His father never walked the cemented path with him. He was there, the burden of a heavy presence, voicing opinions off parenthood he still lacked belief in. Sucking it up for the journey, his rite of passage was summed up as being a sometimes man of his word. The sacrifice spread out for its pieces to be consumed in large pill form as age required better understanding. He never held his hand, hopping over the lines that appeared as intimidating obstacles. Step on the line and a possible mine could end it all. Step over it and you're lucky to keep your balance. Unlike shedding what was never done, he stood in for something. Found a force, a marker that hovered over everywhere he went, even on the late afternoon of Halloween.

Marc held on to his child's hand firmly, tighter than he had ever known what it was like. The place and shoes filled weren't large enough but never occupied for more than once. Time distant from his own childhood would not mirror what the present was gradually shaping up to be. He walked along side a curious tot, one who was less fearful of the world in a gaze that controlled his innocence. Other children, some older, and others just as young, grabbed the child's attention as to making new discoveries.

Being a silent man in the trip around the block, he answered random questions. Some throwing him for a loop while others were misunderstood, not privy to a secret language shared by other toddlers who were close to crossing over to clearly speaking instead of garbled phrases of an ancient language. Home after home garnered an appreciation for patient parents and caregivers that could withstand the tantrums and over zealous behavior at any sign of kids with like-minded behaviors. Marc never knew of this from the perspective of a child when older cousin's or his mother was at his side, holding his hand, and encouraging acceptance of what could not be changed in the years of pillowcase bags filled with candy but heart filled with emptiness.

His father was a hard one to crack and remains so to this day. Offering indifference at the surface when he knew there was another side beyond the former soldier's shield. He only had those common reminders of what not to do and how to handle situations that weren't relaxing on his conscience. Marc held his son's hand even tighter once they jumped down the last step to the last house. The trip was short when it entirely felt like hours moving around, walking, and aiming for internal acceptance what one man couldn't change, but could be better for the little guy walking confidentially as a movieverse sidekick, but the comicverse equivalent to excellence.

What shaped his views as a selfish man into one who slowly understood there had to be an openess he was unsure ever existed, became pertinent to show. He had to carry the baggage of a young kid, now adult, saving the child from enduring the same. He stepped up out of feeling a world of hurt if his future was without him, and done so by stumbling. Mistakes would be made, he was sure of. Some minor, a few major. As long as he acknowledged the entire map of parenthood, partial parenthood in the moment, was not a cake walk or one provided by a simple avenue of trick or treating.

In lieu of one of their firsts shared, a fitting smirk, one that made an appearance for the first time that day, heavily shined down. Lorenzo wouldn't remember the day as a memory fortified by seeing a glimpse of what was to come as the little tot would grow older, but Marc would by default. Guilt by little doses took lift, as much as the pair of DIY constructed mechanical and military wings wanted to, from his son's falcon costume. It was time to go home as the streets were deserted of kids and their parents.

Picking up the child to carefully hold him across his shoulder would be as close to soaring the toddler would do. One of the many promises he knew he could offer his son, and neither felt the heart to break others in the future. A ticklish amusement from both filled the air, relaxing recent anxieties of his past and a dark mood.