"Fuck you." If I haven't said those two words within 5 minutes of our conversation, then you're doin' fan...fuckin...tastic. People are stupid. But I expect 'em to be so it's cool. I'm Ceryz. That shit don't sound nothing like the way it's spelled, but I won't be held accountable. I didn't name myself and hell, it probably isn't even the name on my birth certificate, wherever that is. I have a last name but you don't need to know it. you're lucky I'm telling ya this much. My parents were born in Ireland, but since I was born and raised in America it'd be incorrect ta call me "Irish". I'm of Celtic bood, but my parents moved to Brooklyn years before I was even conceived. That makes me American. And that's where they died too. Apparently my dad was into some deep shit and about a week and a half after I was born it finally caught up with him and took my mom down too. Sometimes I sit and wonder why the fuckers didn't just kill me with the rest of my family. I would've. What sick minded individual murders a kids family and then leaves the kid behind? Best just to do em altogether. Thankfully, since my aunt and uncle were instantly given custody, I wasn't doomed to an orphanage or foster care. But now when I look back, foster care would've been safer. See, my aunt and uncle are not my real aunt and uncle. I'm pretty sure they paid off the system. They belong to a very long and potent lineage of old-school mafia. I pretty much grew up with the mob, runnin' errands for 'em, deliverin' vocal and written messages and droppin' off small packages in areas that not even the cops would go to.
My uncle was the Don's underboss, and his boss was the Don of Dons if ya get my drift. On my 14th birthday Uncle Bobby told me I didn't have to go to school no more. I asked him why and he told me that it was a surprise. My aunt wasn't happy about that but she wasn't going to argue with him. As a matter-of-fact the very next morning Aunt Camille made a huge breakfast for us all but left the house without eating because my uncle's choice robbed her of any appetite. After we ate my uncle took me with him and his partner and I watched for the next 9 hours or so as they knocked off one guy after the next. Most who hadn't paid back loans, one who had specific instructions on how to handle some business but did it his own way (the exact opposite of what he was told) which resulted in the death of several employees, and one guy that my uncle Bobby actually flew all the way to Las Vegas for, just to kill him and fly back. The guy had been stealing money from my other uncle's casino for about a month so they took him out. You'd think the things I saw and did as a kid would've messed me up in the head, but it didn't. Maybe to a normal person I seem fucked up but, it's perfectly normal for me. I mean...I was born into this life. It's all I knew back then and to this day it's as natural to me as breathing. I won't tell any details about my very first kill, except that I was 19-years-old and it was messy. I'm freelance though, but most of the work I do is still for my family. Probably always will be. I work alone. But...I do call on one person in particular to help out with the larger jobs when I need to get them done fast. I'm badass on my own. Me and my "contact" together? We're fuckin' untouchable.