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Associate of La Famiglia Gato

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Face Claim = James Harvey Ward.

First time player...

Not going to say PP friendly, because NO ONE likes to get their pockets picked... But I'm not against it happening to me. Bring in the realism, along with being mugged for it afterwards. Fair warning.

Bishop McGough

Bishop McGough (mc-Goo), born James O'Shannon in the homeland of Ireland in 1901.

From a young age, Bish... James was introduced to violence and war. If it wasn't the Brits, it was the Irish who opposed their rule. Prior to the formation of the Irish Volunteer Army, and later the Irish Republic Army, James spent most of his time working on his family's farm, and keeping his head down when either side would come knocking.

In 1913, at 12 years old, James lost his only sister and a younger brother to stray bullets fired by British military looking to quell an Irish uprising. When he ran for help, all that met him was the barrel of a rifle, pointed by a young, just as frightened British man. Filled with rage, but regrettably smaller in comparison to the soldier in front of him, James was turned away and sent packing.

For the next four years, James continued working on his family's farm. There were peaceful lulls, but most of those four years were spent listening to stories of the uprising gaining strength. At 16 (circa 1917), James left home and enlisted with the volunteers.

He trained and became a soldier, able to handle a rifle and a pistol quite well. He participated in many guerilla hits against British patrols and over the next few years, earned a name in what was now known as the Irish Republican Army (IRA).

Circa 1920, James "Jamey Boy" O'Shannon had worked his way up the chain of command to become second to an Officer Commanding (OC) of the IRA. With his position came responsibility, and even privilege. He began leading attacks both in and outside of South Ireland, dabbled with explosives, and met the Director of Organization, Mícheál Ó Coileáin; Michael Collins, "The Big Fellow" himself. For lack of a better term, James became an enforcer within the group.

That continued for a couple more years but before James could be promoted to OC, the unthinkable happened. In 1922, Michael Collins and his convoy were ambushed and killed; in Ireland, by Ireland. In County Cork near Béal na Bláth, an ambush was planned and carried out.

With the IRA scrambling from the inside job, James no longer knew which of his brothers he could or couldn't trust. With that doubt, he decided it was best to disappear. He returned to his home, also in County Cork, and gathered the belongings he wished to take with him. He told his family he was heading off on another task. His father wouldn't speak to him, and his mother and youngest brother both begged him to leave the life he'd come to know behind. Kissing both of them on the forehead, he bid them farewell; little did they know it was forever.

After leaving his home, James O'Shannon took his belongings and burned most of them, keeping only what was strictly necessary; Money, and a few articles of clothing. Now at 21, he needed to figure out where he would head.

First things first, somewhere that no one knew him. He headed up the coast and found himself in some tiny village in Northern Ireland... Irony. He'd changed his name multiple times on the way through different stops so his trail couldn't be followed and, as he entered this one, his new name came to him. 'Bishop McGough'.

He worked a few years, saving wages, for one of the farmers in town and taking odd jobs here and there that his skills could be used for. Hunting, for example. He was still a great shot, and he put that to use to provide food and hunt some of the fox population down.

In 1926, Jame... Bishop said his goodbyes to the family that had done him so well. He spoke of riches and a new life in the Americas, and it was there he was heading. Now 25 years old, it was time to leave the motherland and, pray to God, that he never returned.

The years were never easy, Bishop held down many jobs, but riches were a joke for the working class. Nonetheless, he awaited opportunity. New York was cruel and unforgiving in those years for an Irishman, Boston was slightly better. At least there the Irish were in abundance, and more well rounded. Chicago, nothing good came of Chicago for Bishop. Opiates and whores were an expensive vice.

Eventually, Bishop found work on the railways and that drug him out to Las Vegas. Once in the city to be known for Sin, Bishop found easier work. They were planning for a dam to be built, boulder dam. It promised a lot of work, which meant a lot of new personnel, which meant a lot of money influx from workers, which brought the mob. Money to be made, by those willing to make it. Bishop knew that if it was money and riches he wanted, now would be his chance. Drudging up old memories of the IRA, he retrained himself in hand-to-hand. Arms would have to come later once he could afford a gun again.

Circa 1930s, Bishop spent the next few months doing odd jobs for a certain clientele before one night taking a break and sitting in a smokey bar. Would chance have something in store for him that night?

((This concludes the pre-history to Bishop McGough. If you stayed, I hope you enjoyed the read.))

TL;DR:

Bishop was born James "Jamey Boy" O'Shannon in 1901. He joined the Irish Volunteers, later the IRA, at 16. When the IRA killed it's leader, Michael Collins, James vanished. Changing his name multiple times as he traveled north, he finally rested in a small village for a few years under the name Bishop McGough (mc-Goo). In 1926 he embarked on his journey to America where he was met with strife and poverty. Over the next four years leading to the 1930s Bishop battled addiction and unemployment before getting work on the Railways and making his way to Las Vegas. Once there, as the boulder dam was in planning, Bishop began doing work for high-risk clientele, until a fateful night had him relaxing in a bar.