Deep within the depths of his mind lie memories that he wishes to forget. Rejection and abandonment always were a part of Franky’s life. Though many perceived him to be this spoiled rich kid that never had to lift a finger, he often wishes to lose his wealth and face the life of those that are normal, those that aren’t chosen prodigies.

Upon opening his eyes, Franky is met with cold handcuffs holding his hands together. He’s lying atop a gray desk just as cold as everything else in this tiny interrogation room. He has no idea how he got here or why he’s being held captive. All he can do is look around and face the door that is shielding him from freedom. It’s silent yet he knows that beyond that door lies the world of his dreams.

Someone lightly grazes his shoulder. He jolts back looking at the man that is trying to get his attention. A bald man presumably in his fifties is making his way to the other chair. He’s wearing a uniform Franky can’t recognize. The only thing he can recognize is a name tag. He goes by Corbin.

“So you’re finally awake, huh? So… Do you need a reminder of what you’ve done or are you done whining about your innocence?”, the man grunts. Corbin seems to have no patience for Franky or whatever crime he has committed. He doesn’t know what brought him into this mess but he knows that he’s innocent.

“What crime did I commit?”, he asks. “I cannot remember how I got here or why I’m being held captive!”

Trying to free himself of his restraints, the handcuffs tighten as they respond to his level of compliance.

“You genuinely don’t remember? As if!”, utters Corbin. “Then how about a reminder! Think about your earliest memories! Think about what you did wrong back then!”

Those words alone send him back into a flashback, to a time when he was incredibly lonely. Franky grew up with all the wealth in the world and will eventually inherit that which is now attributed to his parents: the power to do as he pleases. However, wealth never gets him what he truly wants. So far, it has only gotten him a replica of what he desires.

His first memory is one of him in a three-story house. As always, his parents are away living it up. Unlike the other kids his age, he’s spending his time with a nanny cleaning up after him. While the sun is out, he’s spending his time in a house that’s massive to the average person, let alone a four-year-old like him. Right now, every normal kid is on an egg hunt for Easter. But he too has his mission. He too is hunting for eggs.

“I’ll just have her clean up! Then I’ll sneak into the fridge and hide away with my-”

“Franky,” she says calling out to him. “I need you to come down right now!”

She seems rather upset. Usually, he’d get away with causing trouble and she wouldn’t dare say anything that could ever be perceived as negative to him or his parents. His nanny never complains about the mess he makes, his entitled behavior, or his lack of respect. But today seems to be different. Did he leave his toys all around the house? Did he make a mess by spilling food or drinks? Did he make a mess of his bathroom after taking a bath? He doesn’t know and hesitates.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!", she yells from all the way downstairs. With haste, he hurries to the kitchen to be duly punished for his crimes only to be met with a surprise. As soon as he is within reach, she lifts him onto a chair facing their kitchen isle. Atop the kitchen island lie eggs, cups filled with water and paintbrushes, and a paintbox.

“What are you doing?”, he asks with his eyes beaming with joy. “We’re painting eggs?”

She nods. Though their painting session could have gone a lot better had she chosen another method, all Franky wanted was to have someone to have fun with. Their eggs turned out hideous yet perfect for the two of them.

His memory ends here as he is warped back to his interrogation. Corbin is still sitting in front of him waiting for Franky’s answer. Teary-eyed, he tries to adjust to the bright overhead light above them. He wipes away the tears in the corner of his eyes and goes back to being miserable in this tiny room.

“Do you remember what you did wrong, now? What you did to deserve to be miserable and hunched up in here!”, yells Corbin.

“But I was just a kid. I didn’t even do anything wrong in that memory!”, he responds maintaining his innocence.

“Then why did she disappear? Don’t you remember all the times you’ve been awful to her!”

“But that’s not… Me being a brat has nothing to do with crime!”

“I guess so… Then how about these other memories?”, Corbin asks.

This time, he’s sent to a time when he was closest to feeling like life truly is enjoyable. Back in 5th and 6th grade, he was fairly popular and well-beloved by his classmates and teachers. Athletic, smart, talented, and charismatic were terms always attributed to the persona he took on in school.

However, all these great traits had their negatives. He used his strength and charisma to put down others, used his talents to come across as admirable, and only was perceived as smart thanks to his tenacity. At times he’d go out of his way to learn the material word for word so he could remain at the top in academics. The only reason why he’s talented is that his parents forced him to partake in piano lessons since the first day of school even though they mostly were out of the picture. He mostly was just a child that manipulated others without even knowing that he was capable of being as horrendous as he was. One incident stood out as he had been pushed too far.

“Hey!”, he yelled. “Me and my friends are sitting here. Fuck off, fatass.”

The one he was facing was a kid slightly overweight just having his lunch while sitting at a desk in their cafeteria. This was the boldest Franky ever had been as he’d usually just dish out snide remarks without ever lifting a finger. Today he was incredibly agitated as he had just found out that his parents wouldn’t be around for Christmas and that he’d be staying with his aunts for two weeks.

“I’m talking to you!”, he reiterates.

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“Are you okay?” Surprisingly he was met with empathy. The one he was harassing for occupying "his" seat… The one he was calling names for having the audacity to exist around him was the only one to address his state of mind.

“Just get up already!”

Once again, his memory fades becoming too hazy for him to perfectly recall the events that follow. What he can remember is what he faced as punishment. His parents immediately had him drop out and transfer to another school, all of his grades dropped to C’s or D’s, he was forced to leave behind the friends he had made so far and completely start over, and then was forced to spend his newfound time with being the trophy they see him as. Additional piano lessons, having him learn the violin, and having him become a gymnast… time off became a dream.

Now that he’s back in his interrogation room, he faces Corbin once again. Corbin’s grimace has changed from that of irritation and anger to an empty glare of absolute loathing. Franky can barely look him in the face and averts his gaze.

“See… You’re just a whiny brat. How about one more memory?”, says Corbin deadpan.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care,” says Corbin triggering another memory.

Not long after his lunch incident, he moved in with Ben, who at the time just finished high school at the age of 19. Since his last nanny supposedly couldn’t stand his behavior any longer, they believed some desperate college kid of a family friend that wants easy cash and his place is the best option. Since Franky felt empty and hopeless back then, there wasn’t a lot of energy to defy Ben. He’d go to school sleeping through half of his lessons, would come home to spend his time on any of his three consoles, and would stay up till 2 am so that he can wake up at 7:20, ten minutes before he’d have to leave for school, barely making it in time or coming in late by a couple of minutes.

Ben, a college student without any siblings, never dealt with anyone younger than himself. He went from a relaxing life as an ambivert teen with a good amount of close friends, to a college kid practically raising a child while taking care of a house. Thanks to his parents cleaning the house, doing laundry, and cooking was no challenge to him. He knew how to get his laundry done even without a washing machine, had parents that raised him to be self-sufficient by partaking in anything that goes on at home, and learned how to cook easy and quick meals. The closest he ever got to child-rearing were the two times he took care of cousins.

“Hey, Franky!”, Ben yells absolutely disgusted at the crack of dawn. He’s taking care of their laundry and found underwear that reaks of several days of teenage musk. It’s the first Tuesday of Franky’s Easter Holidays which last two weeks and his clothes smell like this is the first time he’s showered since his last school day.

“Go take a bath!”, he demands of Franky.

“But I don’t want to,” he replies as he steps into their bathroom.

“You’re doing it or I’m making sure that they take away your electronics!”, Ben threatens. He knows that this kind of threat is the only one that could work in situations like these. “Don’t make me tell them that you need more piano lessons!”

Begrudgingly he takes a bath allowing himself to let his troubles soak and drown within that bathtub of his. Back then, all he could think of was how much he hates being alive and how he’ll never get to feel the joy of having someone around that cared about him not knowing that the one that cares the most already was a part of his life. All he knew back then was how he’d be miserable trying to force his way to 9th grade so he can finally drop out and live life as a neet. At the time, he was just about to fail 7th grade, had zero friends, and had zero desire to worry about his body odor.

“Go dress up. We’ll be heading out soon,” he says as Franky walks out with just a towel. “And I’m not letting you stay at home. This is an order.”

Their journey takes them to Munich. After an hour's ride by car, they reach their destination, an apartment owned by Ben’s friend who is away for a few weeks because he’s visiting his grandparents and living life as a free spirit. Since this is a secret vacation, Ben only took a phone he bought with his own money and forced Franky to leave his at home. Their first stop is some cat café as Ben has no idea what could entertain a young teenager going through a lot of emotional turmoil.

Upon taking a seat and marveling at the cats all around them, Franky runs off to pet a few cats. He’s read online that some cats will interact with things that are hard to get like a person ignoring them. However, attempting to garner their attention is utterly futile as they see through his tricks. With a sullen look, he feels defeated as Ben easily manages to gain their approval. It’s another thing he thought he couldn’t accomplish in life. At least that’s what he thought until one of the older cats approached him.

“Do you want to sit in my lap?”, he asked almost expecting an answer.

As if it could understand him, it took a seat in his lap purring and rubbed its head on his stomach feeling him up and down. Hesitant and uncertain, he slowly let his hands approach its head only to stop just a hands width away from the cat. He was afraid of being rejected and stopped as soon as it looked up at his hand. It went for a pet demanding to be pet all over just accepting him.

“Woah. King like never interacts with guests, let alone children!”, says a young woman working at this café. “Maybe that’s a sign or something?”

Other cats are drawn closer to him as Franky is dragged out of that flashback facing Corbin. Corbin had shown him the wrong memory, one that wasn’t supposed to paint him as what could be a good person. He realizes that he just emboldened Franky to fight back and free himself of his shackles.

“Who do you think you are!”, Franky hisses. “I wasn’t just some asshole that tore into others! I was a kid with trauma that was saved by Ben! Don’t you dare-”

He’s sent into another memory far more cruel and impactful than any other memory. He’s facing Ben with tears running down Ben’s face. Right before he could say a word, he was back-handed by his brother and thrown off his feet for something he had done.

“You’re unbelievable! I shouldn’t have accepted that offer,” Ben screamed at Franky. Though Franky cannot remember what he did to deserve this, he knows it must be rather serious since he hadn’t seen that side of Ben before.

“You’re unbelievable! You’re not Ben!”, he responds knowing that this memory is false. In Franky’s mind, there’s no possibility of Ben ever reacting this way.

Once again he’s back in their interrogation room even more furious than before. This time he gets up to face Corbin. Every step takes him on another journey down memory lane. Most of those memories are fake while others cut off before they get to the part that paints Franky in a different picture. None of these memories and flashbacks can break him as he keeps walking toward his enemy. As a last resort, Corbin uses an electric stun baton trying to force Franky to yield. Franky, with sheer willpower, snatches Corbin’s baton and beats him with it. The following punch then shatters reality exposing him to the real world.

He’s free-falling as he had somehow gotten lost in a cloud. He’s unsure whether or not he’s dreaming or free-falling. All he knows is that he knows nothing and should be on guard just in case something is targeting him. Wrapping himself in his magical to expose himself as this Dream Catcher, he lacks the armor he usually has on him. No demons are in sight. No Dream Catchers are trying to hurt him meaning that he’s safe to land atop his house yet decides against it believing that he may crash through the roof and catapults himself into a tree with a kick to the air. He cannot explain this strange day nor does he want to as his memory is starting to get hazy.

“Relics, demons, Dream Catchers, gadgets, and now whatever this was,” he thinks. As fate would have it, all he gets to do is ask questions that are left unanswered only to be met with more questions when he starts to believe that things are making sense. He transforms back and sneaks back in through a window he always keeps open every night. He then pulls out a diary he keeps underneath his bed recording all that he has witnessed this night.

“I wonder if Donnie and his new friends know what’s up?”, he asks himself as he goes to bed.