One month ago...

Queens, NY.
 
Welcome to “The Pit.”
 
By appearance and definition, it’s your typical illegal, underground fight club.  Two men surrounded by a rusty, tetanus riddled cage, fighting on a soiled canvas.  Even though there were better clubs to fight in, and probably make more money, people usually fight here because of The Pit’s legacy.  It’s one of the first clubs of its kind to exist in New York City.
 
It’s where he started his career.
 
“Come on man, fight!”  A patron yelled.  “I got a lot riding on this.”
 
The man the patron was yelling to could not respond as he was being assaulted by a barrage of Muay Thai style knees to his ribcage, abdomen and chest.  The man throwing those knees did.
 
“Hi-yooo!”
 
Meet Sam Horry--former Vale Tudo fighter, Yakuza enforcer, and professional wrestler.  Double entendres of any kind or ilk, elicit this response from him.  Barring the momentary lapse, Sam still finds time to score an uppercut with his hemp-rope wrapped fist.  He roundhouse kicked the unnamed opponent’s head, which probably knocked him out, but before the opponent could fall to the ground, Horry slammed him to the ground, courtesy of a brutal German suplex.  Next, Horry went to the mount position.
 
“Gotta get Almond Milk...”  He said dropping a fist on the opponent’s face.  “…And Papi’s is getting ready to close soon.  Aight, let’s wrap this up.”
 
Horry reared back, and smashed his opponent with a headbutt that broke his opponent’s nose.  He stood up, and walked away; leaving his opponent convulsing on the ground.  The next few moments went by in a blur as he changed from his black, satin Muay Thai shorts and into a pair of black sweatpants, and black tanktop with wheat Timberland boots.  As he was tying his black du-rag—ponytail style--to his head, Peoples, the fight club owner walked in.
 
“$500 all there for ya, kid.”  The owner smiled mischievously.
 
“You’re jokin’ right.”  Sam narrowed his eyebrows.  “Where’s the rest of it, Peoples?!”
 
“Money’s tight, man.”  Peoples’ thick Guatemalan accent explained.  “My daughter’s got this therapist I’m helping to pay for.”
 
Sam’s gaze never moved.
 
“Alright, alright; here’s an extra $500.”  He handed Sam the extra cash.  “Give you the rest next time.”
 
“Adios, Peoples.”  Sam slung his duffel bag over his shoulder.
 
 
Manhattan.
 

The ride was short, as the cab driver raced over the 59th street Bridge, and past 42nd st.  Sam stepped out of the cab and headed towards Papi’s bodega, only to see the closed sign.
 
“Terrific,” he sighed.
 
Walking into his expensively lavish hi-rise condo, he rode the elevator to his floor.  Tonight was over, as far as he was concerned.  Nothing left to do but shower and get to bed.
Little did he know, his night was just beginning.
 
“Papi’s was closed.  I’ll get the…”  His voice trailed it was as if a ghost was staring him in the face.  “…Jeanie?”
 
“Hello, Sam; been a while, eh?”  She smiled.
 
“Surprise, nigga!!!”  A voice yelled tackling Sam onto his couch.
 
“TY?!”  Sam stood up to his feet.  “What’s good, cousin?”
 
The two cousins hugged.  It’s been awhile since they’ve seen each other, but while their reunion was heartfelt, Sam pulled away and shot Jeanie a sharp look.
 
“Wait a minute….wow, Jeanie.  Really?”  He started to chuckle.  “Now you’re gonna use Ty?  I said I’m done.  No more wrestlin’.”
 
“Sam, the deal she laid out is good.   Defiance is wide open for us as a group to take over.”  Ty began.  “Come on man, we family.   No pressure, just winnin’ and makin’ money.  We could wild out like we used to always talk about.”
 
“But what about that fake ‘Sam’ you had in Defiance a couple of months ago?”  Sam asked her.
 
“Didn’t work, ‘cause we didn’t have the real thing.”  Jeanie stepped closer to him.  “That and he and that Gabriella girl got arrested in Mexico.  Smuggling or something.”
 
“Wait, you had a fake Sam?”  Ty laughed.
 
Jeanie brushed the question aside.  “Yeah, I tried to make another Sam Horry.   Even called him ‘Sam Johnson’.”
 
At that time, from the bathroom stepped a beautiful, curvy Latina in a black, silk robe and hair wrapped in a white towel.
 
“I thought I heard people out here.”  She said sweetly.  “Hi, I’m Mariposa.  Just give me a second to get dressed, and I’ll be right out.”
 
She closed the door.
 
“Nice, Sam.”  Ty nodded his head, genuinely impressed.
 
“Peoples’ daughter, Sam?  Really?”  Jeanie shook her head.
 
“Oh come on Jeanie, she’s hot, in therapy with daddy issues and puts out.  She’s right up my alley.”  Sam turned towards Ty with his hand extended.
 
“Custom made, nigga.”  He slaps Sam, five.
 
 “You’re impossible.”  She rolled her eyes.
 
Sam walked towards her, and lovingly patted her derriere.  “She not you, Jeanie; but she’ll do for now.”
 
“Whatever.”  Jeanie smiled as she pushed him away from her.  “Now let’s talk about our group.”
 
“Nice try, Jeanie.  First off, even with Ty here, I haven’t agreed to nothin’, and secondly if I did agree to this whole thing, me and Ty are just a tag team; why do you keep saying ‘group’?”  Sam grabbed a can of crème soda from his refrigerator.
 
“Because the Defiance tag titles are held by three people.  Meaning there’ll be three of us.”  Ty answered.  “Now my regular partner in crime, has got some stuff going on, and he’s letting me fly solo on this.  I’ve reached out to a lot of my old contacts in WWA: Mandrake, Cross, Galweigh, NRC, even Puerto Rico Nazi Bob.  But when I told them you’d be with me they all declined…”
 
“Man, those niggas can hold a grudge.”  Sam shook his head.  “That’s not healthy.  Heh, Mariposa told me that from one of her therapy sessions.”
 
“…Anyway, if you agree, I’ll give you the choice of a third person.”  Ty said.   “Come on, fam.”
 
“I pick a third, right?”  Sam reiterated.
 
“Yeah.”  Ty held his hand out.
 
Sam looked at Jeanie, and began laughing as he shook Ty’s hand.  “Done deal.”
 
“What’s so funny, Sam?”
 
Sam turned towards, Jeanie continuing his laughter.  “I know who our third person is.”
 
Jeanie’s face turned to fright.
 
“Sam, not him.   Every time you two are together something either blows up, or somebody ends up arrested.  You two lit someone on fire and had him doing the robot for cryin’ out loud!”   Jeanie cried out.

“He sounds perfect.”  Ty said.
 
“And he’s white too, so you know that means…”  Sam began.
 
“…We got somebody to talk to the cops for us.  Holla!”  Ty slapped Sam five again.
 
“Jeanie, book us a flight for Cleveland tomorrow mornin’.”   Sam said as he began heading towards his bedroom.  “Right now Professor Horry has to lecture on the physical and social effects of the visually stimulating Latin figure 8 structure and how it relates to the African American worldview.”
 
Just then, Mariposa appeared in the bedroom doorway, wearing a white button down blouse tucked into a plaid Catholic school-girl skirt.  Her hair was tied in two pigtails while she smirked and winked at Sam.
 
“Ah there’s teacher’s pet.  Ready for diction?”
 
The door closed as Jeanie looked at Ty who was sporting a wide grin.  He says to her as they leave.
 
“Hi-yoooo!”

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