1.05 – A History of Violence

Albert’s knuckles went bone white as he tightened his grip on the recliner’s armrests. His eyes stayed glued to the television screen, even as his breath came shallow and ragged. The news feed cut to more aerial shots of downtown San Isidro, now cloaked in rising smoke and debris. Each new image of destruction made his heart pound harder, his imagination filling in horrific gaps.

“Oh, God…” he whispered, leaning forward, his weight nearly tipping the chair.

Leo tore through the living room, blissfully oblivious to the tension in his father. With a wild whoop, he crashed his action figures together, his voice warbling in mock menace. “I’ve got you now, Vanguard! You’ll never escape my evil clutches!”

Albert glanced sideways, momentarily distracted. His son held Vanguard and Black Angel figures in his tiny hands, bashing them together with joyful abandon.

“You won’t win this time, Black Angel!” Leo growled in a hilariously exaggerated tone that sounded closer to a squeaky goblin than a menacing villain.

Despite the weight in his chest, Albert cracked a faint smile. He wanted to scold his son, to tell him the situation was not a game—but what was the point? Leo didn’t understand. He was just a kid.

Albert’s smile disappeared as the news cut back to Gravitas and Vanguard on the street below. The camera caught the first building collapsing, sending a massive plume of dust into the air.

“Shit!” Albert swore under his breath before yelling, “Look, Leo!”

Leo paused mid-crash, blinking at his father’s outburst. His small face scrunched in confusion as he turned his gaze toward the television. The moment his wide eyes landed on the destruction unfolding onscreen, his expression transformed into one of pure wonder.

“Whoa… so COOL!” Leo dropped his toys with a clatter and dashed to the TV. Pressing his hands and nose against the screen, he squealed, “A supervillain in OUR city! And—” He gasped dramatically, his face lighting up. “OH MY GOSH! It’s Vanguard! Daddy, look! It’s your favorite! YAY!!!”

Albert couldn’t respond. His son’s joy was a knife twisting in his chest. He swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from his son’s beaming face back to the screen.

The camera had zoomed in on Vanguard, the hero standing firm against the chaos, his cape rippling in the wind. Albert’s lips moved in a quiet, desperate plea. “Please protect her—I beg you...”

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the screen, but his focus didn’t falter. The next image hit him like a gut punch.

A wrecked ambulance filled the screen, its once-white hood smeared with blood. More crimson streaked the battered fender, dripping like a macabre waterfall.

Albert’s stomach churned, and the world seemed to spin beneath him. His wife’s face flashed in his mind. Yvette.

“Daddy?”

Leo’s voice broke through, small and uncertain.

Albert blinked, quickly wiping at his eyes. “What is it, buddy?” he croaked.

Leo stared at the screen, his earlier excitement dimming. “That ambulance… isn’t that like Mommy’s?”

Albert hesitated, forcing his voice to stay steady. “No, son,” he lied, his hand gripping the armrest so tightly it ached. “That’s not Mommy’s.”

Leo nodded slowly, satisfied with the answer. He turned back to the screen, his wonder rekindling as another explosion rocked the scene. “Vanguard’s gonna win, right, Daddy?”

Albert couldn’t answer. His lips pressed into a thin line as the prayer repeated silently in his head. Please…

Days after the disaster, once Gravitas had been subdued by the Society of Sentinels, a weary paramedic stood on the Walkers' doorstep and pressed the doorbell.

Albert answered, his hand shaking as it gripped the doorknob. His eyes flicked up to meet the paramedic’s. The man’s exhausted face and slumped posture spoke volumes before he even said a word.

Albert’s lips trembled, and he managed a rasped, “God… please, no. Don’t tell me—”

The paramedic’s eyes softened with sorrow. He nodded, his voice low and laden with grief. “I’m so sorry. She’s gone… Your wife was a veritable paragon. One of this city’s true heroes. Regrettably her partner, Jack, passed on as well.”

Albert staggered back slightly, clutching the doorframe for support. His chest felt hollow, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

Leo’s voice cut through the stillness. “Hi!!!”

Albert turned to see his son bounding toward the door, his small face lit with curiosity. Leo stopped in front of the paramedic and thrust his hand out, grinning. “Daddy says I have to shake hands with new people. It’s good manners!”

The paramedic blinked, caught off guard, his lips twitching into a brief, mirthless chuckle. His expression quickly turned pained, as though the boy’s innocent gesture had struck a raw nerve.

“Oh…” he said softly, crouching slightly to meet Leo’s eye level. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

He shook the boy’s hand gently, his face forced into a tight smile. His other hand rested on his knee, his knuckles whitening as he fought to maintain composure.

Albert stood frozen, staring into the distance past the paramedic, his mind racing through fragmented memories of Yvette. Her laugh, her determination, the way she’d kiss Leo’s forehead every night before bed. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, a crushing finality settling into his chest.

“Daddy?” Leo’s voice brought him back, small and uncertain.

Albert blinked, swallowing hard before dropping a hand onto his son’s shoulder. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply nodded at the paramedic, who returned the gesture before stepping away, his head bowed.

The door clicked shut, and Albert slumped against it, sliding to the floor. Leo stood beside him, still holding the paramedic’s handshake in his memory, blissfully unaware of the truth his father now carried.

Several weeks had passed since the man in the paramedic uniform had shown up, making his daddy cry.

Leo still didn’t understand why that man—someone who had seemed so kind—had done something that made Daddy so upset. It didn’t make sense. And what was worse, his mom still hadn’t come home from work.

Normally, she came back right after her shift, every single time. She always returned to make dinner, to tuck him into bed, to kiss his forehead the way only she could. But now, the days stretched on and on, and Daddy refused to explain why. He just kept saying, “Not now, Leo,” whenever Leo asked.

It wasn’t like her to break a promise, and that’s what it felt like. Mom had promised she’d always be there.

What shocked Leo most was the night Daddy took his Vanguard action figure—the same one Daddy had bought for him, the one they’d played with together—and hurled it with all his strength into the family television.

The glass shattered with a sickening crack.

“DAMN IT!” Albert roared, his face red with rage and tears streaming freely.

Leo flinched, frozen in place as he watched his father fall apart. His tiny mind raced to understand why Daddy was so angry. What had Vanguard done? Why was Daddy breaking things?

Leo hugged himself, his small arms wrapping tightly around his torso. His eyes darted between the broken TV and his father, who was now slumped on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Daddy?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

But Albert didn’t respond. He just kept crying, loud and desperate, lost in his own grief.

Leo stood there, frightened and confused, his small world shattering like the television screen. He didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t look away. For the first time in his young life, his dad didn’t seem like the strongest person in the world. Instead, he looked like someone who needed saving.

The weeks dragged on, and Leo watched his dad slip further away from the person he had known.

He didn’t feel like playing anymore. The Vanguard action figure—his favorite toy—wasn’t the same. Its face was kinda melted now, the plastic warped and ruined. It sat abandoned in a corner, gathering dust.

The most important lesson Leo had learned in those weeks was simple: stay away from Daddy when he started drinking that smelly brown stuff.

Leo didn’t know what it was called, but he hated it. The stink alone made his head spin, and worse, it transformed Daddy into someone scary.

When his dad drank, he yelled and screamed at nothing. Sometimes he’d stomp around the house, knocking things over, his voice booming like a storm. Other times, he’d slump in the recliner, muttering angrily to himself.

And if Leo got too close when Daddy was like that? Nothing good ever came of it.

One day, after what felt like forever, Leo’s hunger gnawed at him so badly that he couldn’t stay silent anymore. He’d noticed his dad hadn’t touched the smelly stuff in a little while, so maybe now was a safe time to ask.

“Daddy, I’m hungry… Can we please eat…?”

Leo’s voice was small and careful. He stood in the doorway to the living room, wringing his hands nervously.

For a moment, it seemed like his dad might not have heard him. But then Albert’s head snapped up. His eyes were bloodshot, his face unshaven and gaunt.

“FUCKING SHUT THE HELL UP, LEO!” Albert bellowed, his voice echoing through the house.

The words hit like a slap, and Leo flinched so hard that he nearly fell. Tears welled up in his wide, frightened eyes as he backed away, trying to make himself small.

He turned and ran, his tiny feet thudding against the floor as he made it back to his room. There, he pressed his back to the door, shaking as sobs wracked his little body.

Leo cried until he was too tired to keep crying. His stomach growled, but the fear in his chest outweighed the hunger.

For now, it was safer to stay quiet and stay out of Daddy’s way.

Albert’s descent into despair and anger had become a dark vortex, pulling both him and Leo into its depths. As his drinking spiraled further out of control, his fleeting moments of clarity dwindled into near-nothingness. Those rare instances when he crawled out of his haze long enough to buy a meal or remember Leo’s existence weren’t enough to counterbalance the neglect and abuse.

For Leo, life became an unbearable cycle of hunger, fear, and pain. He learned to tread carefully around his father at all times, hiding in corners or behind furniture to stay out of sight. But hunger always won out eventually, forcing him to approach Albert despite the inevitable rage it triggered.

The day Albert threw Leo across the room was a turning point, though not in the way it should have been. Rather than seek help or confront the horror of what he’d done, Albert sank deeper into self-loathing, feeding his addiction with renewed vigor.

His work as a lawn-care contractor barely kept the lights on, and the financial strain added another layer of bitterness to his already crumbling psyche. Without Yvette’s income, he felt adrift, incapable of managing the household or his grief.

Yet, through the fog of alcohol, Albert’s resentment began to shift. It wasn’t just Vanguard or the world he blamed—it was Leo.

Leo, who was too quiet.

Leo, who always flinched.

Leo, who wasn’t like the son Albert thought he deserved.

Albert’s mind latched onto a narrative that gave him great clarity, a way to make sense of his spiral. 

Leo was a disappointment. 

And worse, there was something wrong with his son. He thought about the times Leo played with dolls or wrapped himself in Yvette’s scarves, pretending to be someone else. It disgusted Albert now, though a tiny part of him remembered Yvette’s amused smile during those moments. He crushed that memory under the weight of his bitterness.

Finally, Albert reached a breaking point. The realization of how dangerous he’d become to Leo gnawed at him. But rather than seek help or give Leo to someone who could care for him, Albert concocted a solution that, in his warped state of mind, seemed perfectly reasonable.

He dug out an old chest from the attic—a sturdy, heavy thing that had belonged to Yvette’s mother. It had once been filled with dresses and keepsakes, but now it was empty, gathering dust. Albert hadn’t thought about it in years, but the sight of it sparked an idea.

At first, the thought made him recoil. That’s insane, he told himself. No, not insane… protective. The more he mulled it over, the more it made sense.

“If he’s in there, he’ll be safe,” Albert muttered to himself, pacing the dimly lit living room. “He can’t bother me, and I can’t hurt him. It’s perfect.”

He justified it as an act of mercy, of responsibility. In truth, it was neither.

When Albert finally cornered Leo and led him to the chest, the boy didn’t resist. His fear and hunger had hollowed him out, leaving him too drained to protest. Albert’s words were sharp and gruff as he explained, “This is for your own good. You’ll be safe in here.”

Leo stared at the chest, wide-eyed, his small hands trembling. He didn’t understand. He only knew that no matter what he said or did, his father wasn’t listening.

Albert lifted the lid, revealing the dark, empty space inside. For a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. But it passed as quickly as it came.

“Get in,” he barked.

Leo obeyed. He always did.

As the lid closed over him, plunging him into darkness, Leo curled up into a tight ball. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn’t make a sound. He had learned long ago that crying only made things worse.

Outside the chest, Albert locked it shut with a padlock and walked away, telling himself he’d done the right thing.

But in the suffocating silence, Leo knew one thing for certain: he was completely alone.