No morals, No rules

It all goes back to the time when my parents found themselves in deep trouble after borrowing money from an infamous gang known as The Big Brotherhood. This gang had its hands in every illicit deal, place, and market in the underworld.

They held significant influence, with a far-reaching network that extended to individuals in high positions. Their ability to carry out dirty work without question allowed them to overpower smaller gangs and expand rapidly.

The Big Brotherhood had numerous affiliates across various fields and locations, making them difficult to track down.

My father, who was a role model for all deadbeats, squandered the money he borrowed from them and vanished in the middle of the night. Since he rarely left his room except to eat, shit, or vent his anger, none of us noticed his disappearance. It was good riddance. However, the debt collectors were far less forgiving.

On the due date, they arrived, demanding their money. However, our ignorant selves claimed complete ignorance of the debt, insisting we had no idea what they were talking about. Needless to say, this did not bode well for us. My mother pleaded with them, but her desperate pleas fell on deaf ears.

One of the gang's members declared that they would take custody of my little sister, suggesting she would serve as a replacement for my mother, whose bloom was waning.

At the time, I didn't fully comprehend the weight of those words. However, as my sister was all I had in life, I tried to protect her with everything I had.

She was truly all I had. In this dreadful world, there was nothing more precious to me than her.

Both my mother and father never treated us like a family. My father, Jeffrey Tenery, was a burden, a pile of refuse that often felt insurmountable.

He believed it was his paternal responsibility to vent his frustrations onto me. However, amidst this messy hell, I found a silver lining—I could shield my little sister from his "paternal responsibility."

Even then, the slightest mistake would trigger furious tirades, with him repeatedly taunting us as leeches who were living off his hard-earned money. It was all talk, though, as he was like a toothless dog.

In stark contrast, our mother, Myra Tenery, was our main source of income.

She believed it was her maternal duty to incessantly remind us of life's challenges, the exorbitant costs of our sustenance and education, and how we burdened her existence.

A more refined manner of referring to us as leeches.

The reality is, we never attended school, nor did we rely on them for our sustenance. As soon as I became conscious of my existence, I was already working, and naturally, they took my earnings.

According to them, I needed to contribute to the household, or else they threatened to cast me out. If I were alone, I could have left and managed on my own without a care, but my little sister... I simply couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her behind. I feared the unimaginable things they might subject her to.

From that day forward, I ceased to be solely her older brother, I became her parent as well. Someone had to steo up, so I did exactly that.

Life was already hard enough, but it took a steep downward spiral after that fateful night.

The gang came to collect the money my father had borrowed. The amount was already beyond what we could manage for our livelihood, and the interest had more than doubled it.

It was an unpayable sum for us.

Ignoring my mother's pleas, they approached my little sister. Fear gripped me, triggering a trauma response that would usually render me immobile when faced with an adult-sized threat. But that day, something took over me.

Instead of freezing, I tackled one of the lackeys, only to be swiftly overpowered and stomped to the ground.

No matter how much they stomped on me, I kept getting up and fighting back. I persisted.

My attacks did little damage, but that wasn't my goal. My sole purpose was to protect my sister at all costs. I thought that if I could keep getting up every time they knocked me down, they would eventually leave us alone. But that was my naivety.

Those bastards saw me as nothing more than an irritating fly. They didn't care whether I lived or died, I held no value in their eyes. Yet.

One of the lackeys, tired of the cycle, spewed curses and stabbed me in the side, bringing me down to the ground.

It was the initial thrust of many more to follow.

Bloodied on the floor, I crawled towards the lackey, sinking my teeth into his leg.

The bastard let out a shout, and in retaliation, stomped me mercilessly until I lost consciousness.

Later, when I regained consciousness, I found myself in a small room.

One of the gang members approached me and commended my ferocity and bravery. Judging by how they addressed him as "Big Bro," it seemed that he held a prominent position in the hierarchy.

He informed me that half of the debt had been settled, and it was my persistence that ultimately saved my little sister.

That day, tears of gratitude streamed down my face, an unprecedented display of joy that would remain a singular occurrence.

However, my benefactor proceeded to deliver a somber briefing, revealing that alongside the good news, its insidious counterpart tagged along.

To my dismay, it transpired that instead of my sister, I had been sold to the gang.

The cries of joy swiftly gave way to cries of shock and sorrow. Yet, if it meant securing her happiness and well-being, I would willingly make the same choice all over again.

To this day, I still consider that man my savior, despite the harsh reality of my circumstances within the Big Brotherhood.

Under his guidance, I quickly adapted and learned the workings of the organization, steadily rising through the ranks.

Years later, after climbing the ladder to a prominent position, I discovered an unsettling truth.

My little sister had also been sold.

Through my extensive network, I managed to uncover the whereabouts of her sale.

Unbelievably, it turned out that the despicable individuals who had crossed us and taken my sister away were affiliated with our own gang.

Devastation engulfed me as I learned that all those years of dedication and sacrifice to ensure my sister's safety and a semblance of a normal life had been in vain.

It didn't take a genius to understand that I had been betrayed.

I had a group reporting to me, providing updates on my sister's situation. However, it soon became apparent that all the information they provided was false.

It became clear that none of them could act independently, as they were all under the control of the very person who had orchestrated this treachery.

Loyalty being rewarded with treachery in the underworld was nothing new, but being stabbed in the back by one of your own... that was a different story.

The Big Brotherhood operated under one unwavering principle: "The Brotherhood is thicker than blood."

Betraying a fellow brother meant certain death. Not even the Big Boss was exempt from this rule.

My time within the organization had taught me survival, self-control and caution.

So intead of blind rage, I made the decision to confront the big boss directly.

He didn't bother to sugarcoat or lie to me; instead, he callously admitted his role in the betrayal, claiming that "it was simply how the world worked."

"When gods cease to be a reckoning force in people's lives, what do you think happens?"

"No morals, No rules!"

"Without gods who will organize our society?"

"It's the powerful individuals, Mark! THEY dictate the rules! It's not your world, Mark, it's THEIRS! And when you're a guest, you act like one. You and I simply follow the rules set by the owners. That's all there is to it."