Benji, born Benjamin Oliver Wulfert, counted the minutes.  After all this time, he knew better than to watch the clock at the end of his cell block, but today was a special day and he was going to remember every minute.  After ten years in prison, including two different stints of solitary confinement for fighting, his eventual release could not come soon enough.  Having accepted a plea bargain of Voluntary Manslaughter for the death of his sister’s fiancé, his penance was over and now, at the age of 35, he could start his life once again.

His mind drifted back to the fateful night, 11 years ago and the scream that would forever change his world.  Rachel’s fiancé, Scott, had been known to drink too much, but had never shown violent tendencies.  After a nice family dinner, Scott had accompanied him out back to play some horseshoes.  Over the next hour, a full fifth of bourbon had been consumed and Scott, being the smaller of the two men, was worse for wear.  Rachel had come out and recommended that they both had enough and sat next to her fiancé as Benji stumbled back into the house to get a glass of water.  As the glass was filling, he heard the scream.  Senses dulled, he didn’t react quickly.  And after several seconds, the realization came to him that it was his beloved sister’s scream.  Dropping the glass and running to the back door, he sees the backhand blow that would knock Rachel to the ground and in slow motion, watched as the back of her head slammed into the large stones surrounding a flowerbed.  Screaming “NNNOOOOO!,” he ripped open the back door and ran to his sister’s side, dropping to his knees next to her.  Blood was running down from the wound on the back of her head and he could see that she wasn’t breathing and then he saw her eyes.  Wide open, her eyes simply stared up into the sky, unblinking. 

Hands shaking and rage building within his tormented mind, he has no memories of the next few minutes.  He has no idea why he cannot remember these events, but in his mind, he believes that the brutality of his attack on Scott was so severe that the images were erased to maintain his sanity.  His next memory was of lying on the ground, hand cuffed wrists behind his back, and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.  Two sets of strong arms pull him up on to his knees and then into a standing position.  Still disoriented, he looks around and then sees both Rachel and Scott, lying on the ground, only a few feet separating the two lovers.  While the pool of blood and ghostly complexion give away that things aren’t normal for Rachel, the scene is quite the opposite for the other body.  If it wasn’t for the clothing that he knew Scott had worn to the dinner, the body would have been unrecognizable.  The face was a bloody mixture of torn skin and disfigured bone.  Next to his head was a large stone that was covered in blood and gore that was obviously the murder weapon.  While he could remember nothing of the actions that had caused Scott’s death, he could still remember the scream and knew that he had committed murder.

In the past ten years, both of his parents had passed away.  While the message he had received was that they had passed away from natural causes, in the back of his mind, he knew it was from a broken heart.  They had started their family late and he was born shortly after his mother’s 35^th birthday.  With his father four years older, they had been close to retirement when Rachel’s death had occurred.  They had visited him one time in prison and the heartbreak on their face left him knowing that he would never see them again.  While they both knew that he had not directly caused Rachel’s death, deep down, they still blamed him for drinking with Scott.  And seeing their only other living child in prison was more than they could handle.  Six years after accepting the plea deal, both his father and mother had passed away within the same year.  His father passed away peacefully in his sleep.  But his mother, from reports, simply gave up the will to live and slowly wasted away until her death, nine months later.

He had nothing to bring him back to his home town.  He needed a fresh start and he knew exactly where this would be.  He would put his past behind him and start anew.  Prison had changed him from a good natured country boy to a hard and remorseless man.  The hours of solitary confinement had been daunting the first time, making him questioning his sanity toward the end.  But having learned about meditation and self-awareness from a book in the library, his second stint had been calming and allowed him to learn control of his emotions. 

Glancing at the clock, the seconds hand clicked it’s way past the number 6 on its endless journey.  Within four hours, he would be on a bus, headed for Las Vegas.  Having spent many hours talking with his cellmate, he had a name and a vision of where he was headed.  Sin City was his destination and a man that went by the nickname HandsomeRob would be his lifeline to a new future.  No longer would he go by Benjamin “Benji” Oliver Wulfert, but now would simply go by Beowulf.

Arriving in Vegas and stepping off the bus for the first time in Sin City, his cellmate had him believing that he would be surrounded by dancing girls, flashing lights, and cash literally falling from the sky.  Real life was quite the contrary.  As the door opened, he stepped down onto a sidewalk in front of an old bus station.  Seconds later, an elderly man approached him carrying a sign that said “Homeless, Please spare some change” and longing eyes.  Shaking his head, he retorted “Sir, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  I’m broke as the day is long” before walking in the direction of lights in the distance.

Asking for directions from a couple walking down the street, he made his way to the headquarters location described by his cellmate.  Still, in the back of his mind, he kept day dreaming about this beautiful tall, blonde dancing girl that he would ultimately release 10 years of confinement upon in one passionate evening.  And he dreamed of a steak, cooked medium rare, with just enough seasoning to highlight the natural taste of the beef.  Then, once again, reality came charging back.

A block from the headquarters, gunfire erupted on the street.  A tall man dressed in a suit, was flanked by several other men that didn’t have nearly the same resources to provide similar attire.  They took up positions in front of the tall man, essentially forming a shield of protection as another group fired at them from behind makeshift barricades.  The second group was well organized and he simply watched in awe as the group seemed to move in unison, communicating with hand signals and short, whistles.  Within minutes, the group surrounding the tall man were lying dead or dying and the tall man stood alone, yet confident.  Yelling in defiance, he said “My name is Fern_McCullagh and I’m not afraid of death. We are going to take over this town, whether you like it or”.  Before he could finish his sentence, an amazing handsome man stood up from behind the barricades and with a single shot, placed a bullet squarely between the tall man’s eyes.

With that quick kill, he knew that he was looking upon HandsomeRob.  Figuring he had nothing to lose, he approached the leader of this group, but before he could get there, another man stepped in the way.  While HandsomeRob was wearing a finely tailor suit, even during a gun fight, this man was quite the opposite.  Sporting a pair of tiny turquoise shorts and an unbuttoned white shirt showing his naturally quite hairy chest, the individual smiled in glee as he said “Hey there buddy.  My name is JoeyRyan and I’m this guy’s right hand man”.  Pointing a thumb over his shoulder and pulling his shirt back to expose more of his naked skin, he continued “He really doesn’t have time right now to talk with you as we are killing invaders. I’m known for being Mr. Hip Thrust and that keeps HandsomeRob at a distance.  Anyways, you can learn more about that later.  You look like a stout one and we have lost a few in the fight.  You might not be very handsome, but we’ll make an exception this one time.  Good, glad you agree…your now part of the family”

And with that fast interaction, he had become part of a Mafia Family in Las Vegas.