One of Andy's earliest memories was when he was only a little younger than five, and his mother had been forced to bring him along to the diner where she worked one day. He had very little recollection of the place aside from his mother, but he knew the sights, the tastes, the smells. Being so young and unable to hear, the new environment was chaotic, with many different faces, different people smiling at him or shaking their heads in some sort of sympathetic disappointment. 

But there was one group of people who stuck out in his memories. Big, beefy men with thick mustaches and black clothing, with a woman with very red lips and a missing front tooth. His mother constantly shepherded him away from them, but he had been curious about them, of course. He constantly approached them and stared. Whatever they might have said, he hadn't heard, and anything they might have asked, he couldn't answer. When his mother's shift got off and it was time to go home, the woman with very red lips and a missing front tooth gave him a small wrapper filled with clear candies. He had eaten half of them before his mother found what he had, and her face paled in horror as she threw them away in the parking lot, then drove him home and put her fingers down his throat to make him throw up. He felt horrible for several days after that, and it left him in a delirious haze where visions of fire and rotten teeth danced in front of him.

This hellish city reminded him of those days in delirium, filled with confusion, anguish, pain, and a surprising lack of morals. And he didn't mean that in a puritanical sense, though he wished people would have more common decency. No, he was referring the the brawls, blood in the streets, mysterious body parts that might or might not have the rest of the body with them, and the seedy way people looked at them, even as a passing glance. This city, which had seemed so jubilant and full of life at first, now felt like a scene of constant danger. Andy didn't know if he was seeing things or just paranoid, but he swore they were being watched.

They left the main streets for the alleys, hoping for more security away from the open spaces where fights could easily spring out. This turned out to be a mistake, as two men stepped from the shadows, and suddenly they were surrounded by dozens of well armed lackeys. First they asked if any of them knew how to fight, then angrily demanded an answer. Andy tried not to flinch visibly at the roughness in his voice, but probably failed. He looked at Ricardo and Abby, then at Camilla. The other two were city folk, and Camilla was just a little kid. Andy might have lost more fights and beatings than he'd won, but he had endurance. And he knew how to throw a punch.

He slowly stepped forwards, trying to appear calm and cautiously put his hands up. He knew his stammering might screw this up for him, but it was worth a shot. And it wasn't like they could kill him. Maybe.
"I-I-I d-do. I-I c-can fight and sssshoot a-a-a rifle. H-H-Had p-plenty of p-practice on c-coyotesss." he said, managing to keep his voice cool and steady despite his stammering. Tough guys could smell fear off of you, and showing it meant that he would be fresh meat, like the other man said. He had to keep his act together.
"N-N-Name'sss A-Andy. C-Can't t-talk well, b-but I-I think alright. W-Write b-better. U-Usssed to b-b-be deaf'n m-mute. O-Oklahoma, 1980." Good so far, shorter sentences were easier to get out than long ones.
"W-Who're y-you? W-Why d-do you want usss?"