Just before the deaths of his father and grandfather during the last regime, young Mick was sent into hiding to escape the violence. His father sent several of his top men with him to ensure his protection and get him out of the states until things settled down enough. He was sent back to the homeland and had been stuck there for several months now, waiting for word that things had changed and gotten better. He wasn't sitting idly by twiddling his thumbs of course, no he was learning. While his father nor grandfather ever made it beyond the scope of a standard associate, Mick was not as complacent in life. He wanted more, and he hungered for opportunity. While in his home country, Mick took a small group of common thieves and turned them into something more. This is the type of training that he had undertaken. If he could take a small group of ruffians and turn them into something here, imagine what he could do when he returned to the states? 

It was a slow process at first, the boys he recruited had only been knocking over small businesses and engaging in other forms of larceny. The scope of what he had in mind was something that was lost on them. It started simply, really. The businesses that they were knocking over at night, he went to and offered protection from it. Said that he could stop it from happening so that their livelihoods were spared, all for a modest fee that was much less than was being taken. As proof before the payments, he told them to give him a week to find the thieves and put a stop to it. If their businesses were untouched, they would pay. Sure enough, they went without being accosted and Mick proved that he was capable of keeping them safe. They were all too happy to provide the small sum he asked for. This happened to several of the businesses in town, but was definitely not enough for him. He always wanted more. 

He used the money that he had earned to buy himself a small warehouse, and it soon became a front for other criminal activity. He started bootlegging, using potatoes for the alcohol. He could water it down and bring up the proof as well. Clearly not high quality, but it was cheap to make and he could sell it for more than enough for profit. The bootlegging became the biggest part of his operation, which of course drew the attention of the law and other rival gangs. He knew how to handle them though, he watched his father do it on several occasions. More often than not, the police simply needed a bribe to keep them at bay. If that didn't work, he knew a few girls that he could get to do them favors which in turn would be used for blackmail. The gangs on the other hand were a different story. Sure, he could buy them off but why should he? If he wanted to make a name for himself, he had to be able to make them back down and keep away from his territory.

That was the trick. He already had the law bought and they would turn a blind eye to how he handled it, but how to do it? Simple. There's no competition if you completely take them out of the equation. He had the boys rig up something in one of his liquor crates. If there's one thing the Irish knew how to do, it was blow shit up. He would bring the crate with others as an offering, an olive branch if you would to keep the relationship civil and show that there was no need for violence when they could all work together. He went himself. Hearing back on this deal, Mick was asked to bring the alcohol to one of the restaurants that was owned by the rival family, and he was all too happy to oblige. Once he arrived, he was thoroughly searched and disarmed, as were his men which was to be expected. No one wanted this to turn into a bloody shootout. "So you're Mick, eh?" The man was fat, and quite a bit older than him. Most likely in his forties. He had a greasy mustache and a balding head, with fingers so stubby and thick they looked like Vienna sausages. "Balls on you coming yourself. I like that. Come, sit." The man walked him over to a table where they sat and discussed the future payments.

"You were smart to come in here with his offering I'll tell you that much. Too many times I come across upstarts like you that don't know how to show respect and realizing who's in charge around here." A waiter brought the fat man a plate of food, which he began to eat rather aggressively. "So here's how it's going to be. I want a shipment once a week. This is fine for now, but it's not enough. Fifty crates a week should do fine." The man showed Mick no respect as he ate, never once looking his way. Mick simply nodded along with his arms crossed, waiting for him to finish. "That'll be the start. You'll up it to a hundred crates in the next couple of months. If I'm feeling generous, I might even give you a cut. You got that? Now get out of here and get to work. Leave the cases here, my men will take care of them." Mick simply nodded and stood up. He gathered up the men that came with him and took them out of the restaurant. Though he said nothing, it was relatively clear that he was angry. His eyes were stern and there was a fire in them. 

They walked across the street and waited for several minutes for the men to get all of the crates inside of the restaurant. When they did, Mick looked down at his watch grinned to himself. The building exploded in a rain of fire and smoke, shattering the windows of other buildings nearby and throwing one of the cars in front across the road. People screamed for help and ran to get away from the fire, while Mick and his men just watched. Over the next few weeks, all the previous businesses that were owned by the other man came into Mick's control and his name was starting to become known to most. He was ruthless, but not unfair. A man who was more than willing to get his own hands dirty to get something done. 

It wasn't long after that he got word that it was relatively safe back in the states. He of course jumped at the opportunity. Though things had been going fairly smooth here, it was not a place that he truly called home. He turned over the keys to the kingdom to his right hand and hopped a ship back, ready to make his name known there as well. He would make it, higher than his family ever had. Some of it was to honor the memory of his father, but mostly it was because he wanted what they all had. Respect, Power, Money. He wanted to live a comfortable life where he didn't fear every day. A life where he was not the prey, but the hunter. 

As the boat docked, he stepped onto the land he missed and inhaled deeply. "Finally." He threw his bag over his shoulder and began to walk, enough money in his pocket to take him to any city or state that he wished to begin his journey. "Where do I go from here I wonder?" It was a question to ponder, as it was not a trip to take lightly. The wrong city and you could die, that much he knew. Where would he find the most success? He stared hard at the people around him, almost as if waiting to see if someone would approach him with any sort of information.