September 7, 1956

Atlanta, United States of America

An absolute annoyance, the perfect way to waste precious time. Few other words could describe Antonio Lovure’s frustrations over being forced to come all the way out here just to deliver a damn letter. Had Alessio just never heard of mail or perhaps just understanding that his son was utterly done with everything to do with him? Unfortunately Antonio had a feeling that neither of those questions would give him the answers that he wished for. After all, having been born as Alessio’s only child gave Antonio some insight on how the man’s mind worked. Even if he could never understand the reasoning there was always a clear pattern. Without fail, whenever faced by a dilemma, Alessio’s solution to it would always be the most inconvenient to Antonio. How about something simpler? Something easier, faster, overall more convenient? No, of course not. It was almost as if Antonio’s misfortune was a requirement in this man’s decision making. 

Fitting this pattern spectacularly, for the past two days now Antonio had been driving towards his accursed destination, barely allowing himself any sleep at night in the attempt to get back home as soon as possible. At departure he had considered throwing the letter to its receiver as rudely as possible, to, you know, send a message, but now he was practically convinced that he would shove it down their throat on sight and somehow this was the least violent of his possibilities. Thankfully though the end was finally in plain sight. He stood in front of 18742 Clarmone Avenue with the letter in one hand while he knocked on the door with the other, trying to let as little of his anger out on the door and conserve it for whoever hid behind it. Yet after waiting for quite some time there was no response from the other side, perhaps he did need to let out a few of his frustrations. Following this logic he knocked again, louder this time, but upon receiving no answer again he figured there must be some kind of code. First he tried the code from his father’s house, then he decided he didn’t have the patience for this and reeled his leg back to kick the door. No, not now, not yet. Surely whoever was hiding from the other side needed just a few more moments to come greet him. For now he just had to stand there patiently, put on a warm smile, think of a cordial salute, and Antonio immediately gave up on this notion and seized the doorknob. While fully intending to rattle it until the break of dawn, to his surprise the lock clicked open with the slightest turn. The damn door had been unlocked the whole time. 

“I’M GOIN-” someone started to yell out from the other side of the door. Yet before they were able to finish their shout, Antonio had pushed the door open with the full force of his frustrations. As he did so it seemed to come into contact with something just as its owner's voice was interrupted, sending it slowly bouncing back towards Antonio. This time with a bit more caution, Antonio pushed the door open again.

Of course what else could receive him but the sight of a man strewn across the floor, making no sound or effort to get up at Antonio's arrival. So that's what the door had hit. It was a young man with blonde hair that had a slight curliness to it. He clearly had no plans of receiving any guests that day, barefoot and wearing only an oversized white shirt and old pants. Even the way it which he had landed seemed perfect for a crime scene with his face down and his limbs spread out, begging to be dragged and buried out in some secluded part of the desert just like Veasna, with the first rays of the day's sun beginning to peak out just as the final shovel of dirt was thrown on over him. Yet disposing of a human's body was a bit more complicated than that of a small dog. First Antonio would have to load him into the car without attracting any neighbor's attention, drive back home while leaving their business to sort itself out, and not to mention that it'd be far more difficult to wriggle his way out of an issue if the body was discovered. By god, at this point he might as well just push the body off a bridge into some river. At least then he'd save himself some time. Yes that was for the best, the sooner this issue was taken care of the sooner he could head back home to his family.

"You know," the body grumbled. Antonio stiffened up, watching as the man pushed himself up, still keeping his face towards the ground. "It's considered proper manners for a guest to wait for their host to open the door for them, particularly if they're showing up uninvited."

Rather than answering, Antonio stood still, watching as the man stood up. There was something familiar about the way he carried himself, a sense of confidence that seemed more like a taunt to anyone who witnessed it. It was almost as if with every breath this man seemed to be teasing him, trying to break Antonio only to feed his ego. This man had a sort of way with every breath that practically belittled Antonio for no reason at all, that sort of sense of superiority that was much too present in rich aristocratic heirs. As if the fact that Antonio had been forced all this way just on his father's mere whim wasn't enough, this man's attitude was just another insult to injury. Yet as he finally turned around this man’s attitude seemed to be the last of his problems. After all if his experience with Cian had taught him anything it was that he should take green eyes as a sort of hazardous label and this was the first thing he noticed about this man, a pair of bright green eyes that almost seemed to jump out at him. There was also another feature on his face that was impossible to miss, a large burn scar, long ago healed but still red and textured. On the right side of his face, it stretched from underneath his eye, snaking around his smiling mouth, and disappearing under the collar of his shirt. In a sense it could almost be blamed for that miserable smile of his, as the taut skin seemed to pull on the corner of his mouth, forcing that expression whether he liked it or not.

“It's you,” Antonio hissed. In return the young man could only blink his stupid eyes. “YOU!”

“Me,” he asked innocently, continuing to blink his eyes as he pointed at himself. Antonio clenched his fists, feeling his frustrations reach ungodly levels.Yet how could they not when he was already well past his limit only to come across a bastard he thought had left his life for the best.

“It's you! You rude son of a bi-”

“WAIT! I knew that door felt familiar," he laughed a bit too joyfully to be completely sane and snapped his fingers. "Huh, I wouldn't even have recalled if you hadn't pointed it out."

  “How,” Antonio pressed on, alarmed by what seemed like an utter lack of any tact in this man’s behavior. Just how could someone be so utterly dense? 

“My my, my condolences for not being in my full senses after being assaulted by a door,” he laughed without an ounce of care. Suddenly he seemed to finally notice Antonio’s heavy glares and his laugh turned a bit more awkward. “Now I have a slight feeling that we may have started off on the wrong foot in our last encounter. How about we promise to forget it all? So allow me to introduce myself once again. My name is Carlos Finch and I’d like to learn the identity of my two-time attacker.”

In this situation Antonio could do little more than simply stand and grit his teeth. It truly seemed that his initial thoughts on the man’s behavior had come out to be true. His boss, Avila Davis, was one of the only contacts of his father that he had any respect for and hence why some years ago he had approached her to ask for a job offer. Though she was involved in some underground affairs Avila did hold a respectable position as the head of the local nuclear research center in which she had ultimately been able to offer Antonio his job in handling some of the center’s less classified paperwork. When he first did approach her to ask for this favor he was forced to stand outside her office until she finished a discussion with an employee of hers. While waiting for his turn Antonio couldn’t help but listen in, alarmed by the employee’s contempt towards her. Not a single reasonable argument seemed to be able to come out of him as he ridiculed Avila and her contemporaries without leaving a moment for her to defend herself. Slowly and steadily Antonio’s blood began to boil at the man’s insolence until he was unable to handle it for a moment longer. With the intention of setting this ill-mannered bastard in his place he had thrown the door open and much like as had occurred not too long ago it had slammed right into this very man. This was the clown that haunted his very memory, Carlos Finch. 

“I’m Antonio Lovure, Alessio Lovure’s son,” Antonio finally stated. As much as he hated to use it, his father’s name might be the only thing to get this clown to understand why he was here and if it was even a possibility at this point for him to show even a shred of respect. Instead Carlos stared at him with nothing less than complete stupidity, no hint of any functioning thoughts being formed in his head.

“Congrats,” he half-asked, taking long and heavy blinks as he struggled to process the situation. Eventually he gave up on this. “I’m sorry I have genuinely no idea what you think I can do about that. I think it's a bit too late to get you adopted by someone else but if you want I might have a few contacts that can help with faking your death, for the right price of course.”

“NO," Antonio yelled. He pinched his nose while pondering just how many years of prison he'd receive for murder. No, not just yet, first he had to take care of the business that had brought him here in the first place. Finally he pulled out the letter that his father had given him and held it out for Carlos. "Alessio Lovure sent me here to give you this. I have no interest in keeping contact with the man and I was told you could get him to stop bothering me."

"Alessio Lovure…" Carlos' words had somehow grown softer, almost as if for the first time he was actually thinking them through. Cautiously, Carlos reached out and took the envelope, unfolding it as if it contained the news of his own death. His fingers were stiff and had a slight clumsiness to them as they traced over the letter's words, staying put long enough for Antonio to notice that they all had small scars nearing the knuckles like thin white rings that he could never remove. However that wasn't what was occupying Antonio's mind at the moment. For the first time in a while he finally had the slightest sliver of hope that this might actually be possible.Yet just as quickly as Antonio's hope had come it faded away as Carlos broke into laughter. "Ah that creepy old guy with the hnghh voice! Yeah I think I'm remembering something right about now. Was it….? No no…. AH! Yes he wanted me to give you something!"

"Then tell him to keep it and shove it up-"

“Yes, he very specifically told me you had to accept this or he’d make sure that his men would never let you have a day of peace,” Carlos went on, his grin growing wider with each word. Ultimately though there did seem to be a few spare brain cells tucked in some corner of his head as he slowly realized just how much more murderous Antonio’s glare was getting by the second in comparison to his own fighting experience, a fact which pushed out some of the sincerity in his grin. Nervously he cleared his throat and kept on with his stupidity facade. “And I also remember that he made me promise to inform him when you accepted it through some super-secret code that only we know and only I can write so I can only get him away from you if I’m alive.”

This only seemed to irritate Antonio further but thankfully it seemed that at least this way he wouldn’t lay a finger on Carlos for the time being, allowing the man to smile with full confidence once again. “Then let's get over with it.”

“Ah eager to receive your gift, aren’t you? Of course, now let me just remember where I left it… I think… was it… or… my my, I seem to have forgotten! Drat! The only thing I can get myself to think of is my meeting with your father, when he offered me those delicious cookies. Oh praise the heavens for creating such a beautiful thing, ah the crunch of the graham crackers, the richness of the smooth chocolate, and the softness of that gorgeous marshmallow that is hidden at the center of such a masterpiece. Biting into one is truly heaven on earth! If only I could bite into one once more, then maybe I’d be able to get it out of my mind and think properly on where I left your gift. But of course! You as his son must know exactly what I’m talking about! You of all people are the only one who could possibly reunite me with such a treasure,” he ranted. Antonio took a step back, simultaneously impressed and alarmed by this man's ability to not shut up about the most menial randomness. Indeed those cookies did sound familiar yet where his father ever acquired them from was not something he had ever particularly cared to know. After all their excessive sweetness ill-suited his taste and most importantly he despised anything to do with his father, even the man’s favorite cookies seemed to become devilish when associated with him. Yet in a situation like this he didn’t have much of an option. The realization of this felt like yet another insult. Just how far did he have to be pushed because of his father’s stubbornness? In that moment he couldn’t help but wish he could shove anything but those damn cookies down Carlos’ throat, to watch him gag and take back his words. Without a second thought Antonio reached into the pocket of his coat, grabbing a handful of the item he kept in it and launching it at Carlos’ face. Time almost seemed to slow down as he watched Carlos glance down at the stuff he had just been pelted with. Carefully he had reached down to grab one of them and cautiously put one of them in his mouth, leaving Antonio to be the one gagging as he watched Carlos chew the dog treat.

“Huh. Close enough, you’re lucky I have low standards,” Carlos shrugged. He snatched another dog treat from the ground and stuffed it in his mouth before turning around and running off to get whatever the gift was. While Antonio was still trying to get a hold on just what situation he was in Carlos ran back into the room holding a sort of necklace. With his smile growing a devious sort of nature he dangled it out for Antonio to take, dropping it in his hand when it was cautiously held out. “So do you know what that thing even is?”