Time Bombs

prologue

E P I G R A P H

"Of course war is coming. Love and war always go together. They are the peaks of human emotion! Evil and good, beauty and ugliness."
- Rick Riordan

"With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God. I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire."
- President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Pearl Harbor Address

P R O L O G U E

They called them the first family.

     THEY lived in the White House after all, therefore it made perfect sense. It was the most grandiose structure on the island, not counting the Municipal Hall where Julio Valente practiced his profession. Three stories of pristine capiz windows to go hand in hand with the most intricate woodwork imported straight from the ports of southern Spain, automobiles that whirred and hummed every morning when the Valente men left for work, and lush greenery that snaked up the trellis. You would've thought the beautiful facade earned the Valente Residence the title of the White House, but it was, however, the fact the gargantuan abode produced the city's past eight mayors. All of San Francisco's mayors had come from the Valente household, and it was because of this that the Valentes had become the most powerful family in all of San Francisco.

     For generations, they had been in control of the land's vast mountains and plantations. Their name had even become synonymous with the production of rice and abaca. Merchants from places as far as Germany would sail to their shores and order the finest abaca for their princes, dukes, and the occasional English viscount. The Valentes prospered, and as they prospered, they made sure the city of San Francisco did, too. Everyone could rest assured that all was fine and dandy, for as long as a Valente was seated at the White House, nothing could go wrong. In this case, it was Julio, the patriarch, who championed the city and put it on the map. Each year on his birthday, the locals make sure to throw a party that could give the annual fiesta a run for its money.

     But, little did everyone know that all was about to change. Nothing remained the same after Julio's ship had been struck by a torpedo. Nothing remained the same after the war.

     The loss of such a great man was unbearable, but the loss of a leader felt like an even bigger blow. A vulnerable city could easily be taken by the Japanese. With bated breath and bereaved hearts, the city waited for the next elections, knowing that Sebastian Valente, eldest of Julio's three children, would undoubtedly take his late father's place. Everyone saw the charisma nestled within his fingertips before he could even learn to say hello in Spanish. He was bred to continue the legacy.

     But there was just one catch hiding in plain sight.          

     Alonso Valente.

     Alonso Valente, Julio Valente's youngest son and second born. He and Sebastian were sun and moon, with the former being the moon, for no matter how bright he shined, his light could never rival that of his brother's. Only eleven months apart, they were, but so different in every way possible. One might even mistake them for twins, but upon closer inspection, you may take note of the minute differences, such as the way Alonso's eyes were hazel and more sunken, and his skin more pallid from numerous nights spent playing chess, while Sebastian's complexion had a tad of a bronze glow to it from too many sunsets by the shore, like the true young Achilles he was. There were very few things the brothers shared, apart from showing great appreciation for their sister, Jacqueline, but once they had something in common, it was almost always volatile.

     So when Alonso announced that he, too, was running for mayor, the entire city stumbled into chaos.