When the cops found him, he was already so malnourished that they weren't sure he would live. He doesn't remember any of it, but they said that it was pretty busted his parents for possession and distribution. It was later found out that they also led a gang that had been at fault for many recent killings.

They named him Black Star, a token to prove how devoted they were to the Star Clan. He was a symbol that they would do anything, they would've killed him for the clan. Once he had no use for them, it was done. He had several broken bones, scratches on his hands and feet and hadn't been properly fed in over two months when they found him.

The clan boy had been in and out of foster care and, by the time he was 11, had multiple arrests. Adoptive parents tried to handle him, fought a valiant effort, but he had that damn clan pumping through his veins and tore up whatever resembled order.

However, when he was 12, he was adopted by one of the officers that had found him all of those years ago. Back then Sid Barett had been a young thing, thrown into the chaos of Brooklyn on his first year on the police force. He had been the man who rushed the child to the hospital, made sure he was living before he filled out the necessary paperwork for Black Star, even took the liberty to put an appropriate nickname for the boy.

"Blake." The tall, wide framed man had said the moment he saw the shock of blue hair.

Just one look was all it took for him to know, this kid would be trouble. So, during their years together, Sid had tamed the mighty child well enough. Maybe some days he would stay out late, get in fights with people who challenged him, but it wasn't for the seek of power. That was good enough for Sid.

Blake was raised to believe in what made his heart feel less lonely. His adoptive parents taught him that: 'put faith in something that makes you feel important'. They went to church on an almost-regular schedule, skipping some weekends due to tiredness or plans made ahead of time. It seemed that religion had snuffed out the evil flame that was left lit after his biological parents left him to felt like he could handle anything Blake had to throw at him for many years.

It wasn't until Blake started asking why they had adopted him and what his real family was like that Sid didn't know what to do. He handed the responsibility to Mira Nygus, his devoted partner.

"Sid and I couldn't have kids." She told him flat out, "He always would talk about you, saying he should have taken you away from all of that, not left you in homes to fend for yourself."

To that, Blake would rebuttal with 'I have no issue fending for myself, I don't need protection.'

"Your parents used to beat you when you cried as a baby, they wouldn't feed you unless they had nothing better to do." Nygus had told him when he was ready, which had been at the end of his sophomore year.

The words had rung in his head for damn-near two years, making his distraught mind ill. He would sit there, in the pews next to Sid and Mira and think about how what the preacher said sounded awfully like bullshit. "God will be sure to keep you in his sights and have no harm fall upon you if you do not stray."

After that, Blake had changed a lot. He started going to parties more often and drinking. He felt sick all the thought of what the old man decked out in gold trimmed robes said a lot of the time, and why God had not kept him in his sights when he was a child. He hadn't done anything wrong but the worst happened to him all the same. He felt blindsided by everything.

This is about the time he stops going to church with Sid and Mira, going into a reckless-drunken downward spiral.

He got in a fight with Sid and Nygus one night, and many nights after that. Because how the hell does he believe in something a human wrote and if god doesn't give him a sign, he can do this anymore.

All they said, stern but sweet, was "Blake, believe what you want."

Blake turned himself inside out to find his God, to get him to show himself just once. He begged, and wrote it down. "This is me, reaching out to you. If hell is truly your pit of fire and I get thrown in it, I'm going to regret ever writing this shit." Some days it truly was the peak of something immensely powerful.

One particular night in mid summer right before he would leave for college, he got too drunk. He walked home by himself and started to think maybe, since God would not talk to him, he would surpass the man. Because that's all he was, a man. And as he walked, the rain dotted the sidewalk and brought moisture to the hot night.

Blake couldn't stop his mind from going, going, going because honestly, who is this man who gets to choose if someone goes to heaven or hell? And what is heaven? Is it real and is it like he imagined? And is wrong to not believe in right and wrong? Who decided? And if it's "god" why hasn't he chatted him up like Adam and Eve? Where's the fucking snake offering apples? What hasn't it happened to him? What if Jesus was fake? Who's "God" then? The Government? Him?

"I'm fucking done." He slurred, hair stuck his forehead and cheeks flushed.

"I'm so fucking done." He near screams. And then actually screams multiple times after. He found God, he lost hope and he knew what he had to do now.

That was the first time Blake found something that wouldn't make him lonely, that would make him do his best.