Suddenly the being that was the illusionist became clear. This wasn’t dominance he sought. It wasn’t control. It was not an arrogant child with an expensive toy, however expensive the toys were. This was a man trying to defend the people he cared about. The individuals that he had come to know as family. In this moment Samuel realized how very alike he and the illusionist were, though he didn’t know if the cat himself realized it yet. A small smile embraced his lips as Cheshire made a promise to him. A promise that he wasn’t afraid of, but understood as one of the most dangerous things to ever grace his ears. A man with family was more dangerous then any weapon.<br/><br/>He relived so many memories in the few seconds of silence. The memory of his father and watching his death. The way he wore that shame and guilt that wrapped itself around his throat almost every night as he tried to sleep. The man and woman that sold them out. The way he envisioned bringing true hell onto their being. He remembered the deal…<br/><br/>It was a cold day, as it often was in the northern parts of England, while they sat in the warehouse, Sam, his father, his father’s best friend and confidant Peter O’leary, and 2 other men all waited for Donna and Mikhail Volkneur. They had done business with them before, there was no reason at all to suspect them of being rats. This was a grave oversight. It had turned out that they were working with an American syndicate that had never really revealed itself. If Sam ever found out, they would know no mercy.<br/><br/>As the dealings progressed Donna had started acting very strangely, making hand gestures and fiddling with her phone. Sam would never let go of the fact that he missed that obvious sign to the coming invasion. Black clad men with assault rifles stormed the meet. They brought the McCarrons and their accomplices to their knees. All but Donna and Mikhail. Sam remembered the way that they laughed and walked out with a duffle bag full of money, their faces forever burned into Sam’s memory. Apparently the Americans wanted in on the McCarron’s business. Sam watched his father get summarily executed, after that things were a blur. The next thing he clearly remembered was being in one of their safe houses in Italy. Peter told him he needed to get out of Europe because governments and the underworld alike were looking for him.<br/><br/>That was a year and a half ago, it felt like yesterday. Cheshire was right about something. Sam was lying about something. He was lying about the weight that lay on him and how much it crushed him every waking moment. He had decided to leave that life behind and work honest, at least for now. Though Samuel McCarron would never forget the promise he made to himself, whether in this life or the next  he would have the blood of traitors on his hands.<br/><br/>The bouncer snapped back into the present and remembered maybe, just maybe, this place could become his family, with Cheshire being the deranged cousin everyone liked for some strange reason. Sam noticed the smile that he had worn faded into a somber expression, revealing more of his pain and sadness then he would have liked for the meticulous cat to take in. He pulled his glasses back out and put them on to hide his weary eyes.<br/><br/>“You may not understand this now trickster, but you might just be my best friend.” He whispered knowing full well the magician could hear him.