1898 born to a Dockworker and a Seamstress in Hells Kitchen Thomas O'callaghan never had much so he had to fight for what he wanted. His two brothers wrestled an fight for fun all the time with the other kids in the building i mean besides school that was really the only thing for them to do as poor Irish. By the age of 8 he was working as a shoe shiner on the street with other neighborhood boys trying to make money for his family, the other boys usually called him Tom or Tommy never Thomas when he would hear his own name he would get mad an scowl at you or even beat you up or at least try.

1908 Tommy woke up early grabbing his fathers green union cap given to him on his tenth birthday he grabbed his shoe box an headed out the door when get out there today though to his normal spot a big teen and a smaller boy were standing in his spot Danny Mousseline and Freddy no last name Tommy never cared about it. Freddy was crying saying "Thomas took my money from shinin yesterday" at hearing this Tommy dropped the shoe box an rushed up to them "Don't call me that my name is Tom-" his words were cut off by the older boys fist Danny a local teen known for beating other kids up for protection money. Tommy barely had time to duck and grappled the older boy tugging him to the ground then getting on top trying to punch his lights out before he got pushed up off him, then stood up an brawled for about thirty seconds before they both stopped huffing bloodied noses sported on there faces both smiling. Tommy stuck out his hand "Tommy" Danny stuck out his hand an they shook "Danny" a older man running a small bar looked at the two boys smiling "I think Tommy Green got the better of you there Danny" this was first time Tommy heard the name but it stuck.

1921 Tommy standing in the back of a small speakeasy bar he looks down at his watch then at the door "C'mon Danny" he whispered under his breath he lit a cigar an heads to the bar sitting on a stool smoking hard about 5 mins past before Danny bursts into the room with two clanking boxes in his hands. Tommy laughed hard "Danny Boy" he grabbed the top crate filled with 10 bottles of whiskey each an in the next hour the place in jumping with people. Tommy's behind the bar laughing serving drinks Danny is running a black jack table by the end of the night the men are drowning in profits this is when they just noticed by a group called The Santuario a small group seemingly run by a child but its where Tommy made his bones in this game that could end in death.

1935 Tommy now the ripe young age of 37 finds himself at a crossroads after attending the funeral of Danny Mousseline shot 38 times the golden age selling liquor is over with his current connections he his able to get all the drugs he needs to sell but without proper protection an permissions that can be a hassle so he decided to head to Vegas an family up he got associated with The Dean Collective an started pushing drugs all across the country buying coke in Vegas or LA an selling in chitown, The D and his stomping grounds in New York.

He bought legal businesses to launder money through a bunch of small places like Louie's for a start a small strip club where the good times are always rolling, then a literally laundry mat, bunch of strip malls with clothing and convenience stores. With a way to explain his income he started moving coke again from Vegas to Detroit then back to Vegas, he had a lot of capital so loaned sharked to a bunch of people he would hit the casinos with his boys and find his people who owed collect money an gamble on dice a little. Slowly but surely he started to gain a little respect in the streets of Vegas, one night a lil soured by the way a man was spending the money he loaned him and talking all big like he would win millions. Obviously the man a couple hours later having not won a dime left, when he stepped out of the Sam’s Town casino by the parking garage he was shot three times in the side of the head by an unknown assailant who fled the scene in a grey car. One week later in the same casino at the bar tommy is bragging to his bodyguard in front of a bunch of the people he loaned money too about having to junk his grey car because it kept squeaking so loud. That set things right for a while not a single person would miss loans to Tommy Green, After all this the life he would mention a lot to his bodyguards when people wouldn't pay up and he would have his guards beat them or take it a step further if needed. He pushed a lot of drugs in Vegas as well more small time though weed and shrooms bouncing between paradise and the strip. Plenty of things were in motion for Tommy Green he just had to set it up, a big business to really start laundering larger amounts of money would be his next step.

The air was thick with dust, cheap perfume and the sound of trouble. Down on Sunset neon signs flickered over rain slick streets and the smell of whiskey and bad luck drifted out of every bar in the district. Tommy Green leaned against the brick wall outside McGinty’s Tavern, the ember of his cigarette glowing like a warning light 37 years old Irish and built like a man who would have worked too many docks and fought too many fights. He’d been around the block enough times to know when a storm was coming and tonight it wore a pinstripe suit and a grudge. John Carter pushed through the tavern doors two of his boys flanking him like bookends. Carter ran half the rackets south of Wilshire liquor girls cards and didn’t take kindly to being embarrassed. And Tommy had done just that last week in a poker game behind the Belmont Club walking out with Carter’s money and his pride “Tommy Green” Carter said, voice smooth but mean, “you got a lotta nerve showing your face in my city after what you pulled.”

Tommy blew out smoke, calm as Sunday morning “Your city? Last I checked John, this place still lets a man drink where he pleases.”. Carter smirked then swung his fist, a bottle shattered against the bar. Chairs scraped, someone screamed Tommy ducked, landed a right hook that sent Carter stumbling then drove his boot into another guy's ribs. It wasn’t a clean fight it never was whiskey spilled fists flew and by the time it was over Carter was on the floor nursing a broken nose and a bruised ego. Tommy straightened his coat, tossed a few hundred dollars on the bar, and gave the bartender a nod “Sorry for the redecorating Michael add it to my bill.”. He stepped out into the wet street, the city lights painting his shadow long and lean. Somewhere a saxophone played through an open window Tommy lit another cigarette and smiled to himself LA was a crooked town full of different cults but tonight the Irish Goomba had walked out on top.