Prologue II: Snowchild.

  “But there's no happy endings, not here and not now… this tale is all sorrow and woe.” —A Series of Unfortunate Events

  December 24th, 1983.

  The clock read 3 PM.

  Sounds of vacuuming filled the air.

  Samuel walked with it, cleaning the carpet below him.

  Not paying attention to the vacuum itself, but rather at Link II's canopy perched on the couch.

  Samuel’s eyes darted to him every second as he vacuumed.

  Remembering how he destroyed the hallway wall with a glare, giggling about it.

  His motors slowing down from the constant cycle of watching over him for nights straight.

  Despite what the goddess said about Link II giving him purpose, it felt like a chore.

  A painful, risky, dangerous chore that regressed Samuel into memory of his assassin job.

  The vacuum faded as Samuel stared at Link II sleeping.

  Frustration at the baby demigod held in his unfaithful arms.

  He drowned those emotions out on each blunt he smoked.

  Hallucinations felt like ways to lash out at Link II rather than physically hurt him and risk getting killed from his godly parent.

  Imagining everything within those clouds of smoke.

  Strangling.

  Beating.

  All to satisfy the hatred towards the baby involved in his life.

  After 30 minutes of vacuuming the house, he sat down onto the couch right next to Link II’s canopy.

  Rolling up a blunt and smoking it, grabbing the remote and putting on a kids show for him.

  Shortly after, laughing at the TV maniacally.

  While Link II whined for attention, wanting Samuel to burp him.

  But he didn't move, all Samuel did was stare at him with hatred for a few seconds.

  His body would overheat from human emotion like anger.

  Fists clenched with anger.

  His metal hands heated up from the rage.

  Getting up from the couch and…

  Storming to his room, slamming the door.

  Knowing to isolate himself from actively hurting the child.

  He wailed for attention that Samuel gave.

  To help him get out the burp that made him feel weird and gassy.

  Tiny limbs flailed around while his face contorted in sadness, peachy red from emotion.

  But as he cried, reality started to flicker.

  The house fading into darkness while faint echoes were illusions before the transition.

  Silently tapping into something from his DNA.

  Walls disappearing, his mind cold like bad dreams.

  Despite this, he kept crying in darkness.

  Till moments later, a light appeared in the darkness.

  Footsteps echoing in nothingness, as they walked towards the light.

  The bright yellow light felt like Samuel’s hatred turned into a streetlight.

  Their appearance revealed only by their shadow.

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  As they spoke:

  “Hello, Link.

  …It seems redundant to tell you about myself, when all you know is to cry and eat.

  Maybe not fully eat, but eat nonetheless.

  Especially since he's stuffing himself silly.

  Well, how should I introduce myself? How about… you call me Willard. Okay?

  You can call me Willard.”

  Taking a breath and speaking yet again.

  “Or at least don't call me Duckworth yet.”

  The stranger muttered under his breath.

  Right after, his hands awkwardly waved to the child, not knowing how to instill truth between them.

  They stood in silence.

  While Link II smiled in joy, just… appreciating the love that Willard gave to him.

  Willard chuckled a little bit at this strange act of fun for the both of them.

  Both of them silently understanding themselves despite the lack of conversation.

  Willard couldn't understand why Link II smiled at him.

  Hiding his almost crying face from the peaceful feeling of understanding a tragedy accepting his fate, and enjoying the love.

  As he spoke again.

  “...I'm sorry.

  I'm sorry.

  I really am.

  We spent our time in hell for too long.

  I'm sorry I never got to understand us before violence emerged.

  I… miss home.

  I miss the feeling of innocence before I killed someone.

  I miss the feeling of not knowing what the world really is, but rather having the small knowledge of going to school, coming home, and playing video games till I went to bed.

  I miss when the world wasn't just abandoned by fame and riches.”

  Stopping his talk for a moment and blowing his nose with his hoodie.

  Before continuing.

  “I wish… I was you. Cute, young, full of life.

  Somebody who never lost their faith.”

  They spoke, their voice almost high-pitched and shaky.

  Taking a moment to clear their voice.

  Willard chuckled to himself, in a way that Link II didn't understand.

  Hiding pain behind a chuckle.

  Yet they began talking again.

  “Well, guess what Link?

  You have abilities.

  You have abilities that could get everything you ever wanted.

  New family, friends, hell… Even a new life opportunity.

  But knowing us, we probably won't, won't we?

  We're too damn caring about our broken family members to ever do something villainous towards people we hate, don't we?”

  Their hands delved in the silhouette of what seemed to be a pocket of their clothing.

  Grabbing a block.

  A block loaded with the colors of purple, black and white.

  All intertwined into different variations of constructs and creation.

  Speaking one last time, their tone now calmed and focused while juggling the block in the air.

  “But just know I love you, kiddo.

  Even if it's the only loving and caring remark you'll ever receive.”

  “Don't forget to remember to treat yourself, to be yourself, snowchild.”

  Soon his vision faded.

  The stranger faded, his last response held in the air like a sword of truth.

  Link II snapped back into reality.

  Surrounding him with this weird feeling of euphoria and numbness he couldn't describe.

  Waking up in reality, his eyes blinking heavily.

  His gaze towards Samuel who stood in front of him, Samuel's body facing towards the door.

  Towards newfound men standing there.

  Link II could see Samuel’s fists clenched, as they spoke.

  “Samuel, give us the god child. You owe us $10,000 after you took our weed to smoke for your selfish needs. GIVE. US. THE. CHILD. Now.”

  While they aimed at Samuel, holding back from pressing some sort of trigger on their weapon.

  Link II didn't know what they were holding.

  Only sensing the energy of the room.

  He began to panic, crying for Samuel to help him, comfort him.

  It made the situation worse, one of them stating.

  “GOD DAMN IT, SOMEBODY BETTER SHUT THAT KID UP ‘FORE I BLOW SHOTS IN HERE!”

  Samuel rushed towards Link II, grabbing his fragile body like a cheetah.

  Standing against the dangerous men.

  Keeping Link II in his arms and chest, ready to defend a child he hated.

  Then before them, Link II began to float.

  His eyes glowing the mix of a rainbow.

  From the blues to the pinks into the yellows

  To the men, his colorful anger felt like watching an angel fall.

  They began to float upwards, their hands let loose of the guns held by them.

  Falling to the floor with a small clank.

  Their eyes now losing color, bodies slowly turning numb and broken.

  As Link II imagined a piano in arms length, and began to play a song from the future.

  A song that terrified millions.

  Especially a hypocritical artist.

  The song had lyrics, but no lyrics were sung to them, for Link II…

  They deserved nothing but the anxiety driven piano notes.

  Beginning to increase his gaze at them, his eyes turning into blinding lights, his infant-like arms thrusting towards them as…

  The synths began, rising higher by every second.

  The piano interrupting the synths to the relentless, descending F-E-D-C-sharp riff, pounded with fury.

  The instrumental of Meet the Grahams.

  The piano sequence stayed for what felt like hours, the men began to melt.

  Their pride, ego, their skin melting just from the notes of confrontation.

  Blood and melted skin leaking towards the carpet, smelling worse than dead fish.

  Bones were the only parts left intact from his gaze.

  Hearts and guts beating on the floor, dimming out and pumping towards nothing.

  Finally, the heads of each man slowly melted into horrified expressions.

  Their jaws wide open with fear, the skulls left with open mouths of shock.

  The men were dead.

  Decomposed and broken on the floor.

  Samuel froze from the disgusting and depraved scene.

  More from the action rather than killing men.

  He looked back at Link II like he'd just seen death crawl into his home.

  He looked into Link II's eyes.

  The creativity bloomed with murder.

  Now just outshadowed by Link II crying.

  While Samuel realized in his mind one thing.

  The goddess did say he would be raising the most powerful being in existence, finally understanding why he needed to follow through.

  "He saved me, and yet I've hated him just for crying… crying because he needed me to take care of him. He is a kid, a kid at heart, his actions just make it seem the opposite.”

  As Samuel held Link II, cradling him like his own son, looking back at the grotesque slush on the floor.

  He'd known these men since kindergarten.

  The dreams, the future, the kids made by their actions.

  No longer had a father of anything besides melted skin.