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Rock Bottom (Contains Mature Content)


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Everyone knows that Falco's life didn't start out on the path of the dashing hero. This is my take on Falco's origin story, starting with the Space Hot Rodders of Eladard.


P.S. I know that the canon says he isn't from Eladard.


WARNINGS!: Drug use, Violence, language. In the first chapter, Falco is smoking a fictional drug and getting high. I've talked to one of the mods, and am posting a warning about it here. He is only using it in the first chapter.






The street was cold and damp, rain poured down on the down trodden inhabitants of Eladard’s Rho sector. It was dark, the sun was down, the market was closed. The only ones still out on the street were the few factory workers lucky enough to have a home to go to.

The roar of motorcycles cleared the road. People scattered in all directions to escape the dozen or so bikes that rounded the corner, carrying the members of the Space Hot Rodders. They laughed to each other, completely ignorant of the pedestrians around them. A tall avian rode at the head. He was shirtless, the rain pouring down his back. Across his chest was a tattoo of a winged snake coiled into an intricate design, ringed with flames. Every member of the gang had it, but not displayed as prominently as his. He had the same tattoo on each wrist.

They followed him to a warehouse in the heart of the sector. A dozen more bikes of various models were parked outside, all with the gang symbol painted lovingly on the gas tank. Avians were everywhere, milling about, drinking, fighting. They cheered when the tattooed man and his entourage arrived, and moved out of his way so he could park next to the door. A woman stood waiting. She wore little more than ripped shorts and a stained tank top that was constantly slipping off her shoulder. Once upon a time, her feathers had been a deep, royal purple, and her eyes had been blue. Now, they were both washed out, one to a poorly kempt lavender, the other almost to grey. She held an open beer bottle and an unlit cigarette she had rolled herself. She leaned against the door frame, both to look sexy, and because she was having trouble standing on her own.

“Hey Falco,†she whispered breathily as he killed his engine. He smirked at her and approached, wrapping his arm around her thin waist and pulling her in close.

“Hey yourself,†he replied in the Rho brand of Undercommon, tapping her chin gently with his bent index finger to raise her head. With a drunken smile, she held up the contents of her hand.

“I rolled this one just for you, s-sweetie. Thought we could take this ride to...gether.â€

“You look like you’re already pretty deep babe, I might have to chase this dragon on my own.â€

“Wha? No, you don’t gotta’ be like that I’m--†She tried to step away from him, but lost her balance and tripped. He grabbed her up in his arms, holding her aloft. “I’m fine…†she finished sheepishly. Falco didn’t reply.  He banged on the door with his elbow. The sound of a chair scraping on cement could be heard over the music inside. A few seconds later the door opened. Another avian, mottled grey, with tattoos all over his face. He filled in most of the doorway.

“You’re late, bro.â€

“I’m never late to my own party, bitch.†Falco pushed past his bouncer and shooed a couple off the couch. He tried to deposit his girl on it, but she giggled and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. Falco couldn’t help but laugh, and nuzzled her neck.

“You are really messed up right now, Ray.â€

“Not as messed as I wanna’ be,†Ray giggled, holding up the rolled smoke. “You got a light?â€

Falco grinned and dug into his pocket, producing a dark blue lighter. He shifted off of her so they could both sit up on the old couch. He held it up, and she put the smoke in her mouth, holding one end to the flame. It caught, and she inhaled deeply.

Her head drooped, and she looked like she was about to fall asleep. Her hand loosened, and she handed the joint off to Falco before she dropped it. She stayed tipped forward, her hands on her face, elbows on her knees.

Falco leaned back before he took his drag. It lasted almost ten seconds. He’d been chasing the dragon for a long time, and took it ‘like a champ’, as the other said. For him it was just an annoyance, because dragon was expensive and it took longer to take him down. He had time to get comfortable as he waited for the hit.

When it finally did come, it hit him like a tidal wave. He felt a chill run through his body, immediately followed by a soft warmth. The music and the yelling seemed to become farther and farther and softer and softer, until it just barely echoed in the squishy parts of his brain. It wasn’t even real, all in his head. He looked over at Ray, thought to maybe reach out and touch her, but when he turned his head, she was sitting at the very end of the couch, some 300 feet away. He reached out his hand anyways, but some weird blue thing responded instead. Was that his arm? He recognized the tattoo, but that was definitely not his arm. It felt like he was looking at a hunk of meat sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool. He took another long drag. His muscles felt like nothing. They never existed, never would exist. He was just a body without a memory.

He had no idea how he even managed to get to his feet when the door busted open. There was a lot of shooting and screaming, but it was hard to tell who was screaming and who was shooting. There were just as many avians in the Eladard Peace Force as in the Hot Rodders, and their colours blended together until his vision resembled a watercolour painting. Only Ray was clear in his mind, sitting 300 feet away, staring wide eyed in the direction he thought was the door. She was either terrified, or gone. He took one step and was standing in front of her.

Someone tapped him hard on the shoulder twice. He turned around in annoyance, but saw nothing except a smudge of white, holding a gun. He tried to ask what the smudge wanted, but he was aware of the fact that anything that was coming out of his mouth would be pure gibberish. He couldn’t hear himself talk. He reached up to scratch the place where he’d been tapped on the shoulder. His hand came away warm and red.

Ray started screaming. He wanted to tell her to shut up, but someone punched him hard in the face first. It reverberated through his skull and made the side of his face cold. The whole right side of his body, actually. He tried to turn and see who it was, but his body wouldn’t respond if he tried to turn right.

He broke through the surface for a moment, and everything about the midnight raid snapped back into garish reality. The sound was still muted, the world still in slow-mo, but he could see perfectly well. The icy punch had been him hitting the floor. The white smudge -an albatross in reality- was reaching over him, grabbing Ray’s arm and wrenching her up. Tears were streaming down her face as she screamed Falco’s name over and over again. He tried to reach out for her, but his left arm would not respond, and his right was trapped under his body. The colours of the carnage around him bled back together again as he fell back into his stoned stupor. He could see blood spreading on the floor around him, but could not for the life of him figure out if it was his, or anothers.

Worst. Trip. Ever.

The world came back to him uncomfortably quickly. He was assaulted by the smell of antiseptic and the noises of hospital machinery. His empty stomach heaved and he couldn't stop himself from gagging. He opened his eyes to a bright white room, too bright, after his trip last night. He had to squint so much he could barely keep his eyes open.

He could hear bits and pieces of a conversation going on in the room right next to him. It was and EPF officer that he recognized, though he couldn’t remember from where. He’d had so many run ins it was hard to keep them all straight. He was talking to a small crowd that made Falco’s stomach heave again. It was his family; brother, two sisters, and parents. His father, Drakke, wearing an expression of mingled alarm and rage, was taking the brunt of the officer’s report.

“...no one really gives a shit. I think I’ve got everything dealt with, so you should be able to take him home in a couple of days.â€

“Thank you, Relle.â€

“Dammit Drakke, you shouldn’t be thanking me, I’m just enabling this little shit. I swear to Ela Darr, if he wasn’t your son, he’d’ve been in a prison work colony months ago. We found him in a Hot Rodder den, gang tats all over him, balls deep in a blunt full of dragon. If we pick him up one more time, it’s lights out for him. He doesn’t have any more chances…â€

As the officer explain the situation to an ever more brooding Drakke, another avian in the group glanced over at Falco’s bed. She was a few inches shorter than the towering patriarch, but it was obvious she was his daughter. She stood like him, moved like him, wore the same dark expression. That was Falco sister, Nerine. When she made eye contact with Falco, she tapped on her father’s shoulder.


Drakke glanced up and saw that his son was awake. Falco looked away. He couldn’t bare the look of total disappointment. Drakke muttered something to Nerine that Falco couldn’t hear. She nodded and entered his medical room.

“Hey,†she said noncommittally.

“Hey yourself,†he replied, not sure what else to say. Her expression carried more worry than anger, but it was still boring into his chest.

“You look different,†she observed. He nodded. He couldn’t see it himself, but there was no doubt it was true. They hadn’t seen each other in six months, so the chest piece was new, the second wrist tat would have been too. But she wasn’t talking about that. She was talking about his eyes, once a dark blue, now grey, his feathers the same. Last time she’d seen him, he’d looked like a person, albeit a little rough. Now, he just looked like a junkie. “Looks like your Hot Rodder family has been taking good care of you.â€

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.â€

Nerine’s eyes narrowed, and he instantly regretted the words. He wanted to melt into the bed.

“Mom went into the hospital last time you left. Hysterical panic attacks. Every time she heard a gun go off, she’d lose her mind. Every time someone banged on our door, she thought it was the Peace Force telling her to come ID your corpse.†She walked slowly across the room as she talked, stopping next to his bedside. She looked sideways at him. “I’m sure you’re really proud of that.â€

Falco didn’t reply. There was nothing he could say. He look out through the glass dividing wall, between him and the rest of his family. His mother was there, both arms wrapped around his father’s. She was unnaturally thin, and looked a little unsteady on her feet. Somehow, she was still beautiful. She was staring intently through the glass, as if she was desperate to go in and talk to him, but too scared to loosen her hold on her husband’s steadying arm. When he finally looked at her, she smiled and waved. He had to look away.

“What do you want from me?â€

“To stop acting like some kind of hot shot, for starters. But a little bit of remorse would be nice.â€

“...So what happens now?â€

Nerine didn’t look at him, just stared hard at the bag of fluids that was hanging over his bed, dripping into his arm. “Depends whether or not dad is tired of putting up with your shit.â€

“Is he?†Falco couldn’t keep the edge of fear out of his voice. Nerine didn’t reply for a long time, but eventually she sighed and dropped heavily into a chair next to his bed. She propped her head up on her hand. No 21 year old should look as tired as she did in that moment.

“...not yet. Idiot junkie or not, you’re still a Lombardi. You’re still his son.†She glanced back over her shoulder. “Papa is moving us to Corneria.â€

“What?!†Falco sat up sharply, and Nerine leaned forward to push him back down.

“If you’d been around, you’d know. We’ve been talking about this for months. Papa was offered a job with a Cornerian mercenary team, Mom’s been accepted into a drug trial that isn’t available here, and I want to get into the CDF.†She looked meaningfully into his eyes. “Our family needs this Falco. You need this… Papa said… Papa told me to tell you that you can either come to Corneria with us… or we’ll leave you here with your Hot Rodders. He says you can either have your family or your gang, but he won’t let you hurt Mom anymore. I’m going to leave you to sleep, let you think about it… but just remember… if you break her heart again, you’ll kill her.â€


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My random double post was bc I have having issues posting the story, and apparently deleting your posts isn't a thing, and as yet I haven got around to getting a mod to delete it.

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Sad, but cool...

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