— ❝ i’m a ship to wreck❞
In the heart of the Bronx, a boy was born to a starry-eyed single mother who wanted her son to be better than the world he’d entered into.
Financial instability and strife reigned over young Alexander Barrett’s life; poverty and crushing responsibilities became the weight he was forced to bear. Never truly exposed to anything but life in the projects, Alex spent most of his younger childhood years roughing around with some of the neighborhood kids and dreaming of a day when they’d all make it in the big leagues; some of his friends aspired to excel in sports, while others prayed to God that they could keep their asses in school long enough to earn degrees and get solid jobs in the more middle-class areas of the Bronx or even, God willing, another one of New York City’s heavily-populated, compact boroughs. But Alexander, with a mother who was barely able to scrape up enough money to get by for the two of them in their closet of an apartment with two weekday jobs and an additional one on the weekend, knew that getting out of the city and onto making a decent income was less than realistic. And, despite the drastic decrease in crime in the Bronx over the course of the last few decades, the world continued to spit on the boy from the Bronx with a hardened heart and a battered soul. And so young Alexander, pessimistic about the world around him, stumbled into a life of crime and mischief from a young age. As soon as he was old enough to understand what poverty meant and how hard his mother–his beautiful, caring mother, Genevieve–worked to provide for him, Alexander decided to help her out as best as he could. When he was too young to get a job, he’d shoplift clothes from secondhand clothing shops and would tell her that some of the older boys at school had traded him for it in exchange for some help on their homework; he’d snatch food from local grocery stores and would scatter it throughout their kitchen, praying to God his mom didn’t catch on. And the minute he was old enough to legally obtain a job of his own, Alex started working for one of the local car garages. First as a mechanic’s assistant, and then, finally, helping out with the cars themselves. But still, his lust for power and security–for stealing what he believed was owed to him and his mother–grew with age, and by the time he was sixteen, Alex was eaten up with the urge to control the world around him. So he hung out with kids on the wrong side of the tracks; began to make a name for himself on the street. He made an effort not to terrorize people, but took what he thought he deserved. He was just, but stern; he was understanding, but not forgiving. And, most importantly, he’d caught the eye of some older boys who had graduated from high school already; boys who had an in with the Irish Mafia. And they…they wanted Alex for their own. Because while Alexander’s deadbeat, no-good father had deserted him and his mother the minute he found out Genevieve was pregnant, he had passed on his good Irish name (which Genevieve had promptly refused to give her son, gifting him with her English one instead), his quick temper, and–much to Alexander’s dismay–his thick head of brown curls to his only son. So without his mother knowing, Alexander plunged into a life of crime. He took up with lower members of the Irish mafia, working his way up the ladder and putting school–and his other responsibilities–on the backburner. He was raking in more cash than he ever had before, and even more so, he was making a name of himself. His mother was proud of him for all the wrong reasons; she thought her son had gained a promotion at work and was working long and tireless hours in the hopes of helping them and saving up for an education for himself. Alex, who still worshiped and adored his mother, couldn’t bear to break her heart by telling her the truth. For a long while, he told himself that things were best this way; that it was easiest and safest for Genevieve Barrett if she didn’t know who (or, more specifically, what) her only son had become. He lied, cheated, and gambled his way out of everything. He was a smooth talker, a charmer, ruthless, and ambitious as hell. He quickly surpassed in rank all of the friends he’d made in the mafia, proving that he was indispensable and invaluable to their organization. Genevieve began to notice a change in her son–one that worried her–but by the time she had decided to approach him about it, it was too late. Alexander was in too deep…and the thrill he got from working with the mafia was too large to even entertain the idea of quitting or walking away now. Besides, he knew too much; far too much.
With great power came great responsibility, Genevieve Barrett would have said, and the words ricocheted through Alexander’s skull like a restless bullet the day his mother died. A balmy spring evening, with promises whispering through the trees, rustling their branches and whistling through the busy city streets, Genevieve Barrett’s carpet became stained with the thick, syrupy taint of her blood. Her corpse was a message, her blood the price of a feud between the Irish and Italian mobs gone awry. Genevieve’s death was a message made for Alexander Barrett, the up and coming prodigy of Mob Boss Ronan Flanagan. And while her death should have cowed and evoked fear into Alexander’s heart, it served to fuel him with a rage unlike anything he had ever known before.
He would find them, the men who had taken his mother’s life from her, and he would kill them. He’d kill them all. Hellbent and on a path of cruelty and revenge, by the time Alexander had entered his mid-twenties (and been involved in the mafia for roughly a decade), he’d made quite a name of himself. The Mob Boss himself had taken a very special interest in the Barrett boy and, having no rightful heirs of himself, named Alexander the heir to his kingdom and fortune. And when the old man, Ronan Flanagan, passed away of old age shortly following Alexander’s twenty-sixth birthday, he became the head of the Bronx-organized Irish Mob. He took over with great ferocity, making sure that his mother and assets were protected. He ruled from his crime throne reasonably, he thought, making sure to never take unreasonable advantage of those he saw potential in. He’d created an empire for himself; had made a name out of “poor little bastard” Alexander Barrett. And he’d be damned if anyone ever forgets that. Currently, Alexander is following a lead on some of the men who might have been responsible for killing his mother. Infiltrating Arcadia Resort, Alexander plans on taking what he can out of the resort, with his business simmering deep in his abdomen. The Bronx Prince still maintains the crime within the Irish Mafia and keeps a tight hold on everything, but for now, Arcadia is certainly an...interesting task at hand.
