Age: 27 years old
Place of Birth: 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖌𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖞, San Andreas
Place of Residence: Los Santos, San Andreas
Parents: M Helen O'Marley, D Calvin Edwards
𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤:
"I'm running in the fields of Montgomery, smelling the scent of freshly harvested wheat yet trying to hide in the bushes while playing hide-and-seek. Most of my friends have been found yet me and Akecheta are still hiding under that filthy bush filled with webs and all that kind of shit. Time flies as we laugh at that kid who was supposed to find us, he quits. I was turning 9 at that time but the scenery was fucking similar to the one I've experienced while being fucking 15. We all tried to score on some beer while being underage? Hells yeah, that's what we did on that night along with 'Cheta again. Having grabbed the beers of that liquor store up in Blueberry, the owner fucking called the cops on us! Oh damn, what a fucking run that was. Say no more, we ended up on some roof dodging that obese cop who was on duty that night, we couldn't get down as he was patrolling all night long so we stayed up there, drinking the beers as we struggle to remain silent for that cop on to hear us."
"Dad, Calvin Edwards, was a biker. The apple falls off the apple tree so here I am, on my Harley Davidson Softail Standard, nice bike can't say. Unluckily I'm a lone child so my parents had to watch my ass like a hawk or some shit. Usually I spent my time with my father, trying to assemble bike parts or helping his mates with their scraps at some chop-shop. At the age of 16, legally now, I bought my first bike off Christmas, Birthday money and all. It was a Yamaha Virago 125cc, pretty good, at least It gave me the biker's vibe. Akecheta joined me too, can't recall the model he had, even though we were riding together all along in the country, yeeah boy! Our dream was to be members of some "Bad-ass" MC, little that we knew their kind."
"Straight to highschool. Ah, good times there too. Everyone acts like a grown up until he actually gets beaten by a grown up, haha. I found myself hanging around friends' garages, either drinking beers, patching our bikes or even trying to compose several rhythms with our instruments. My biggest love, my drum kit. Back to elementary, I was forced by my mom, Helen O'Marley, to learn a fucking instrument. I'd go to private lessons and such but fuck, I didn't want to. Being pressurised over this thing, I struggled for a whole two years until I got used to the drums' vibe. After all, It was worth the pain. I was able to fuck around with my mates, making songs of some hot teacher's ass or the neighbour's daughter. Edgy songs as you can get... (not even close). All in all, I played at my highschool band too. This was my zenith as a musician. After that, I'd only play alone, mainly as a hobby."
𝕸𝖔𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖉
"Graduating from the University of San Fierro, luckily my parents had enough bucks to send me there, I found myself still partying and getting fucked up every other day. Life Plans? Job? Oh come on, fuck that. I was only caring wether I had bucks to fuck myself up in the weekend. I really had abandoned all my hobbies along with people who kept me close to Montgomery, after all, I was busy hitting on the joint rather than hitting on the drum bass or the bike's gas pedal like I used to. Luckily, parents kept sending me money like monthly so I was getting along, really well, without even having a job. I kind of liked that lifestyle, not that It was my choice that It ended all out of the blue..."
"Call It Karma balance, call It "God works in mysterious ways", that upcoming phonecall both killed me, brought me on my knees crying like a bitch but has also saved me, truly, It was my fucking grace, my wake-up call. It was a rainy afternoon in San Fierro as I was scratching my balls waiting for a hoe to come over. I deceided to take a shower, so I did. As I was having it, singing to "KNOCK KNOCK KNOCKIN' ON HEAVEN'S DOOR BABY!", I could hear a faint sound coming from my phone. I was like "Pft, either my mom's calling to get on my nerves or- I don't give a shit!". So I kept on with that shower until I was over. Phone was still ringing, I ran curious to It and speak of the devil, It fucking wrote "MOM" on the incoming call. I exhaled in disappointment as I picked It up being like "What?! Be fast, busy...". Little that I knew, my Mom, Helen, wasn't on the phone. Instead of her, some weird dude with a deep voice answered, asking for my name and my relation with Helen O'Marley..."
"It was the day I ceased being depedent on someone, ceased to received daily calls by "MOM"...
Both of my parents were killed and carbonized during a gas station explosion. The fact that I would not see them again, even in one piece, made me go neurotic.
I had no longed the budget and the mood to keep myself in San Fierro. This era of my life was over and I was heading back home for the funeral..."
𝕭𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖔𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖙
At first, being away from San Fierro was devastating. What killed me the most was that I was living in my dead parents' house, all by myself. I had nowhere to go to be honest. I spent a month trying to get the pieces on my puzzle, barelly getting out of my home, often getting wasted on beers. Wasn't long before I took the decision to move out, head straight to LS.
I was working at Stacks, Idlewood as a fucking janitor man, can you even believe that shit? I was cleaning floors and shitters 24/7 until I threw my mop towards the CEO and fucking quit. I came back to partying and all, I'm a rad person after all. House, trance parties, fights, you name It.
"I've also met that guy, Tony Croft. Man's shady as fuck, he must be on some fucking Malibu, snorting lines off some hoe's ass.
Anyway, Tony got me into his business, mainly as a handyman. I helped him out with various things, installing ignitions, spying, gathering information. This was not long before I found Akecheta all randomly in the roads and of course, we joined up along with our mate, Otto Lancaster, the drunk bastard. I've got these two into Tony's business, we all helped as manpower, building or fixing stuff. Apart from work, I was hanging around with my childhood friends, Akecheta and Otto. Driving around Montgomery with our Davidsons actually, that's where the greatest idea popped up."
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖚𝖓𝖐𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝕯𝖊𝖊𝖗
The whole concept was about to open a bar to lay our bikes, be in Montgomery altogether and mainly chit-chat with people as It was our favourite. Forgot one thing, infinite beer baby! We lacked a great factor though, Money. The entire trio of us were fucking broke, barelly getting along with the wage Tony provided us. That's when we thought of proposing Tony to buy out the place, we'd advertise his company to the locals and whoever came in. Tony agreed as he thought such a conglomerate in his "business" would bring more and more profits. And It did. Apart from Tony's businesses though, the bar was functioning great. Me and Akecheta have managed to raise It from the bottom to the very top. Every night, except Wednesdays, the bar was getting filled all over. People would drive straight from LS, Angel Pine, you name It for a pint of beer. Shit was great! The bar was literally a treasure. We made a lot of contacts in there and still, everyone remembers us from that bar.
"So, we kept on improving the bar, daily. Like, we were obsessed with It and It was fucking great! All out of the blue, a partnet of Tony named Will comes into the bar and announces us that most likely we'd never see Tony again. The reason was him fleeing to some tropic island, tax-free paradise, as he feds were looking for his ass for tax frauding and maybe, money laundering. Along with that announcement, Will stated that he'd write the bar on our name for fucking free. We were screaming like we won the lottery or some kind of shit. Anyway, this was a great proceedure. We kept on functioning the Drunkard Deer until mid August when both me and Akecheta left for vacation. Since then It remains closed, even though we plan to open up again."
𝕴𝖇𝖎𝖟𝖆, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞
So, here comes 15th of August. That's when I deceided to do something with the money I've earned from the bar, they weren't a lot but were surely enough for a fucked up trip to Ibiza. So I pack my things up and head towards LS Airport, oh yeah. Was a really long flight, took about five hours to reach that damned Spanish island in the middle of the Mediterranean. I get off the airplane and that heated up wind hits my forhead along with a sea breeze. Oh God, It was like paradise. So yeah, I walk towards the town, did a mile to reach actually in the fucking heat, and I'm searching for a cheap motel until I actually find one. I get in my room, sleep for a couple of hours and get out, was about night to midnight. All dressed lightly, only having my wallet and my phone along. So I spot that beach club playing trance, I was like "Oooh, This is for me baby!" and I jump right in! Dancing along with strangers, drinking up yet puking in the middle of the road on my way back, I get followed by a pack of white tank-top spaniards. Needless to say in detail, I've got beaten, pickpocketed and was left topless in the middle of the road. To give you a taste about how fucked up I was, my wallet included my identity, ATM card and mostly, my ticket back to USA. So I'm walking around in Ibiza being beaten and topless, trying to figure out what I'm going to do on the other side of the earth without money or even knowing basic Spanish. I head back to the motel, and I start bashing my room's door in 5am. My room included like, 7 beds so you'd guess that I wasn't living alone in It. Few strangers were living in there as well so I managed to wake them all up in order to get in. A woman, around her 20ies opens the door up as she screams few weird spaniard shit towards me, pushing my chest. I tried communicating with her and she lowered her voice. Luckily she knew english so that was something. She asked for my current situation as I was topless and visibly beaten. I explained everything to her and how fucked up this all is. I picked up another shirt from my baggage and moved out to take a walk with her. We layed on a shore as she pulled out a single joint, lighting It up. Being in the corner, having no phone or money all I could do is work my way to sail towards Barcelona, where the American embassy was. Mona, that was her name, she stared at me while dragging from her joint. "I might have a job for you, you'll earn your bucks in no time.". So I agreed to met her "boss" tomorrow morning.
I walked up to a shady place as Mona introduces me to a middle age man named "Croco". He swiftly notices my english skills as he shoves few plastic baggies containing some transparent crystal pieces. I asked what's the content and he replied "Sisa, hermano. The killer". Seems like Sisa was a highly addictive drug, firstly manufactured in Greece and later on spreaded towards entire Europe. I followed Croco's instructions on never trying the drug. All he wanted me to do was to push It towards tourists as I could communicate better with them yet they'd trust me easier and buy off. So I did, for the next month I was slanging around clubs, near the airport, anywhere I could find fit. After all, the police on Ibiza was minor and rarely was putting obstacles to our business. You might ask why I didn't leave in the first two days, as the ticket to Barcelona is only 50 euros. I'll tell you why. I was making a couple of grands in euros per week. Plus that It was still summer in the Mediterranean, I guess I could stay a little more. Throughout my stay in Ibiza, I met that Greek guy, Nikolas. He was the "chef" of Sisa as he'd let me into his lab various times. I'd inspect his work and I was astonished by how much meth he saved up by producing Sisa. He could use ten grammars of meth and produce sixty of Sisa, It was awesome.
The second month of my stay in Ibiza was about to pass as I was laying on my bed on some decent hotel. I had all my money stacked up in the closet as Mona comes and smacks my door. I rush towards the door to see what's happening but as soon as I open It up, she rushes in. Mona seemed to be trebling as if she saw a ghost. She told me that "Croco" was caught and everyone started snitching to save their asses. I suddenly realised that I had to get the hell out of Ibiza, leaving all my money back. I took around 500 euros to cover up my transportation spendings and left off. Dude, there were like around ten grands of euros in that closet, whoever managed to find them was hitting jackpot. There was no way of actually finding that I was the owner of these illegal earned money as the room was on Mona's name. As I was sailing towards Barcelona, I started to think that this whole thing might've been a set-up to kick me out of the business rather peacefully. I didn't care much as all I had on my mind was San Andeas baby!
𝕋𝕆 𝔹𝔼 ℂ𝕆ℕ𝕋𝕀ℕ𝕌𝔼𝔻