"Patience, Flashfire," you tell your sister. "I'm getting there.
"It was late at night when a trio of young thugs ran down the street, carrying a lot of money and jewelry they had stolen. They ran down the alley where I was sleeping, and one of them tripped over me.
"I woke up as the guy yelled at me. Apparently I was sleeping in one of their regular routes, and tripping over me slowed their escape.
"I tried to apologize to him, but he wouldn't accept. He continued to yell at me, calling me 'Freak Troq' because of my abnormal blue hair. I got upset, what with being tired and hungry, and told him to stop calling me names. He refused, so I tackled him.
"His friends tried to pull me off, but I was too strong for them. Within seconds, the authorities had caught up to the trio. When they saw all four of us fighting, they mistook me for an accomplice. Before I could explain, they came at us with cuffs and stun-guns.
"The three thugs ran as I stayed to explain. The men didn't listen, used a stun-gun to try and subdue me. The shock only stung me, it didn't do anything to stop me. I continued trying to explain, but they kept zapping me and trying to put the cuffs on. I got mad again, and lashed out, beating the two men up.
"One called for back-up, and soon, four more showed up, two armed with lazer rifles. I finally ran away, flying off into the night."
"So, you were given a criminal rap-sheet because of a misunderstanding?" Blackfire asks.
"Yeah," you answer quickly, "but that wasn't the only thing that earned me my criminal identity.
"I found where the trio ran off to, and landed right in front of them. They yelled at me, and each other, but before they could attack me, their boss stepped in and separated us.
"His name was Dirt, and he was a little unclean, but he showed me hospitality. He could tell I was hungry, so he gave me something to eat. He asked me about myself, and I told him everything. How I was teased and bullied for being a blue Tamaranian, and how I had been expelled after beating up Greasefire after he had accidentally killed Spitfire.
"Dirt was sympethetic towards me, and said I could join him and his little team. When the three teen thugs I had ran into before protested, he told them that the team could use more muscle, since he wasn't as strong as he used to be.
"I accepted, since I didn't have anyway of taking care of myself on my own. He then made me a bed of spare pillows and blankets and let me sleep.
"It was my time with Dirt that made me a true criminal. Though I was only six or seven years old, I was the strongest in the group. I helped Dirt and his trio break through hard stone walls and metal bars, and fight off police and rival criminals with my starbolts.
"It was also with Dirt that I met Rabsy. He was as young as I was, but was much better at the whole 'street smarts' and 'intracacies', as he would call it. He was Dirt's clever mechanist and information center, much like he is even now.
"For about five years, the order of operations started Rabsy getting information, usually from eavesdropping of 'important people' with his big ears. Then the rest of us would do the hard part of busting in, getting the stuff, and getting out."
"Wait, five years?" Flashfire asks. "You mean Dirt and those other three aren't criminals anymore?"
"After five years of being a band of friends and brothers," you continue, "something crazy happened that broke it all up."
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