One Year Later

Nero wasn’t sure if he wanted to marry Alto when he asked.

He asked Nero during a fancy date at the most expensive restaurant in Atlaan. When they went he felt that something was different, and there was, because the waiter was more attentive, and the table was in the best spot.

Alto asked him in front of everyone, and Nero felt he had no choice but to say yes.

When they were alone, later on, Nero told him he would think about it, and he seriously did. But every day Alto gave him more and more extravagant gifts, and one after the other Alto slowly whittled away his reluctance, and Nero’s shield cracked.

After months of being together, he had come to care about Alto, but he was not sure if he loved him, but he did care for him, so that was enough to say yes.

The sword was not pleased by his choice of partnership.

The sword was not pleased by much, so Nero paid it no mind.

Nero thought that no longer having to work by getting married would solve all his problems but that just gave him more problems and a different job. Now he worked for the same group that Alto worked for and that meant he had to wash money.

He thought that meant physically putting money into a dishwasher until it was explained to him.

His fiance gifted him an old pizza parlor called Tony’s but with the apostrophe and the S fallen off to keep him busy, help wash money, but mostly to keep him busy.

You can fix it up and turn it into whatever you want to, Alto told him.

Nero knew a lot of people who needed jobs, and a specific toolset they had.

Alto was confused when it was turned into a strip club, and even more, confused when the manager applications had the girl’s street names on them such as Diamond, Pumpkin, Everybody Loves Terrence, and Chocolate Thunder.

He was utterly baffled when the sign wasn’t changed either, now just Tony.

“It doesn’t matter what a strip club is called”, he told Alto. “People came for the naked men and women inside."

He hoped his business savviness would rub onto Nero, and it did, it rubbed on and then right off, like lube on a hard surface. The only thing he understood was that making someone else do it redistribution of responsibilities made a business run well.

So he redistributed the responsibilities to Adonis who was more than happy to do something legally, at least on paper and got to live rent-free in another of many gifts that Alto had given Nero, a penthouse near the nicer side of town, along with other friends that would sometimes come and lounge about, eating food they never paid for and staying too long.

All of these friends and many more were invited to Nero’s wedding. All his old coworkers, friends, current employees, and old neighbors were there, and it was an odd congregation at such a wedding.

Even his old neighbor, Mrs. Masai was there, who would sit with him daily at the bus stop on his way to work at Triangle Corp., on the days that Adonis couldn’t take him. They would sit and talk, her in her neat and prim outfit, and she would always cheer him up, telling him to stick with hard work, and it would always pay off, it did for me.

Mrs.Masai was one of the few people there that were proper, while the others were, well, not quite right.

Many of the women were not wearing anything that anyone would consider appropriate at such a serious event, and none of the male guests did mind, especially when they introduced themselves with their aliases, and Alto’s guests were unsure if the names they gave were real or fake by the absolute serious tone they held when speaking such names as Riot or Jill-In-A-Box.

Nero sat in one of the many rooms in the house, the very same house that he and Alto had first met in, two years ago, surrounded by his friends. Adonis felt uncomfortable in the sea of estrogen as Nero’s mind was elsewhere.

The room was repurposed to prepare for the wedding, and there were many chairs and couches pushed aside. People would come and go, with food, and clothing, it was an impromptu dressing room. Nero sat on a small, cream ottoman behind a wooden room divider, burning up, sweating under the heat of his bulletproof vest and raiment.

Alto was adamant that he had to wear a bulletproof vest in case anything happened, stressing multiple times that if they were married that he would be a target for life, and Nero said, I already am one, but he put it on anyway because relationships are made of compromises.

The compromise made him feel like he was dying from a heat stroke, and Nero gripped the scabbard placed in his lap, the old sword inside of it, complaining the entire day. It did nothing to quell his fears, instead, it exacerbated them.

It complained daily about Nero’s life choices, whether good or bad, but absolutely wouldn’t stop once he got engaged to Alto.

Today he was at his worst, calling everyone whores, filthy, and criminals. Nero tried to tune out the screaming of the sword as the cosmetologist, Yane was doing his hair. He wanted to leave it at home, but he also knew that he couldn’t risk someone else stealing it.

Some nights he even slept with it, which made Alto more concerned than he usually was.

Suddenly its barrage of complaints ended, and Nero breathed a sigh of relief. Nero relaxed too soon as the sword began yelling, but this time for an actual alert.

Enemies are near, yelled the sword. Be careful.

Nero started to cry, and Yane rubbed his back, used to the reaction from her many appointments.

“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous,” she assured him. “It’s perfectly natural.”

“We’re going to die,” Nero whispered. “ We’re all going to die. ”

Yane brought him in for a hug, and then everyone heard he was crying, and now he was surrounded by many women and one Adonis who assured him that yes, yes we would all die, and yes existence is a curse, birth is its beginning, but we will not die today.

Everyone thought his many words of danger, spies, and betrayal, were the words of a very eccentric and slightly unbalanced young man that was very nervous on a day when any person who was balanced would be nervous, so they gave him some water, and he sat back down on the cream ottoman because he knew this was all his fault.

He hadn’t heard from Rosaline in two months. She had suddenly quit and no matter how many times he called she never picked up. At first, he thought she quit to focus more on school, but no one at the compound had heard from her and they were worried about her safety.

Nero wondered if Alto found out about their affair and he simply disposed of her, but he never gave any indication of it. The only reason Nero was sure that Rosaline was alive was that if Alto had killed her, he would have gloated about it daily.

For the past few months, Nero had wondered when she would return. When she would be back to expose their secret and blast his brains in the foyer with a shotgun. That day never came, so Nero was always on edge, wondering what was going to happen next.

His thoughts were interrupted by Yane who tapped his shoulder.

“It’s done”, said Yane, smiling from ear to ear. “You look spectacular .”

Nero looked pleased as he inspected the fishtail braid that hung down his back. Yane weaved in black strands that shined in the light to decorate his hair.

“And now the piece de resistance”, she declared. All the girls, and one Adonis, watched as she put a crown on his head. Nero wanted a crown to go with his outfit and Alto got it for him.

It was made out of real gold, silver, and obsidian.

Nero was disappointed he had to make most of the crown silver instead of gold because the first one was too heavy. Tiny black gems dotted the crown, and the tips of the crown were dipped in gold. He had a specially made raiment to fit with his crown, designed off his favorite one he wore as a child.

It was red, white, and black, the colors of his homeland’s flag.

Everyone was excited, and he panicked underneath the sea of compliments. He tried to relax but it was clear he was about to faint.

Adonis noticed that Nero looked like he was about to keel over and tried to lead him out of the room, but he refused to get up, still assured that they would all die.

“It's normal to be nervous,'' said Adonis. “Just don’t pass out when you walk down the aisle.”

“Something’s going to happen”, said Nero. “I know it.”

“You’re just nervous, it's going to be okay ”, repeated Adonis.

But Nero couldn’t believe him. It was impossible. Every fiber of his being told him that he was going to die. The sword didn’t help either.

Like a siren, the sword continued, louder and louder, relentless, screaming that they were here, with nowhere left to run. Nero gazed out the window but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The only thing he saw were a few helicopters in the sky.

“Stop lying,” Nero whispered.

I do not lie, said the sword. It is not my fault you refuse to listen. I will speak no more.

As promised the sword was quiet, the deafening silence much worse than being assaulted with insults. He stood up from the chair and ran out, Yane telling him that he shouldn’t run so fast, or else he would ruin it, but he didn’t care.

Adonis chased after him, thinking that he was getting cold feet, and would run out of the building, trying to leave him at the altar. Adonis easily caught up to him, and Nero wasn’t trying to run away from him, he was trying to run toward someone.

They ran to the back garden, and everyone turned to look because Nero was not expected until the ceremony began, and the chaplain had an annoyed look on his face as the paranoid young man started screaming about how we are all going to die.

Guests in the garden, eating food and laughing all went quiet, smiles turned to looks of disgust as he told them that today was the day we would all die. Adonis grabbed Nero and tried to bring him back inside, and he screamed, like a wild animal.

He covered Nero’s mouth, and then he licked it.

Adonis shuddered in disgust, let go, and then Nero ran off, down the stone steps, and into the garden, where everyone he knew was once again worried for his sanity. He stood, right under the arch, screaming for Alto over and over again that they needed to leave.

Alto.

He screamed his name repeatedly and people stood, afraid for him more than themselves until he arrived, afraid as well as his partner started telling him that someone was there to kill them and that they were all going to die.

Alto was waiting inside, wearing a white suit with a black tie in a Windsor knot, and white leather Oxford shoes, including a specialty-made watch that matched Nero’s crown.

They had planned everything together, and seeing the screaming man in front of him, he wondered how he never noticed he was insane until now, embarrassed in front of everyone he knew.

He grabbed Nero forcefully by the shoulders and tried to calm down a madman.

“Who is here to kill us? Who!?! Everyone we care about is here, just for us! Why would they want to hurt you,” Alto said. “ Think rationally. ”

“But the sword-”

“Don’t tell me about the fucking sword,” Alto screamed. “Why the fuck did you bring it!?!”

“I had to! He said we’re brothers now. He’s very mean though.”

A loud oh no could be heard in the audience and the officiant shook his head. The same sad look of pity that Nero was used to seeing was now on everyone’s face, at the same time, even Alto’s, and he was sure he was not crazy, he was telling the truth.

“I’m not crazy,” he insisted. “I’m se-”

Nero stopped talking, looked up, and heard a strange thundering in the distance.

They are here, said the sword. I will not miss you when you die.

Nero gripped his crown, the sound familiar to him before his mother left for battle.

The thunder of helicopters.

Some of the people in the audience turned to look around for the noise but couldn’t find the source. Alto noticed it as well and his look of happiness turned to rage. The sound was familiar to him as well, after the war on Altera.

Alto turned to the audience and snarled.

“Someone here is a snitch! Who is it!?!”