Episode 1: The Departure
The year was 1998, and the rain poured relentlessly over Dublin as Cillian O’Connor stood at the edge of the tarmac, clutching his passport and a single suitcase. At 27, he was leaving everything he’d ever known—his family, his friends, the only life he had ever understood. A consulting firm in New York had offered him a job as a systems analyst, and with Ireland’s economy sputtering, the chance was too good to pass up. But for Cillian, this wasn’t just about a fresh start. It was about proving to the world, and to himself, that he was more than the failures that had defined his life so far.
Cillian was no stranger to struggle. Growing up in the rough streets of Dublin, he’d learned early on that the world wasn’t kind to people who dreamed too big. His father had been a dockworker, his hands gnarled from decades of hard labor, while his mother pieced together a living as a seamstress. Despite their sacrifices, Cillian’s older brother had been lured into petty crime, dying young in a brawl outside a pub.
For a while, it seemed Cillian might follow the same path. But he had a sharp mind and a knack for computers, and he’d clawed his way to a degree in computer science, hoping it would be his ticket out. Instead, it had only landed him dead-end contracts and rejection letters from every major firm in Dublin. His most humiliating moment had come when a classmate, now working for a top firm, had laughed in his face after Cillian asked for a referral.
“You? With your background? You’ll never make it past the first interview,” the man had said, sneering.
That was the moment Cillian decided he wouldn’t just prove them wrong—he would make them regret underestimating him.
As the Aer Lingus flight took off into the stormy skies, Cillian looked out the window at the city that had given him nothing but hardship. He thought of his parents, their tearful goodbye at the gate. His mother had slipped a rosary into his pocket.
“It’ll protect you,” she’d said.
His father, true to his stoic nature, had simply patted him on the back and said, “Don’t let them walk over you, son.”
But beneath the sadness of leaving his family was something darker: anger. Anger at the system that had failed them, at the classmates who had risen while he had been left behind, at the life that had pushed him into the shadows.
Cillian was done playing by the rules.
The flight was long, and Cillian spent most of it in silence. He didn’t make small talk with his neighbor, a chatty businessman, nor did he flip through the in-flight magazine. Instead, he stared at his hands, calloused from the odd jobs he’d worked to keep himself afloat. These hands, he thought, were meant for more.
When the plane landed at JFK Airport, Cillian stepped out into a world that felt both alien and full of promise. The air was thick with the smell of jet fuel and damp concrete, and the sheer size of everything made him feel insignificant. But Cillian had felt that way his whole life, and he had learned one important lesson: insignificance could be a weapon if you knew how to wield it.
His new apartment in Queens was as bleak as he’d expected. It was a dingy, one-bedroom shared with three other Irish immigrants, all of them working construction jobs. They welcomed him warmly, offering him a beer and a place at their table, but Cillian felt no connection to them.
That night, as he lay on the couch that would serve as his bed, he stared at the ceiling, just as he had so many times back in Dublin. He could hear the muffled laughter of his roommates in the next room, the occasional honk of a car outside.
The consulting firm had promised him a role as a systems analyst, but Cillian had no illusions. He knew he’d be thrown into the grind, working long hours for minimal pay while the firm pocketed the profits. He knew the system was rigged, just like it had been back home.
But America was different. Here, Cillian saw something he hadn’t back in Dublin: opportunity. Not the kind sold in glossy brochures or corporate pitches, but the kind lurking in the shadows. He’d heard stories—of people who had risen not through hard work, but through cunning and force. Of those who had found ways to exploit the cracks in the system and used them to climb to power.
Cillian didn’t want to be another cog in the machine. He wanted to control it.
As the rain began to patter softly against the window, Cillian reached into his pocket and pulled out the rosary his mother had given him. He held it tightly in his hand, not for comfort, but as a reminder.
He had prayed for salvation long enough. Now, it was time to take it.
End of Episode 1
Next Episode: Cillian gets his first taste of America’s underbelly when a chance encounter pulls him into a world of shadows and schemes.
