I am America. I am the part you won't recognize. But get used to me. Black, confident, cocky; my name, not yours; my religion, not yours; my goals, my own; get used to me.
-Muhammad Ali

It's real good of ya to get around to talkin' to me, Liza. I was beginnin' to feel left out. Thought maybe ya thought my story wasn't good enough to listen to. Now ya went and made me feel better about myself, ya did your good deed for the day. Ain't ya proud?

My story starts here in good ol' 'Nawlins. Was raised by a single mom who got knocked up in high school and my dad, whoever he might be, didn't see fit to stick around. Actually, I got the feeling it was cause of his parents and not him that he didn't stick it out, so I can't really blame him. Dunno his name or any of that shit, my mom never goes into that. Can't blame her at all on that, really, since whenever it gets brought up even a little I can see that it hurts her. So I don't rock the boat there at all. I'm such a good son. And I tried to be that way when I was growin' up, really I did. I ain't the biggest guy around, though ain't the smallest, either. I'm somewhere around the middle. Problem is, even though I didn't pick fights, my mouth somehow always got me in trouble. Never could turn down a good opportunity to insert a barb or quip here or there. Can't figure out how I got my nickname, can ya? So I got beat up more than my share of times, though I did learn to fight some. Even took some fencing classes cause well, it appealed to me and since I like verbal fencing I figured I might as well try the other kind. Got pretty good at it, too, though never as good as verbal. Guess my talent is my mouth.

Things were pretty normal for most of my growin' up time. Not much different than most poor people's, anyway. We got by all right though sometimes we had to scrape up somethin' for dinner. But my mom's always done her best to provide, I admire the woman more than anyone. And the biggest thing I ever did to disappoint her was to join a gang. Probably shouldn't have done it, but when ya live in certain places under certain circumstances, it's safer that way. I dunno why Las Araņas appealed to me, but somethin' about it did and so that's the one I ended up in. Had to be careful with my mouth there, though. Some people can take things way too personally. But eventually they got used to me, helps they were numbed more cause of people like Sabotage. So anyway, I joined and my mom lectured me more than once about it, but truth be told, I liked bein' part of the gang, partly cause it backed off some of those guys that I always seemed to piss off at school. And it helped to protect my mom, too. People usually avoid fuckin' with the families of people in gangs with not so nice reps.

Wasn't too long after I joined that the Strikers made their mark. Amazin' bunch of assholes, huh? Found out they don't like a big mouth any better than most, and they like it even less when the one with the mouth is black. Lucky for me I know how to run fast. But hey, some people're just fun to mouth off to. Especially when they give that dull look tryin' to process whatcha mean. Most of what else has gone on is pretty much well known history now, especially with you gettin' all these stories. I ain't done nothin' too spectacular, got caught once not too long ago but I'm back now cause of that Ukini guy. Gotta feel sorry for poor Wolf, though. I'da rather stayed there stuck than have him go through what he did. But like always, we're gonna stick by our own and we'll get him through it. Oh, did I mention I started seein' one of the lady Araņas pretty regularly? Yeah... Radiant. She's real cool and fun to be around, always makes me smile. Which is important, ya know. And she's smart too, which is good. Couldn't handle a woman with no brain, dunno how Quake does it. Probably some humanitarian thing. That's what we Araņas're all about, ya know. Humanitarianism. Just ask Paco. Though ya might hafta break it down into syllables to explain it to him.

I conclude that there is as much sense in nonsense as there is nonsense in sense.
-Anthony Burgess

Cowardice asks, Is it safe?
Expediency asks, Is it politic?
Vanity asks, Is it popular?
But Conscience asks, Is it right?
-Alexander Punshon