[P] [M] Fathers and Sons

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

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The Final Showdown. Andrez Powerplay approved by Jace.

A young man stood in a clearing -- brow wrinkled with fear. There was shouting nearby. Screaming. Pained wails of which the young man had never before. He was visibly shaken, wincing with every sound that drifted into the heart of the Del Mar encampment. He dared not imagine the voices of family and friends alike calling out for aid, only to receive no reply. He did not have to imagine.

It was here.

His father stood before him. His cold eyes were tired. More tired than Mannuelle could ever remember. Carlo Del Mar’s firm hand fell upon Mannuelle’s shoulder.

“I’ve sheltered you from the reality of this business for too long Mannuelle,” he said with some hesitation. “It’s finally time you understood what it means to lead this family.”

Mannuelle did not understand. He opened his mouth to speak. “Dad, we --” he urged. “We need to--” His eyes said it all. Run. Flee. To return to the safety of Palisade. The Del Cenere Gang was not worth their time. The friends he’d thought he’d made. The woman he’d so foolishly loved. All of it had been a waste.

His father raised his hand and cut the young man off. “We make choices,” Carlo said flatly, “and we are bound by those choices.”

A beat passed and the chaos outside the encampment persisted. The Del Mar patriarch breathed in sharply as he passed his son a bow.

“Every choice has a cost, son.”


Turns out, the Del Mar bastard’s intel was good. That didn’t make Boone trust him. Nothing could right the wrongs of their family in Boone’s eyes. The damage had been done. His fury was righteous. His anger, justified -- or so he told himself.

It went beyond the lopsided trade arrangement. It even went beyond Luciana. This was a matter of pride, and for Boone, it was but his only opportunity to right the wrongs he had foolishly run headlong into.

There were two days. Two days to end this.

Those who were of able body and mind to fight were assembled. The presence of Andrez surprised him -- particularly after his brother Manuelle’s predictable disappearance. However, Boone understood his utility. The turned Del Mar boy was a sure shot, and should the need arise, a valuable hostage.

Of these fighters, Boone assembled his own small contingent. John was to be his wing -- Andrez as well. The goal was simple enough; dispatch Carlo Del Mar and end a war before it could even properly begin. He understood it to be akin to a suicide mission, and truly did not expect to make it home. However, Boone Winthrop was determined to do one good thing before the final day came.

When the raiding party was finally assembled, John never showed. Boone believed him to be struck with cowardice. There was, however, no time to dwell upon it -- so he took Andrez aside and separated from Santago’s main raiding branch, leaving them to proceed without them.

It was as he pulled Andrez aside to go their own way that he heard the voice of his father.

I’m coming with you,” Andrew had said.

Boone’s brow furrowed. “No you’re not,” Boone snapped, “You’re going with Santiago. They need you.

[size=75]Permission to powerplay Andrez granted by Jace.]

A hand reached for Boone’s wrist and Andrew held tightly.

He looked at his boy in earnest. Boone was no child any more. Instead, he was but an angry, embittered man. Andrew could not help but feel himself to blame for this mercurial streak. In his own absence, he could not be the guiding hand that Boone had clearly needed. The guilt weighed heavy.

You’re not going without me,” Andrew affirmed. His voice dropped into a whisper. “Not with him.” Andrew’s wary gaze fell on Andrez, the Del Mar boy who Boone had decided would accompany him on this final mission. There was a nervous energy about him. Andrew didn’t quite trust it.

Boone wrenched his wrist away and sneered. Yet, Andrew could see understanding in his eyes -- even if he dared not show it consciously.

[/i]”  Boone relented.

ANDREZ,” Boone called, readying his bow. The Del Mar boy perked up and looked to the comandante. “Ready up. We’re moving.”

The air was wet with fog, but Andrew could smell the acrid scent of flame. The war band had made their move, allowing Boone, Andrez, and he the opportunity to slip carefully through enemy lines.

He was caked in mud from toe to tip -- all three had covered themselves with earth to mask their scents. They had settled upon a strategic ridge, and in the clearing below, Andrew could see dark shapes moving through the fog.

What do you see?” Andrew asked as Boone strained to get a better glimpse at the shadows down range.


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