A/N
I had idea on this story due to how much I'm obssessed with the Irish in the last time. At Paperman, due to how much little we know about the characters, I actually wondered what if George has a skeleton in the closet and this fanfic was born. The environment of 50's New York in combination with the Irish culture was just perfect for making a detective story out of the Paperman and a kind of a Mafia like story with the IRA.
Well, when I headcanon George as an immigrant, as for this story as I've noticed people were making from Paperman a prequel for Wreck It Ralph (props go to WonderstruckWithDisney for the headcanon), which makes sense to me so I decided to go with this line, and by the surname Litwak I came to that he must be Polish. So in the case of the story when it cames to his origin, he's Polish-Irish.
At characters' age, I keep the headcanon at that he was a teen in WW2 who lost the father in the war.
Work in the office filling out papers was one thing. Running around the street with a machine gun was the other thing.
A young man walking down a city street with that weapon in his hand could tell his story.
Although his face was covered under a plaid scarf, he was still sweating more from the stress than from the heat. The young man wore brown gloves and a beret on his head (like a hat). Leaning against the wall, holding a submachine gun in his hand, he tried to take a deep breath and watched the situation in the night street.
Police searched for the culprits after the car exploded, and it turned into a shootout. But another group, Black Panthers got involved so it was now a fight all against all for the groups. Fighting in the streets of suburbs of New York was common.
But the young man turned his gaze when someone threw a stone at him. It was another member of his group not far from him and hidden on the other side. He gestured with his hands to indicate where the enemies were.
Police searched the street, and the Black Panthers were about to take a chance and attack the white militia. The young man had to start running again when he became the target of shotgun shots. He randomly returned fire while running and this all drew attention of the police. But the young man was then pulled over his coat into the bushes by one of his comrades-in-arms.
He with his finger indicated to him to stay silent. He motioned for him to follow, and the two men crept quietly down the street that had become a battlefield. There was a ruined shop and a few burning debris on the ground. The civilians who were here tried to hide.
But then there was a click, and both men noticed the detonated grenade. There was an explosion that threw them both away.
The young man recovered after a while and grabbed the submachine gun from the ground, but then he realized that he was bleeding. Shortly afterwards, he noticed a group of black cars coming here to the scene of the conflict. At that moment, it was clear to him that he had to disappear.
Black Panthers dispersed as well seeing cars of the FBI.
"George, what happened?"
One of the colleagues here in the office asked the young man in the canteen when he noticed the healing scratches.
"I rode my bike and got injured," He responded taking his cup of coffee.
He decided to look out the window at the city and drank his coffee.
He felt so small here in the office as he looked at the mighty skyscrapers of New York. Going with the crowd was not his, he longed to show his place in the world besides that he was already being out of the mainstream.
To show his place in the world.
Out of boredom and a desire to express his wishes, he decided to make a paper airplane out of blank paper. He threw it out the window and watched it fly over the city.
Maybe one day.