The Story...
You’ve come to discover what exactly happened to the infamous member of the Golden Death Cartel, Will “Trigger” Crooks, have you? Born in the Philly, he was a fine man, he was. A proper wiseguy that didn’t back down. One of the best bootleggers in the whole joint. He would never drink till he could drink no more. For his line of work, he was a sober man. Even when the boys had invited him over to chug a gallon or two, he stayed somewhat respectable, vowing to never become drunk in fear of an attack. He wasn’t a man to back down on his word either. Someone told him to do something, or he said he never would, he’d stick to his guns on fleek. Shook the rest to the core how he stayed with his word and never let them down on it. He was a damned good man at playing games too. Cocky bastard couldn’t keep himself from continuing his streak of playing pool. Win or lose, he’d never care. The thrill of accuracy was what he was aiming for. He called it an Accuracy Test. Accuracy for what, smart guy? Your guns? Get off yourself.
He weren’t afraid of nobody, oh no. Only one man rose to his level, and only one man gained his respect. That being the boss of the cartel. Henry “Hank” Cooper. A kindly man that spoke in an aggressive Boston accent in contrast with Will’s more L.A-style of speech. They appeared to be mutual, even equals with each other. Will wasn’t the guy to be bossed around, but something about Henry just beckoned him to follow the man’s command. Any hostage they took, any load they collected, any boots that had to be legged, he’d get it all done with a pleasured smile. Theories drifting through the Golden Death Cartel were that William had done these actions out of fear, some speculated that he was part of a family of Henry’s, metaphorical or not. And then in the blink of an eye, everything seemed to end in their relationship together.
Henry became much more commanding, telling poor Will to do this, and do that, clean the shelf, polish the pool cue, any time Will had a moment of relaxing, that was the time Henry had something to say. “William” this, “William” that. It’s like he became much more comfortable with almost using Will as a puppet to his own gain. And then the fateful, raining night of March 16th, 1925 came, and Henry's control over poor Will came to a halt, out of both of their control.
