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Hanari Carnes · (11-05-2020)

Cigar smoke filled the air, clouding up the small room. Men in suits sat around a rectangular table, each one with an individual ash tray and a rocks glass. A bottle sat in the middle of the table.

At the head of the table was a large, lumbering man, with the nicest suit of any of them. His cigar was the largest, his rocks glass was a pint glass, and his jewelry glistened in the fluorescent light even through the dense smoke that clogged the room's oxygen supply.

He was Hector Garcia, and he was the boss.

He had called this meeting today because they had a little problem within the commission. There were two men that needed to be dealt with, two men whose ego's had gotten a little too big, and two men who were causing nothing but problems. The problem is, these were prominent and popular men, and their disappearance would raise some eyebrows.

One man slid the bottle to the other, and they grumbled to each other as the liqour flowed into the small rocks glass.

THE FOLLOWING DIALOUGE IS IN SPANISH, THIS IS THE TRANSLATION:

"Gentleman....I have called you here today because he have to fix a little problem we have. We have two men who have become a problem, and I am open to listening to idea's regarding their disposal."

One man immediately suggested just shooting them in the head like everyone else. Brash, and cut to the chase.

"No. Not these two. That would be too easy. These two need to be made examples of."

Another man slammed his hand on the table and suggested that they cinder block their feet and drop them in Santo Domingo harbor.

"How would that be making an example? I mean, maybe to divers, but the people need to see that these men aren't martyrs, their nothing more than disposal trash."

All of these men were natural killers. There was several million dollars collectively within this room alone. They were all business men that had been successful in their ventures, but all were also the heads of their provinces local mafia's. They didn't know anything but making money, fine cigars, loose women and killing people.

The men all shot ideas back and forth, talking over each other, all had idea's that they thought were brilliant. Only one man sat back in the corner, the dress shirt under his suitcoat unbuttoned. He was the new guy, recently sworn in, and he just sat there watching the madness before him with a small grin.

"ENOUGH! SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!" Hector's voice boomed over the rest. All of the men stopped, and turned towards the Dominican's most ruthless crime boss.

"All of you....these are normally good idea's, but this one has to be different. We have to make sure we are calculated with this one........"

He looked directly at the new guy, who was pouring himself another shot of Tequila.

"You. You haven't said a word yet. I am not even sure I know your name. Who are you?"

The man finished pouring his shot and slid the bottle back to the middle of the table.

"My name is Hanari Carnes, Don Hector."

He took a puff of his cigar, inhaling the finest Cuban tobacco on the planet.

"Okay, Mr. Carnes, do you have a suggestion as to deal with our little problem?"

He grinned again, laughing softly to himself.

"I wouldn't kill them at all, sir."

The men all turned towards him now, there were a couple gasps. What the hell did he mean he wouldn't kill them?

He takes the shot, setting the glass a little more forcefully on the wooden table than was necessary.

"Killing them accomplishes nothing. There will be hundreds of guys like this out there, they come along like the seasons. What you want to do--if you want to indeed set an example--you hurt these men. You establish your dominance. Break an arm, a leg, several ribs. You leave them worse for wear, but you don't kill them. Every day when they wake up, they should remember you. Every time they take a step and the pain shoots up their leg, every time they reach for a piece of bread and have trouble closing their hand, every time they try to breath and can't without wincing...they will remember. They will want the pain to go away, and they will want to make sure they never do what caused them this pain again. Sir, if you truly want control, killing does nothing. It only breed hate and resentment, it breeds and uprising. If you truly want control, you leave them in fear. Fear of pain, anguish, torment, fear of.........their families safety. If they don't comply, go after their parents, their children, anyone they love. But killing them, sir........killing them would be far too easy and would accomplish far less."

The men all sat there in silence for a few moments, looking at Hanari. Don Hector stared a hole through the newcomer, but the corners of his mouth were slowly twisting into a smile.

"May I get the bottle again, Devi?"

Devi slid him the bottle and Hanari poured a shot again, sliding the bottle back to the middle of the table.

Don Hector puffed his cigar and ashed it in the glass tray in front of him.

"And who exactly is going to do all of this damage to them?" he asked.

Hanari takes the shot again, and sets the glass down with the same ferocity as before.

"I will. And when I do, we will never have to have one of these impromptu broad daylight meetings again. I could be on the beach right now........"

The men looked back to the Don. He dare talk like that to the most dangerous man in the Caribbean?

After a few moments, the Don spoke.

TO BE CONTINUED

"I have to give credit where credit is due. Dick Powers is a tougher hombre than I gave him credit for. I am still feeling the effects of our match, and quite frankly probably shouldn't even be cleared to wrestle on Warfare. A little pain has never stopped me before, it won't stop me now. I like pain, surprisingly.

You know who doesn't like pain? Ned Kaye. Ned doesn't like pressure, he doesn't like having to be a leader. He has always been a follower. His Apex buddies, they used him. Every teammate he has ever had, has used him. Ned didn't leave because he gave his word, Ned left because he couldn't hack it. He wants to bad to be in the top spot, he wants his face in the spotlight, but he doesn't have the fortitude inside his body to be ruthless enough to be successful here. He left to hide in "retirement" while licking his wounds and trying to fix his damaged pride all while making himself as the good guy by "keeping his word". Ned sat back in the shadows and watched the empire he was a pawn in crumble around him, watch a new era get ushered in, and just shrugged his shoulders. If Ned was really solid about his convictions, nothing would have changed his mind. But his convictions were as fragile as his jaw bone. All it took was a little push. Poor little daddy-o, and momma........they say you mess with a man's family and you can awake the monster........we didn't. We got a pussy to grow a set for once, but Ned is too stupid to see the bigger picture. Ned don't you see that we control you? We have you eating out of our palm. We have you right where we want you. You probably think that because you won at Relentless that you've got the checkmate, right?

Wrong, chico.

Because this is not over, in fact its far from it. We've forced your hand, and now we control your destiny. You could have left here and been revered and remembered by those who thought you were more than you were, but now you broke your sacred word and came back ony to get beaten down time and time again and show those people what you truly are.........a puta. You alienated yourself, Ned. You turned your back on the company that made you more than some pretty boy with limited fighting skills, and now you're back on an island all alone. Nobody is going to come help you, because they tried for so long to prop you up and you left them hanging. We own you now.

You want to stick it to Chaotic Inc, don't ya? The best way to do that was to let it all pass. To stay retired, to stay in the shadows, but now..........Oh, chico. It's like a child who is complaining about not getting their way.....if you give them their way, are they truly better off then letting them get it out of their system and moving on? Chris would have gotten bored with you eventually and moved onto greener pastures, but you played right into his hand and now Ned your triumphant return has been muttled. You could have come back and went for gold, could have had a blaze of glory and been the come back story for the ages. Instead, you were stuck in a singles match against the new comer that nobody really knows in a match that didn't matter and still barely squeaked one out.

Your return, it doesn't matter. We've made sure that Ned Kaye is an afterthought. We've pulled you off your pedastal and forced you back and now you're just as worthless as you were before you left. Forget the "rudy" moment, you're Mark Sanchez. You could have come back and thrown the game winning touchdown but you fumbled it away and everyone has forgetten you've even come back at all. This week you are put in a tag match teamed with Charlie Nickles. Someone who you would have snubbed your nose at just this time last year. Your associations had you gassed up, didn't they Ned? They had you feeling like you were better than you truly are. Charlie would have been below you, so why wouldn't he be now? You're starting back at the bottom Ned, and right now, Charlie Nickles has more clout than you ever had, despite what "they" told you. Can you really trust Charlie Nickles? Or will you once again be at our mercy with your hat in your hands and a tear in your eye? I guess that's up to you to decide, but just know that there is more to him than you think.........

And Charlie.......you crazy motherfucker. I like your style, to be honest. You pull no punches, and you have no problem getting your hands dirty. What I don't like is you ego. You feel like you deserve the world when you've barely earned Haiti. You think you're a big shot because you had the balls to call out the champ? Brother.....in case you weren't aware, there isn't exactly a long list of people lined up to lose to the champion. She's got more protection than the President, and you were the wet food in her cat bowl. A little treat for her. The only person who has a shot against her is a veteran, a ring general, someone like Chris Chaos. You? Sorry, but you're just not at that level yet.

You sell yourself short, also. Whining and bitching about being recognized on the website as a champion when you hold the belt designed for people with disabilites. You hold the Special Olympics title here in XWF but you put it around you're pudgy waist and rub it into everyone you see like it matters to anyone but you. Charlie, I am a no nonsense guy, just like you. I believe in facts over feelings. Against the top competition here, you're as useless as Helen Keller's drumset. You've beaten exactly nobody, and against the top competition in this company you've shit the bed every time. I am not going to say i got the job done, either. I have a loss to Robert Main. I lost my Universal Shot to Warstein (before management changed the briefcase rules on the fly to cater to their protected champion and essentially screwed him out of the title). I am not going to sit here and tell you that I deserve to be the Universal Champ, because I don't. What I HAVE done, is hold a belt that matters here. I won the Television Title in my second ever match, the tag belts, the X-Treme title. Right now, I am not in the title picture, so I am focusing on being the most dangerous man on this roster and the best technical wrestler in the world today. I don't lower myself to the standards of the Heavymetalweight belt just so I can call myself a champion. I actually have standards, Charlie, but I get it....you're insecure. I understand. You just want to matter here, you want people to notice you. All they have noticed to far is that your obnoxiously large gut is filled with nothing but hot air. You want to matter? Win this match. Take us out. You have Peter Gilmour and myself. This is your chance. So far you're nothing more than a chubby Ned Kaye clone with a little blood on his face and a scruffy beard. You have no leg to stand on and after Warfare, I'll make sure you don't have an arm either.

Because I am going to break it.

Will your pride allow you to tap out? Or will I have to make yet another example out of someone who think's their worth more than a Dixie Cup of piss?

The choice is yours, chico. I suggest you choose wisely.

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