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Hanari Carnes · (07-06-2022)

There was a nice Carribean breeze.

He loved sitting out on the water. He loved being relaxed, stress-free. He loved being in his element. There was no worry in him, he didn't even know what it was. He laughed to himself as he thought about Mastermind, sitting in whatever hovel he resided in all the way across the world. He laughed about his panic, he laughed about how much he was sweating over this. To him, this match meant everything. Ruining his comeback, looking bad in the eyes of the entire fed. Hanari put his feet up on the glass table, laying back with hands behind his head.

Surely someone would be looking for him after the stunt he pulled at the resort. The man had to be hospitalized! Surely someone would want answers as to why. The policía in the Dominican Republic didn't follow the same "rules" as those military rejects, the government stiffs that wear a badge in the Estados Unidos. They take bribes, they launder money, they use "necessary force".

People disappear here.

Sitting miles out to sea on a yacht Hanari felt untouchable. In a world all his own.

He had worked too hard for too long to be brought down by the same fears as the commonfolk. He had made too much money to worry about not spending it. Bottles of expensive champagne littered the cabinets, a humidor with the finest cigars sat in almost every room on the expansive yacht.

Mastermind was over there praying, reciting the Our Father, while Hanari sat in the middle of the ice blue abyss feeling like a god himself. Freedom and happiness, compared to bitterness and misery. One was looking to god for help while the other helped himself.

"Therapy" "he said to himself, sipping a Casamigos on the rocks."For I, Hanari Carnes.....am I sinner".

He laughed to himself, taking another sip. Swinging his legs down, he gets up, walking to the deck of the yacht.

Mastermind's Bitch Ass Said:""When you get a chance, if you ever get a chance, whilst in our match, look up to the sky, and call out to the creator, to please, please, help you escape from the mess that you have put yourself in."

He looked up at the sky that matched the water.

"Open your eyes Hanari Carnes."

He opened them, bright and wide. He smiled a big white smile.

"HERE I AM" he said. "HERE I AM....strike me down!"

There was a helicopter in the distance. Coast Guard? Surely. Looking for him? Most likely.

He smiled again, his salvation was about to be complete. He would stand in the face of his maker, face his darkest sins, and he would pay for them.

He put his arms up in the air, dropping to his knees. He was ready for his card to be pulled. This was it for Mr. Carnes from Punta Cana. The helicopter drew closer.......

Closer.....

Closer still.......

It was bearing down on the yacht, so close that he could see the writing on the side. He could see the face of the pilot.

When you are staring your fate right in the eye, you have to decide how to handle it. Hanari was ready to die for his cause. The blades from the helicopter were almost deafening.

And it just kept flying.

Hanari looked at himself in the boat windows. The glass like the glass he was going to throw Mastermind through in just a few days.

He saw a reflection of himself in the tinted windows. A smile came across his face.

Laughing to himself as he stood up, Hanari dusted off the knees of his designer shoes. He feared nothing, because he didn't have to. It was men like Mastermind who lived in fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of injury. Fear of failure.

He pulled his cellphone out and dialed a number.

"Alejandro. Si. Hanari. I am going to send you my location, bring the ladies. We have some celebrating to do."

He sent the location, and put the phone on the table. Going down below he emerged shortly after with several boxes. Setting them on the deck, he began to unpack them. A boat appeared in the distance. Alejandro and the ladies, or the coast guard knowing his location and coming to apprehend?

He didn't care anymore. He pulled out a torch lighter.

Setting up fireworks on the deck, he began to light them off. The boat in the distance got closer, but clearly his location was no secret now. He turned on the yacht's stereo to full volume.

Coldplay.

He watched as the fireworks exploded in the sky. Today, he was celebrating being sinners, being the bad guy, being the one that everyone loved to hate. He was celebrating not having fear in the face of judgement, and his success at the expense of others.

It was 4th of July in America, after all.

"I didn't give you enough credit before, hombre. You're even dumber than I thought. My bad.

What I DID give you credit for was being a fraud, and you went above and beyond to prove me right. You clung on to every word, as I knew you would, so I chose them very carefully. I avoided the low hanging fruit because I knew you'd try to grab it, and in the meantime you lied to us all and pointed the finger at me like the culo de pantano you are. You jumped around like a little kid at Christmas time because you fooled me? You made yourself like stupid because you pulled one over on me? Bravo.

Because that is the only victory you have on me.

But is it YOUR victory, mm? Didn't you throw all the blame on the Warfare General Manager? You jumped around like you just beat cancer and then went on to tell us that it wasn't your decision anyway? So what the fuck were you so excited about then aliento de pene? Someone else's decision? The fact that someone else had to step in and change your plan because you were too incompetant to challenge me correctly in the first place?

Chivato, you've been here longer than I have, you KNOW War Games is about teams. YOU laid down the challenge, I accepted because I am not afraid of you, then management had to step in and correct your fuck up. Is that what you want to take credit for? By all means then, hombre, take credit!

You want to sit here and tell me that you pulled the misfits out of the match for MY benefit? That could perhaps be the funniest thing I have ever heard. And the dumbest. You didn't have a plan, did ya? Be honest. You thought I would not show up, you thought it would run me off. When I showed up, you panicked. It isn't that you didn't want them to rough me up for our match......let's be honest.....you didn't wanna be on the hook for their life insurance. You didn't wanna look stupid when I ran through them like wildfire and you had an entire omlet on your face, chicano. You pulled them out because you didn't wanna look bad......

You shoulda left it at that. Now, you look even worse. If anything, Smoking Bob made you look better, ese! Becuase, come on, we all KNOW you two were in on it.

You were so concerned with making yourself 'look' better at my expense, that you failed to realize that your entire little plan....it was flawed from the start. Then, you started babbling. OH THE BABBLING. Total nonsense that you thought made you sound cool. Brudda, Chuck Norris couldn't make you sound cool.

So, besides taking credit for something management had to fix because you're a total and complete dumpster fire of a human being, you then put the icing on sludge cake by trying to throw my words at me. Your comprehension must have been affected with your brain bleed, because English clearly isn't your strong suit anymore hermano. What I said is that I don't validate myself on title wins. I don't let it define me. You get a belt and that is literally ALL you talk about. Sure, I mentioned winning belts as an accomplishment I had after I put you on the shelf, but it wasn't all I had. I wrapped it into one big talent package. I validate myself by what I do in the ring, you validate yourself by whether or not you are a campeón. You need it so badly because you know how flawed you are in the ring. You need to have gold because it is the only thing that will make you feel whole, make you love yourself. Without gold, you'd be nothing. So no, I did not lie, you just clung to whatever the fuck you wanted to hear and tried to argue a point that wasn't there.

You can't even shit talk correctly, holmes.

Get it together!

I am not even sure that you fully realize the match stipulations. You caught yourself mid promo and realized that pinfalls don't count but by that time we already knew you were confused. Or an idiota. Or a confused idiota. You can all you want that you knew all along, but suurrrrrveyyyyy sayyyysssss: that's a lie.

Everything about you is a lie. And fake. But you do a masterful job at deflecting. It's about the only thing you're good at.

And the mark comment? Perro, you are the biggest mark I have ever seen!

We get it, you're the Anarchy Campeón and you want the world to know it. You are holding on to a third rate belt that means so little that even Charlie Nickles doesn't want it!

But, I also take joy in seeing you fail.

I enjoy seeing your pain.

If you are such a good campeón holmes, you'd put that belt on the line. You've said several times now that it is NOT up for grabs, but why? I know why.

Because you can't beat me.

Deja vu flashbacks all over again. Mastermind losing to Hanari Carnes, his belt stripped away, his arm broken in two spots. You put your foot in your mouth every time you speak holmes, how about attempting to gain a little credibility back? How about putting your money where your mouth is and proving to the world that you're as a good of a campeón as you claim?

Or are you just a scared little boy holding onto the only hope he's got left?

Do I WANT your title? No. Do I want to take it from YOU? Yes.

You're little return, it meant nothing. Nobody would have even realized you were back if it weren't for me. Think about it. Think about how much you don't matter. If Robert Main came back, Centurion when he does, James Raven, Steve Jason, Lee Stone.....

Hell if Chris Chaos came back....

They would roll out the red carpet and make sure they had everything they needed to be comfortable in their return.

Without me, nobody would even know you were back. I highlighted your return, I made the storyline people cared about, I made you matter again. So how about a gracias instead of all this hostility?

No?"

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