Angel was born in lower Columbia in a small village named Chelema. His father was a driver for a beetlenut plantation and made just barely enough to feed him, his mother, and his eight siblings. It seemed like Mamma was always pregnant. They lived on a diet of pinto beans, tortillas and warm well water. Momma would put chilis in the beans for flavor, and sometimes they would have eggs and rarely even a little meat. There would always be fights among the children over the meat. Sometimes it would get bloody because the oldest of them, Chewie, was big, fat, and a bully, and would hog all the food if Papa wasn't around. And if you told on him he would wait until later and hurt you. Angel hated Chewie. When he was nine, communist guerrillas came through the village and shot Papa. He bled to death in the street while others watched, but nobody would stop to help him. Mamma cried for days and the relatives came and buried Papa in a canvas bag out in the old graveyard. Then everyone started getting hungry. Mamma knew what she had to do. Two of the oldest boys she forced out on the street to fend for themselves. She did this in the presence of her brothers and father for fear those two would beat her in revenge. But she had no choice. She couldn't support them. Chewie was one that had to go, and he gave his Mamma a look that said he would kill her if he had the chance. Paco was the other one, but he was mellow and sneaky. Angel knew he would do fine out there. Chewie too. He would just take what he wanted. Two sisters were given to relatives, leaving Mamma with still far too many to feed. He could smell the fear and desperation on her like a cologne. All his people were stupid, superstitious..and mean. Angel was told he could stay, but he knew he would have to leave too. There was nothing for him here now but hunger and pain. So he kissed his Mamma goodbye while she slept and slipped out into the night, never to return...

It took him four days, stealing food along the way to survive, but he finally made it to the city of Mitu'. About the size of a medium city in the U.S., he smelled the place miles before he entered its limits. It stank of filth, crap, corruption, sweat, animals, and a hundred other nose pinching odors. The people scurried about like feral rats, their eyes constantly darting in every direction, always on the lookout for the predators that prowled the streets day and night. Pickpockets, thugs, rapists, molesters, pimps, druggies, dealers, whores, corrupt cops, con artists, street peddlers, loose animals, mongrels, thieves, the lost, the dying, and the dead. All the shops along the streets had bars on the windows and the owners lived inside. It was the only way to prevent their stores from being looted overnight. You only left your shop one time. After that you learned... This is the way it was and is in all of South America. A dog-eat-dog, winner take all, no-man's-land of fear, mistrust, hatred and survival. In a land of thieves you watch your back or die. Angel learned quickly. He joined a gang of young thieves that preyed on a small district of shops for protection money. They also took a cut from all the whores, drug dealers and hustlers on their turf. His home was a blanket in a corner of an abandoned factory building along with five other young men who he called his friends, but wouldn't trust as far as he could throw them. Life was hard. There were no good days, only days that weren't as bad as others. He killed his first man at 14. Took his wallet and his shoes and dragged the corpse into an alley. The dogs were fighting over it before he even got clear to the next street... It was the first time in his life he got all the food he could eat..and he liked it. He had no remorse, no compassion. He didn't know what those were. No one had ever shown them to him. He slept like a baby that night...

That was the first of many. By the time Angel was twenty, he had killed over fifty men. Some in self defense but mostly for profit. He grew hard, cold, ruthless. His eyes were the cold, black, glittering eyes of some feral animal. Women were for sex, men were prey. His rules of life were simple. And this is what he believed...

Then one day he heard some guys talking about the United States. How the gringos there were fat, wealthy and soft, ripe for the picking. They had a stupid, corrupt government that no longer protected its borders or even arrested illegal invaders. An experienced hustler could get rich there in no time! The thought ate him up inside. A place like this really existed? He'd have to go see for himself....

So Angel and three other young men crossed South America, always heading north. They crossed several other countries on their way northward and stole along the way to survive. Once he had to kill a security guard at a grocery store when they broke in to get food. It was quick. He simply reached around behind him and slit his throat. He grinned to himself at how smoothly that went and how silently the man had died...

Finally, after almost a month of traveling and living by their wits, they caught a ride on a freight train and rode the last 300 miles to the Arizona\Mexican border. It was easy sneaking across. Two days later he was walking the streets of downtown Phoenix, gawking gape-mouthed at the shiny buildings, the smooth streets, and the big stores full of food. But what really made him smile were all the stupid, fat, soft gringos living there.. It was exactly like they said it was! This was going to be too easy........