1919, December 20:

     It was a dim, snowy day. The sun remained curtained by heavy clouds, as the children walked into the shivering cold from the warm church of St.Peter in a long line. Their guardians wore poorly repaired woolen cloaks while the children themselves were exposed to the biting cold. No one would believe that America had such a poverty stricken town, but there was one, and it was here than Xanxus had been for as far as he could remember. And that wasn't a very long time. It was a miracle he had survived on diluted milk long enough to partake solid food.

At the tender age of seven, he toddled on behind the seniors, who were meant to bear the brunt of the brutal winds that came through the mountain valleys. He did have it luckier than them, but his body was already turning a light blue, and his lips were quaking violently. The church had been warm and filled with light. Music had floated over him, taking him high into the clouds. This was a brutal return to reality. Darkness descended swiftly, and the blizzard turned ever more harsh.

Soon, he was forced to relying on the breathing of the fat boy in front of him to even make out the direction. It was a ten mile hike from the village to this church, and the fact that it was Christmas made the guardians line the children up inside and get enough handouts to buy food for the week. They had gone to the market, and left the oldest boy in charge. He was doing quite well, but the trouble was in getting the others to keep up.

Xanxus was panting hard, and soon collapsed altogether. The winding line went on past him, and  he lay face down in the cold snow until it swirled around him and embraced him, leading him to merciful unawareness.

December 21, 1919:

"Hey, are you alright?" came a concerned voice even before Xanxus could open his eyes. Flickering lights danced around the corners of his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he was back in the church. But then reality reinforced itself, driving a thousand pricking needles into his eyes while revealing a brightly lit room. Near him sat a man, tall, handsome and dressed entirely in black. Fascinated, he stretched out his hand, feeling material that was soft and warm. The man laughed heartily.

"You have a talent for reaching your hand out, boy. Now, drink some soup," he handed Xanxus some soup while he himself drank something from a metal container. Xanxus drank eagerly, deciding that he would worry about the heat scalding his tongue later.

"Now then, where are you from, I wonder. It must be the orphanage nearby. They were taking children somewhere yesterday," he snapped his fingers."That must be it! But not to notice a child missing, they cannot be good company, can they?" he looked at Xanxus thoughtfully.

"No, they cannot." he mused and went out of the room, instructing Xanxus to remain there. Xanxus eagerly went about the room, handling everything he could see and everything he could not. When the man came back, he was handling a black gun.

The man laughed yet again."Yes, really good with your fingers. Good thing I haven't loaded it yet. Now, come here." Xanxus went up to the man and stood facing him. The man got on his hauches so that their faces were level.

"Do you want to leave this place and come with me?" asked the man. By now, Xanxus was nadly in love with the man who wore such nice clothes and had such interesting belongings. He nodded eagerly. The man looked confused.

"Why don't you talk?" he asked. Xanxus looked at him, confused. Everyone at the orphanage knew he couldn't. The man suddenly widened his eyes. "Oh, they did tell me," he recalled. Xanxus smiled.

In three days, Xanxus was sitting at the beautifully crafted benches at St.Peter's while letting the Christmas carols watch over him.

In two days, he found that the place where his father lived was beyond his wildest dreams with it's radiant sunlight.

In one week, he had begun to take the first steps towards speech.

Nice History I enjoyed read some of it!

I didn't realize you had such a rough childhood Xanxus. After reading this, I developed more respect for you and it made it clear to me why you're the type of person you are today. You have demonstrated hard-work, loyalty, respect, and most importantly of all, your love for family. I'm always a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. So I think to myself, if you haven't had this tough childhood, would you be the same man I know today? I don't believe so. The Regime is lucky to have a strong individual like you and I'm grateful I had the opportunity to cross paths with you.

Besides all that mushy-gushy-stuff, good story! By the way, is that man who helped you out still alive? I would imagine in some kind of way he's a mere reflection of you. 

Xanxus laughed, and then turned serious again.

You know he's my father Wraith, don't you?

I thought he found you in the streets next to your parents who committed suicide, not a hospital. I dunno, maybe I remember wrong.

Xanxus looked at Tritium in concern and a smile spread slowly through his face.

"I told you not to read those fifty cent romance novels didn't I? You're wrong, kind of."