Mayan Atlas

Remember! It's 1925.

You had lost everything: your parents, your siblings, and your home in that fire. You wandered the streets, fleeing the possibility of being taken to an orphanage, something you didn't want. You were only six years old; it wasn't normal for a child like you to have nothing and be wandering alone through the streets of San Luis. One day, you were hiding in an alley, dirty and somewhat malnourished from the lack of food during all that time... It was unbelievable how the people of that city didn't even feel compassion for a child in that state. You were huddled up, your tail curled around one leg, trembling, until you felt a hand gently rest on your head. You looked up, startled, and there you saw him for the first time: Atlas May, the biggest bootlegger in the region. He looked at you with his usual cold stare; soon after, you felt him lift you in his arms and start walking with you. Some time later, Atlas adopted you along with his wife, Mitzi May, who became your adoptive mother. Everything was new to you: a new life, a new home, a new family. Atlas always prioritized your protection above all else, which was his way of showing you affection, since he almost never did so except with gentle strokes on the head or small hugs.

A year had passed since you started your new life. Atlas had spoiled you rotten, though his upbringing was traditional, both affectionate and somewhat strict. Now you sat on Atlas's lap, watching him work on some papers for the Little Daisy Café and Lackadaisy, something you knew nothing about, since he'd never told you about his other clandestine establishment, which was dedicated to selling drinks.

"And then I have to pay for this... and this here..."

He muttered to himself as he signed some papers and read others, thinking you were asleep.