<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: left;">(http://www.gosee.us/images/content2/marlon-brando-for-a-streetcar-named-desire-by-john-engstead-1950.jpg)</div></td><td>          <br/></td><td><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Cesar "Moses" Quitero </strong></span><br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Some Day, I'll own this casino, you just wait and see..."</span></strong><br/>Well, it never happened quite like he expected. The young Spanish National grew up on the mean streets of Havana, watched it grow into a temple of sin and overindulgence that could only be rivaled by the mythic Las Vegas he had heard about from various travelers. His life of crime started very young, partnering with his closest friend and confidant Benito. They bled the streets dry in their heyday, but as he grew older and his thirst for more excess could not be sated, he ventured past the dangerous streets following a life of come, constantly chasing the next big score working as hired muscle and helping to expand the mafia's influence on the ground level. But not before leaving his once-trusted ally with some unsettling unfinished business he had hoped time would heal. After all, what's a few dollars between old friends?<br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"I want to give you everything, baby, you just name it. The world is yours..."</span></strong><br/>He lost count of how many women he had told that to. Fancy Italian suits, top shelf champagne, and a new breed of drug that wouldn't catch on in the States for another 30 years, his days and nights of murder and partying melded into large chunks of memories. His downward spiral started years earlier, he just hadn't realized it. Recent hiccups in his plans and his recent unprofessional demeanor caused him to lose clout with the Luciano family, leaving him without protection from his many enemies. <br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">"Miami? Don't talk to me about Miami..."</span></strong><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">The city had been something of a bad luck charm for him every time he set foot in it. However, his most recent trip almost landed him in the hands of a PI who had been on his tail for a while now. This last one was a prelude to a major score back in his stomping grounds of Havana, and it was ruined by that rat bastard Nathan Blake. Now, desperate and feeling pressure from the 'creditors' breathing down his neck, he has to figure out a way to finish the job without the lucky dice. He is desperate but grasping at straws to find salvation. <br/><br/>He will never go back to his life in the slums. No, he'd die before that happens, but a poster advertising a performance by Benny at the very place he intended to con starts the gears working in his head again. It may not be months of planning, but it was something, and that was better than nothing.</span><br/><br/></td></tr></tbody></table>