Chapter Text
“Kingpin.” Everyone has heard of that name before; his heists, his strategies, his successes, everything that was there to know about him. Well, everything except his past that is. . .
It all started in the summer of 1975, when he was brought into the beautiful yet cruel world. His parents named him Geoff Lazer Ramsey; the name Geoff coming from the Yiddish form of Geoffrey meaning “peace” and Lazer coming from the Yiddish form of Eliezer meaning “my God is help.” They had named him that in hopes that he would be their ideal child; a good student, obedient, and caring without fault. Of course, as he grew older, he became less and less like their ideal child. He soon became a rebellious teenager, getting into fights, skipping classes, drinking, and breaking curfews. Sometimes he would come home drunk in the early hours of the day, knocking into tables and breaking his mother’s prized vases and china. The more and more that continued, the more and more his parents became unhappy; soon his father started to raise his hands against him and his mother began to not acknowledge his existence. As time passed, his father’s violent outbursts and abuse increased and his mother’s neglect developed into denial; one that she carried around a boy doll, calling it “Geoff”, escaping from reality and living in the world that she had wanted for her now broken family. Geoff dealt with it all as best he could; sometimes even fighting back whenever his father had one of his many outbursts. He did end up becoming a bruised and bloody mess on worse nights, so soon enough, he left home and lived with the group of people he considered friends at the time.
After leaving home, he attended school whenever he wanted, not bothering to do anything school related. Continuing that for four long years, he thought he wouldn’t be able to graduate, but somehow, he had managed and graduated with his class. After that, he became a street rat, breaking laws and sleeping around, never having a place he stayed at for a long period of time. He considered it a profession, earning money and selling whatever he needed to sell to survive. At least until his “friends” backstabbed him and left him for dead after attempting to take his life. The male laid in the damp, mold ridden alleyway, his lower back bleeding heavily with no sign of help coming.
‘Fuck. . .Dying this way sucks,’ he thought bitterly, laughing softly. He gave a sigh and closed his eyes, seeing his life play in the darkness. One by one, he watched the life he had lived in silence, feeling a hole open inside him. Was this the way he had wanted to live? Was this how he wanted to end? Having achieved nothing? Geoff grit his teeth, opening his eyes, a sudden anger and hatred against the world coursing through him. He looked up, seeing the end of the alley and the lit streets.
‘I don’t want to end like this in this fucked up world. I’m not done living yet. I haven’t had my revenge against this world.’
The male slowly got up, ignoring the pain that shot through his still bleeding injury. With a slight stagger, he made his way to the streets, using the wall of the building as support. Step by step, his vision slowly blurry from losing too much blood. One after another, he made his feet move; just a little bit more, just a couple more steps and he would be able to get help. Even if his world was slowly turning black, Geoff knew he was close, closer to the streets than he ever was.
‘Just one more step. . .Just one more,’ he thought as he dragged his leg forward one more step, feeling his body leave the wall he had been using and fall forward. A triumph smirk was on his face as he closed his eyes, his body landing on the concrete ground with a thud and his blood soaked shirt sticking to his skin. Just before the man lost consciousness, all he heard was a scream and a frantic person calling for help, from who, he didn’t know.
The next time Geoff woke up, he was staring up at a white, blinding ceiling, the sound of beeping surrounding him and feeling like he had a week’s worth of weed. He groaned and turned his head, wondering where he was before a rush of the smell of medicine invaded his nose. Making a disgusted face at the nauseating smell, the male tried to move, but the bandages that covered his injury pulled on his skin, protesting against his movements.
‘Great, I’m bedridden,’ he thought in distaste. With a heavy sigh, he stared helplessly up at the ceiling. A few minutes passed in silence until the door to his room opened, his attention turned toward the person who had come in.
“Oh, you’re finally awake,” a female voice said, footsteps coming closer to where he lay and a nurse emerged into his line of sight, “How are you feeling?” The dark haired male glanced at the nurse who had a smile on her face, ‘What a shallow smile…’
“I feel like a druggie,” Geoff replied in an almost sarcastic and monotonous tone. Somehow his comment made the nurse laugh as she checked the monitors and IV that he was connected to. He looked away from what the nurse was doing, thinking, ‘I didn’t think it was that funny.’
“Well, we had to give you anesthesia while we stitched up your wound on your lower back and to make sure you wouldn’t feel too much pain afterward,” the female responded with a laugh. She noted down everything that she had checked before she looked over at her patient, “You can be discharged in a couple of days. We just want to make sure your vitals before we release you and you can remove the stitches yourself within three to six weeks. All you have to do is cut one end and pull the string gently and it’ll come right out.”
Geoff listened to the nurse absentmindedly before glancing over at her after she stopped talking. He asked in curiosity, “How long was I unconscious?”
“Four days, sir. You were asleep for four days.” With that, the nurse left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving the male with his thoughts. What was he going to do from now on after being discharged? Go home? He shook his head at the idea, not wanting to deal with his abusive family. He can’t just go back to what he had been doing. He laid there in deep thought until he remembered what he had thought four days ago; the idea of fucking up the world, causing chaos and havoc wherever he went just to rebel against what the world gave him, what life gave him. A wide smile formed on his face at the thought, his eyes filling with a newly found goal in life.
“Time to fuck shit up.”
Within the next few days, he was discharged from the hospital with a flame residing deep in his eyes as he walked home to start his new life away from the people who had fucked him over. This time, he would be the destroyer and no one will be able to stop him.