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Being born significantly younger than the rest of his brothers, Copia did not know them very well. Nobody knew Primo genuinely, Secondo was a bitter man who only found joy in his vices, and Tezro was an intellectual, though he was an expert at hiding it with his flamboyance. That was all he knew for sure, though anyone could tell that by watching the music videos. They all lived in a world completely separate from him.
He had memories of riding his trike as a young boy, a hobby he had never outgrown, he got back to the driveway to see Primo stumbling out of his expensive car with a bottle of wine he likely stole from a church wine cellar. He was limping from standing on a concert stage all day. Though Copia did not quite understand that at the time. He sped over to meet his older brother, tugging on his robe to get his attention.
“Lasciami solo” was all Primo could push out before walking back into the church they all called home.
For some reason that stuck with Copia. It was not the first or last time his brothers would tell him to leave them alone. Yet it felt so different back then. Of course as a man he understood, he didn’t exactly like it when the twins chased him around after a long day of dancing and running all over the place. Though whenever Primo left a room it left a far too painful sting.
His memories with Secondo were even more sparse. He would stumble back home drunk with a girl on each arm most nights. Though on the few nights he would even make eye contact with Copia it was to discuss song lyrics or so that Secondo could think out loud to someone who could remind him of things.
Tezro was already in his mid 20s when Copia was born. So he was also out a lot of the time. Though Tezro was never the type to be consumed by his work. He once came home to celebrate his Grammy and play pool with the ghouls. When he noticed Copia was there he let him play. Even teaching him the best ways to sink an 8 ball. Though even at the end of those fun days Tezro would leave. He knew that he had too of course, he was incredibly busy.
Though on the day he was let in to see his father he could have never imagined what happened next. He- no. He couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t. It couldn’t be real. It was just a bad dream.
“Cardinal!”
Sister Imperator interrupted his thoughts and he rushed to go downstairs. He hated to keep Sister waiting. As he walked down something hit him. It was a very familiar scent somehow. It was nausea inducing, the air was filled with iron and cleaning products.
“There you are! Come down here.” Sister told him. He complied despite the smell. That was when his eyes met 3 coffins in the hallway.
‘No.’
“Cardinal, I think this would be a great time for a photo shoot! To celebrate your upcoming album, you are working on it aren’t you?” Sister asked him nonchalantly.
“Yeah- yeah. Of course I am. What about this photo shoot?”
Sister imperator walked past the camera men and got to a box on top of a glass coffin, the only one that was empty. A ghoul walked towards the box and hoisted something out of it.
‘No.’
“We needed another cover for Metal Hammer Magazine and I thought this would be perfect.” Sister said. Copia stood frozen as the gears turned in his head. The smell of iron getting closer to him. The ghoul lifted up the thing they were holding; Tezro’s head. His eyes wide open and still in a full face of makeup.
Copia had to repress a scream.
“This will be quick, just hold it so we can take the picture. Where is Papa? Don’t tell me he’s in the bathroom again.” Sister walked away.
The ghoul still held Tezro up by his hair in front of Copia. Then the ghoul dropped it. Copia instinctually caught it, and when his head was in his hands it all hit him like a freight train.
“Okay we found Papa, let’s get this over with so the coroner can set them up for the viewing please and thank you.” Sister said clapping her hands to show haste.
Copia felt the makeup smudge against his gloved hands, he felt his throat tighten with pain. He could not utter a single word of protest. The camera men shoved him into place and started moving his arms into the proper position. Nhil stood behind him with his finger pointed at the camera.
“Don’t be upset. This will be good for your career. Who knows, after this album you might just be the new Papa IV. Now look at the camera will you?” He said sternly.
Copia lazily lifted his face to look at the camera then the flashing started. Just as soon as it started it was over. Copia looked down at Tezro’s head, at a loss for any words.
“Oh I like this one, he looks intimidating.” He could here sister say from the sidelines.
Copia looked closely at the head in his hands. It did not look like Tezro. He walked over to the other 2 coffins with glass ceilings. Primo and Secondo looked somewhat peaceful, though it still did not look like them at all. There is a certain strangeness about looking at someone you had known your whole life completely unmoving. It was uncanny and it filled him with dread. Copia was dealing with so many emotions that it was overwhelming, he couldn’t think, but he also couldn’t not think. He tried to put Tezro’s head back into the box, that was the most painful part to Copia. His ears ringing with stress and hands reeking of ammonia. He turned around and walked back upstairs, stiff and slow. Once he got to his bedroom he laid down in his head and tries to process everything that had just happened. He has to have been there for hours, perfectly still, waiting for his thoughts to settle like sand at the bottom of an hourglass. It was finally quiet. That meant he could start genuinely thinking this time. Not about anything in particular, though the thoughts started to pool back into his skull.
He remembered times where Primo taught him how to make pasta. He would never talk, though Copia would watch, he would occasionally smile when Copia helped him fold the dough and did it correctly.
He remembered moments of Secondo and him at dinner. Secondo would set up a series of wine bottles and pick one up,
“Un buon anno” He said.
“A good year?” Copia asked.
“Si.” Secondo took a sip, then so did Copia. He took notice of its fruity notes and it’s bitter elements. Then the next was more rich and the one after was somehow nutty.
Tezro. Tezro taught him how to dance. Then when he left Copia taught himself to do it better. He studied his brothers like art and promised himself he would be them, but better.
Nhil in his upmost intelligence gave him the name Quattro when he was born. Though soon into his life he realized he could never be that.
He was just as strong as Primo, he was just as charming as Secondo, and he danced better than Tezro.
He was not Quattro. He could never be Quattro. He was Copia. Just a Copia.
Though he eventually came to realize that is why Sister picked him. He was the combination of all of their best traits. Though when Copia looked at himself in the mirror he did not know if that was really true. He was faced with this question all throughout his life
“What makes me special?”
Then another thought came to his attention. The only reason his brothers are not here is because they didn’t get enough followers or power. Even after Tezro won a Grammy, it wasn’t enough for Sister. So what did she want him to do? What more could he possibly do? What could he do to stop his own future death? What could he have done to stop his brothers…. His brothers d….
Copia slammed his fists into his bed, wailing in ugly sobs until he had screamed himself horse. He had kept those screams in for far to long. He felt like he was being spun in a centrifuge, all the blood draining from his head and pressure building up in his chest. He fell to his knees within the cyclone of his dizzying grief.
“HELP ME. LORD LUCIFER PLEASE HELP ME.” He cried, as the only solace he could find was in his master. He dragged himself to his alter and placed his hands on the wood he had engraved with the name of the devil.
“Please help.” He whimpered through his broken voice.
Then, from the alter, a red light filled the room.
“Copia Eremites.” A familiar voice spoke.
“Yes, it is me.” Copia said softly.
“You can speak to me. I understand things are hard for you.” Lucifer spoke in a voice much softer than normal.
“So you know.”
“Of course I do. Your brothers are down here, sitting beside me.”
“Oh! So they are safe?”
“Of course, all Papa’s sit beside me in the castle of hell.”
Copia let out a breath of relief. Though the pain still stayed.
“It is hard however. You will not see them for a very long time.”
“I knew that part.”
“Let me finish mortal man. There is no man alive who has not felt grief. What some of the best men do is pour their emotions into their art. In fact, some of your brothers’ best songs were not written by me, but in times of their most emotional.”
Copia paused for a moment.
“But what makes me special? What makes me different?”
“Now that is something only you can figure out. That is how you become Papa IV. Each Papa had something that made them who they were, even though they also took inspiration from the people before them. Just like you Copia.”
“How do you recommend I do this Lord?”
“Write that album you have been putting off. Write out your grief.”
The red light disappeared.
Copia was not panicking anymore. There was a hole in his chest that he now understood he had to fill himself. As tired as he was he couldn’t go to bed. So he opened his laptop and stared blankly at a new document.
“Write out my grief eh?”
He chose the title font, he could think about lyrics later, though he did have a title for one of the songs.
“Pro Memoria”
It meant “a formal note used in diplomacy as a record of a subject that has been discussed.” Which felt right. He then wrote his first lyric idea for it.
“Don’t forget that you will die.”