Vengeance

At the Marino Mansion, Rafael, Monica, and Ryoma were having breakfast. As they ate, Rafael, the new patriarch of the family, couldn't help but gaze thoughtfully at his children.

"Is there something wrong?" Ryoma asked, noticing his father's serious expression.

"I want both of you to train under Uncle Arjan," Rafael replied, his tone firm. "This war is serious."

"There is no such thing as an unserious war," Ryoma responded. "You just want revenge for what happened to Grandpa."

"Yes," Rafael admitted plainly. "And since you two are now involved in this war, you need to be prepared."

Monica looked up from her plate, her brow furrowed in concern. "Dad, what do you mean by training under Uncle Arjan?"

Rafael turned his gaze to her, his eyes filled with determination. "Arjan is one of the best strategists and fighters we have. Training with him means learning to protect yourselves, to handle weapons, and to think strategically. This isn't just about revenge—it's about making sure you both are safe and ready for whatever comes our way."

Ryoma nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I get it, Dad. But why drag us into this now? We've always tried to stay out of this life."

Rafael sighed, his voice softening. "I wanted to keep you both out of this, away from the dangers and violence. But after what happened to Grandpa, it's clear that danger can find us anywhere. The enemies we face are ruthless, and they won't stop until they've destroyed everything we hold dear."

Monica set her fork down, her expression conflicted. "I never thought we'd have to fight the same battles as Grandpa. I thought we could find a way to live peacefully, away from all of this."

Rafael gave her a reassuring look. "I know, Monica. I wanted that too. But sometimes, the fight comes to us, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. And when it does, we have to be ready."

Ryoma finished his breakfast and leaned back in his chair. "Alright, if this is what it takes to protect our family, I'm in. But promise me, Dad—this won't change who we are. I don't want us to become like the people we're fighting against."

Rafael nodded, smiling slightly. "I promise. We fight to protect, not to become what we despise. That's what Grandpa would have wanted."

Monica nodded in agreement, her resolve strengthening. "Okay. If we're doing this, we do it together. As a family."

Monica looked at Brian with a mixture of surprise and concern. It had been a while since they last spoke, and she hadn't expected him to show up at the Marino Mansion, especially not unannounced.

"How did you find this place?" Monica asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Brian gave her a gentle smile, the kind that used to make her heart flutter. "I have my ways, Monica. Besides, I couldn't stand not knowing how you were doing. I've been worried about you."

Monica sighed, glancing over her shoulder to ensure they were alone. The tension in the house was palpable, and she didn't want to add any unnecessary drama to the already volatile situation. "Brian, you can't just show up here. Things are... complicated right now."

Brian took a step closer, his expression earnest. "I know, Monica. I heard about what happened to your grandfather. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to be here for you, to support you through this."

Monica felt a mix of emotions welling up inside her—gratitude for his concern, frustration over his sudden appearance, and the weight of everything her family was going through. "Thank you, Brian. I appreciate it, but this isn't the best time. My family... we're in the middle of something very serious."

Brian nodded, his face softening with understanding. "I get it. I don't want to cause any trouble. But if you need anything, anything at all, I'm here for you."

Monica looked at him, her eyes searching his face. Despite everything, there was a comfort in seeing someone from her past, someone who wasn't directly involved in the chaos that had become her life. "Thank you, Brian. That means a lot."

Just then, Rafael entered the living room, his expression guarded as he took in the sight of Brian. "Monica, who is this?" he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of authority.

Monica turned to her brother, feeling a wave of tension wash over her. "Rafael, this is Brian... a friend from my past."

Brian extended a hand, trying to appear non-threatening. "Nice to meet you, Rafael. I'm just here to check on Monica."

Rafael eyed Brian critically, not immediately taking his hand. "I see. Monica is right, though. This isn't the best time for visitors."

Brian nodded, withdrawing his hand but maintaining his composure. "I understand. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll go."

Monica glanced between the two men, sensing the unspoken tension. "Brian, thank you for coming, really. But maybe we should talk another time."

Brian gave her a small smile, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Alright, Monica. Take care of yourself, okay?"

As Brian turned to leave, Rafael watched him go, his gaze intense. Once Brian was out of earshot, he turned to Monica. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Monica nodded, still processing the encounter. "I'm fine, Rafael. Just... caught off guard, that's all."

Rafael softened slightly, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Remember, we're in this together. No matter what happens."

Monica smiled at her brother, appreciating his protective nature. "I know. Thanks, Rafael."

As they headed back to the dining room, Monica couldn't help but wonder what Brian's visit really meant and what it might bring into the already turbulent life of the Marino family.

------

At ten in the morning, Rafael, Monica, and Ryoma arrived at Arjan's farm. The property stretched out as far as the eye could see, with lush fields filled with rows of vegetables. However, what stood out the most was the half of the farm dedicated to marijuana cultivation, the plants standing tall under the bright sun. The scent of cannabis mingled with the fresh air, creating a unique atmosphere that made the farm feel like a different world.

"Uncle Arjan," Rafael called out as he stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath and letting the smell of the farm fill his lungs.

Arjan, a rugged man in his seventies with sharp eyes and a welcoming grin, emerged from behind a row of plants. "Welcome to my little slice of heaven," he greeted, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the entirety of his land.

Rafael chuckled, looking around at the marijuana plants swaying gently in the breeze. "No wonder Dad was always so fond of this place. It's like a paradise... but with a twist."

Arjan laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Your father had a knack for finding peace in the most unexpected places. This farm was his refuge from the chaos of the world. But let's get down to business. Are your kids ready for what's ahead?"

Rafael turned to look at Monica and Ryoma, his expression turning serious. "I wasn't prepared when Dad thrust me into the middle of his world," he replied, his voice steady. "But I learned to adapt and survive. They will too. They need to be ready for what's coming."

Arjan nodded, his face set with a knowing expression. "Fair enough. Sometimes, the best way to learn is to be thrown into the deep end. Let's start the training now."

The training began immediately, with Arjan wasting no time. He first led Monica and Ryoma to a section of the farm where targets were set up for shooting practice. With years of experience under his belt, Arjan demonstrated the basics of handling firearms, starting with the pistols. He explained each part of the weapon in detail, showing them how to load, aim, and fire with precision.

"Grip the handle firmly but not too tight," Arjan instructed, placing a pistol in Monica's hands. "Your finger should rest gently on the trigger. Feel the weight of the gun and let it become an extension of your arm."

Monica, her eyes focused and determined, followed his instructions carefully. She adjusted her stance, taking a deep breath as she aimed at the target. The gun felt foreign and heavy in her hands, but she concentrated, listening to every word Arjan said.

"Good, now squeeze the trigger slowly," Arjan encouraged.

Monica exhaled slowly, pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the farm, and the bullet hit the target, slightly off-center. She blinked, a mix of surprise and satisfaction on her face.

"Not bad for your first shot," Arjan said with a nod. "Keep practicing. You'll get better with time."

Ryoma was up next, and he approached the task with a more aggressive energy. He held the pistol with confidence, his stance strong and steady. He fired, and his bullet hit closer to the center of the target.

"Nice shot," Arjan complimented. "But remember, it's not just about strength. Precision and patience are key."

They spent hours practicing with pistols, then moved on to rifles. Arjan emphasized the importance of control and discipline, teaching them how to adjust for distance and wind. He showed them how to dismantle and clean the weapons, making sure they understood every aspect of firearm maintenance. The training was intense, with Arjan pushing them hard, knowing that mastering these skills could one day mean the difference between life and death.

After the shooting practice, Arjan shifted to close-quarters combat training. He demonstrated various self-defense techniques, teaching them how to disarm an opponent and protect themselves in tight situations.

"Remember, in a real fight, anything can happen," Arjan said, demonstrating a quick disarming move. "You have to be ready for anything. Always stay on your toes, and never underestimate your opponent."

Monica and Ryoma practiced relentlessly, repeating each move until they got it right. Monica's movements were fluid and precise, showing a natural grace. She learned quickly, adapting to each new technique with focus and determination. Ryoma, meanwhile, approached the training with intense energy, his attacks strong and forceful. He pushed himself hard, eager to prove his worth and protect his family.

Rafael watched from a distance, memories of his own training flooding back. He remembered the grueling hours under his father's tutelage, the countless lessons in survival and strategy. He knew this was necessary, not just to prepare Monica and Ryoma for what lay ahead but to ensure they could protect themselves and their loved ones in an increasingly dangerous world.

As the day wore on, the farm was filled with the sounds of gunfire, grunts, and the thuds of fists hitting training pads. Arjan didn't let up, driving Monica and Ryoma to their limits. He knew that in the world they were stepping into, there was no room for hesitation or weakness.

By the time the sun began to set, both Monica and Ryoma were exhausted. Their muscles ached, and sweat dripped down their faces, but there was a new determination in their eyes. They had faced the challenge head-on and were ready to continue learning.

Arjan, panting slightly, gave them a proud smile. "You've both done well today. This is just the beginning, but you've shown you've got the heart and the grit for this. Remember, it's not just about fighting. It's about survival. It's about protecting your family and standing up for what's right."

Rafael nodded, pride swelling in his chest as he looked at his children. "Thank you, Uncle Arjan. They'll be ready for whatever comes next."

Arjan clapped Rafael on the back, his expression serious but filled with a quiet pride. "Good. Because in this world, you have to be ready for anything. Now, let's get some rest. We'll need all our strength for tomorrow.

----

Later that night, Rafael, Ryoma, Monica, and Arjan gathered around a large wooden dining table in the farmhouse kitchen, enjoying a sumptuous meal prepared by Arjan's staff. The aroma of roasted meat, fresh vegetables, and warm bread filled the room, creating a comforting atmosphere after a long day of intense training.

"Eat plenty," Arjan urged with a grin, gesturing to the spread of food before them. "You'll need your strength. We're going on a mission tomorrow to take down Pixie Gracello."

Monica paused mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. "Pixie?" she repeated, looking puzzled.

Arjan nodded, his expression turning serious. "Pixie Gracello, one of the enforcers from the Golden Triangle. Your father and Takako took out Wei Xi Xi, the leader of the Golden Triangle, years ago. But in their haste, they missed Pixie. And he's been causing problems ever since. We have to finish what they started."

Rafael frowned, recalling stories his father used to tell him about the Golden Triangle—a notorious drug cartel that spanned several countries in Southeast Asia. "Pixie… wasn't he known for his brutality and cunning?"

"Yes," Arjan confirmed, his tone grave. "He's a difficult target, highly skilled in evasion and combat. He's been a thorn in our side for far too long, and it's time we took him out for good."

Ryoma leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "Are we prepared for this? It sounds like he's not someone to be underestimated."

Arjan smiled, a hint of his old confidence shining through. "It won't be easy, but I've gathered enough capable soldiers. Plus, we'll have Dagul's team to back us up. They're some of the best fighters I know, and they've been briefed on Pixie's tactics."

Monica exchanged a glance with her brother, then looked back at Arjan. "What's the plan, then? How are we going to approach this?"

Arjan took a sip of his wine, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The plan is to strike fast and hard. We'll use the element of surprise to our advantage. Pixie operates out of a heavily fortified compound, but we've got intel on its weak spots. We'll move in at dawn, under the cover of darkness. Our goal is to take him out before he has a chance to react."

Rafael nodded, his mind already shifting into strategic mode. "We'll need to be careful. If Pixie is as dangerous as you say, he won't go down without a fight."

"True," Arjan agreed. "But we've faced worse before. With careful planning and execution, we can end this quickly and cleanly."

Ryoma and Monica listened intently, absorbing every word. They knew this mission was crucial not just for their family's legacy, but for securing their future. Taking down a figure like Pixie Gracello would send a clear message to their enemies that the Marino clan was still a force to be reckoned with.

Arjan raised his glass, a determined glint in his eyes. "To tomorrow," he said. "May it be the end of one of our enemies and a step closer to restoring our family's honor."

The others raised their glasses in unison, clinking them together. "To tomorrow," they echoed, their voices filled with resolve.

----

The sun hung high in the sky on the day of the execution, casting sharp shadows across the vast grassland where Rafael, Ryoma, and Monica had concealed themselves among the tall grass, their breaths shallow and eyes focused. Opposite them, Arjan lay in wait, hidden but ready, his eyes never leaving the clearing ahead.

After a tense silence, the rumble of engines broke through the quiet. Two black SUVs pulled up to the clearing, their tires crunching over the gravel. As the doors opened, Pixie Gracello stepped out of the first vehicle, his small frame brimming with a dangerous confidence. From the second vehicle, a burly man emerged, carrying a silver suitcase—a trade, perhaps, or a payoff.

The moment was electric, every second stretched thin with anticipation. Without warning, a single gunshot rang out, shattering the stillness. Arjan's bullet found its mark, dropping Pixie's driver instantly. In the same heartbeat, he pivoted and fired again, the second shot hitting the man with the suitcase squarely in the chest. The sudden violence sent shockwaves through both groups, and the air filled with the staccato of gunfire as soldiers from both sides opened fire.

Amidst the chaos, Arjan and Rafael seized their chance. They sprinted towards Pixie, their movements coordinated and swift, years of training and combat experience guiding their every step. As they closed in, Pixie saw them coming and braced himself, a sneer curling his lips.

"I didn't know the old weedman could still move like that," Pixie taunted, sidestepping a blow from Arjan and narrowly avoiding a kick from Rafael.

"I've got plenty left in me, Pixie," Arjan shot back, his voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. He feinted to the left, drawing Pixie's attention, then lashed out with a powerful punch to Pixie's ribs. The impact forced Pixie back a step, but he quickly recovered, eyes narrowing with fury.

Before Pixie could retaliate, Rafael closed in from behind, aiming a swift strike at Pixie's head. But Pixie was faster than he looked. He twisted sharply, evading Rafael's attack, and drew a knife from his belt in one fluid motion.

"You think you can take me down?" Pixie hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You're just as deluded as your father's lapdog." With a quick, vicious motion, Pixie drove the knife into Arjan's side, the blade sinking deep.

Arjan gasped, a sharp intake of breath as pain flared through his body. He staggered but didn't fall, his hand immediately going to the wound to staunch the bleeding. Rafael's eyes widened in shock and fury as he watched Arjan falter, blood staining his shirt.

"Arjan!" Rafael shouted, his voice thick with panic and anger. He lunged at Pixie, the shock of seeing Arjan wounded fueling his attack with a newfound ferocity.

But Pixie was prepared, parrying Rafael's assault with a cold, calculated efficiency. "Join your best friend in hell, Weedman!" Pixie snarled, pressing the attack as he aimed a second strike at Arjan.

"Oh no, you don't," Arjan declared, his voice filled with grit and determination despite the pain searing through his side. With a swift motion, he pulled out his .22 pistol, his hand steady even as blood trickled down his fingers. Time seemed to slow as he aimed, his eyes locking onto Pixie's.

Before Pixie could react, Arjan squeezed the trigger. The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed across the clearing, and the bullet struck Pixie squarely in the forehead. Pixie's eyes widened in shock, and he stumbled backward, a look of disbelief frozen on his face. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Rafael exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief washing over him. "You did it, Arjan," he said, rushing to his godfather's side to help him steady himself.

Arjan grimaced, clutching his wound but managing a faint smile. "I wasn't going to let that bastard have the last word," he muttered, holstering his pistol.

With Pixie eliminated, the remaining enemy soldiers began to retreat, realizing their leader was gone and the fight was lost. Rafael and Monica quickly moved to secure the area while Ryoma provided cover, making sure there were no more surprises.

"We need to get you patched up," Rafael said urgently, his eyes scanning Arjan's wound.

Arjan nodded, still clutching his side but standing strong. "There's a first aid kit in the truck. Let's get out of here before reinforcements arrive. We've still got a war to fight, and this was just one battle."

As they moved toward safety, Rafael couldn't help but feel a deep respect for Arjan's unwavering resolve.

---Chapter End---