then, when you can't be built anymore, you will crumble and will they they be there to pick up the pieces? Hell no. The same people who pat you on the back and tell you how proud they are, will step over the shattered remains and take the spot you failed to hold.

Want to know the key to success? Defeat.

Don't make deals with them either.

When they collect, they collect with interest.

I am going to do both of you a favor, and walk out of Savage STILL the XWF X-Treme Champion.

Prove. Me. Wrong.

XWF X-Treme Champion, 1x and Current

XWF Tag Team Champion, 1 x
XWF Television Champion, 1 x
XWF Record: 15-12

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