Charles worked in the fields since he was a boy, it's what his family did. His pa, his pa's pa, and so on and so forth. The summer was particularly hot this year, and Charles had been working extra to make sure the crops wouldn't fail to bring a nice portion to the table so he could feed his son. Ever since his wife had passed it had been rough on the man, but he continued to work a honest living to provide for his boy. Though even with his extra hours every day in the sun, he couldn't make the crops sustain life in the dead plain that he lived in, all of his crops died that year. Burnt by the sun, he couldn't make any profit. He did all he could, salvaging as much as he could from the already ruined food he fed his son with what he had. Before long that food had ran out, and war was on the city's doorstep, and one day when his son was in town, begging on the street corner a man gave his son a piece of bread. The boy smiled happily and began to skip home. Before the boy got home, he was gutted in a allyway for the same piece of bread. When Charles got the news of his sons death he fell to his knees and cried... he was lost. Something inside the man clicked though, he changed on the spot. He had nothing left to live for, and if only he had money his son would still be alive. He burned his farmhouse down that night and walked into the city, he was going into a world he knew nothing about to make sure he never went hungry again, but first... he needed to find the man responsible for his son's death. He needed information, so he began to stroll the streets, looking for the type of people you didn't look for.

Otiag was leaning up against the wall. He'd been working an area of the town over for pickpockets all day. He was pretty new to the life of crime, but was starting to get it all figured out. At least the petty crimes that is, he could pick out the easy targets and slip away with their purse or wallet without them even knowing anything had happened.

Otiag was leaning here taking a break from his work counting his earning for the day when he spotted a guy walking down the street. The guy looked pretty lost and he considered conning the fellow, except his eyes. The guy looked haunted, like he had seen some pretty serious shit and lived to tell the tale. Otiag thought for a second and then pocketed his cash to count later, this looked like an opportunity to him and he wasn't about to miss a chance to earn some more money.

He called out to the guy "Hey there fella, you looking for something?"

Charles would be making his way down the street slowly as he heard a voice call out to him, his head turned around a few times back and forth before his eyes made contact with the one who had addressed him. Charles tilted his head as he looked them over, wondering if they could help him, before his eyes saw the money sliding into his pocket and he nodded reassuring himself lightly before deciding "What the hell?" as his mental note at the time.

 "I am looking for a couple of things at the moment, what is it to you?" 

Just in case things went for a bumpy turn, Charles began to size the man up, wondering if it came down to it would he even win the fight, sighing lightly. He had never been in a fight, but even so. He had worked a farm his whole life, and he was nearly solid muscle.

Otiag stood up straight. This fella didn't look like a criminal at all, but he did look like he was having the worst day of his life. And people having that kind of day are really on edge. This calls for a drink he though as he approached the guy slowly.

"You look like you're having a rough day, how about we have a drink and you tell Otiag whats on your mind" he said first indicating the bar and then himself as he talked to the guy.

Charles would look to the man as he offered to go have a drink at the pub that was behind him and he would nod slowly before his own words,

"Why not? Eh. Otllag you said? My name is Charles."

With that Charles extended his hand to the man as a usual greeting, looking towards the pub with a smile on his lips.

"I dare say I do need a drink... Haven't touched the stuff in years."

Otiag shook the guys hand, and then lead the way into the bar. Once inside he found them a table at the back of the place. The lighting here wasn't the best, making it a good place to talk without being disturbed. Otiag sat himself against the wall so he could keep half an eye on the establishment and the other on his new found friend.

"So tell me, what has brought that look scared upon you face?" he said to the main looking him over once again.

He followed Otiag into the pub, winding his way through the people before watching the man take a seat, he would sit across from the man before calling over a server, ordering them both a double shot of Irish Whiskey. 

"It just seems that this city keeps getting worse and worse."

He would finish the sentence to the woman scurrying back to their table, shots placed in front of them both, he'd grip the top of the glass with his strong fingers as the stress he put on the glass he heard a slight crack before relaxing and looking down into the liquid, swirling the glass slowly before slamming it back, swallowing the whiskey without a second though.

"How does a city get so bad that people would murder a small child for a piece of bread?" 

Charles would just shake his head a few times before sniffling and quickly rubbing his face into his jacket, cleaning himself up before his eyes teared or anything of the such. He didn't have any reason to not trust the man, but he also didn't know the man enough yet to spill exactly what had just happened to him... What if he was the one who did it? He needed more information about the people around this area before he just blabbed to anyone... 

"Maybe one day I can make enough money to make sure no one in this city ever has to worry about starving..."

Otiag looks at Charles sternly.

"People, die everyday on these streets. That's the way of things, those filthy rich businessmen don't care bout anything put their checkbook. Meanwhile average Joes like you and me just barely scrape by, if that. I reckon whoever stabbed that poor boy was just trying to make it through this life, same as you and me."

Otiag stops at this and takes a sip of the whiskey, not sure if Charles just wanted to weep over the loss of some random boy, or if the incident meant more to him. He sat silent for a moment waiting for Charles to continue.

Charles would nod, it wasn't the first or last time someone died in the streets of this city. This time though it wasn't just some random sop on the side of the street though. Some people never knew the feeling of having the streets take someone close to you. It's one of those things that leads you down those streets. One of the things that starts you in the game. His mind was already set, he just didn't know where to begin. He planned to be in these streets though now. It was the only place for him. His path led him here, but even then maybe he was being naive, but he would hope maybe if he got far enough he could change how the city is.

"Yeah, this city will chew you up and spit you out, that's for sure. Maybe it can be changed though? It all comes down to the people in power though. Some people have more money than they know what to do with and walk by a starving man on the streets. I don't think I could ever do that, but you never know until you're in that situation. I plan to get to that situation where I have to make that choice though."

He would lightly laugh before calling for another round. He wondered if it was the little bit of alcohol talking or if he meant what he said. He knew it was what he felt, but maybe he could turn his dream into a reality. He had nothing else to lose, which can push a man to extreme limits to where he either succeeds or fails miserably. He didn't plan on losing again though. He didn't like the feeling. 

"Unless you're planning on shooting a rich man and taking his money Charles, I don't know how you aim to take his place in society." Otiag said as he polished off his drink.  "It's a sad world we live in. My parents bright me over to the states from Sicily. Live the American dream, that's what they wanted for themselves and me.

Otiag chuckles to himself.

"American dream my ass. We're little more than slave labor for rich Americans living THEIR dream. I'd love to put one of them snobby so and so 6 feet under and then ask him how much his money helped him in a grave."

Charles would laugh at the comment before watching the drinks arrive at the table. He took the glass in his hands and raised it in the air and looked down at Otiag's glass.

"Sometimes you have to do bad things for the right reasons."

He pondered the words, and began to think of how simple it really could be. Just the one right person. One bullet in the right place, and money could be instant. Enough to start Charles out where he needed to be... Where he needed to get started in this life that he was about to walk into. He wasn't sure about himself at the moment though.

"Why not though? If they aren't doing what they need to be with the power and money, and you can do what needs to be done. Why not take your position by force? Oppression will never stop if we don't take a stand."

"Men like that, they rarely walk the streets. The problem is we would have to know where they live, break into their house and kill them there. It's real risky man, much easier stealing purses from old ladies. That's what I do, it ain't clean, but it puts food in the belly and when you're down on your luck it's all that matters. Keeping the belly fed."

Otiag takes a sip of his new drink and waits to see how Charles reacts to his profession as a thief.

"Yeah, before today I worked to just keep my people fed as well.... That was before this damned sun turned my soil into a oven and baked my crops this year. I learned that just enough only lasts so long before one mistake sends everything into hell. If we are going to risk time, why not go big or go home? Purses are small time. You're lucky if you get anything. That's a side project. I'm talking something big here, like you said it could take planning, but think of pulling off one job and opening the doors of life. Luxury."

He would shake his head lightly, his mind lost in though. He would begin to see how easy it could be to rise to the top, but he also saw the dangers in climbing too fast. He didn't have time though. He needed information, and for information he needed money, and to make more money... he needed money. 

"Purses is where you start. I know some guys, they run drugs from city to city, and district to district. That's where the good money is, but you need money to get into that business. It ain't cheap, and its more risky. You gotta worry about getting double crossed, and the police getting in your business. Purses is easy, you find the old lady and walk right by her slipping your hand into her purse and out with the wallet. Get good at it and they don't even know its gone for a good long time."

Otiag nods his head and takes another sip. He begins to ponder if he finally made enough cash to do his first drug run. He too is getting tired of petty cash and barely making more then he needed to survive.

"If I do that I'd be going against the very morals I want to change. There has to be another way than taking granny's cigarette money."

He would laugh as he spoke with the man, taking his own cigarette holder from the inside of his jacket pocket, he'd click the metal button, the flap springing open as he took a smoke from the case, he'd lean back and grabbing his box of matches, sparking one of them with a quick flick of his wrist, puffing against the smoke as he raised the flame to it, smoke billowing out of his nose as he exhaled. He'd offer his newfound friend a smoke with the matchbox, taking a long drag from his cigarette as the paper crackled.

Vega was just wanting to relax after parting ways from the cemetery, visiting his dead uncle he looked around until he spotted a local pub. He began to hesitantly walk up to the entrance but began to think what was there to lose, heading inside he began to take a quick glance at the amount of people inside. He ordered a cup of bourbon as he watched the bartender pour out glasses for the rest of the people who have been waiting before he got his, Vegeta gripped his cup of bourbon as he walked over to a section of tables; pondering if he should try to get involved in conversation or not but he went for it anyway. He walked over towards Charles and Otiag giving a simple like-minded nod.

"How are you two doing?"

Charles looked at the man that approached Otiag and himself, nodding back to him he'd turn to Otiag and raise a brow, looking at him questionably.

"A friend of yours?"

He would turn back to the man not waiting for a response before pulling a chair from a nearby table, setting it at the end of theirs

"Take a seat"

Vegeta nods and sat down as he planted his drink on the table, giving a firm smile to Charles.

"Oh, me and him don't know each other. I just thought I would come up and start conversation."

Referring to Otiag, Vegeta picked up his glass of bourbon and took a sip from it before planting the glass back down.

"What brings you guys here?" 

"I've had a rough day, came down to the city to have a drink."

He would chuckle smiling at the new member to their table as he ordered a round for them all. He'd take one more puff from his cigarette before he pressed the butt down into the glass ashtray sitting in the middle of the table. Before too long the server quickly waddled back to the table, dropping them all off a mug of a darker brew. 

"The name is Charles, what shall I call you?"

His fingers would grip the curve on the glass, pressing the cool mug to his lips, gulping down a quarter of the fluid as he took a deep breath of refreshment.

Vegeta smirked for a small moment before putting the same plain facial expression he had when he entered the local pub.

"You can call me Vegeta. Flew in to Chicago when I heard about the war that took place not too long ago, I just came from the cemetery personally because my uncle was involved in that war and didn't make it through."

Vegeta said plainly, he wrapped his hand around his cold bourbon and began to chug it down as a motion of drowning his sorrows away even though he doesn't show that physically, on the inside he is pounding but doesn't feel like letting it out just yet, at least not at a time like this, he shook his head.

"Anyhow, I'm gonna try and figure out means to make money while I'm here since I know where my life takes me at this point."