When Jack was younger, he always respected his father. He was a Sergeant in the Army's Criminal Investigation Division. He'd see his dad working in the study, eyebrows furrowed, and he'd know he was going to catch the bad guy. Whoever broke the code of honor his father so gallantly pursued. His dad always made time for Jack and his mom, no matter how busy he was. He'd come home, take off his uniform, and all the stress of the day was gone with it. He never let problems at work get in the way of his family. Jack knew to respect that. He knew he'd often had hard days, but he never let it get the best of him. One day, there was an uncharacteristically stressed look on him at the dinner table. Jack's mother noticed it too. "Hon, want some coffee?" Jacks dad looked up, almost surprised to hear a voice, "No, it's alright. Listen, I might have to head out of town for a few days on this case. We've got an address to check out. They're sending the whole team this time," Jack looked up, alittle shocked at the news, "Really? Must be big, you must have found some big bad this time huh?" Jack said, his voice bright. He was eleven at the time, and thought his father was invincible. "Yeah, you could say that," He looked up at his wife's worried expression, "Don't worry about it hon, we've handled worse. Anyways, it's a joint op, odds are FBI and local police will get all the credit," With that, he turned his head back down and went back to eating.
Turns out, local and FBI did get most of the credit. For the failure. CID was hardly mentioned, outside of one name. Jack's fathers. Apparently, the plan was for him to bait the man out. Some home grown terrorist, killed alot of soldiers in the area. So Jack's dad had been used as bait. The bastards usual MO was a pistol, but he'd decided to invest in a rifle. Ex-marine apparently, one hell of a shot. FBI and local never even saw him. Jack found out the usual way, two officers over Jack's dad came to the house. When Jack opened the door, and saw the looks on their faces, he knew. He didn't want to know, but he did. He waited until his mother came downstairs and the men said the words, then he broke down. "NO! No you're lying! He's not dead! He's..he's my dad.." his voice trailed off as he choked up, clinging to his mother, who was trying her best to comfort her son through her own grief. The funeral was two weeks later, the usual military funeral, just as Jack had gone to with his father a couple times before. By the time the funeral came though, the tears were all used up. His eyes were red, and he felt like he was being choked, but no tears could come. The model for Jack's future was gone, and he took a piece of Jack with him.
It was hard for Jack, for his mother, for the people around them to move on in the years after that. Jack started fighting with his mother, acting out in school. He went to counseling, extensively, for whatever the fuck that was worth. Talking wouldn't bring his father back, and it wouldn't help Jack move on, so he just lashed out more. Fell in with a rough crowd, got mixed up in quite a few fights. It was the only thing that distracted him from the pain. Somehow though, a broken nose or a cut arm didn't hurt as bad as the emptiness without his father. Eventually, he fell in with a crew who ran drugs around the highschool. He was a user and a dealer with them, they were good to him. Eventually, Jack got busted at school with weed after a fight. Just a couple of blunts, but the counselor thought it was best for more "extensive help". So, after a meeting between the principle, his mother, and the counselor, Jack's mom had relented and allowed Jack be sent to a center for "at risk" youth. Not that it did any good, since Jack just fell in with even worse kids. Called themselves a gang, beating up the smaller kids, stealing from 'em, just being general ass holes to everyone.
Of course, eventually Jack's mom heard of all this, she was crying when they spoke, "What would your father say? How would he feel to see you like this? I'm almost glad he's gone, so he can't see you like this," Jack snapped, all his anger, pain, and rage flowing out in one savage moment. He shoved his mother to the floor, knowing he should feel guilty. For pushing her, for letting his father down. But none of it MATTERED. Nothing mattered. His father was dead. For doing the "right" thing. For being a good man. He'd learn from his mistake. "It doesn't FUCKING matter what he would say! He's gone! He failed! He lost! He let someone take him from us! What he would think doesn't matter, because he's fucking DEAD!" He spit the last word out, disgusted. He was angry. Angry with his father for dying. Angry with his mother for trying to control him. Fuck it, he was angry with the world. It was sickening, but it was what it was, so he did what he wanted. If the world wanted to be disgusting, savage, and unrelenting, he would be too. He stormed out the house, dialing his buddy Joey's number. His dad ran a fair sized motorcycle gang chapter for The Lost MC, based up in Atlanta. "Joey, tell your dad to have a piece and a bike ready for me. I'll be up there tonight, send me an address. I plan on staying," and he ended the call. He knew he should feel guilty, but he felt nothing.
Oddly enough, the nothing didn't last long the first time. He felt guilty about half way to Atlanta. He called his mother, apologizing with a sour throat, and told her he'd be in touch. He didn't know if it was the truth. Jack was welcomed into the gang well, getting his patch quickly. He knew alot of the younger guys from the program, and he proved himself to the others. Him and Joey were sort of de-facto leaders of the younger guys. The pair was becoming relatively well known, their crew more and more respected. They started calling Jack "Little Jack" and Joey "Big Joey" due to their sizes. Jack didn't mind it, it put people off guard. The pair and the crew the young crew they were gathering started doing more and more jobs. Mostly gun running, but they ending up getting in to muggings for the thrills as well in the downtown.
Jack was at the club playing cards with some of the guys back at The Lost's club. Game was going good, he'd already taken alot of their money when his phone rang in his back pocket. He silenced it and finished his hand, taking a little bit more money before cashing out. The boys were good sports as always when Jack took their money, they knew he'd more than pay them back at the bar eventually. After rising from the table, Jack stepped out the door, squeezing by Joey, "Gotta take a call, have a beer for me, " he told the big man. Joey slapped him on the shoulder as he headed out, taking out his phone and redialing the strange number, "Yeah, who's this, " He asked, as soon as he heard the ringing stop. "Ah, was wondering if you'd ever finish taking their money, " a distorted voice responded, "Listen , I know what you and your guys are running. I know a lot about you actually. But I think we can both gain from what I'm about to tell you, " Jack stood completely still and silent, feeling the cold of his piece tucked in his waistband, "So, you can think. Good. Let me make sure your interested. Those old fucks in charge are on their way out. They're no longer useful to me, or my employers. They've failed to meet their end of a very important contract, claiming it was too "risky". We need some young blood willing to take risks. Some people who want to get somewhere, not just fuck hookers and drink themselves into a ditch. I think you and your guys are that young blood, " Finally Jack spoke, "I don't know shit about you, but how about we stop fucking around? You want to talk about some shit like this, meet me and my boys, "The voice interrupted, "We'll never see each other. But you'll see the money and I'll see the promotions. That's just the way this deal works. You're gonna find out how serious this is tomorrow, when the old man in charge dies of alcohol poisoning. You have to step up. You take the lead, and you and your crew will be set, " There was a brief pause before the voice continued, "You can't let the boss' son take control. We know he'll try. If he does, your whole crew is fucked, " With that the call ended. "Fucking bullshit, "Joey thought. He didn't know what the fuck kind of call that was, but there was no reason thinking about it. If some shit went down, he'd handle it.
The next day, shit did go down. The old man was fucking dead. Just passed out that night and never woke up. It was ruled alcohol poisoning. Joey was understandably pissed and hurt. Power grabs were made from some of the better known older guys, but the new bloods as they started calling themselves got rid of them quickly. Jack thought of that phone call. He thought of his brother and what was at stake. He knew the call wasn't bullshit now. Someone important wanted him in charge. Power was power, money was money. Something needed to be done, so he just did it. Jack talked to Joey about who was taking charge. Joey wanted to make his dad proud, keep the gang small time and enjoy themselves. Jack knew why that man had chosen him now. Joey wasn't that attracted to power, but carrying on his fathers legacy was important to him.
Jack knew there was one way things would go if he told Joey about that call. He did it anyways. Joey lost it. Went off on Jack for not warning him, the whole club heard him losing his mind. Joey was strong but Jack was smart. The hot headed big man charged at Jack with a knife, the pain of betrayal fueling him. But Jack knew how it would go as soon as he stepped into that room. He pulled his piece from his jacket and shot his old brother in the chest. Again. Again. He stopped, not feeling anything. Things could hurt later, for now he had to be smart. Best to seem upset he had to this. He wanted the club to think Joey lost it, and Jack had just defended himself. And it worked.
Jack quickly became the leader, and began upping the gun running side of the chapter. It wasn't long before the phone rang again, "Little Jack," Jack answered the call and the same distorted voice spoke from before, "You did good. You're going places. There's an address I'm about to send you, it's a warehouse. All you need to know is the crates inside need to start getting run to the docks in Savannah. There's a cargo ship that'll be picking 'em up. That's it. Money will be in the same warehouse every Saturday. Pick up the cargo every Wednesday. That's it. Don't go any other time, "
So he listened, and sure as Hell the money came. His crew was expanding working nationally and internationally with other organizations. But that first deal stayed the most lucrative. When shit went south in the world, the crew held onto their house in Atlanta. Once things slowed down some, they started running that same deal again, to the docks. Then Jack got a call from someone new. The voice wasn't distorted now, and sounded like a 20 something year old man. He told Jack he had an opportunity for him. He needed to start securing cargo in Chernarus, and shipping as well. Jack seemed like the man to be in charge. The man said there was more to it, but that would come down the line. Jack received comfy living in some compound and a shit ton of whatever he wanted in return. So he took it. Left the crew with his second and left. Arrived in Russia a few days later and set out for the border to meet up with the ground team.