Tie walked out on the streets today, with a renewed vigor. For awhile now, he felt stagnant, hardly even being motivated to do a drug run, the main reason being the monotony of it. Lately, everything just seemed so monotonous to him, but he was content with just complaining about. Not today though. For as much as he's preached about "if you don't like something, change it" it never followed his own advice. He didn't like where his life was going, but he couldn't figure how to change things, when the solution was right there in front of him the whole time...the streets. Today he decided it was time to finally take to the streets, like his family before him always had. Today was the day to break his street silence.

Hi. My name is Tie. Some of you know me, some of you may not. My bloodline has been around for quite a few years now, sometimes in the spotlight, sometimes not, but always craving it. I've decided to make my way to the streets today because I'm a Capo, but you probably haven't even seen me int he streets. I wouldn't say that I haven't earned the rank, but, for me anyway, I think one needs to have a presence in the streets, for anybody to take you, or your rank seriously, and that's something I just haven't done.

I'm going to start making up for it today, with a story. This will be a three part story, today I will only give you part one...The story of my life as a child and teenager. The next two parts will be of my growing up, and of my subsequent entrance into the life of crime that I embrace today. Here goes nothin'!

I was born in a small town, on the outskirts of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. My parents weren't rich, but well-off enough that I got whatever I needed, and a little extra. I traveled around the country, and the States a good bit. I was always visiting my Godfather in Las Vegas. I played a lot of hockey as a youth, playing in the streets as a younger child, and then in youth leagues in my high school years. Hockey was another reason I was traveling around, constantly in different tournaments around the country. I was already being scouted by universities, and I was set to get multiple scholarships. Everything was looking up for me, until that one day.

I was in hockey practice, when my Aunt Agatha came to get me. I had no idea why picked me up, but we drove in silence, to a destination unknown to me. Eventually we arrived at the hospital, and I knew right away something had happened to my parents.

My Aunt still wouldn't talk to me, but the doctor told me everything. On the way back from dropping me off at practice, a police car ran them off the road, and into a ditch, while chasing down a mobster. They held on for awhile, but they died before we got there to see them. My aunt blamed me for the wreck, since they wrecked on the way back from dropping me off, and she blamed me for her not getting to say goodbye, because she had to pick me up before going to see them.

Shortly after the funeral, custody was given to my aunt, and she moved into my parent's house. My grades started falling because I couldn't concentrate on my work, but I still had hockey. Whenever I was on the ice, everything else just seemed to fade away. My troubles, my worries...my Aunt. She eventually picked up on the peace I got from hockey, and she pulled me off the team. My grades fell even more, and each day I became less and less depressed, and slipped into a deeper rage.

Since moving in, my aunt did anything she could to make my life miserable, but the day she took hockey away from me, was the day she crossed the line. It was a week later that I made my decision. I got a bundle of my most prized possessions together, along with all the food I could carry, and took it out to the garage. As the sun sank below the horizon, I got my Aunt off to sleep with her nightly warm glass of milk, except this time I added a little extra. I waited an hour until I was sure she was sleeping, and then I went out to the garage and got the gasoline, pouring it all over the house, and all over her. This house was the last memory I had of my parents, but I hated my aunt enough that I torched the house without a second thought, running off into the night, and never looking back.

Now before you get the wrong impression of me, I'm usually an easy going, fun guy, but I do have a temper. It takes a lot to set me off, but when I am set off, I'm prone to acts of extreme violence. Its like I black out, and when I wake up, there's destruction surrounding me. Anyway, having no place to go, I hitched a ride to Toronto, and lived as a beggar on the streets at the age of 15. Occasionally playing hockey with the neighborhood kids, I was noticed by a man putting a group together. He pulled me aside after one of the games, and told me he admired my intensity and heart, and that he had a spot for me in something special.

Mr. M, as he came to be known, took me under his wing, and allowed me to live with him, in his apartment. It was small, but I was grateful to be off of the streets. I was never one to use a weapon, per say, but he taught me how to use a knife, and a gun, just in case the need ever arose. Slowly, he built up his gang to seven men, including him and myself, and we started robbing trains. Each day we hit another train, and we did it with the prowess of professionals. Soon, that is what we became...professionals. The newspapers started calling us "The Maple Syrup Boys", because the trains we were hitting, were owned and operated by some of the biggest maple syrup companies in the entire world.

As our fame grew, so did our numbers. Every day, new members joined and we grew. I'll always be grateful to Mr. M. he gave me a chance, and took me off of the streets, and that's something I can never repay. That being said, as time when on, I started to question the way he was running things. The more people there are in a group, the more likely there are to be snitches, and the easier it is for the pigs to infiltrate.

Over the next three years, our discussions turned into arguments, and the arguments turned into progressively worse arguments. I was young and brash, I didn't care about the danger that came from talking back to a man, who literally had the whole of Toronto in his hands. Finally, Mr. M got sick of me questioning him, and he decided it was time to put an end to it. I was lucky to be allowed to live. In exchange for the years of service to Mr. M, he allowed me to leave Toronto with my life intact, never to return again.

18 years old, and I had gotten my first taste of organized crime. Now out in the world, on my own again, I had no clue what was coming next for me.

A very interesting beginning, sir. I'm curious to see where it leads.

Flashes Tie a smile.

Very Nice start of your life story Tie. I can't wait to find out what happens next.

I really enjoyed your story Tie I cant wait to hear more from you sir.

Were is the part were you had fun with those piggies? I hope this will be in the next installation.

Tie takes a bow, and looks at everybody but Sherlock.

Thank you, friends. I shall have Part II to you, posthaste.

Tie then turns his attention to Sherlock, glaring at him.

I hate you.

I'm usually an easy going, fun guy, but I do have a temper.

To be honest, I find the temper part very hard to believe. I have never once seen you angry...you're a liar...I know you Tie...I know you...

I'm telling you, I have a temper. It just takes a whole lot to bring it out, and I can usually hide the fact that I'm angry. If I'm pushed hard enough, it comes out.

Walks over to them.

It's true... I've pushed it out quite a few times!

Smiles

Could you possibly make up for your absence by going away again?  Please?

Pickles waits impatiently for Tie's sarcastic response

Excellent work Tie!  As usual!

He smiles as he lights a cigarette

I'm looking forward to the next installment.

Sherlock, I still hate you. Mr. Pickles, it'd work out a lot better for everybody, if YOU were the one that left, and Hershey, thank you very much. Tie appreciates when people realize his genius.