Parle Aboard Med Force One

[Exterminator]

Cesar returned Buonocore's intense gaze and noticed barely any changes in the former elder. His confidence and appearance remained much the same as they had many years ago, but Cesar no longer felt the same respect or warmth of friendship toward him. Much had changed since then, and all three individuals in the meeting room were keenly aware of it.

Cesar finally responded, "Senor Buonocore, I never expected to see your face again unless I were to visit Hell. You vanished without a trace, hiding from everyone, both friend and foe. You even managed to enjoy your wealth and wear your usual fancy suits. I’ll give you credit for that, truly!"

His tone shifted to one of fury, tinged with frustration and sadness. "But was it worth it? Abandoning your loyal hermanos and hiding in the shadows all these years? Many of them suffered because of their unwavering loyalty to you. El Machete, of all people, has endured terrible hardship because of you." In frustration, he slammed his fist on the table, the sharp sound of rattling glass echoing as it shook from the force.

"Did you know that for five damn years, I knew nothing about Machete's whereabouts until recently? He was secretly kept captive in one of the worst cells imaginable all this time, enduring experiences worse than death..." He stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Buonocore. "...because of you! You'll never understand that kind of pain until you experience it yourself! The only thing stopping me from giving you the Alberto Rodriguez treatment right now is the effort Senor Holliday put into organizing this meeting."

After that, Cesar sat back in his chair, seeming to calm down a little. His tone lost some of its hostility, though his gaze still held a noticeable fury toward Buonocore. "I think you’re more than well aware of this, and I doubt you came here for some meaningless cháchara," Cesar growled, his voice thick with disdain. "But sending me a list of your little requests before even looking me in the eye?" That's damn insulting. How dare you?!" He shouted, his anger flaring, then quickly reined it in.

"First, you're gonna tell me everything... your sudden disappearance, why you vanished, your secret life, and why the hell you're back. All of it." He turned to Doc, his tone softening just enough to be dangerous. "Senor Holliday, if you wouldn't mind, I could use a drink right about now."

cháchara - chatter, frivolous talk

---

Join the Corsair Brotherhood / [TBH]