Disclaimer: This story is completely based on a single picture I saw. This is an AU so there will be some non-canon material. I hope you enjoy.
The picture can be found on "imgur" : Link code /L36CsLh
This site is not letting me paste out the direct link for some reason. So just enter the site (plus add the ". com") I gave and attach the link code at the end, it should work. If it doesn't, let me know in the reviews.
"They say a man never really knows himself, until his freedom's been taken away."
Arcturus Mengsk (Starcraft 2: Wings of Liberty)
Log Entry #1:
September 23, 1962
This is my first time writing in this. To be honest, I don't know how exactly this is supposed to help me. I don't understand the need to explain my feelings. She said it's good for me and my frantic mind. Honestly, I don't want to. It's a lot to say. I don't want to bring up any of it, even if it's on you. But in the unlikely case this works, I guess I should start with the basics...
Setting: I was born in Luwen, a town located in Eastern Westalis.
Family: I... don't remember my mom's face, or her name... my father I...
Friends: Gone. I dare not write their names on this... I'm sorry...
I was called Advisor as a child. My friends gave me that codename. I was called that because I had a way of telling them what to do. They'd say I would nag them and other times laugh in joy with me as we talk about card game and war strategies. I'd do anything to have those days back. But... I also wish those days never existed.
I was a relatively happy boy. My parents they'd... get into fights. My father is... not very nice, but I know from the bottom of my heart, that he loved me. My mom, she'd hold my hands when I felt lonely, hugged me when I cried, and I... miss her... so much.
Ever since that day, I've learned two things:
A man who has nothing but hate is a man who has nothing left. A man who has nothing left is a danger to what he hates.
But after I've met her, I've learned two more:
A man with nothing left has everything to gain. A man with nothing but hate can love with everything he has.
War.
It is a seed planted by those who hold great power. It lies dormant and spread its roots in the ground of tension, greed, and ego. When cultivated correctly, it is the most poisonous (or perhaps venomous) plant humanity ever has known. It grows uncontrollably and latches on and infects whatever stands in its way: homes, people, animals, dreams. All that is left... is nothing but ruin and destruction.
The tension between Ostania and Westalis are at an all-time high. The tiniest spark will light the fires of war and when that happens, a young boy will be consumed in its flames. It will burn away at his layers and what will be left are scars, burns and the ashes of hate in his heart...
The sound his alarm enters his room, vibrating against the drums of his ears. From his restful sleep, his dust-filled eyes slowly opens. A tired groan escapes him and he rolls to his right side, slamming his hand on the screaming machine before tiredly sitting up after a few minutes. He leaves the comfort of his bed, eyes half-opened as he slowly maneuvers his way to the bathroom.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
Water soaks his face as he wipes his eyes. When he opens them, he sees two bright blue orbs staring back at him through the mirror. His messy blonde hair sticks out in a chaotic manner, causing him sigh softly and apply water to it as well. He smooths his hair out the best he can before brushing his teeth.
After getting changed he looks at himself in his drawer mirror, a young boy stands before him. Face youthful and slightly chubby, large ears. His overalls seems a bit dirty but he doesn't mind. He blinks a couple times, soaking in his reflection before walking to the drawer and grabbing his handmade gun. He looks at the fake targets he made all over his room, all marked with a red "X". He raises the gun at one.
"Bang."
He switches to another in an instant.
"Bang."
And another.
"Bang."
He rinses and repeats until he finally stops, pointing the gun at a map of Ostania, marked with the biggest "X". His father was kind enough to buy it for him, a way to teach him the history of their neighboring country. He stares at it intensely, a slight smirk etching across his face.
"Bang."
The boy enters the kitchen, seeing his mother cooking away at the stove. He sets his backpack that held his gun next to his chair before taking a seat.
"Good morning, mom." He greets calmly.
"Good morning." She greets back. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute."
"Alright. Thanks!" He looks around before frowning. "Dad's not back, yet?"
"Not yet, sweetie." His mother answers as she slides his scrambled eggs and bacon on his plate. "He might be back tonight."
"He's always gone..." He mumbles glumly, a slight tone of resentment lacing his voice. His mother hears him as she walks up to him with his plate and cup of milk.
"He's trying, we just... have to be patient with him." His mother places his food and drink before him. She gives him a quick peck on the cheek. "Now eat quick, you don't want to be late for school."
"I'll be staying late after school with my friends. Is that alright with you, mom?" He asks before taking quick bites.
His mother walks to the sink and begins cleaning the pots and pans. "Of course. But be home before dinner, alright?"
"Yes, mom."
He finishes his food and rushes to the sink, cleaning his hands and mouth before rushing to his chair, slinging his backpack around his shoulder.
"Bye, mom! I love you!"
"Love you too! Stay safe!"
He closes the front door behind him and smiles as the sun shines brightly in the sky.
School life is not his cup of tea to say the least. To be more specific, the main problem comes from how easy it is to just breeze through everything the teachers and education throws at him. He remembers everything so well, it all just comes so easy to him. Lessons were boring, there were no challenges, no real meaning to actually care. He'd look through the books, go through 300 pages in a few minutes and be done with it all. The best parts of the day were lunch and dismissal.
General, Corporal and Major were going to meet up with him after school so they can play in the secret hideout. He continues to stare ahead emptily, waiting for the bell to ring the class out. The words from the teacher in the background immediately fills his head and he continues to write down on his paper.
"Now, can anyone tell me what year the East-West Pact was signed? Who from our country signed it? Also why was it signed?" The teacher asked. "Extra credit to the first person to answer."
It is silent. An awkward atmosphere permeates the room and the young bored boy lets out a tired sigh before raising his hand. The teacher beams at the boy.
"Go on!"
"It was signed in 1945 by our 18th Prime Minister Adner. The reason why it was signed was because Ostania had lost the war due to the overwhelming might of Westalis's military. Their weaponry was underdeveloped, they lacked the manpower and the mass of their army got entrenched in a space near the border. They were surrounded by our forces, giving way to a tentative surrender." The boy says monotonously, reciting almost word for word what he remembered in the school books. A voice in his head doubts the last parts. His father told him that both countries decided to back down after so many lives were lost. He did not know who or what to trust but he guesses it would be better to say what the book says and what the teachers want to hear.
"Excellent. An extra 15 points will be rewarded to you." The teacher smiles warmly before jotting down on his clipboard. "Now..."
The boy zones out again, simultaneously absorbing while ignoring the history lesson being given. The hands of the clock feels slow, teasing him.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
The extra minutes until the dismissal bell feels like hours to him. He couldn't wait to leave.
The warehouse's "keep out" sign taunts him. He knows he shouldn't be here but when he found it while exploring, he knew he couldn't pass up the opportunity to play here. Plus it makes a sweet hideout spot for him and the boys, an intimate secret between him and his best friends. He walks to the side door, noticing it's slightly ajar. He kicks it open, not bothering to step through. A metal bucket falls down, clanging against the floor.
"Damn it! We almost had him!" General's voice curses.
"I told you, Advisor's too good at this." Corporal scolds.
A chuckle comes from Major. "We'll get him next time."
The blonde boy rolls his eyes fondly, kicking the bucket out of the way before stepping inside the warehouse. "It was a good try, you guys." Advisor says, humor tinting his voice.
"Bah, you got lucky." General scoffs. "Anyways, come on! Let's get started!"
"What took you so long?" Major asks." We've been waiting over an hour for you."
The boy sighs. "My teacher asked me to stay over to help with grading assignments."
"Oh, Advisor. You're such a teacher's pet." Corporal comments in slight exasperation. "You're too much of a good person."
He blushes at Corporal's statement. "Hey! Who found this place for us to play at again?"
"Quit teasing him, Corporal." General says as he puts on his helmet. "We came here to play, we don't have a lot of time."
Advisor nods at his friends before walking to their backpacks, which sat together in a corner. He places his down next to them and pulls out his handmade gun. It feels oddly heavy in his hand for some reason but he ignores the feeling. He walks up to his friends, who are all have their own helmets and store-bought toy guns.
"You still don't have the gear, Advisor?" Corporal asks.
"No."
"It's fine. I call dibs on Advisor!" Corporal yells out quickly.
"No fair!" General and Major cry out in unison. "You already had him on your team last time!"
"Too slow, boys." Corporal sticks his tongue out teasingly. "Besides, I hate losing..."
"Ugh, fine!" General groans. "Major, we'll take the east side of the warehouse then. Best two out of three like always. That okay with you, Advisor?"
"Fine with me. Corporal and I will take the west. We'll send you filthy Ostanian monsters back to where you belong!" He says with a cheerful smile.
"That's the spirit." General chuckles before walking to his side with Major on his right. "Come on, Major. We've got a war to win!"
Round one passed by in a blur. Corporal got a good hit on both General and Major thanks to his luring method. He had gotten General and Major to follow him, thinking they had an advantage. Those two then got ambushed by Corporal when their backs were turned. Easy first round win.
Now it was time for round two.
"Advisor, what's our game plan?" Corporal asks him.
"We'll switch distraction targets. You keep their eyes on you. I'll handle the rest."
"Alright then."
Corporal dashes out of cover, forcing Major and General to aim their guns at him.
"Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam!" They both yell as Corporal manages to hide behind cover just in time.
"Damn, where's Advisor? General barks out. "We need to get him."
"We can't! That's how we lost in the first round. I'll watch your back and we'll move up. Just keep pinning Corporal down." Major responds back.
Corporal peeks out of the corner only to be barraged immediately with gunfire, forcing him back into cover. "Where's Advisor?! I have to fall back to the trench!"
He makes a mad dash for the empty crates, slipping through the gunshots from General before diving behind his cover. Only then did he see that Advisor was already sitting behind the crates.
"That was quick." He remarks towards his gearless friend. "I hope what you did helps."
Advisor nods in response, pulling two strings towards him.
Corporal takes a quick moment to peek his head over the crates.
"Blam, blam, blam, blam, blam!" General cries enthusiastically, forcing Corporal to duck back down.
"What should we do, Advisor?"
With two strings looped around his hand, he pulls. A metal bucket descends from the top of the cabinet, smacking against Major's helmet and knocking him out. Immediately he exits quietly from the left side of the crates, sprinting swiftly around Major and General.
"Major! Are you alright?" General asks before turning and roaring. "Damn you, Westalis dogs!"
A gun presses itself against the back of General's head. Game over.
"Huh?"
"Turn around and you're dead."
The words escape his mouth in a chilly, and raspy tone. He clicks his rubber band gun into place. It is time he put a filthy Ostanian monster in its place.
"You better believe I'm turning around!"
He pulls the trigger.
Bang.
The walk back home is calm and mellow. He flashes a thumbs up to a nearby jogger, he waves to a couple of kids petting a cat, and he browses a couple of the open markets, his stomach growling at the delicious foods on display. He gets in a bus and pays the fee before taking his seat. The ride is relaxing as he stares out the window. These people are who he wants to fight for. He wants to keep those smiles on their faces as they continue on their everyday lives.
When he gets off the bus he walks through his neighborhood.
25.
26.
27.
28.
He stops in front of his house and takes a breath, he is tired after today. He opens the door to see his dad already home, speaking with his mom.
He is curled in his blanket, sitting up on his bed, a lone tear streaking down his eyes. Why does this always happen? Why couldn't they be a normal family? Father is strange. He sympathizes with those Ostanian monsters so easily. Who in their right mind would sympathize with the devil? That's what the books told him. That's what the teachers told him. That's what some of the townspeople told him. That's what his friends told him. His stomach grumbles and he whimpers.
As if somehow an ear from above heard him, there is a knock on the door.
"Sweetie. Is it okay if I come in?" His mom's voice calls from the other side. He knows she would enter regardless of his answer but even so, he needs her.
"Come in, mom."
His mother opens the door and walks inside. Upon seeing him, she moves and takes a seat on his bed, pulling him into a hug. In an instant and without control, he sobs. Her hugs has a way of bringing out all of his feelings, be it unbridled joy or anguishing sadness.
She doesn't say a word, only holding him tighter and caressing the back of his head. He could feel her fingers running through his messy blonde hair, twirling occasionally in a soothing manner. His ragged cries turn into soft hiccups before he stops.
"Why does dad hate us, mom?" He says in a low, broken tone. "Why does he hit me?"
"Oh... sweetie..." She is hesitant on her words, as if thinking of what to say next. "He doesn't hate us. He just has a different way of thinking."
"Why does he hit you?"
He can feel the slight jolt from his mother before she speaks again. "He doesn't, dear. I don't know where you got that idea from. But I'm trying my best to make sure he never hurts you again."
Lies. Both of them lies. His father controls them both. But he keeps silent, not wanting to escalate anything else. His stomach growls again and his mother pulls out of the hug.
"Let's go eat dinner. Your father is waiting for us." She says, wiping his eyes gently with a handkerchief. "I'm sure he's calmed down by now."
"I don't want to."
"This is not a request, you need to eat." Her voice hardens. "You're a growing boy and I won't let you starve yourself. I'll handle your father if he gets angry again."
"Okay."
She places a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"Good. I made your favorite casserole."
The atmosphere around dinner table holds an air of tightness, almost suffocating. Advisor slowly scoops a piece of his casserole into his mouth, chewing slowly and methodically. His eyes were anywhere but on his father. He doesn't know what to say, or what do.
"So dear, how was your day at work today?"
"There's been a rather loud protest that happened downtown." His father's gruff voice responds back, clashing off his mother's soft tone. "I was sent to handle the situation. The people have been rather loud with the anti-Ostanian protests."
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Everything is under control now. Right now, the East-West Pact is being reconsidered by Ostania's foreign minister. I imagine that's why the folks have been... heated. In any case, I may have business to handle tomorrow."
"On your day off?"
"The maintenance of peace requires sacrifice at any moment. I do everything I do to keep you safe... to keep our son safe." The tone in his voice softened just a little. Advisors slowly lifts up his head in curiosity, seeing his father looking at him with an indescribable look. He couldn't read the eyes, there are too many emotions running through them. Anger... sadness... concern... and shame?
"Son... I won't apologize for what I did. I do however apologize for not being there for you as much as I want to." His father sighs before taking another bite of his casserole.
Advisor bites his lips, holding back the tears threatening spill. He always does this. He hurts, then apologizes. Hurts, then apologizes. Advisor wishes he could break this cycle but he couldn't. He could never yell back, he could never hate his father. He couldn't forget the first time his father taught him how to fish... how to read... how to hold a gun. He remembers his father hugging him for the first time. He couldn't hate the man who raised him, who provided for him... no matter how much he wanted to. He loves his father not matter how much he feels hurt.
"I forgive you, dad."
"Good."
"That's great you two. I'm so glad my two boys are making up." His mother says, relief evident in her voice. "For that, I'm making deserts! My specialty!"
Advisor couldn't stop the cheerful whoop that escapes his mouth.
His father just chuckles softly.
The family is dysfunctional, cracks blemishing the relationships between each member, but he wouldn't trade it for the entire world, for his mom and dad ARE his entire world.
For as long as he could remember, Advisor has never lied. He has omitted facts to keep secrets but he has never straight up lied to anyone, much less his father. His conscience screams for him tell the truth, or say he changed his mind. But he is in too deep. He doesn't want to get hit again. Never again. He is desperate to gain approval, to not fall behind. It's been over weeks since he and his friends started playing at the warehouse. He only had his rubber band gun, but had broken it. He barely held in his dinner that night, the food tasting like ashes. He felt guilt like he never had felt before. Being a liar felt so wrong. But he couldn't turn back now.
He stands before the store owner of the toy shop, a man with light brown hair with dashes of grey running along the sides of his head, light wrinkles etched on his forehead. Advisor points to the gun hanging on the shelf along with the helmet.
"I would like that set please, sir."
The owner pulls the set off the rack and hands it to advisor. "That'll be 10 dalc."
Just enough. Advisor hands the 10 dalc bill over and puts on his helmet.
"Say kid, where are your parents? Aren't you a little young to wander the market by yourself?"
"No sir. I normally pass by the market pretty often on my way to school and home. My parents are alright with me shopping by myself."
"That's good, independence is important. My son, he's grown up quick. He's already left me to go to the army." The owner sighs, leaning back on his chair. "I'm afraid for him, before the Pact was signed, that damn war had ripped families and I'm afraid he'll be another one of the lost bodies in battle if another starts."
The man pauses before coughing in embarrassment. "Sorry, that was a bit off topic. Didn't mean to steer the conversation like that."
Advisor bites his lips, his thoughts drifting to his own father. "Why would you let him go into war then, sir? Wouldn't you want to keep him safe?"
The owner is silent, contemplative. A few heavy seconds linger before he sighs again. "Let me tell you a story, kid. His mother, my dear wife passed away a few years ago. She was an ambassador between Ostania and Westalis. Haha... I still don't know how she fell in love with a poor sap like me..."
His soft smile turns into a frown in an instant. "We still don't know how it started but rumors stated she was murdered by a rogue Ostanian assassin during one of her business trips. I don't know why but it just happened, so damn quickly. They're still trying to find the killer to this day, that's all I know of. If I could get my hands on that devil, I would tear them apart!"
The man pauses, rubbing his temple in a massaging motion before continuing. "My son did not take it so well. He was... angry to say the least. He dedicated so many years afterwards into training for the army. He's on standby right now, ready for the deployment at any time. I know what he wants to do, what he's so desperate for... which leads me to your question. Why didn't I stop him, why did I let him go to the army, where he could possibly die? It's because I love him. I've tried my best to make my peace with her death, but he couldn't. I... I don't have it in me to force him to stay. I doubt I even have the power to anyways... hey kid, why are you crying?"
Advisor wipes the tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry for what you and your son had to go through, sir."
"Bah. I don't need it. All I ask is for you to cherish what you have. You never know when it's gonna disappear."
"Alright, sir."
"You seem like a nice kid. I hope your life will be full of happiness."
"Thank you, sir. You can call me Advisor! That's what my friends call me." Advisor says with a soft smile. The owner raises a brow, though the slight twitch on his lips sheds a bit of the gruff exterior off his face.
"Well Advisor, it was nice talking to you. You can run along. I'm sure you have better things to do than speaking with an old fart like me all day."
Advisor frowns slightly, sad that the man is so self-deprecating. "You're a good person, sir. I'll be on my way then but before I do, may I ask what's your name?"
The store owner is silent, staring at Advisor with an almost wary stare.
It felt like hours before the man opened his mouth.
"Roland Spoofy."
He stands in front of the warehouse door, helmet on his head, gun in his hands, and a smile on his face. Advisor knocks 6 times in a set pattern.
"Flash." Comes Major's voice from the other side of the door.
"Thunder." Advisor finishes.
The door swings open.
"You're late, Advisor!" Major chides. Advisor grins gleefully before lifting his gun up in display.
"Check this out!"
"Whoa!" All three of his friends gasps.
"You got the soldier set!"
"Heh heh! It wasn't cheap."
"It looks good on you, major!" Corporal compliments.
"All right, now let's continue where we left off!" General calls out, making a dash for his soldier set with Corporal and Major following behind.
"This time we're really gonna blow you Ostanians to pieces!" Corporal calls back.
"Ooh, big talk! It's not like you did anything last time."
Advisor was about to step forward but he stops. His mind flashes back to the lie he told his father, to his conversation with Roland. It would be so easy to join his friends and have a fun time but his conscience screams at him while his heart tightens ever so slightly.
If he does this...
Advisor purses his lips.
"Man, we're never gonna get to play as the Westalis army."
"Sorry. Rules are rules."
"Actually... I don't think I'll play today."
All their heads snap back towards him.
"Why not?" Major asks in shock.
Advisor doesn't want to lie to his friends but he also doesn't want to let them know he practically robbed his father of his hard-earned money. So does what he is used to... he says something that is true, but not the truth. "That fair is tomorrow. I'm gonna go help them set up."
He sets his gun along the wall before quickly leaving the warehouse, not saying another word.
"Advisor?!"
He's a filthy liar. Lying for the first time felt so wrong. It was as if a part of him was ripped away the moment he put up a facade, to protect himself and his pride. Lying to his father, abandoning his friends, what was wrong with him?
He would later learn that the lie saved his life, his guilt left him a survivor, while his friends and their innocence were punished with death. He would agonize about the loss of his childhood friends, retching at the searing guilt that consumes him everyday for leaving them to the fate of Ostania's wrath, the hell of the skies. Everyday was pain and sorrow, the nightmares of never seeing them again invaded Advisor every single night. His sorrow left him scarred, chips of his innocence cracking off him.
Maybe that was what a liar like him deserves.
Kielburg is a rather busy neighborhood. People would be off around town doing their own things, mostly their jobs, and Advisor would catch the small glimpses of wariness in their eyes. The war had already ripped through Luwen, leaving nothing left of his beloved hometown. Most folks are wary to step outside in fear of encountering Ostanian infantry. They also fear the day the skies will be covered with planes, the sun blocked out as bombs litter every square feet of the town, painting the streets with blood, rubble and shrapnel.
Living in fear was something Advisor had adjusted to in the past 3 months. His great uncle is kind but distant, considering they have never really interacted much before. In fact, it was his first time ever visiting Kielburg. His mother always tried her best to comfort him, but she could never bring back his friends... nor his father. He wants to delude himself into believing they're still alive but he knows deep down, they were gone.
But he lies to himself anyways.
He lies and he lies and he lies.
Until he could lie no more.
It wasn't long before Kielburg became the next battleground for the war. War is something that happens in the blink of an eye, something so quick to strike, one could miss it, though that likely meant they were dead. A quiet day of fishing would lead to a walk home, bucket in hand carrying his catch of the day. That would then lead to the alarms screaming throughout the town.
"It's an air raid! Everyone, to the shelter!"
Advisor is frozen again. Fear runs through his veins as he could do nothing but stay rooted in his spot. Wait... the bombs...
He is grabbed by a man as panicked screams fill the air. "Let's go! You need to get in there!"
"Wait, but my house is—"
"We gotta hurry!"
"Don't push me!" Advisor cries out. He is then picked up and thrown over the man's shoulder.
Before he knew it, the boy finds himself in the shelter. Explosions roar outside, over and over again. He could not see the faces of the people he is in the shelter with but he knows many of them are crying, whimpers and sobs filling the cramped room. The noise outside then halts. Advisor takes that moment to push up the door.
"Is it... over?! It's over!" Someone cries in relief.
"Hey, kid! Don't open that door!"
He ignores the man, sprinting out as quickly as he could.
"Get back here, you dolt! It's still dan—"
"Mom! Mom!"
He rushes through the town, navigating through the rubble as fast as he could. She has to be there. She has to. She's safe. Mom's safe. She'll be fine. She'll be alright. It is then that the bombs start to rain down again, vibrating the ground beneath him.
Kaboom.
Boom.
Boom.
He doesn't look around him. He knows he could die at any moment, but it doesn't matter. As long as he could see mom.
Run.
Run.
Run.
He turns around a block, seeing his house in the distance.
"Mom!" He screams out. "Mom! Mom!"
As he gets closer he sees exactly how ruined everything is. "The house... no way... no!"
He scans through the rubble and sees something laying there, motionless. He runs up closer...
"Mom is that y—"
He sees her.
Her clothes are in tatters. Her body is bent unnaturally, bones protruding from so, so many limbs. Her face is half-ripped open, the skin peeling off. He could see the inside of her head... her scalp ripped open and something running down from the open hole. Shrapnel clings onto almost every part of her.
He just stands there. He doesn't move, his brain trying to process everything as the bombs continue to rain down in the distance.
...
...
...
Advisor then rips out three blood-curdling screams before his mind completely empties.