Adonis suggested that Nero should never talk to Alto ever again, that they should be careful around certain parts of town from then on.
There was enough stress in their lives already.
They couldn't make the rent that month, their third month in a row, and yes, there was only fruit punch and ketchup in the fridge, but it was okay because they had made it before!
Nero agreed with all of this and more when they returned home, and when Adonis left the next morning, after many failed attempts, he called Alto and was given a job. After talking to him Alto was impressed that someone like him was still alive, as he was willing to go anywhere with a man that could easily tear him in two.
Either it meant he was stupid, brave, oblivious, or all three.
When Nero arrived for his first shift at work, the head maid, Carol, a large woman with brown skin and short curly hair said that he was not welcome, he shouldn't impersonate people, a young lady was there to start work.
Alto then found out that Nero was dressed up that evening, and his interest turned to mild disgust, but he had a spot he needed to fill, and the job was still given to him.
After working at Alto's house for a month Nero still didn't feel comfortable calling it a house, but the proper term, compound , made him feel pretentious.
The compound was located on the outskirts of the city, near where the jungle began and civilization ended. It was large and sprawling and had several smaller houses surrounding the main house.
A large silver gate at the entrance was the only way in, and walls surrounded the compound with guards at the top. Palm trees littered the inside and outside of the walls, and the air smelled a lot better away from the smog of the city.
Nero was fond of his new job, but when he first arrived he was afraid. Guards patrolling an area will do that to someone. After some time he got to know them, and they were mostly friendly, except for Steve.
Everyone hated Steve.
The head maid, Carol, reminded him of Mint, who took care of him as a child. Unlike Mint, Carol was a large woman. She was like everyone's mother, keeping tabs on the workers of the compound, and helping run the place. She set Alto and Azara's schedules and took her work seriously. Carol never made a mistake, and Nero understood why she was in charge.
In an attempt to look older, Nero decided to cut his hair.
He was tired of people treating him as a child. He never cut his hair because it was common in the Empire for people to keep their hair long, and Uncle also told him he looked nice with longer hair, but he hadn't seen Uncle in four years.
It was time to move on.
Sadly cutting his hair was a mistake.
Nero's waist-length hair was now clipped a little bit past his earlobes, still making sure to hide his curved ears. When he sometimes bent over or turned his head, the tattoo on his neck was visible. He tried to cover it up with makeup, but it's hard to apply makeup to a part of your body you can't see.
Even when he was successful, it would sweat off during the day and ruin his collar. So after three weeks at his new job, feeling comfortable around his new coworkers, he decided to stop applying makeup to his neck. Soon they all started to avoid him.
No one wanted to be associated with the Mark of an Enemy.
The only person who never treated him any different was Rosaline.
Rosaline had long black hair, pretty eyes, and pale skin. Her family was also immigrants, like many others in the city of Atlaan. When Nero started his job at the compound, Rosaline helped him learn the ropes, and they would always spend their lunch break together.
After spending lunch together, Nero got to work, cleaning his section of the house. He had never loved a job like this before. Even if most of his coworkers ignored him, he didn't have to worry about someone harassing him, and the pay was great.
His section of the house that week included Alto's room, so he started from there. Nero giggled as he passed by Azara's pink and glittering door, across the hall from Alto's door that looked dull in comparison.
Inside the room was a bed with green tropical leaves decorated on the sheets, sitting on top of a wooden platform. Almost all of the house was beautifully made with real wood, chopped straight from the jungle nearby.
Nero grinned and opened up the patio doors, the wind lifting his spirits into the air.
"I won't let them get to me," he screamed, out on the patio.
A loud, stop messing around, came from down below, and Nero quickly went back to work.
He was so engrossed, he didn't notice when someone entered the room.
Alto returned home after a week-long business trip.
The Federals were losing territory on the southern side of Atlaan, and he spent the entire week planning and executing, but mostly executing. He was finally excited to be home where he could avoid any and all responsibilities and push them onto Azara.
Alto made his way up the main stairwell, up to the top floor, where his room was. Across the hallway from his room was Azara's bedazzled door. Alto wondered if they were really both twenty-five, and made a mental note to see if he could remove it.
He opened the door and inside he saw someone making his bed. Something about them looked familiar. He approached him and noticed the tattoo on his neck. Alto reached for the gun in his pocket, but suddenly, Nero turned to face him.
He screamed.
"Can you stop screaming all the time, please," begged Alto. "You're going to pop my eardrums one day!"
"I- I'm sorry, you scared me. I didn't even hear you open the door," said Nero.
"What are you even doing here anyway?"
"I work here. It's my turn to clean this section of the house!"
Alto was uncomfortable with Nero, after seeing that tattoo on his neck, his odd dress habits, and after learning about his strange life in the Empire. He wondered if everything Nero said was just a trap.
That he was a spy, or an assassin, or an idiot that left for another cartel and hoped no one would notice.
"Do you want me to leave," Nero asked. "I can come back and finish later."
"No, no it's fine. You can stay."
As Nero went around the room dusting furniture and making the place presentable, Alto searched for his remote. He scanned his wooden room, with the large bed on a platform, and relaxed, the air flowing in from the open balcony door.
Out of all the trinkets Alto bought after he acquired this house, the remote was the best purchase he ever made. If only he could find the remote.
"Hey, what are you looking for," asked Nero.
"A remote," grunted Alto. "It's really important."
Nero took a remote out of his pocket, and Alto looked like he had found gold. "Do you mean this? I found it while sweeping under the green bed earlier."
"Yes! Let me show you what it can do."
Alto walked over to Nero and took the remote from his hand. He pressed a button on the remote, and the lights dimmed in the room. The glass walls and door to the balcony shut, and it changed to that of a scenic view with a moon and stars. The sounds of crickets chirped in the room. The ceiling had stars in the sky.
Alto created night in his room, and Nero was overwhelmed, he had not experienced night in many years, so long he was starting to believe he was imagining it was real.
"This was the best investment I've ever made," said Alto. His giant grin from ear to ear made him look more scary than happy, but Nero was so used to his terrifying smile that it just made him smile back.
"Out of all the things I left when I lost my home, I never thought I would miss this," Alto whispered.
"This is amazing Alto. I love it."
He gazed up at the ceiling and his heart raced faster and faster. Nero missed his home, even though he didn't want to see his siblings ever again. He missed a place where everything made sense, where the festivals and battles would fill his days, and he never was sad.
Happiness always felt like something he was chasing, but for this moment he knew that this is what it was. He knew whenever he looked at the ceiling that this little thing he had, no one could ever take it from him.
"I don't know why, but I've really missed you," said Nero. "Everyone is so cold to me here."
"Why are people being mean to you," Alto asked. "Was it something you did? You can be a lot sometimes, you know."
"I did absolutely nothing!"
"Maybe that's the issue," said Alto. "Have you been keeping up with work?"
"Of course I have! I would have been fired by Carol if I couldn't keep up! It's this stupid tattoo. I didn't choose to have it, it was forced on me, and they all judge me for it."
"Are you one of those...missing people? You don't seem like the type to do that."
"I don't have a choice anymore in what I can do."
So many children went missing, and they were never seen or heard from again, and if they were it would be many years later, hardly recognizable, beaten by the world.
Alto helped finance a group that was no different, that did the same things, and here was someone who was a victim, in front of him, and if not for the mark on his neck, from a different group, Alto would have no way of ever knowing if he did it or not.
For the first time, Alto felt very small, making Nero cry.
It had been a week since he last cried, so he felt that he had lost some sort of imaginary fight he kept in his mind.
"Please don't tell anyone," he cried. "I just want to be strong, and to forget."
"This must be hard for you," Alto mumbled, trying to wipe away any responsibility for his actions. "Don't dwell on the past."
"I'm just tired of being sad. When I'm done crying all I feel is anger. My heart is warm."
"What does that mean?"
"I'm angry," explained Nero. "No, I'm furious."
Nero's small body shook and he tapped his foot.
He was angry.
Angry at himself, the city, the world.
"It's not fair," Nero screamed. "None of this is fair!"
His face contorted to that of pure rage and started to scratch the back of his neck again, even when it started to bleed.
"Every time I sleep I dream about what they did to me. Some days I can't look in the mirror. I can't even say my real name anymore!"
"It's okay. You can't change the p-"
"I'm so tired of everyone telling me how to feel, of everyone not wanting to hear about what happened!"
Nero paced the room, gripping his fists until his knuckles turned white.
"Why is it that they all get to go on with their lives, being happy, when I am the one that is hurt? That I am the one that has to get better? It's not fair. I want them to hurt. I want them to lose everything they lost, like how they took everything away from me."
Alto had never seen him so angry before.
He looked crazy, pacing up and down, shaking his head, and screaming, but Alto realized that he was just scared. What little guilt Alto felt was replaced with curiosity.
It was so much fun for Alto to see Nero angry instead of sad. He wanted to know if Nero was a natural-born killer, just like his family. Nero confessed to him that his family was extremely dangerous, that they had killed many people.
Alto wanted something fun to do, and Nero was something fun.
He decided to prod, even more, to push him even further. He knew that Nero was just like him, he just didn't know yet.
"Tell me then," said Alto. "Tell me how you feel. Tell me what happened."
Nero's face of rage turned to fear. "I can't. You won't like me anymore."
"The first day I met you, you killed a molester on my lawn. How could I not like you?"
A weak smile came upon Nero's face. "Okay, I'll tell you some stuff...not everything though."
Nero sat next to Alto on the bed, and he fumbled with his fingers, anxious but slightly pleased that finally someone, anyone would listen to what he had to say.
"Just promise me one thing," said Nero.
"What is it," asked Alto.
" Promise you'll still be my friend afterward."
"Of course," Alto lied. "Nothing could ever change that."