Parle Aboard Med Force One

[Madvillain]

Buonocore watched Cesar with the same quiet patience he had cultivated over years of navigating the betrayals and shifting alliances of the Council of Elders. The fire in Cesar’s eyes was familiar: once a reflection of his own ambition, now a reminder of the years that had passed. Indeed time had not dulled Cesar’s anger, nor had it softened the sting of his sudden departure from the empire and the Brotherhood.

Buonocore’s lips curled into a faint smirk, the kind of smirk that didn’t quite betray whether it was an annoyed or a mocking smirk. “I didn’t come here to reminisce about the past, Cesar. That is something for old farts and abuelas. I came to arrange matters of greater importance.” He leaned forward, tapping two fingers lightly on the table. “But Machete? Muchachos like him are nothing more than muscle wrapped in skin and pride. Fantastic for spilling blood, poor for making decisions. I've bestowed upon him the rank of Tribune but that was out of sentiment, not strategy. And sentiment is a weakness, one I’ve long since corrected. We all learn.”

Buonocore’s gaze sharpened, his voice lowering to a gravelly rasp. “You think a few years in the dark did him harm? No, mi amigo... that was a gift. A man like Machete? He only learns when he’s suffering and bleeding. You want to shape steel, you put it through the fire, again and again. Let him scrape and claw his way back up. Then, when he starts to feel comfortable, you must knock him down once more. That’s how you mold men like him. Give them just enough to taste power, and watch them destroy themselves trying to keep it. Besides, locking him in a box for a few years might be the only way for a burro like him to learn to think outside of it.” He shrugged, as if the matter was of little consequence. “But enough about Machete. He’s not why we’re here.''

He drew a slow breath, letting the tension linger just long enough to remind Cesar who he was dealing with. His eyes, sharp and unflinching, met Cesar’s with the confidence of a man who had walked through fire and come out untouched.

"I didn’t come here to dwell on the past, cariño." His voice was smooth, almost indulgent, for he were humoring an old friend as well as facing an adversary. "There’s a time for that, and this isn’t it. Right now, we speak as one Elder to another, and we speak about the future. Not just mine, or señor Holiday's or yours… but the future of the Omicrons. The empire’s future."

Buonocore’s gaze hardened, his playful tone thinning to something sharper. "What’s coming doesn’t care about old grudges or bruised egos. We either move forward together, or we get swallowed whole. Your call, Cesar."

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Baila Morena | Toilet Trouble | Elder Presidente[TBH] | The Titan Combat Manual | Confession
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