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Cillian Broderick

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The Ballad of Cillian Broderick

 

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(manspreading to assert dominance)

 

Cillian Liam Broderick was born in West Belfast, Northern Ireland in 1996. His family being a mix of both practicing protestant and catholic, Cillian's childhood was always going to be divided, with his father not wanting him to fall into the same religious violence he did as a young man, he moved them back over to his birth country of Scotland when he was only 5 years old. 

His formative years were spent in the cold and cobbled streets of Motherwell, one of Glasgow's most impoverished and crime ridden areas. He'd like to tell you that he managed to keep his head down and stay out of trouble - and, to be fair, that is almost true, if you include staying out of trouble with the law. No more than 12 years old and he found himself slinging a scorebag here and there with his mates, seeming harmless at the time but that soon evolved. By 16, he had gone from an innocent ounce of green to selling off washed up handguns to insecure two bit thugs. Most people would have been bothered by the fact they lived in a shitehole, but not Cillian, it taught him a great deal, he knew what trouble looked like and how to avoid it.

 

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Trying to look "gansgta" and not "cringe"

 

One thing Cillian realised early on, was that he was good at blending in, not just another young teen cutting about in a north face jacket with the skin fade looking for a fight or an easy score, he appeared a sensible young man, carried himself well and spoke, for the most part, kindly to others. Eventually however, everybody makes a mistake. Out on the town one night with his mates and armed with his fake ID. He stumbled into a middle aged gentleman in an east end pub, the two got chatting and he seemed friendly enough, until the man asked if Cillian was dealing, many drinks in, Cillian forgot to remain cautious and feeling a bit cocky with his friends watching, he told the guy he could sort him out. As soon as the deal was over, the man's tone completely changed and before Cillian could comprehend what was happening he was in cuffs and in the back of an unmarked cruiser. The bastard was an undercover copper...

 

Reformation. (Kind of...)

After just under a year in a juvenile detention centre, Cillian was a free lad again. Now on the constant radar of Glasgow City Police, he gave up his short lived stint in crime. He was able to get an apprenticeship through a work scheme in a local garage where he worked as a mechanic for a few years, but he always found himself wanting more. Sitting down in the pub after a long hard day of grafting, he decided he needed a holiday. He had always wanted to visit Los Santos after hearing good things from one of his cousins that moved there, so he called him up and asked to borrow his digs (living space) for a week if he came and visited. Within a week he touched down at Los Santos Airport and found himself in the weirdest suburban safari he had ever seen, he could find drama on every street corner, there was never a dull moment in this city.

If ever there was a place where you could live fast and die young, Los Santos was one of them.

 

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This was his chance for a fresh start, one he intended to take. All he had to do now was make friends and get a job, shouldn't be too hard...  right?

 

To be continued...

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