Franco Neroni is nothing but a teenager who is down on his luck, in trouble with the police force, criminals and gangs, all of whom are desperate for his blood.
Franco, nicknamed Nero by his friends and enemies alike, believes he is destined for greater things, however, and wants to break out and be free of the slums that people refer to as the House.
Whilst fighting off the enemies that are closing in around him, Nero tries to make something of his life, and is undoubtably going to be mor
A bead of sweat rolled down Nero's face, but he ignored it, spinning his head from side to side to try and see the room that he was enclosed in. Around him were four men, all holding various blunt weapons - a bat, a chain, and two guys who clearly had no creativity and were both holding chair legs threateningly.
With his hands behind his back, Nero couldn't cower in fear as one of the men clubbed him round the face with a chair leg. He had taken quite a few decent hits tonight. None from the chain yet though, and that's what he was concerned about.
"Tell us what we want to know, kid. It's stupid that you're holding out like this..." The man with the chain leant over him and spat on the floor in disgust. This little runt, Nero, was nothing more than a cocky teenager who had fallen on the wrong side of their gang.
"I forget," Nero bantered. "What is it you want from me?"
A smile widened across his face as he was kicked in the stomach, knocking him from his kneeling position onto the floor, where he landed awkwardly on his hands and winced in pain. The gangsters proceeded to throw a few more blows with their fists and feet, clearly bored of their makeshift weapons.
The guy with the chain was some high-level chump named Fraser, and he had had it in for Nero since they had first crossed paths. Nero could only remember a few choice moments of their time together, but Fraser remembered every second - part of the reason he hated him so much.
Nero grinned as he saw Fraser reach for his gun, dropping the chain on the ground and putting the gun as far into Nero's mouth as it would go. Nero was sure he was going to blow his brains out, when where was a sudden crash, and the door behind the gangsters fell off its hinges, bringing a handful of SWAT men in with it. Fraser spun round in surprise, loosening his grip on the gun, which Nero clasped his teeth down on so that he could hang on to it.
Scrambling to his feet - no easy task with bound hands - Nero made a dash for the far end of the room, where a window was waiting for him, providing his escape. The SWAT team would fire on him for the risk of hitting the gangsters between themselves and their target. How helpful of them, Nero thought. As he leapt through the window and soared through the air, he realised he hadn't quite thought this escape attempt through - below him was about six storeys of freefall, followed by a plunge into the icy river that was so frequently used to dump bodies into.
The gun slipped from his jaw, and Nero accepted that it was lost, before bracing himself for the chilling plunge.