Marcus and Mitchell were orphaned little children, stashed into an orphanage since they were born. Marcus always was preferred among the parents since he always had the big smiles for them, but strangely were never ended up getting adopted due to his slight of fingers and his greed for things that strictly was not his to claim, he snatched them with such smoothness and every time the adopting parents lost a watch or a gold chain but he was never caught. Even though he had the charm, but somehow the couple would suspect him but could not prove him a thief. Innocent till proven guilty, Marcus used to laugh. Mitchell always knew it was Marcus but being skinny as he was among the children, was not even looked upon twice by the adopting parents, so he sort of justified Marcus's slight of fingers as payments for their blank ignorance.
They grew out of the orphanage and Mitchell and Marcus had each other's backs and joined a Mafia Gang of Mogul Santroini. They were assigned jobs, and with Marcus's talent and Mitchell's brute force, none survived the duo. It was as if they were on the streets to create their masterpiece together, one would draw the sketch and the other would fill the canvas with colours. Santroini was a happy man having Marcus and Mitchell in his crew, by his side. Soon enough they became the right hand for the Mogul.
One fine morning Santroini called the two boys for a breakfast at his favourite cafe, when a passing by Austin shot a bullet through the glass window grazing through Mitchell's right ear straight to Santroini's temple. Santroini moved no more.
Through this siege, Marcus took no second look, rushed out of the cafe and ran through the streets before the ferry took him across the gulf to mainland of New York and never looked back.
Mitchell was left to deal with the local police and the whole charade to find himself the next Mafia Mogul of the kin and was left to deal with the brothel and the drugs to keep his gang afloat. He avenged Santroini's shooter Vladimir within ten days of the murder and stuck his incapacitated head into a pitchfork in the center of the town to send a message written in the blood of the shooter, stating, "Whoever crosses the line next, it won't end with a hired gunman's head, but will also all the heads will join the display whoever held the mere thought of crossing the line".
The Russians were never seen anywhere near Mitchell after the execution of the Russian gunman, Vladimir.
