Condemnation of Memory

There were things in history that were often purposely forgotten. 

When people spoke of the Romanos. They spoke of Gio's great-grandfather, his grandfather, his father, his aunt. But as the years had gone on, Gio had come to realize something… no one talked about his uncle.

At first, stuck in his own grief, Gio had not noticed. Then he had chalked it down to people not wanting to mention the man around him, scared it would set him off or something. And given that at the time, Gio had not wanted to hurt his father's feelings (even as a child, he had been able to tell that his old man had taken it badly), he had kept quiet.

It had not really sunk in for him just how big the cone of silence around his uncle was until he had realized that the younger generation did not know his uncle. Not only that, there were no pictures of his uncle anywhere. Neither in the digital, nor the physical form. His uncle had been erased from history, purposefully so. And by the time Gio had been old enough to ask, he had been too scared to do so. He'd had hid own theories, pieced together from conversations he should not have heard, but he had chosen to repress what he had found.

As the years had gone by the mystery as to why his uncle had been cast out had become easier and easier to ignore. His uncle, with his booming laugh, sparkly shirts, and shiny necklaces forgotten like he had never been.

The only person who still kept anything that belonged to uncle Rafael was aunt Cecilia. 

His blade had its own display case in her personal drawing room. The only other person who knew it was there, and that was Gio, it was Gio. It was not a piece for impressing guests like all the other weapons aunt Cecilia kept.

Instead, it was the closest to a memorial that his aunt had of her brother even if she would never admit it. Like everyone else she never talked about him, but Gio could tell she missed him. That she missed both of her brothers, her family.

The fastest, most in depth way to get more information on what had happened to his uncle would have been to approach his aunt and ask her directly. But even though Gio never backed down from anything, in this case it was a confrontation he would gladly bow out of. 

As much as he wanted the whole truth, he was not willing to breakdown an old woman who had already lost so much just so he could crack his case. His aunt was a strong woman, Gio did not doubt that, afterall she had taught him almost as much as his father had about running the family. But that did not mean that she did not have her weak spots. Areas of her heart that were so bruised that even the slightest touch would shatter them. And Gio did not want to be the one who did that to her, he loved her too much.

Leaving such a viable lead alone would cost him, but Gio did not regret it. His aunt knew he was looking into murders similar to that of the Red Don, if she had wanted to talk about it, she would have come to him. But she was obviously still too raw from it, so Gio was leaving it alone.

That left him with only a few options on getting information about his uncle. One avenue was his childhood memories.

But Gio knew it in his heart that those were unreliable. No matter how hard he tried, no matter which memory he dredged up. All of them painted his uncle in a rosy light.

How could he not? That was the uncle who taught him how to throw his first punch.

'Thumb out, legs apart and twist your weight into the punch,'

That was the man who snuck Gio chocolate even after his parents had said no. The man who always listened to whatever a young Gio had to say. Treating his words as important, and not just the ramblings of a kid.

So in order to get a clear idea of what had really happened, Gio would have to do something he rarely ever did.

He would have to look in the secret archives.