The image before him did not belong behind a gun. That was Nathan Ford's first thought as he stared at his attacker. The boy was no more than fourteen years old. He was barely a teenager and already holding a weapon. He had brown hair slicked in grease to keep it groomed and non-moving. Tiny wisps of curls still managed to escape around his ears. His suit was wrapped around his body, perfectly tailored to his tiny frame. But none of that held the mastermind's attention. No, it was the boy's jaw. It was the boy's lips. It was the big, brown doe eyes staring at him. He was Sophie's son.
"Sam," the grifter called right on cue, "Let him go. He won't harm us."
"This is the man who took you away from us," the boy replied. He refused to lower his gun even an inch.
"Yes," Charlotte replied and she sounded so much like Sophie the mastermind actually forgot where he was for one crazy moment.
"This is the man who bruised you," Sam said darkly. His expression even mirrored that of his father. He looked like a greedy bastard ready to take care of a problem.
"Sam," Charlotte began.
"No, mother," the boy growled.
"Don't talk to your mother that way," Nate responded automatically. He regretted the action immediately.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Sam asked with a deep voice that sounded too much like Damien Moreau. "Who are you to demand respect of my mother? What have you done to her?"
"Nothing, Sam," Charlotte cooed.
"Don't," Nate warned. He knew exactly where the boy was going. He knew thoughts were coursing through his mind.
"Don't you say anything to my mother!" Sam said, "As her kidnapper you have no right!"
"Sam, put the gun away," Charlotte ordered briskly, "He's on our side."
"He would know that if you hadn't run away," Nate glowered towards her.
"I didn't have a choice," Charlotte replied, "I had to make certain he was alright."
"You could have taken me with you," the mastermind hissed at her answer.
The grifter just rolled her eyes.
"I didn't know if Damien was with him," she said.
"Stop it!" Sam begged of his mother, "Stop acting like that. Dad told me everything he could have done to you. He told me what kind of torture you would experience. Why are you being friendly with him?"
"Sam," Charlotte tried.
"Your father was wrong," Nate explained, "Don't worry about-"
"I'm the one with the gun," Sam growled, "I'm the one with the power!"
"Sam, stop!" Charlotte tried.
"Silence, mother," the boy replied, "I'll deal with you later."
His tone was so much like his father's that Nate couldn't help but bristle. He stepped towards the boy and the gun was staring at him again. Charlotte even cried out in worry. She believed her son capable of shooting.
"What have you done to my mother?" The boy howled.
The gun was shaking in his hands and he looked on the verge of tears. But his aim was planted firmly on the mastermind. He looked like his father in that moment. His tailored suit and slicked back hair made him look evil and filled with hatred. But his eyes, Sophie's eyes were filled to the brim with fear.
"I kidnapped her," Nate replied, "and I told her that I could get you out of this world. I gave her exactly what she wanted."
"That wasn't what I asked?" Sam screamed crying all the while, "I want to know if… if…"
"If?" Nate pressed, "If what?"
"If…" Sam struggled, "if you… if you… if you hurt her!"
"If I raped her," Nate groaned. Of course Moreau would do that to his own child. That bastard told him everything to turn him.
"Did you?" The boy asked, "Did you hurt my mother?"
"Sam," Charlotte cooed. True fear was once again in her eyes. She was staring at her son just like Sophie would. Tears were even tracing her cheeks because she didn't want him to do it. If she had the choice the gun would be gone. But it wasn't her choice and everybody knew it. Sam had to make this one on his own. "He didn't-"
"Don't lie to me!" Sam demanded angrily, "I'm so sick of lies. I just want to know the truth. I want to know if he hurt you and you won't tell me the truth!"
"I am telling you the truth," Charlotte sighed, "He didn't hurt me."
"Then how did you get that bruise?" Sam asked sharply, "The one I saw you hide. The one on your thigh. How did that happen?"
"I was mad," Nate explained, "I just discovered that your mother was responsible for the death of an old friend. My anger got the better of me and I almost did something stupid. I'm sorry, Sam."
"Don't say my name!" Sam howled, "Don't you dare say my name. You've got no right after what you've done to my mother."
"I'm trying to save her!" Nate hissed towards the boy. Only a moment later did he realize his mistake. He turned towards the woman with wide eyes and felt heat rise towards his cheeks.
Charlotte stared at him just as in shock. She clearly had no idea what to do with the information. Of course, her attention was very divided anyway. She kept casting glances to her son's trigger finger and going pale at the premise. She was downright terrified of her son becoming anything like her or his father.
"Save her," Sam repeated, "Prove it by answering my question."
The mastermind couldn't help the slight smirk at the boy's command. He even sounded like Sophie when she was in charge. He was living proof that Sophie Devereaux did exist. He was where she went.
"I didn't," Nate shook his head, "I could never do that."
"I don't believe you," the boy scowled. He tightened his hold on the gun and even nudged it closer to the mastermind's chest. But his eyes said that he knew the truth was spoken. It wasn't guilt he was deciding anymore. It was time for the boy to choose his path. "You just don't want to die," he said.
"Sam, please," Charlotte cried. The fear was bouncing off of her but she kept looking at the mastermind in confusion. She was begging him to stop this. She was asking him for help. "Don't do this," she said.
"What you're going through now," Nate explained slowly, "Is a transitioning phase. You're morality is on the line and you're not exactly sure how to adjust to the lifestyle you're accustomed to."
"Stop talking!" Sam ordered bitterly, "Who are you to say that? You're nothing! You're just a weasel trying to steal my mother from my father!"
"No, your father lost her because of this!" Nate scowled at the boy, "He just kept using his power as an excuse to hurt her! He cheated on her!"
"Lies," Sam growled, "My father would do anything to protect her. He said so himself."
"He lied," Nate replied, "He's just using you like he used her. I'm not your enemy."
"NO, you're my father's!"
"Sam, please listen," Charlotte screamed. Her eyes were darting between the two in hysteria. She seemed completely unsure of herself. Her loyalty to her son was forcing her to act while her new found alliance to the mastermind had her begging for help.
The gun clicked, signaling that it was ready for fire. The teenaged boy's brown eyes seemed determined. His hand had even stopped shaking. He'd made his choice. There was only one play left.
"Go ahead," Nate commanded, "But you're still going to have to make the choice."
"What choice?" Sam scoffed. He had no idea how much he sounded like his mother. The boy was Sophie Devereaux to an almost perfect T. And that was Nate's advantage.
"One day," the mastermind explained, "and one day soon, you will have to make the decision between your parents."
Sam opened his mouth to argue with the older man. His brown eyes sparkled with the same fire of his other mother. But Damien Moreau was the man standing before the mastermind. He was the puppet master pulling the strings. Poor little Samuel Moreau was finally becoming the heir to the Black Dynasty. Evil was starting to win.
"Don't argue with me," Nate ordered, "You're already at that point. Even if you kill me, you have to choose between them. They've betrayed each other. Your mother wants to leave and your father wants her dead. You have to choose. They won't be together when this is all over."
"No, they will," Sam argued, "They belong together."
"Look at her," Nate howled pointing at the grifter as he spoke, "Look at you mother and tell me she wants to return to him. Tell me that the light hasn't faded from her eyes. Tell me that you don't slowly see her die every day at his hands because of some stupid action he performs. Tell me she's the same loving woman you knew when you were younger! Prove it!"
"Alright that's enough," Charlotte growled. Her eyes were cold a fierce. She looked ready to kill him for making her look weak in front of her child.
"She wants to change," the mastermind challenged, "for you. He doesn't. He wants the empire to carry on with you. Right here, right now is when you need to choose. Whose child do you want to be? Do you want to be your mother's good boy? Or your father's bad ass heir?"
Sam looked towards his mother and then the gun. His frightened eyes looked wildly around for any confirmation of where his loyalty should lie. Then he noticed the mastermind wasn't watching him, at least directly. Nate's focus was solely on the grifter quietly begging her son to put the gun away. He was barely aware of the way the boy was observing him. It wasn't until Charlotte reached towards her son that he realized what was happening.
The boy was pointing a violently shaking gun at his face. Tears were coursing down the child's cheeks as he contemplated making his first kill. But his eyes were hesitant and kept darting towards his mother. So the mastermind extended his hand and stared directly into bright brown eyes.
"Give me the gun, Sam," he said, "or shoot me. Those are your choices."
"Please give him the gun," Charlotte begged.
"He's going to kill Dad," the boy explained.
"I promise you I won't kill him unless I absolutely have to," Nate said, "Give me the gun, Sam."
The young Moreau struggled with the gun. He pointed the gun into the mastermind's face and even dared to wiggle his finger on the trigger. Then he put the gun in his hand and fell into his mother's arm.
"It's alright," she cooed, "It's okay. It's okay, baby, mummy's here."
The boy cried and apologized while the mastermind stared at them. He couldn't get over how close they were. A pang in his gut he didn't even know was there started to bubble. It wasn't a memory of his own son like expected. He wanted to be the father of the boy in the grifter's arms. He wanted to explain how proud of him he was of the decision he made. Of course, in this world it wasn't possible.
"Let's go," he ordered. His voice sounded a little rough to his own ears. But nobody commented on it so he just shrugged it off and went away.