I didn't like him, but he was all I had. This class was mandatory for all Dominican students, and without it, graduation was not possible.

This white man, a real nerd, who had big round glasses and always seemed to wear a sweater, despite the tropical heat. And those hideous khaki pants. He is the kind of guy who wore sandals with socks, or so I assumed.

He had that voice that came off as condescending, even if he wasn't trying to be. Just because he was working in another country, a third world country, he assumed he was smarter than everyone else in the room.

Typical American.

The schools in the Dominican didn't have the fancy technology. They were the old school chalk boards that were hard to read sometimes because of the chalk stains from years of being cleaned improperly. Sometimes the chalk would make that horrific squeak noise when it scraped against the board. You couldn't write too quickly or it was total ear-rape.

The textbooks had browning pages, many of them ripped and tattered, some didn't even have full covers on them. The desks all had some sort of writing on them, and gum underneath them. The edges were chipped and worn. They squeaked too whenever they, or the chairs, moved.

The man had judging eyes, and when he called on a student to answer a question, I could tell he was automatically expecting the answer to be wrong.

It was a hot day outside, as most were in the Caribbean. Many of the students were zoned out as he droned on, doodling in their textbooks, on their desks, passing notes and some flat out had their heads down on the desk.

"Writing words helps you to remember them and it will improve your spelling."

I was paying attention to what he was saying. I always did. I soaked up everything. I wanted to learn everything I could because I planned on being in America one day. The land of opportunity.

One day, I would get there.

"Saying English vocabulary words out loud is another important step to really learning the words. If you practice the pronunciation of the key words you will have more confidence when you speak."

He had given us English homework. How many of us did it? I wasn't sure. But I always did. I always completed it and then some.

The man had a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, running down his face and under his glasses. I watched it run down his chin, and fall all the way to the floor below him.

English was something that is hammered into our heads at a young age. A lot of American's and British people come here to teach English, collect a pay check, and get us "prepared" for our lives as slaves to the modern world.

The bell rang, and the kids couldn't get out the class quickly enough. Not me, I walked right to the front of the room.

Mr. Chester, his name was. He was sitting at his desk, his head in one hand, another brim of sweat was around his collar.

He just wouldn't give up that damn sweater.

"Mista Chester....I did an ex'ra assign'ent....I really want to learn."

He looked at he with disdain when he looked up. After class was over, he didn't want anything to do with us. He seemed disgusted I was standing in front of him. I was his star pupil and he still hated my existence.

"You know why I push you, right?" He said.

I shook my head.

"Because without English, you will never make it. You will be looked at as inferior. You will always be at a disadvantage in life. You are a good student, you know history, but without English you just won't be taken seriously when getting the top jobs out of this place. I assume you do want to leave this place, don't you?"

I nodded at him.

"But you have an advantage. You actually listen. You pay attention. Hanari....your accent is thick, people are going to look at you differently. They are going make fun of it, judge it, but if you know how to speak, how to understand, how to analyze...you can get a step ahead. You can make them look foolish. You have the chance to be something Hanari, to get out of here, and this is the ONLY reason I am telling you this........"

I leaned in, anxious to hear what this man whose voice was so loving by eyes were so spiteful had to say.

".....work the system. Play dumb. Talk like you can't talk......use them for their ignorance. One day, your attention to detail, your willingness to learn and pay attention and improve....it will work in your favor. One day, you will open a lot of eyes and open a lot of doors."

I didn't know what to say. This man was basically telling me to play dumb, even though I knew I was smart. He wanted me to stay behind, when I could get ahead, then explode ahead when nobody was expecting it.

I didn't know what to make of it.

I put my extra credit assignment on his desk and almost ran out the door.

I got outside and the black BMW sat out by the curb across the street. The windows were a thick black tint, almost limo tint. I saw them and immediately gulped. The window rolled down and a hand came out the window. It immediately curled into a finger, beckoning me over.

These men had been trying to recruit me forever. I could speak English fairly well, I was an asset to them. But they were horrible men. Savage brutes. They didn't take no for an answer.

I didn't want to go near the car but did I really have a choice?

My life flashed before my eyes.

"Only the good die young" I said to myself. I had heard that song somewhere. I think Mr. Chester was playing it one day.

I felt my legs moving, I felt my feet pounding the pavement. I could see the man in the drivers seat now, he was smoking a cigar and had a lot of jewelry on.

Just before I got within reaching distance, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Mr. Chester.

He was yelling at the man in the car, telling him to go away, telling him that I would not be corrupted by evil men. That I had a future and it wasn't with them.

Before I could process what was happening, the back window rolled down and a pistol came out of the window. I could see the silver shine in the sunlight. Before I could yell no, I heard the shot. Then another. Then another.

Mr. Chester crumbled next to me, steam coming off his body. People who were outside ran screaming. I looked over at him, he had a blank look on his face. His eyes were open.

This man taught me everything I needed to know to be successful. I felt I had failed him.

I should have ran. I should have went to the police. I should have done something. Instead, I got into the car, the back seat, and shut the door.

TO BE CONTINUED

Hanari stood by the window, looking out at the landscape in front of him. His cigar was burning low in his hand, causing black char stains on his index and middle finger.

"Can you two hack it here? I guess we will find out. I was much like the two of you when I first started. I was excited. I was excited to show what I can do. I was excited to get out there and show out, to prove my worth. I was thrown into the ring with a veteran, and I rose to the occasion. I won the television championship. It meant the world to me, but I wasn't truly as ready as I thought. The only thing that gets you ready around this place is facing the best, losing to the best, and figuring out how to get better.

I have done that.

I have figured out how to hang with the best here. Future Hall of Legends members. I have figured out how to get the best out of everyone, including myself. I put on the best show possible every time I go out there.

But I also hurt people.

My partner this week, he likes to hurt people because it makes the announcers yell and scream, it makes the crowd buzz, it causes pandemonium. Me? I hurt people because it is what I have always had to do to survive. I have had to hurt people because if I didn't, they would hurt me. When you lock someone in an arm bar, they have to make a decision. They either tap out, submit their will to you, or they suffer a gruesome injury. I give people that choice, and I think the answer as to what most people choose is pretty obvious.

Guys like Russian Rose, a man with mafia ties. You don't have to tell me about mafia. My man, I WAS the mafia. Long story for another time, but here's a newsflash, it doesn't make you cool. A man whose father was a wrestler. A man who wrestled behind a mask, because, well, if he looks like you, why wouldn't he? A man who was like Charlie Chaplin when he started to speak in movies......when his mask came off, his allure began to fade. What does he do? He goes back to Russia and starts a promotion....you grew up as the coaches son, so to speak. You and your brother. Your brother sucks more than you do, and now he manages you. Then your father lost his promotion to the men who kicked his ass in Japan. This man lost everything, and now you are here trying to live in his subpar spotlight. How does it feel to be such a disappointment?

You may be big and bad in your mind, and you may have a scholastic wrestling background, but I am going to grind you into the dirt. I am going to make you re-evaluate your entire family profession.

Basically, you guys should have stayed in the mob. Because you sure as hell aren't going to make it as a wrestler. The fact you are even in the discussion for a title outside the Heavymetalweight is laughable.

Tula, I see some promise in you. You've got heart. But, you need to fail in order to succeed. You need to step into this ring with two of the best this company has to offer, you need to take your licks, and you need to like it. It is an uphill battle here, walking on jagged roads with no shoes on. Being successful here is one of the toughest things in the world to do, I am convinced. I have managed to do it, and improving upon it every day. You see, you have that do-gooder mentality. I see it as a complex. You need to be seen as the hero, the good guy, the one who always does the right thing.

I see you as a hypocrite.

You always want to help others, you always want to do the right thing. How about wrestling a girl with a broken leg? How is that honorable? Nothing honorable about wrestling a girl on Savage who had JUST had her leg broken on Anarchy. She had to forfeit two titles that night and STILL showed up to face you. You might have won, but there's no glory in winning against a cripple. She has more heart than you could ever hope to even fake. You wanna be a hero? Its not helping a family in need, its being successful in everything you do. You aren't. Your family life is in shambles. Your father is dead and your brother is an arrogant asshole who thinks he owns Hawaii. You have been trying to be different from him your entire life, but you aren't. You have that blood running through you. One thing I noticed is that you want to help everyone, but your pride won't let you accept help. Will you help yourself? When you get locked into Viva la Republic you will have the option to help yourself and tap out......but at the end of the day........

..........I will break your arm.

You see yourself as a hero. I see you as a self-righteous puta with daddy issues. You may be successful here one day, but going through Chaos and myself isn't going to happen. This is not just another match for me. This is a learning experience. Think about it.