The headlights illuminated the road in front of them. The night was smooth, with minimal activity and even less noise. The tires of the 1972 Lada rolled effortlessly over the paved roadways. That was always the good thing about San Cristobal, they actually gave a shit about their roads.

The Following Dialogue is in Spanish, this is the English translation:

"You know where you're going, right?"

The two dice that hung from string over the rearview mirror clicked as they bounced back and forth. The radio had a low hum of salsa, droned out by the steady hum of the Soviet made Lada.

"Of course." There was a confidence in his voice, a poise. Like he had done this hundreds of times before.

This was the first time going to this location.

The street lights cast a white-ish orange hue on the seemingly fresh pavement, the palm trees were still lined with Christmas lights around the bases (they left them up all year round--cheaper than paying to have them removed). They helped a bit to navigate, but this was the countryside outside of Santo Domingo. They were headed to a province called Cambita Garabitos, a villa in the thick forest with a population of around 42,000. However, of its 42,000, 23,000 live in the municipalities and about 18,000 in the rural districts.

Basically, this was countryside, rural, quiet and remote. Anything could and would happen.

"It is just up here, on the right".

Tomás reached into the glovebox, the click and drop of the old car's plastic goveblox was eeriely loud on this quiet night. The click of what was inside it was even louder.

Two clicks, two guns.

"So what do we need these for again?"

"You need them both. I simply want to talk."

"Your strong suit."

"Shut up."

Cars began to line the street. It was getting "busier" the closer they got, even though they were seemingly travelling deeper into the forest.

"Why are all these cars out here in the middle of nowhe---"

"Shhh....."

Hanari turned the music up a little, looking straight ahead.

"Here it is......"

There was a house tucked away in the trees. It looked massive. It was hard to see at night, only a few lights on spanning through a fraction of its many rooms. There seemed to be more glass than siding, and the outside was painted a ghostly white.

(Why is everything in the Caribbean white or pastel?)

There was a gate around the entire property. A salt-water pool lit up the air above it, a cycle of Red, White, and Blue (yes, they are Dominican Colors too!), and the concrete around it was home to a giant round glass table with wrought-iron chairs baring pineapple decals.

Tomás's eyes lit up when the house came into view, though, barely. It was tucked a good ways back into the jungle. The fence would make it tough to get to, but perhaps the guns were for when they did? His face dropped when the Lada passed the house. The dollar signs left his mind, the heist he thought the plan was was getting further away with each spin of the tired. About a quarter mile up the road, Hanari turned around. Hugging the shoulder, he headed back towards the house. About 300 feet from the gate entrance, he pulled in behind a black SUV. Tomás couldn't make out what it was, as the badge was taken off, but it looked like a Mitsubishi. The number plate was Haitian.

Rolling to a stop Hanari put it in park, shutting off the lights.

When Tomás saw what they pulled up to, he became deflated. It was an old garage. Worn down, dilapidated. There were a few trucks in front, flatbeds, with dust stained windows and rusting on the grill. The driveway leading up to the garage was littered with cups, bottles and various other debris. The garage door was shut, but music could be heard coming from inside. There was someone in there.

"So, what, are we going to just sneak past the garage to the house?"

Hanari didn't answer.

"Sneak attack?"

"No. No attack. And no sneak. They already know we're here."

He got out, shutting the door behind him. Tomás grabbed both guns, shoving one behind his waist and one in his pocket. Hanari weaved through the debris in the driveway until he got to the door.

The garage door was closed. The windows at the top of the old door were covered. The paint was peeling and chipping off the door. It looked as if this door hadn't been opened in years.


The old door shook as he wrapped on it. He finished the code and waited.

After what felt like a month standing there, the old door began to creak. It slid open, loudly running through its gears as if the gears hadn't been greased in years.

When it opened, it revealed a large garage.....double, maybe triple the size it appears to be from the outside.....the walls covered in Dominican pride posters and pictures, the floor a dusty cement bottom with cracks in it.

The man staring at him nodded. He turned and walked back into the garage, Hanari followed. Tomás wasn't far behind.

There was a big sectional couch wrapped around a rectangular table towards the back of the garage, brown and ripped. There were motorbikes and mopeds all around, some in full working order, and some beyond repair. Tomás looked around in awe, it was not what he expected. Much larger, much more well lit........

The garage door shut behind him, making him jump a little.

On the right hand side of the garage was a desk with the radio. It was an older style, ham-radio looking device. Above it were a series of TV's. On those TV's were a feed of some sort........

Camera's.

Camera's that showed them everywhere. The front of the garage and the driveway. The house. The back of the garage. Halfway down the damn street.

"I told you" Hanari whispered. "They knew we were here before we stopped the car."

Walking over to the table he saw the men sitting around, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and drinking Modelo's.

"Gentlemen" he said, taking a seat at the table and sinking into the unexpectedly comfortable couch. "I assume you have the product?"

The men looked at him then back at Tomás.

"You brought some muscle with you. Expecting this to go differently?"

He paused a second, he had a casual smile on his face.

"Of course not. It's always smart to travel in pairs, buddy system, ya know?"

"He can't know our business."

"He knows what I allow him to know."

Tomás gripped the handle of the revolver in his pocket.

The men looked at each other, then one at the end of the couch nodded. From under the couch they pulled out a duffel bag. Throwing it up on the table, one man unzipped it. Pulling out what seemed like 10 kilos, they lined them up on the table.

The man who opened the door and let them into the garage puffed his hand rolled cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke.

"It's all here."

Hanari unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, his thick gold chain blinked bright in the florescant lights of the garage.

"Seems to be, yes."

"So you are taking 5, we split the 5 among our group."

Before he finished the sentence, Hanari cut him off.

"Six."

"Excuse me?"

"I take six."

There was a noise outside, what sounded like car doors closing. The camera, however, revealed nothing. Silence.

"That wasn't what was agreed upon."

"It's politics." Hanari said. "You are all here because of me."

"We're here because we want--"

"It's six, or ten."

One of the men on the couch smacked the table.

"Yo, who is this clown? Just because he has connections in Santo Domingo we have to bow down to his demands---"

"Hush." Another puff of his cigarette, he looked back at Hanari.

"Five, or this meeting is over."

Hanari smiles, his hands slapping his knees.

"Then, it's over."

He goes to stand up, motioning to Tomás to leave.

There was a click somewhere in the room. A gun cock. It was audible over the music.

"You are just going to walk away from two million dollars?"

Hanari turns towards the couch. "Consider it a two million dollar donation. You guys are a reputable organization, I am sure you have the ability to move it adequately."

Truth is, they didn't. They didn't need any more heat from local authorities.

The men were dumbfounded. The man who protested got up. His sneakers kicked up dust as she shuffled over to Hanari.

"You come here, to our garage, to our territory. You city folk are all the same. We run this area. Do you know how many guns are in this garage? Do you know how quickly you could disappear?"

The man Hanari had been dealing with went to get up, but someone grabbed his shoulder and sat him back down.

"Are you trying to intimidate me right now?"

*SIDE NOTE: See, Shawn, intimidation doesn't work. It doesn't matter how much ammo you have. It makes you look like a chump, scared, and trying to muscle someone when you know you don't stack up*

"What if I am?"

"I would reccomend you step down."

The man smiled, turning his head. When he turned his head back he threw a punch. Hanari ducked it, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it behid his back. Walking him over towards the table with the ham-radio, he slammed him face first onto the surface.

Guns clicked left and right. Tomás pulled his out and aimed it.

He let go of the man. He immediately charged again, grabbing a knife that was hidden behind the radio. Hanari saw it coming again, and took the man out with a leg sweep. He hit the floor and the knife slid a few feet away. The men got up off the couch now, two had guns in hand.

They looked at Hanari, then cocked their pistols. He grinned as they aimed their guns at the man on the floor.

"Go on, finish him." The man said, handing the gun to Hanari. "We don't need hot heads like that. He can't be trusted. What if he reacts like that on the streets? It's heat we don't need."

Hanari handed the gun back.

"Never kick a man when he's down. It's a cowardly act. Attacking him when he is defenseless........I will not."

Hanari lightly kicks the man. "Get up."

The man scrambled to grab the knife, Hanari stepped on his wrist.

"I said, get up. Not grab the knife and get up. Come on, levántate."

The man stood up. Him and Hanari were face to face.

"Now, like a man.....hit me."

The man was seething, breathing loudly through his nose.

"One on one, hit me."

He looked at the circle around them now. Everyone had a gun.

"Don't worry about them. Hit me."

The man clenched his fists. His tee shirt was ripped, he was bleeding a little bit.

"How about this. You hit me. I hit you back. Winner takes all ten. Loser doesn't leave this garage."

The man was still breathing heavy.

"These men would just as easily kill me as they would you. At the end of the day, its all política. It's about the dinero. Winner takes it all, loser takes a nap."

The man swung before Hanari could finish his sentence. Hanari had seen these kind of men before. Scared to face a superior opponent one-on-one. Had to resort to sneak attacks.

SIDE NOTE: Sound familiar, Shawn?

The man's fist connected with the jawline of Hanari. He instantly tasted the metallic taste of blood inside his mouth. His head cocked back, he stumbled a bit. Some of the men snickered.

When he caught his bearings, he smiled. Blood ran down his split lip. "My turn."


The garage door opened with a creak. Tomás carried the bag. Hanari walked calmly.

"See, I told you you wouldn't need the gun."

"Fuck that.....I think I'll be safe than sorry."

Hanari sighed with a smile. They made it back to the old Lada. Hanari pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the trunk, propping it open. Tomás put the bag inside. Hanari shut the trunk and they got in the car. As the garage door shut, Hanari revved the engine and turned the lights on.

As the garage door squealed shut, a single gunshot could be heard from inside the fortifide garage.

Back in Santo Domingo, Hanari sat in a stuffy back room of the city's most luxurious hotel. The Catalonia.

Sitting across from him was the mayor of the islands biggest city, David Collado. He had a cigar in his mouth as well. They both did.

"I don't want any of it, David. I don't need the money. I work hard for your respect, but I don't need the perks. I don't need the handouts."

Collado took a puff, blowing out smoke.

"Handouts?"

"Yes, handouts. You know if I take any of this, and I make any kind of money on this, you will hold it against me. Any time I succeed at anything, you will expect a favor. No, this is my favor. I work hard, I earn your respect, but I don't need to be protected."

Collado raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. Another puff and he shrugged.

"Suit yourself"

He used his arm to slide Hanari's share towards himself.

"Are we done here?"

"I believe we are."

"Alright. I'll be back next week with more."

Collado grinned. Hanari stood up, pushing his chair in as the mayor pulled out a duffel bag.

"Oh, and send my assistant in when you exit, would ya?"

Hanari kept walking, opening the door and motioning to the man. The assistant shut it behind him and Hanari walked away, smiling big.

He had earned his respect, and didn't have to be a puppet to do it.

SIDE NOTE: Shawn, take notes.



Walking down the isleway, the brand new tile shining bright. It was a long hallway, with gold-framed pictures on each side. Hanari walked down the hall, touching each photo, looking at each of his.......

"Victims".

Ezra Blackwater

Jessalyn Hart

Zane Norrison

Jim Jimson

Thunder Knuckles

Big D

Mastermind (he seems to be in both hallways. He must really SUCK!)

Each opponent he has beaten, a shadow of his past.

James Raven's well groomed face appeared.

Drew Acrhyle's scruffy homeless look.

But at the end of the hallway, there was an interesting photo.

Madison Dyson.

"Ahh yes.....Maddy. Chu see, I no beat Maddy. She took me to the limit in de March Madness Final.....she beat me like I haven't been beaten to date. But I have to say, I loved it. I put her here because it helps me to remind myself of what could have been.........

Is that the same reason Shawn has a picture of the Engineer? He didn't beat him either.....he stole the title from a downed man. That is like me hanging de photo of Madison. I didn't beat her but she is no longer here. I am de King of de XWF by default. Runner up, persay. I am King because she cannot fufil her duties to be Queen.

Shawn Warstein, he is de runner up who is campeón by default.

Shawn all of those pictures on de wall, not a single name of merit. All of dese pictures on my wall, some better names.....but none of them matter. The only one dat matters on my wall of victims........."

He walks to the end of the hall where a picture of Warstein sat. The glass was cracked and the frame broken.

".....es chu."



"I thought I knew Fuzz. I like to say I did. I like to tell people that chu was an icon, a legend, de gold standard, as chu put it. I like to think that somewhere in there is a man with some integrity. I like to think dat somewhere inside Fuzz, as I knew him, is still there.

I don't see him now.

I see a scared little boy. I see a bully making excuses for his actions. A bully backed into a corner having to answer for his actions and not quite sure where to go. Pointing fingers, calling names, chu look like chu are sweating a bit, hombre. I can see the beads running down ya brow.

Chu are falling into the same trap as all de campeones dat have come before chu......chu es hand picked. Protected, jus' like I say. Dey play politics here, et es no secret. Dey decide who dey golden boy es going to be. It was Robert Main before chu, ese. Chu want to transcend de industry, chu wanna be something special, but chu es no different than any other hand picked campeón. Chu es not special to dem....chu es their puppet. Dey picked chu not because chu es de best, but because dey say de bitch in Fuzz. Dey saw the ability to pull de strings and make chu dance.

Dance, marioneta, dance ya heart out.

Chu wonder why dey kept de Engineer there? Dey knew chu had a briefcase, they knew chu were itching to take a title, and dey knew it would shake things up. Dey not stupid, dey es business men. Dey put de business first. A briefcase is their ace in de hole, dey love it. Vinnie sits back there eating flaming hot Cheetos while Roxy waxes his baby carrot and Theo loosen his tie while touching hisself through his discount dresspants every time a briefcase is en de building. Dey love ratings, dey love anything that will keep de fans talking. Chu aren't special, holmes, chu es just convenient.

Think about it. Chu claim chu aren't expendeable? Chico chu es de definiton of expendable.

Chu claim dat everything chu has done since September has prepared chu for dis moment. Prepared chu to be campeón universal.

Mierda!

Chicano......what chu has prepared for since September was de match we all wanted to see. The position chu put chorself in was to be de main event, winner take all, de war between chu and the Engineer. Chu had de opportunity to do it de right way. Chu didn't want dat. Chu have fought so hard, worked so hard, to throw it all away and take de campeonato away from a man chu knew chu could not beat. So chu waved ya briefcase around and tempted de money grubbers in de back........chu cashed in, chico, because dey ALLOWED chu to. I don't understand why chu no see that.

Everything chu worked for, chu threw it all away. Call me old fashioned but I am a big believer in "may de best man win", and chu were not de best man.

Chu never were.

Accomplishments galore. Sure. But chu has been here long enough. If chu was as good as chu claim, why weren't chu granted dat match? Why didn't de world see the match it was owed? It es because chu truly are de GOAT.....

CABRO

Chu float around and make some noise, chu always looking for attention, always looking to be fed, but when de moment comes chu freeze up and fall over......

Hence why de biggest moment never game.

I get it, I understand. Chu were fed up. All dat work chu did since September and chu never got what chu felt chu deserved. I been der, chico, I know how dat feels. But instead of keeping ya head down and trudging forward chu took de shortcut, de easy way out, and chu took something that chu never would have had otherwise.

Marioneta....dance for me.

I can no stand where chu are? Fake news, hombre. Chu have been here so long, chu es supposed to be here now. Chu es supposed to be near de top. I am not impressed that chu are a headliner, a main eventer....chu es supposed to be. But all of de things chu have done, all de matches chu have won, all de accolades....winning Lethal Lottery, holding de X-Treme title for record time.......hermano lets get down to brass tacks.

Chu just couldn't get it done as Fuzz.

Chu just couldn't get to de promise land. So what does all dat work mean? What does all dat blood sweat and tears amount to.

Nothing. Nada. Cero.

Get to where chu are? Holmes if getting to where chu are involves being a snake, a rat, un insecto......then I don't want to be there at all.

They did not want Fuzz. They did not respect Fuzz. Dey don't respect Warstein either.......dey need chu.

Let me ask chu dis, hombre. IF we are vermin, den it just shows that dey are protecting their puppet. IF not, den it shows they really have no faith in chu as a long term campeón........which would chu rather have? I thought so. Chu like de perks of dis administration more dan chu like to be campeón. Chu like de good life, and not having to work to hard. Fuzz, Fuzz, Fuzz, what de hell happened to you?

“I’ve done more in the past 6 months here than you could ever hope. In that time frame I was a double champion. The second longest reigning X-Treme champion of the current era. I won the Lethal Lottery. So please tell me all again what I haven’t earned.”

"Chu haven't earned respect. What did chu call the one-on-one option? Moronic? Spoken like a true coward. What chu REALLY did for six months is win everything in site while hiding from de one man on dis roster who could expose chu for what chu really are.......

A fraud.

I have talked all dis time about who chu really are.....but who am I? Who is Hanari Carnes? I am de toughest hombre chu es ever gonna step in de ring with. I am the man who makes others pay....and has a smile on my face when I feel dey limbs snap. I am a man, like chu said, who is hard working and never looking for a handout. Chu say it like its a bad thing. Chu say it like chu es jealous. Like somewhere deep down chu know that Hanari Carnes is de only one left on dis roster who can beat chu.

Truly beat chu.

I am on the level now. I have been propelled to de title picture. I am a main eventer now, holmes. Once chu in a match for de biggest prize in de game, chu become part of a certain company. Griffin, he's filler. He es there to make things more interesting but lets no make dis confusing.....dis match es me versus chu.

I don't think chu truly understand de dynamic of tha situation chu es in.

"Anyone can come for my spot on the throne.”

Si? Well, holmes, later on chu said.....

"You don’t know the opportunity that has been granted to you. You should smile like the good little bitch you are and be thankful that I’m allowing it to happen.”

Chu are allowing it? But anyone can come for it? So chu are "allowing" anyone to come for it? Jesus, and I thought I didn't speak clearly sometimes. [/i

[i]De funny thing about all of dis.....the thing that I am really going to relish when I am holding that title......is dis.......

For the first time in the XWF I am complete. The good and the bad merged into one person. Not afraid of his flaws, not afraid of a single thing in this business. While Fuzz's name is dead, he still lives inside of me…”

All that work.....all that hard work..........all dis re-branding chu claim..........all for nothing. Shawn Warstein may be de
campeón universal for now.....but Fuzz.......

Fuzz the failure......Fuzz who never quite got it done...........Fuzz who perpetually clung to second place like a life raft floating in the North Atlantic........Fuzz......

Is twice the man you'll ever be."

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

Your Next Campeón Universal