Mission - START!

They all just sat there, stunned.

Their mouths hung open in disbelief.

“Wait… wait, wait, wait,” Peter said. “ What the fuck does that mean?”

“Language,” their mother said, almost in reflex.

“It’s all right here in writing,” said Vito. “However he meant it, that’s the way he wrote it.”

“Yeah, but you said Tony was supposed to be temporary,” Jade said. “‘Temporary’ doesn’t usually mean decades.”

“He also said we didn’t have to die of natural causes,” John added. “He just said ‘last one living.’”

Their mother snorted.

“John,” she said. “You make it sound like he wanted you to kill each other.”

A beat.

A long, sharp silence.

Something shifted in the room.

All three siblings looked at each other, really looked, for the first time in years.

For the first time since they were kids, they were thinking the same thing.

All the gears clicked at once.

Fear. Understanding. And something darker underneath.

“We’re not actually considering this,” Jade said, almost to herself. “This is a question, right? Just… a thought?”

“Does ‘everything’ mean… control of his weapons, too?” Peter asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Jade said, frowning.

“He said everything, didn’t he?” Peter continued. “Right before he died, he launched a satellite into orbit. He never sold it. Would control of that fall under this will too?”

“Dad’s main export was weapons,” Jade said, nodding slowly. “So I guess that would be part of it… unless…”

Then something clicked behind her eyes.

She turned sharply.

“Wait, are we also going to know the location of the FOCUS mainframe?!”

“The what?” John asked. “That’s not real.”

Jade and Peter exchanged looks.

Even their mother, Ruth, cleared her throat.

“Are you telling me you didn’t know?” Peter said, staring at him. “That FOCUS has been in use for years?”

“He wasn’t here when it was sold,” Jade said. “When Dad refined and sold it. I guess he wouldn’t have known.”

“That’s insane,” Peter said. “Considering the CIA’s relationship with him—”

“Hold on. Back up,” John interrupted. “Are you saying not only does the CIA have access to FOCUS, but other people might too?”

Their mother spoke softly from behind him.

John turned.

Her eyes were sad, but clear.

“We’ve grown a lot since you left,” she said. “And your father… he made his perfect weapon before he died. The FOCUS AI has been in use by various people for years. Obviously, it’s not in mass production, but it’s not his only invention since you’ve been gone. He made not just one. A number of them.”

She started to cry, quietly.

“It’s like once he finished them… there was nothing left for him. And the good Lord took him.”

“To answer your earlier questions,” said Vito, “yes—control would include the mainframe. The satellite weapon. And anything else currently under family ownership. Some of those things aren’t easy to access, though.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“There are, let’s say… ‘special interest’ weapons,” Vito said. “The only one publicly acknowledged, within certain circles, was FOCUS. But it’s just one of several as Ruth said.”

“There’s more than just FOCUS?” John, Jade, and Peter said at once.

“Yes,” Vito said. “And supposedly, the last sibling standing would gain access to all of it.”

He paused.

“There’s another part to this I can’t share, not yet. Your father wrote a separate clause… something I’m only allowed to reveal after certain conditions are met.”

“So even Tony doesn’t get everything,” John said bitterly. “Of course not. Why am I even here?”

He pushed back from his chair.

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Peter growled, stepping forward. “Not till we’ve talked this out!”

“Talk what out?” John snapped. “Either you or Jade are gonna inherit the family business, and that’s it. You know why I work a desk job? Because I chose to. I’m a desk jockey.”

Jade laughed. “A desk jockey?”

“I’m an economic analyst,” John said proudly. “How you think the Danes disappeared? That was me! More than you ever did.”

“An economist?” their mother repeated, her tone surprised. “That sounds like such a safe job. I’m happy for you.”

“Sounds like something a loser would do,” Peter muttered. “Whether you like it or not,” he said, stepping even closer, “you’re involved in this. The will says so.”

“I don’t need anything from him,” John said.

“It’s not up to you!” Peter shot back.

He loomed over him, just like he did when they were younger. The same height difference. The same threat in his posture.

But this time, John didn’t shrink. If they fought now, it wouldn’t be like when they were kids. He could take him. He wouldn’t need two for flinching.

“Boys.” Their mother’s voice cracked through the tension.

“You are not going to fight. Not now. Not here. This is the first time all three of you have been together in six years, and I’ll be damned if it ends in bloodshed.”

They looked at her.

Then at each other.

“Maybe we need to talk this out, just the three of us,” said Jade, standing. “The least we can do is figure out each other’s next move.”

“Fine!” the boys said in unison.

Then turned away and both of them stormed out.

Peter headed toward the front room, John toward the kitchen.

Jade walked over and gently rubbed her mother’s back.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” she said softly. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Just promise me one thing,” Ruth whispered. “Don’t go after each other’s throats.”

“Of course not,” Jade said. “We’re not animals. Maybe you should go home ma.”

Peter and John stormed into the hallway from the office.

John peeled off toward the kitchen without a word. Peter kept moving forward, right into the main living room where the rest of the family had gathered.

“Go on! Scram!” Peter barked.

“Why? What happened?” one of his uncles asked, standing.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” a cousin chimed in.

Peter didn’t answer at first. He just glared. Then he growled it through his teeth:

“Ask the new one.”

Everyone froze.

“The new what?” one cousin asked, clearing his throat. “Uh… who would that be exactly?”

Peter clenched his jaw.
“It’s Tony.”

“Tony?!” several of them gasped. “But he’s not even here!”

The room erupted in shouts and confusion. Cousins, uncles, and in-laws yelling over one another, some pacing, others throwing their hands up. The entire suite devolved into chaos.

“I said GET OUT!” Peter roared. “Luca! Leo! You know what to do.”

The twins moved in immediately, flanked by a handful of other enforcers. They started escorting everyone out, physically if needed. People left kicking and screaming, still demanding answers, some swearing they'd be back.

Peter watched them all go, silent. His hand twitched at his side, itching for something to punch. He also watched as his mother left behind them. Before leaving, she turned back to him and smiled. Peter forced a smile that she liked and she left.

John walked toward the screen door in the kitchen. This one opened onto a small balcony overlooking the harbor. The water shimmered below.

He stared out through the screen door.

For a brief second, he had a flashback to the moment he almost joined the Army. He’d wanted anything that would let him leave the states. Bad. A life far from all this. And sometimes, in weak moments, he still wished he’d gone through with it. Just be someone on the front lines, never to return.

Behind him, Jade walked in and exhaled deeply.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Kinda,” John said.

Jade walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, looking for something to make.

Peter came in a moment later and sat across from him.

“What’s your problem?” Peter said, folding his arms.

“You know I don’t want anything to do with this,” John said. “I can’t.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Peter asked.

“Because I work for the CIA, you idiot.” John said.

Jade quietly moved around the kitchen. She opened a cabinet, pulled out bread, meat, cheese and started making sandwiches like she had no intention of letting the tension ruin her meal prep.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jade asked calmly.

“You know what it means, Jade,” John said, turning to her. “I know the CIA. And if they get their grubby little fingers around a weapons empire as big as Dad’s...”

“They’ll start tearing everything and everyone apart,” Jade finished.

“Exactly,” John said. “Who knows what they’ll be capable of. They don’t really have a track record of sane activity.”

“Which is exactly why you should’ve stuck with us,” Peter snapped.

“You know what happened,” John muttered.

“Yeah, and that doesn’t mean you had to leave,” Peter said. “We could’ve figured something out. We’re siblings.”

“Do you guys want something?” Jade interrupted. “I’m using the oven.”

“Yeah,” they both muttered.

John ran his hands down his face.

“Look, I never ratted on you guys, okay?” he said. “ Look… I-I can’t hate either of you. A part of me still loves you both… and this family.”

He looked down.

“But I just… I can’t be part of it. Not like this. Not the way he wrote in that will. It makes it sound like he wants us to kill each other.”

The air somehow got thicker than it already was. It went from honey to molasses real quick.
Peter broke the silence. “You remember when we were kids and Dad used to take us hunting?”

John nodded. “Dad would take us and then Jade would have to beg to go.”

Jade sucked her teeth. “He hated me being there. Always said it was a guy thing.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I remember. And those times he made us go out alone, he’d drop us in the woods, say it was a lesson, then just disappear. The first few times, it was terrifying.”

“So?” John said, eyes distant.

“So we got through it,” Peter said. “We got through it because we stuck together.”

“Yeah, but he was just testing us back then,” John said. “This? I don’t think this is a test.”

Jade placed three sandwiches down, one for each of them, and sat at the far end of the kitchen table.

“Then this must be the final exam,” she said sarcastically.

John looked up at her. “Do you think… do you think he did all that just to see which one of us would come out on top?” he asked. “He had us compete in everything. Sports, sparring, school. Who could fight best. Who could finish their plate the fastest. Like he was preparing us for something.”

“And you think that something was… this?” Jade asked. “To kill each other?”

“No,” Peter said. “That’s ridiculous. He was preparing one of us to take over.”

“Exactly,” John said. “One of us. Not all. Not together. Just one.”

He looked between them.

“And the only thing I know for sure?” John said, “It can’t be me.”

Peter and Jade exchanged a glance. There was a pause.

John let out a breath.

“So however you two want to work it out… is fine by me.”

“Fine,” Peter echoed. “You don’t really want to be here anyway.”

A buzz came from the oven. John flinched.

“What was that?”

“Old oven,” Jade said casually. “Heating up.”

Peter leaned back. “So… what are you two gonna do?”

“Me?” Jade said, wiping her hands on a napkin. “I’m gonna keep running my sector. Wait for Uncle Tony to mess something up. I have some inventions of my own to get to. Then go from there.”

“And I’ll go back to my desk,” John said. “Figure out how to explain not wearing a wire.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Actually, why didn’t you?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you wear a wire?” Peter asked. “You had the perfect opportunity. You could’ve pulled info easily.”

John shrugged. “I don’t know. It felt wrong. Deep down. Whether it was some leftover loyalty… or just some dumb part of me still hoping this family could be better than it is. Or maybe… maybe it was just a whim. But I didn’t wear it. I hope that’s good enough for now.”

The oven buzzed again, louder this time. “Seriously, what is that?” Peter asked, eyeing it.

“Probably just needs a tune-up,” Jade said. She stood up slowly.

Peter kept his eyes on John. “Well, I’m not waiting around for Uncle Tony to mess this up. I’m gonna run the business—just like Dad wanted me to.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jade said. “Just like dad wanted you to?”

“Of course,” Peter said. “I’m the oldest. I’m the male. First in line. It only makes sense.”

John snorted. “No one’s ever heard of a 26-year-old mob boss.”

“What, and you think I can’t handle it?” Peter shot back. “You have no idea what I’ve been building these past six years. I’ve been grinding while you two were off doing—what? Government reports and secret Santas?”

“Oh, and I haven’t been grinding?” Jade said. “I’ve been running a tech empire from scratch. I’ve been working my ass off to facilitate stuff to help our weapons export. You think that’s easy for a 24-year-old? Let alone a Black woman?”

“Yeah, well, you being a girl’s not exactly my fault,” Peter muttered.

“Are you two forgetting the main point?” John interrupted.

The room fell quiet.

“None of us are getting anything. Not until the rest of us are dead.”

It clicked. All at once. No one said it. No one needed to. They were already arguing about something that had only one solution.

Sure they were just talking for now, but they didn’t need to get to the end of the conversation. They’ve each been there too often before.

The tension in the room was now so dense, it was visible. Like steam that was choking their throats, preventing them from speaking. The air itself felt heavy, pressing them down in place. Even the slightest move could set off the powder keg between them.

All three of them looked at each other.

“Oh, come on,” John said with a soft chuckle. “I could never hurt you guys.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, nodding. “Family is everything.”

“Exactly,” Jade added. “We’re not animals.”

BZZZZT.

The oven buzzed again. Louder this time. A third time.

“I should probably check on that oven,” Jade said.

“Yeah, maybe you should,” said Peter.

“Sounds like it’s on the fritz,” said John.

Jade went to stand, but Peter leapt to his feet in the same instant.

John reacted without thinking. He stood, hands already moving.

In a split second, the kitchen erupted into a Mexican standoff.

All three had guns out, two each, aimed squarely at one another.

“What the fuck?!” Peter asked. “Didn’t they frisk you?”

“Nope,” Jade said coolly. “That card he gave you was just a distraction. He wouldn’t be searched for a gun if he told you where the wire was.”

“You really thought I came here unarmed?” John replied. “You remember we’re family right? I’m not stupid.”

Then they were silent for a moment that felt like forever. Their arms and hands still. Trained to hold a gun for a long time.

Then, Peter chuckled.
It started slow, then built.
John joined in. Then even Jade.

They were laughing, actually laughing, with their guns still up.

“Look at us,” Peter said through his grin. “I guess we all came in with ambitions.”

“On the count of three,” John said, voice even. “We lower together.”

They nodded.

“One.”

The oven buzzed louder.

Their hands were sweating.

“Two.”

Sparks were starting to come out.

“Three!”

BANG!

Not a gunshot.

Jade flipped the table on its side and ducked behind it.

Peter and John put away their guns in confusion.

“You know we’re not shooting each other right?” Peter said, confused. “You can come from behind the table you idiot.”

“We all put our guns down.” John said with a chuckle. “Nobody fired—”

WHIRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMM!

A deep electric hum filled the room. The oven was glowing red-hot. Arcs of electric-blue lightning cracked across its surface. Sparks popped from the walls. The metal frame pulsed with energy.

“Oh shit,” Peter said, eyes wide. He bolted for the front door.

John spun and saw he’d never make it.

He turned and snatched a chair. He hurled it through the glass balcony door.

CRASH! The door broke on impact. As soon as his foot touched the balcony-

BOOM!

An explosion ripped through Room 525, hurling John like a ragdoll out the shattered door and over the railing.

He was instantly airborne.

Freefalling through the sky five stories up.

The world twisted—rotating vertically—his ears ringing, skin burning from the blast’s heat.

He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t orient.

Everything spun like a nightmare. His inner ears couldn’t tell which way was up. He prayed that he didn’t hit the walk way.

He tried to stabilize, but then

SPLASH!

He slammed into the harbor’s cold water.

Black.

Nothingness.

He was drifting downward, knocked unconscious from the impact.

Pain shot through his spine. His back. His ribs.

It jolted him back alive and his instincts started to kick in.

He sank fast, disoriented and choking.

Saltwater filled his lungs. He thrashed. Panicked. Kicking upward. Clawing. But he had no air. His body screamed for oxygen. His head pounded. He needed to breathe, but there was only water.

You’re not going to drown, something whispered in his brain. Live! Fight! Win!

Some inner voice was screaming at him.

He kicked harder. Pushed against the pull of the harbor’s depth. Blood roared in his ears.

Then we he gave it his last upward stroke-

GASP!

He broke the surface.

But he couldn’t inhale. Not yet. The air he tried to take just pushed the water further down. However, some air entered his lungs long enough for him to quickly act.

He shoved his fingers down his throat and vomited. Water and bile exploded from his mouth.
His body seized, then gasped, dragging air into his lungs in desperate gulps. Life saving breathes keeping him going.

He coughed violently. Then slipped under again, only briefly.

John rose back up with his head barely above the waves. Soaked. Shaking.

He spun, searching. Finally, his brain started to register the situation and his surroundings.

Debris floated around him, a scorched dining chair, chunks of wallboard, a soaked end table.

Up above, the balcony was in ruins.

Room 525 was gone. Blown wide open. A black scorch mark spread from the shattered window.

People on the street below pointed, shouting.

Screams echoed. Sirens wailed.

“JOHN! JOHN!”

A familiar voice was screaming his name.

He turned.

A jet ski sliced across the water. Lea was scanning the water, her hair whipping in the wind. “Where are you?!” she shouted, scanning the waves.

John raised one arm and waved as hard as he could.. Still coughing, still trying to speak.

She spotted him, and zoomed directly to him..

“Get on!” she shouted.

She reached out, grabbed him by the arms, and yanked him onto the back of the jet ski. He collapsed belly-first, coughing up more water.

“Oh my God! What happened up there?” she asked.

John spat seawater over the side, his voice hoarse.

“Real question is… what were you doing over here? I thought you were supposed to be watching the sniper angle.”

“Don’t get snarky with me,” she snapped. “The building angle was blind. I had to reposition from a boat. I spotted you when you went ”

She glanced up at the wreckage. “Did that room explode?”

“Nah,” John muttered. “ Just some sibling bonding. And I have a feeling… it’s just getting started.”

The speedboat gunned it toward the CIA’s cover boat anchored in the distance.

John looked back one last time.

Smoke billowed from the hotel. People screamed and scattered below. Glass and metal were scattered across the street.

Someone was bleeding on the sidewalk, hit by falling debris. Their families crying in agony for them to wake up, desperately attending to their wounds

Sirens surrounded the area like vultures.

And as Lea hit the throttle, carrying him away from the wreckage, John had a pit grow in his stomach. A pit that grew deeper and darker by the second.

He was about to have a very bad week.