There's one standing fact to why we are all here. We simply want to be gangsters in our own ways, our own style, each with our own reputations, and goals. The more I watch friends and family progress the more I think I'm going to enjoy being around here for hopefully  a long time to come. We all bring something to the table weather some are earners, killers, or some just good with words that reign over the streets.

 I've found it difficult for myself to really see what path is best for me to take so what the hell try 'em all if you can. The thing I did notice most is how some seem to love a flamboyant gangster lifestyle. They enjoy their expensive cars, tailored suit's, and high dollar homes which is fine for them but just isn't my style. You see I, Otto "Outlaw" Friedli, like to think I bring a different style of gangster to this life we choose, a representation of the two wheel gangsters, the biker.

 Back when I was 16 I remember stealing my dads Harly Davidson JD motorcycle to go racing at the old bridge in my home town. That's where I got my first rush of the outlaw lifestyle when I had to out run the cops after a race while the spectators watched me race by. One bad thing about living in a small town though is the cops  recognized the motorcycle and knew it belonged to my father, so when I came pulling in to the house there was my dad and the officers standing first thought that came to mind was "Fuck" then the next was "welp fuck it". After the obvious talking to by the police because I was a minor my father decided it was not good enough and decided to beat my ass with his leather belt worse than ever before but I took that shit like a man even with the blood drawn on my back and arms like I've done many times before.  I waited till late that night and stole that fucking bike for good with my satchel and headed west for new endeavours and whatever life threw at me.

 I bounced around for a few years working on cars, doing odd jobs, and the occasional back yard bare knucle braws for extra cash then I'd move on to the next town till I ended up in California. Thats where I was introduced to the one percent lifestyle when I met some guys after a fight. I went out to my bike to leave and seen four guys wearing vest with patches on them saying Moonshiners M.C. all of them having a diamond with one percent stitched into the center and crossed out A.M.A patches on their vest, and one of them with a P stitched on his vest. They noticed my Harley outside and wanted to race for my fight winnings. Well, knowing that I had my bikes carbs adjusted just right and them jets tuned for kill I made a different deal. I told them I'll race all three of em at once for everything they got on them cash wise for my cash and my bike. They accpeted.

 We rolled through town a bit till finding a straight road leading out and all lined up. The guy with the "P" had his lady get off and line us up. Then he looked at me with a smile and goes "You like tits? When you see them, GO... First to let off loses." There we was, 5 of us taking up both lanes of the road for this race, I knew I was about to be in for a rush.  BOOM, TITTIES! We all pinned the throttle of our bikes and went. This was the first time I ever pushed my bike this hard or even had to but my speed gauged went to 90 and I was barried past that and these boys were still right next to me.

 I knew then they wasn't no joke and knew it would come down to who's the craziest. Traffic started to pick up more the closer we got to the next town with hauler trucks and old fords taking up the lanes but I didn't let off, I pushed it even more going in and out of on coming traffic. Noticing three of the four guys backed off I looked around to see that one with the "P" was still there. "I'm going to win" I told myself but we was just dead even. Then after some time in tunnel vision I looked around again and noticed I'm alone.

 I pulled off into this parking lot behind a bar in the next town and shut off my bike, imminently looking things over when I heard bikes pull up. "Your one crazy sum' bitch my friend, fucking outlaw nuts you are.... Im Priest this is Mikey, Tator, and Deegs" the guy with the "P" said extending his hand. "Cool man but I believe you owe me some money" I said standing up from looking at my bike as i crossed my arms to cover me reaching into my jacket to place my hand on my .45. Priest just chuckled and looked at his boys and knodded. I watched all of them pull out several hundred dollars each and hand it to Priest. He again extended his hand to shake mine holding my cash. "I'm Otto" I said shaking his hand and taking my money. "I like how you ride brotha' why dont we get some drinks and chat some" Priest said smiling as he pointed at the bar.

 After some time hanging with Priest and them I was offered to join the moonshiners and did. We quickly became a group of guys who were all about racing, riding and raising a little hell. I rode with the Moonshiners M.C.for about two years kicking ass and running booze all up and down the west coast. Climbed my way to Sgt. At Arms which would be consider your Consigliere to you La Costra Nostra guys and gals and had members span all over Cali we grew fast, maybe to fast.  We eventually got raided by the feds and disbanded for good most of us going on the run.

 Guess I'm going to take my outlaw ways to Viva Las Vages for new adventures.