Hayley hears her friend telling random stories in the street and decides to stop and listen.  She thinks about all the what is in her family journals.

My first death was uneventful, some random war.  It was the deaths further along that were more interesting. 

She shakes her head. 

But I really do not want to think about those.  Most of us make those stupid mistakes at some point. 

But wouldn't that make an interesting topic?  Your first stupid mistake as a new mafioso?

She stands in the back and listens to other stories.

My first ever ancestor in this world lead a very embarrassing life, he had a split personality.

There were 3 voices in his head apparently, before long it was realised that he was insane and the gods laid him to rest. Thankfully the apple fell very far from the tree as his Son became a Crew Leader thanks to the guidance he received from the masterful Shippie, a legend from the land of Holland.

The first member of my family came into this world dazed and confused, a friend had told him there was money to be earned and no more nights sleeping with an empty belly in abandoned buildings and warehouses.  The change of work was initially daunting, although a full belly, a nice house and constant advice on how he could develop.

His duties become more challenging as families died, yet new work became available as a mere associate.  Ranking was hard and time consuming and family ranks were made man at most,  He sat as wise guy, knowing how irregularly the books opened he kept working as Sonny D's helped hone his skills to solve small family problems.  Unfortunately, with Sonny's death, IL-Postino moved on once more to a new crew, and started working with a visionary to some, a mad man to others by the name of Morbid Angel.

Quickly he felt more bound then before with the likes of rufus, franky four fingers, rooster, Sonny D's son around him.   Feeling actually part of something his work rate increased in a land where hitters seemed rare and the streets bustled with original discussion and laughter.  Slowly he felt pulled from one lifestyle into one of solitude, simply cleaning up others messes and reporting directly to sonny D to help train future hitters.  The confidence and extra money in his pocket gave him a new sense of ambition; unfortunately, this would not last forever.

Soon war started and money thinned out as the long days of killing disrupted business.  Initially, the adrenaline pumped as sleepless nights, were fun filled as stories and jokes about who each of the hitters had killed, and how many became a bragging mission.   However now a national hunt was on him as he had rapidly become the 27th most wanted man in america and quickly rising in the news paper with the massive death.  Days turned in to weeks, weeks into a month as the brutality continued.  Friend and foe alike fell as he sat suddenly as one of the more skilled hitters but the tiredness, seclusion from his family and depression as most of his friends were dead.  Rarely he left the HQ as it was under siege as mobsters died in their hundreds each week; the police stopping entering cities any more but slowly this seperated IL-Postino from realty and his emotions as names become just another notch on his wall.  As he suddenly received orders from morbid for a list of out of town jobs he thought how many enemies would be waiting for his scalp but was a chance he would be willing to take as loyalty was what seperated people in his mind.

He crawled through the sewers under the Headquarters, and quickly used one of the families safehouses for a car.  Travelling from LA to LV would be simple for jobs, as names quickly got crossed off the list with a few added extra who had attempted his life.   Nosw was the big risk, travelling to New York.  Sleeping off the road and avoiding motels he knew he was avoiding danger.  Finally, he hit New York as the list thinned.  Arriving at a strip club he quickly unloaded in more ways then one as his list was complete.  Sliding into city hall he waited knowing this would be the last place he would be looked for or so he thought.  Unfortunately a friend of city halls leaders tonyB, Dr Melfi and Mort was waiting in the shadows and so IL-Postino's career ended prematurely.

The first ancestor in my journal... He led a short lived life. 

He was new to this way of life but was being taught by a man that is well known throughout this world. Clyde. 

My ancestor had just joined the crew of Castiel back when CH was simply an experiment. The crew itself was short lived as MikeHunt had taken over but it was the moment when my ancestry had gotten involved in this thing of ours and there was no turning back. 

Not much else to say on that particular ancestor except he was the start of the bloodline that has made me what I am today and I couldnt be more greatful for him. 

Marisol takes a drag on her cigarette, and pulls it away with a flick of her wrist. The end pops as it hits the pavement, and a small flower blooms in the smoke. She sighs.

The first woman to cross over the pond into This Thing of Ours was killed in the crossfire of a gang war.

She taps the still lit cigarette with the toe of her boot. 

Her daughter watched it happen from the window of their flower shop apartment, and that's when the fire in our blood was lit. The little girl was picked up by a man in a dark cab, and she worked in his pharmacy until she was big enough to hold a gun. Since then, it's been a history of late nights, blood battles, fire flowers, and good Irish Whiskey. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The first in my line died when she was less than two days old when a dwarf mistook her for someone from Delaware City.