Naive and Damned

Chapter 1: The Hollow Hero

Falco

Memories from before the war were a jumbled mess in Falco's mind, tangled together like an entirely separate life – different people, in different landscape, a different everything. Four years in and out of trenches made up a third of his young life now, and most of his memories.

In that haze, were memories of his family – his grandfather, to be specific. The earlier they were, the more innocent. One of his earliest memories, at five, was watching his grandfather repeatedly beating Colt at various board games until his brother ran out the room in a huff, Falco giggling nonstop at Colt's pouty face.

His grandfather seemed so jovial and kind back then, joking around with his son whilst teaching him and Colt valuable skills for adult hood. That was why; a year and a half after that memory Falco had felt such a paralysing fear and shock upon stumbling into his grandfather's apartment for a surprise visit.

It was on his way home from playing with Udo in the park – a normal day, when his armband was still a dull brown and smile still unstrained.

He remembered the rancid smell. He remembered the bottles everywhere. Green, brown, surrounded by damp patches. Most of all, he remembered his loving grandfather, kind brown eyes turned black due to his huge pupils. The elder scrambled to his feet with his face morphing from confusion to anger as Falco gaped at him, Asking him what he was staring at, why he came without permission. When he didn't receive an answer, his grandfather struck at him suddenly like a viper, gripping his hair viscously and pushing him to the ground.

His grandfather had begun mumbling constantly, cruel words and then – pain. Pain across his backside hit him like lightening, making his tiny body freeze completely. Then again. Again. Again. Again. Over and over, until the briefest pause had Falco jolt into action, scrambling away and out of the apartment.

At the time, he was confused. His father was no stranger to physical punishment either, using a cane to discipline him and Colt regularly – one strike per age, six for him, and twelve for Colt. His father was stone faced while doing so, making them apologise for their mistake after putting the cane away, and then returning to normal. It was a normal, if slightly harsh, punishment by Liberio's standards, many residents seeing it as a commonplace discipline for children. Falco had also known his grandfather did something similar to his father in terms of punishment. Yet despite this, a single one of the strikes from his grandfather was worse that any punishment from his father. Falco couldn't grasp why it was that way at the time, but it was terrifying.

The next time he saw his grandfather, the elder had bought him a stuffed bear. As Falco hesitantly clutched the new toy, the man apologised to him gently and promised it wouldn't happen again, and because it wouldn't happen again, he didn't need to tell anyone about it. The gesture confirmed Falco's feeling of that punishment being different, wrong, somehow. Yet Falco believed him, knowing his grandfather wouldn't lie to him.

Maybe it was just different because of those bottles and that weird smell. As long as that stayed away, his grandfather would be nice again.

Despite this, the stuffed animal lay under his bed, untouched. Every other toy had been precious to Falco. He cared for and played with them all regularly, even now when he was too old for them, he still treasured them, and even washed them upon returning from war. The stuffed bear became the first toy he ever neglected, now laying in a pile of dust in that same place.

A week after he was given the bear, his parents decided to have a glass of wine to celebrate his mother's promotion, the two adults laughing and smiling about the news. However, upon smelling the wine, Falco had freaked out. A distinct memory still in Falco's head was of running to grab his brother, who was sitting with his wooden train under the table, and tugging him upstairs.