This isn't my first family y'know. A few years back just barely out of my teens. I musta been what? Sixteen? Fifteen? I can't remember, not a time I choose to recall. A little young to be doing the kind of stuff I was doing. Fortunately, I looked a little older than a short inspection of my birth certificate might tell you. And luckily, I had Lion to help me. Lying sunuhva-bitch.

His real name? Lyon something-or-other. But where I come from, giving your real name isn't a smart thing to do. First sign of a gang member, a gang name. He picked up his name because how he did things. Big man he was, had this look about him. When we started out, we had nothing, I was a protege to a wise man, but a poor man nonetheless. Even then he commanded respect. It was the way he looked, acted carried himself. Without a penny to his name, he could still order locals around like he was the Don.

I was lucky. Maybe he saw something in me, I don't know, but trying to pick pocket him was the happiest accident I've had. Teenager at the time. Heh.

I was wearing the most rag-tag crap you ever saw, and here I saw this big, important looking man strolling out the bank like he owned it, and everything around it. The most tempting mark around. And that was just what I did y'know? Call me a klepto, but ever since I was a kid, stealing was what I did. Back when I had a civilian life. But I was no rat, I stole with skill and precision. What I did was an art. No one pull was ever the same. Maybe I'd plant a distraction there, maybe sweet talk 'em a little, let down their guard.

But that's a story for another time. Now where was I... right, Lion. Big suit strolling down the street. Enormous wallet just hangin' out his jacket pocket. Dumb move that was. Easiest pull there ever was. For a second I thought he looked at me but I quickly dismissed the feeling. I came at him from the side, head low, that measly look about me. Made me easy to forget. As I bumped in to him, my hand went from his jacket pocket to mine in an instant. As he looked to me, in the most pathetic voice I could muster, I squeaked: "Sorry mister! I didn't mean ta-"

I stopped mid sentence. His face had this odd mix of fascination, eagerness, a little bit amusement and something else, I couldn't put my finger on. He said only a few words, but his booming voice made him seem a lot bigger.

"Oh, heh, you won't be for very long. Believe me"

I was confused, but before I could come up with a response, he was gone. The feel of expensive leather on my hand in my jacket jarred me back into reality. What does it matter what he said? I got the goods.

I snuck into an alley around the corner, gave a quick sideways look and dove hungrily into the wallet. To my dismay, the wallet was empty. But on closer inspection, there was a note. And in articulate handwriting, it said "I like your style kid. You could make some good money. Make it somewhere. Meet me behind Mel's Bar if you want to be something."

I was intrigued and angry at the same time. I was interested in the offer, but I can't say I enjoyed getting duped.

That same night, I met him, and it was the start of a very healthy and fruitful business venture. He began to teach me everything there was to know about the underground life and in return, a portion of my earnings went to him. Under his tutelage, I learned how to walk, talk like anybody, steal, and intimidate like a pro. His one piece of advice hammered into me from day one: "Never, ever trust anybody. Not even yourself."

We were a two man crew, our own 'family'. He had always expressed distaste for the 'big' families. He said they were too cumbersome, too unwieldy. Our arrangement kept us close, under the radar and the earnings only ever needed to go two ways. And oh how big those earnings were. After two or three years, we were an unstoppable team. Heist after heist, we were rolling in green. But by this time I as inched towards my prime, a steady rise up in the underground, getting attention from all the right people. My old mentor was nearing old age. He was an extensive gambler and so did not hold onto savings long. Unfortunately his time was nearing an end so we planned one last heist, our farewell gift to the world as a team, our coup de grace.

The plan was simple, we were to go for the Mirage Island Casino. We had planned this for at least a year. I had forged several documents to get myself a job in the casino. He would play as a high-roller, I would rig the game. How? I forget. See me afterwards if you want to see if some dough might refresh my memory.

There was no doubt if we played for long enough the eye in the sky was bound to notice. But we planned something to make sure we weren't caught.

As the guards moved from the van to the vault to refill the money reserves, Lion would leave my table, stumble over and suddenly be stricken with a heart attack or seizure. He would flail at the guards forcing them to drop their cases to protect themselves or restrain him.

I was then meant to join the fray, give the impression I was to help, and lock-pick the handcuffs to the cases full of money and replace them with the fake cases hidden under the slots and tables. I would then urge the guards to take care of the money first so that I could regroup with Lion grab the money, then exit out an employee side door. It was supposed to be simple. The take added to my stash would be enough to give me a comfortable life until my golden years.  

"So Meakel. Are your ready for our master piece? Our final symphony?"

He always spoke like an upper-class man. Said it distinguished him from every other con-man down the street.

"I'll admit, Lion, I am little shaky. But not cus' I'm nervous, no. that's adrenaline I feel."

He flashed me a reassuring smile.

"That's the spirit. One last thing. We haven't set our meeting place in case we split. I'm out of safe houses. we should use one of yours."

"But, I don't have any...well I have one, but thats where I keep my stas-"

"So? Have I not shown you trust and respect in inviting you into my havens around the city?"

"Well, I guess but-"

"But what? Am I not trust worthy?"
His gaze was unwavering, it was very unnerving.

"No, I'm sorry for hesitating. My safe house is the third building off Frelont and Mountain View."

"Apology accepted. Now lets make some money shall we?"

The next morning as I showed up for work I spent the day on the lookout for the telltale stature of my mentor. He strolled in from the front door, expensive suit, with that trademark Lion look that demanded obedience. He stepped over to my table.

"Welcome to the Mirage Island Casino sir."

"Hit me."

We played for an hour, even two hours. I watched as his pile of chips grew and grew. And according to plan, the casino van pulled up, loaded with cash. Men piled out, each handcuffed to a case.

"Blackjack again sir. My, you sure are having a lucky day."

"Oh I don't know sonny, I think my lucky streak might just be starting."

As the line of guards moved single file along the carpeted path, Lion stuffed our winnings into a plastic bag and put it under the table. And strolled towards the guards. He timed his pace perfectly and collided with the first two guards as his fake seizure began. One arm flailed and immediately knocked the first guard out cold. As the other guards moved into
aid the rest of their team I readied my lock-pick and refreshed my memory of were the fake lock boxes were. Lion flailed with both his legs once more and caught two guards in the groin. I moved quickly and inserted myself into the fracas. I had to do this fast, before a crowd gathered. The first two handcuffs were easy. Picked, switched and relocked in a flash. The last two were more difficult.

They were sweaty and people were slowly congregating. If I did not finish this quickly, it would be very difficult to get out. I let out a sigh of relief as felt the soft grating of the third cuff click free. I shoved the lock box under a poker table and grabbed the fake one from under the slots.

But suddenly I heard, "Look! The dealer! He trying to steal the money!"

I looked around frantically for the source of the voice. Imagine my surprise when I see Lion, finger pointed accusingly, at me.

The guards suddenly focused their attention on me and I was tackled. Hard. As my vision began to go dark and the guards carried me away, the last thing I saw was Lion and a few other thugs, grabbing the real cases of money and his bag of chips. A thousand thoughts flew through my head at once. he knew where my stash was now. This was an elaborate plan from the beginning to get all the earnings.And those thugs, he did run with a family. all that 'two people' family shit was a ruse. He flashed me the same look he gave me three years ago. But this time, I knew what it was. Greed.

I swore that when I escaped, I would go up in the ranks, and when I had the power, I would hunt him down.