Updated story.
I was born in the little town of Whetstone, far away from anything, born to parents who seemed to think the best way to care for your child is to leave them all day to scavenge for food by themselves. Of course, I grew very independent, and one day, after leaving our ranch, I decided to never go back.
5 years pass... I have established myself in a reputable job, made friends, and started a new life. I still loved my parents, really I did, I thought about them all the time.
One day, I decide to visit them. After the 3 hour trip down there, I see blood leaking down the roof of my house, and my Mothers and Fathers bodies up on stakes pinned to the roof. I look more closely, and on the roof, someone had shot the following words into the roof. 'Gvardia, Debt Collection' Of course, I call the police. They do f**k all and say that no such group exists. Of course, they were being bribed. So I did a little research of my own...
I try to create my own Group to counter this 'Gvardia' Unbeknown to me, they were a massive group, so I carried on quite happily with my Deleon Family, attempting to recruit members, trying to gain more power and respect, ultimately making alliances with groups to help us.
We get into a shootout with Gvardia, they show no mercy, slaughtering all of my members until it was only me left. Stuck with no ammo, no transport, and with only my phone to help me, I feel all is lost. There was one man, only one that I could trust. My brother... Ben Deleon, same sort of attitude as me, die hard sorta guy. He turns up in his sultan; I sprint to his car as he opens fire on Gvardia. My brother floors the accelerator to get away from these guys. He later asks me what the hell I was doing with those guys alone. I explain how the rest of the members were slaughtered by this group. His approach was to become a police officer to help others; I wished to take a more direct route.
I decide that perhaps making my own group was not a very good idea, so I start researching, groups that could help me...
At first I try the word of mouth approach, casually hinting I wanted to join a group. But really, the only people who contacted me were smaller street gangs, more interested in keeping their turf, and selling weed on street corners. They were never going to be a match for a big group like this.
Dario Stracci, I shall never forget this name. He introduced me to the big guns in Stracci, got me known. I kept on at various endeavours with Stracci, fought with many groups. It's miraculous I survived, but, I did. In the end I argued with the don, the boss, the 'Butcher.' He instructed the other members to shoot me. And they did. You know, lying there, in a pool of my own blood, it struck me, that if these were my friends, the ones I trusted, and they'd do this to me, who could I trust? I thought of Ben, Sheriff, Hat, boots, the works. I lay there dreaming of the warmth, at even the thought of a home. I was found. Sheriffs patrolling the area found me. Even as they arrived on scene, they assumed I was dead. 17 bullet holes, gut, legs, they believed I was finished. They were wrong. I recovered, and after a lot of hard work and dedication became a sheriff myself.
Turns out I have a Cousin. He wishes to re-unite the family together. Through Marriage he had a different name to me, but we were of the same blood, the same line. Roman Collin is his name. I switch my surname to his, and join the band of us seeking not onl a sense of family, but legal business, money.
Nearly a year passes. SAPD Command shut down DPD. I was distraught, yet again left without a home. I threw my badge at the Chiefs, Leroy and Pancher, and stormed out. Fuck the Police I thought, I'll kill them all... I spoke with another family member, Mash Collin. Turns out he was FBI. I never even suspected. Naturally, as I did not wish to return to criminal life, the pain of my memories was too great to return to, I made enquiries about the FBI. I applied, waiting hopefully for a decision to be made...
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